Category: Poetry

There’s nothing to figure out

Why do we think so much?

Often I find myself giving up and

I want to do something brainlessly

like doing the dishes

Driving is also a favorite

When you drive you look at things and can’t do shit

your brain can’t be hijacked by some intrusive thought

something you have to do.

Imagine being a woodcutter

or painting fences for a living

it must be bliss.

What’s the cause of this malfunction?

are all humans born a little broken?

or do we break bit by bit as we grow up?

life’s hard

When you try to figure it out

by Stamphers

Only consider writing if

You hate waking up in the morning

If sitting behind the computer makes you puke

If you prefer drinking over eating

If you are alone

If you are alone

if you are alone

if you hate standing in line

if you rather huff paint than work

if you take too long on the john

if you refer to the toilet as the ‘john’

if you think you’re god

then everyone should listen to you

And do what you do.

by Stamphers

I’m plenty – poem

I’m not an anarchist, I like the law

I don’t mind being told what to do

but I hate to dish-out rules

I think I’d be a terrible parent…

I think they have a little too much a say

in what we do these days, they can keep track of us

and it will get worse.

in the past there were some levay, is what I’m saying

Maybe I’m alone in this, I wasn’t programmed for society

For greed, and the need to become part of something

greater than myself.

I am plenty.

by Stamphers

One outfit fits all

The elbow of my shirt broke and I was very sad.

It was my favorite one and I got a lot of compliments because of it.

I also have some t-shirts that are basically rags

nobody have seen those

but I keep them

odd socks too

but not underwear.

Don’t want my cock falling out, suddenly.

Other than the underwear, I don’t really care much

at least I’d like to think that I don’t

still, when it get noticeable, I guess I do.

by Stamphers

Once upon a bar

he looked glumly into his mug

there’s music playing

and a skimpy dressed maid 

– whose breasts popped out of her cleavage –

hands him a beverage.  

Lit candles rests on every table

and men scurry outside.

Their armour clattered as they ran

and their weapons bonked on the the armour.

There were calls from the wall and

a projectile whined across the sky

exploding nearby.

Fire erupted and people rush out with buckets.

He pours the ale down his throat

in spirit of their struggle.

The bar is fine.

Another explosion

not far from the first

people died.

He drinks

and the maid looks awfully

worried.

The church tower crumbled

and people are crying.

the colored windows shattered

and the fire spreads to the buildings nearby.

The fire reaches the bar

and his nose get scorched

and the glass he was holding blackened

as they put out the fire

across the table

other than that,

he was fine.

by Stamphers

Looking into the void

Lo! we cursed by the pen

Is it relief that you seek?

Are your hands weary?

the pen feel like a iron?

Here’s another weary soul

who seeks the tender comfort 

of the voices in the void.

The void can be warm to you

as long as you don’t look her in the face.

She’ll be kind to you and

She’ll reveal her secrets

that nobody knew

-that everybody knows

-that’s too scary to believe

and is the source of

all the good words put together

in a decent sentence.

by Stamphers

A whirlwind of different issue

Am I the only one who needs to twist my dick upside down

in order to not piss on my shoes

or am I the only one who’s fucked up?

Am I the only one who thinks

about camping but

never does it?

Am I the only who can’t stand

my apartment

but is too afraid to get rid of it?

Am I the only one who takes two hours

to drink a pint

but 2 minutes to slurp down a mixed drink?

Am I the only one who can’t live without

people but still thinks everyone is

a fucking moron?

Am I the only one who give zero fucks what

anyone else thinks but still find pleasure

if strangers like me?

Am I the only one who rather starve

than go to the gym?

Am I the only one who enjoys cold dreary

nights

instead of sunshine?

I’m not but I felt like the question should be asked, just in case.

I’m up to my ear with my own bullshit.

by Stamphers

The Sickness

Ideas are like floods, unrelenting

you can’t get out of them

no matter how hard you try

A stream of thoughts, on the other hand

is easier.

And feelings… they need to come out violently

like vomit on a page.

that’s how it’s supposed to be.

the sickness is always

more

powerful than

the thought.

by Stamphers

You can stare at birds

and they don’t care

Dogs might find it endearing or take it as a challenge

like a human would

If it’s a woman they’d think you’re creepy

But birds don’t care

they let us watch them

observe them

Not everyone

is sinister

some of us just like

to watch

look at the curves

the smiles

the frowns

or a sideways glance

by Stamphers