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woolgather  May 2016
Runner
woolgather May 2016
Get in your feet!
Pick up the pace!
Run, Runner! Run, Runner!
Run, Runner! Run, Runner!

Move your feet one towards the other!
Don't let yourself be slaughtered!
Run, Runner! Run, Runner!
Run, Runner! Run, Runner!

Run, with your numbed legs!
Run, with your shortened breaths!
Run, run while you still can!
Run, Runner! Run, Runner!

Don't trip or tumble over!
Or else it'll be over!
Look straight ahead! Don't look back!
Run, Runner! Run, Runner!

Oh no! He took his last breath!
Oh no! He tumbled down!
Oh no! He's coming! He's coming!
Run, Runner! Dead, Runner!

He took him by his legs!
He fell unconsciously!
Oh no! What will He do?
Dead, Runner! Dead Runner!

He took his head as an ornament;
He fed his carcass to the dogs;
He put his shoes as a souvenir;
*Dead, Runner. Dead, Runner.
Because why not
Jacob Mirador May 2015
******* through his teeth
The runner carries on
No arms to love his lover
No hands to play his song
Squinting through his tears
The runner carries on
No heart to love his lover
No head to write his song
No clock move forward
No bag to hold his bones
No blood to fill his veins
No house to call his home
You probably think it's pleasant
To have a mouth filled up with stars
The runner will tell you otherwise
That he's a liar; yes you are
Of course it's very fickle
The pain the runner feels
But every time he loses himself
The demons back off of his heels
So if you ask the runner
Why it is he runs
He'll probably end up telling you
Its always just for fun
Runner, runner, runner
Runner; run, run, run
No arms to love his lover
No hands to hold his gun
Nomad  May 2014
Run Runner Run
Nomad May 2014
Run Runner run,
run not because it's fun,
because you're scared of something
that you know is true,
I know you're running,
running from you.

Run runner run,
you're going so fast,
you think you're the only one.
This isn't a race,
with a prize in the end,
you're running for your life,
instead of standing to defend.

So run runner Run.
Let's all see you try,
to beat the beating sun.
You'll be tormented and tried,
all alone on the way,
if you keep on running,
running this way.

So where are you going,
oh friend of mine?
When all you do is just run
to the place with no finish line?

Or what will you do,
even if there was one,
would you still keep running,
even when it was all done?

Run Runner Run,
for that's all you ever knew,
a runner's run, is all they ever know how to do.

Or does it have to always be this way,
on this torturous path they stay.
Or can they stop, to take a breath once and a while,
to notice that they've been running no where,
when they have to crawl the mile.

But if you stopped and waited,
for us to reach you,
we'll give you a hand,
that's what we'll do.
Heck, we'll do one better,
we'll give you our lives,
cause we're all in this together,
all with different drives.

So runner quit runnin,
you ain't goin' no-where,
when you're just runnin in place,
we just stop to stare.
Robin Carretti Jul 2018
He was blown>>>>
>>>> away_--- from
my lace-up
Is She his blue
Mood tie set any bet
to walk the talk

At your own pace
The lustful wake up she
got the face

The edge of his rim sneaker
So prim who is proper
On the brim of ecstasy
He puts sugar on my tongue

Rumors like the "Talking Heads"
All in the bedding sneaker
Jane of the jungle wild tongue
She races Tarzan swinging sneakers
You and I tripped over dreams the sneaker?
Lip to lip disaster

The "Cyberwar" stepped on melting
Gold *** of tar
The loud blaster she moves the
Starwars so far

He could eat her up
his checkered black and white flag
Like a lobster claw his last draw

The racer mouth sponsor

She was born 2-B that way
sneakers love 3 some run
It's not unusual to have fun
with anyone
Her hands were far gone but
solid as a rock
Rollicking flying his rocket
Racing by her own clock Ms. Hornet


His sneaker loud love feud one
the detail on her sneaker
the wild bird of a bud

He shook me all night long
don't do an
A-C-D-C  on me
The sneaker he got the
Crazy eights
 No prank calls
Her hot buns and
Speaker- Frank-flirters
take me out to the
ball game demonized

The Anti Christ be born again
My sneaker group what a tank full
The Antitank no thanks
You cant always get what you want
and if you try sometimes
Charge all plastic but
sneakers like rubber soul

Visa hot runner Lisa no control
The American Express abdominal press
Shop until she drop's gum-drops
Your head was like a
Rolling Stone Jagger
Bigfoot sneaker Friday 13 size
That girl sweet pea Lea surprise
In the Hell, kitchen she snapped
That purr nightcap like Cleopatra

He's the Mantra so passionate fruit loopier
She's the Mona Lisa unfriendly sneaker
Your happy socks are quick
On his bell-hop feet
The sneaker riddle beat


That long meeting so *******
For time baby blue eyes Frank
on the mic
Like the jitterbug tight-knit
as sneaker print rug
Citron sharp eyes 5 Karat
Spicy hot Chili pepper
poem sonnet

The singer swung
Jazzy sneaker band
Dr. Who wears sneakers drinking
Dr. Pepper

The "Red Apple McIntosh" computer
Such a loud mouth hacker Josh
Jeweled Judy cultured pearls sneaker smash

Or her Stairmaster her
sneaker hotties ruffles have ridges
The juicy burgers dill pickles

Desperately sneaking Susan
sneakers to her affair finish line 
What a Lady Madonna
baby sneakers
at her breast rebel of hearts
I wonder how she manages to
sneaker speed the rest

Her best to out twin any talk
bullseye power walk
Buying the triplex sneaker
The loud talker 4 for 4 fame Wendy
Run like a fugitive your alias
name
Go International quite run
for your money I suppose
His sneakers up on her recliner
It wasn't her better rose
She's the high boot lady ever finer

On E-Bay selling your favorite sneakers
Those Australian Huskies biting sneakers
Such a Paws up against doggone heartbreaker

The in-crowd Flynn or another runner Lynn
Everybody is not a star or wedding crasher
Or even the right sneaker lover

Lady that lives in her homeless shoes
Are we all inside a video game
all commercials

Needing bifocals video begins
 Wynn at Sneaker Con
Joy to the world of the joystick
The sneaker of the Torah prayers of
the Temple
All dots and specs out of sneakers
More zits and pimples
I just want one-half cream
The changing Moon 1/2 Wolf
My man (Mr. Drakar) Howling toenail

French onion soup say cheese
her sneaker what a
no-brainer lightheaded breeze
You come so far sneaker trainer
And a grave site plot famous
brand sneaker
name

A million odds to one name in the
cemetery
****** Mary she flies in her
sneaker like Mary Poppins
Going under the influence
Heres looking at you kid umbrella

Hot Hollywood Taurus Bulldog
runner
We really don't have a name

We are writers and ****
good fighters single to mingle sneaker
Not the homewrecker more like the homemakers
Even sneaker has a voice and walks like singers
Shoeiverse sneaker race
became her living curse
The grin of the Grinch green sneakers
On his sled ride the lucky shamrock

I'm the happy heel
The tigress furry feel skip to my Lou
he ordered the
kids happy meal

Getting a ticket for reckless walking
Lights on or eyes wide shut
Are sneakers running for their life?

More fuel- time we get no alone time
Let's go shopping for the
new sneaker called
(Valentine only) sold one
day the sale
Singing her sneaker song a chip
device to talk back hot male
The 'Calvin Klein" dockers her ball of the foot
tennis sneakers It's her loud Owl ******-hoot

The farm girl Ralph Lauren corral
To rope her in lasso-like with morals
racing horse of different color fashion
I cannot hear you I have a hell
of a tinnitus reaction

  She-Devil bickering.>>> No heart like a sneaker
I am a snake too short to run the mile

I was too busy looking
at her long legs
On the Jet
** Plane
The most popular lady
in her sneakers 

Viper car and strings attachments
Ms. Love lace the shoelaces
with hearts
She is tied to his ankles
like condiments
Like Sweet cherries what a
bomb kicker sneaker
The Southern Belle runner
Be the stunner the trucker roadrunner

Hail to Mary the sneaker
Queen of Sheba
Turn on the radio Country singer Reba
What a sneaker rating ratio

When she bent down the crisscross
Watch out cross my heart trainer

Cross my heart and hope to die
To get slimmer
I am the happy sneaker
all the moods hot goods
(Hey Robin Hood)
stealing a rich man and poor women
which is the witch

One string said pull me the
other one said you feel like a
Chrome lead sleepy feet go to bed

Like Beer and pretzels
What an insane sneaker hazard
Hospital beepers sneaker virus
stepped on the most expensive
Venus, I beg you to run
lips we travel bullets and stars
We just want some fun

Marathon key just one clicker
That strawberry shortcake
Versus the "Cherry Bomb"
The Prince and the Pauper
what a toad kisser
That army tanker hurry up
lunch or brunch
What a Patriot Brady bunch

My shoelaces became like a
firecracker candy bar crunch

Who is the loser lover
or the winner
The long trip almost at the end
of the race
What a rivalry those shot glasses
at random
The sneaker fandom

Smile to me if you're not
wearing anything
but sneakers
My wings the wifi cute feet just
say Hi

No, I saw a man 600 pounds
of Reebok gold way too
much belly roll fat
The Dr. Seuss cat in the hat

Nike in the air Robin
bird skydivers
Dark matter gold diggers
Movie (It) Stephen King
skateboard

Penny feet relaxer
The Wise clown got her
The sneakers comedians
Seinfeld stand up sneaker
To be dead or wed Kleinfeld
Exotic sneakers and
cars he made a home run
Hot hell ring my bell
You made me happy
I got to first base

And you all sync into
one of a kind sneaker
Mom Robin the singer
No, I saw a man-eating
out of his sneaker
His head up in the Nike air
Oh! all hell breaks footloose
computer looking
up the sneaker sales

All I am doing is clicking
with a mouse
Where is my lover
sneaker twin, my spouse
This is about a trip not on an airplane flight more down to earth long walk star gazers or runners and clickers but its a comedy around all names and hot runner shes the firecracker don't  eat her at her game
Sarah  Mar 2016
Not a Runner.
Sarah Mar 2016
It's 7 a.m. and drizzling
The Willamette Valley's
late winter chill

I am not a runner.
but here I am, starting
the incline

2,064 feet up, up, up,

it's Sunday and
The butte is my church
Celebrating the running god

I am not a runner.
and
my shirt is soaked
with sweat
and I'm only a mile in and my
faith
is in question:
where my mind is reminding me that
maybe I can't do it
and I know that I have flaws

where instead of praying, I'm thinking
****, ****, ****, ****.... ****!

During the ascent to the
Running god,
I'm not a runner.

When I wonder if I'm devout enough
strong enough
dedicated enough and
good enough,
when I'm
constantly tempted
by the allure of the downhill,
the seductive persuasion of the
descent

I am not a runner
and the butte is my
Church.
Kon Grin  Jul 2017
Adroit Runner
Kon Grin Jul 2017
An adroit runner,
A plethora of harbound texts.

Makes a way - way out;
A way out of the common mass.

Sharing nights in paper;
Digging up a hole and
Cuddling in;

An adroit runner
Worships the abundance
Of the ink.

Does it, does it
Make her heart speak?
Does it, does it
Cut her tongue weak?

An adroit runner
Will run on and then she'll lead me in
Make a way, way out;
A way out of the common sin.

Sharing nights in paper;
Digging up a hole and
Cuddling in;

An adroit runner
Worships the abundance
Of the ink.
Copyrights by IWALF
JJ Hutton  Sep 2013
Splits
JJ Hutton Sep 2013
I'm running 7:25 splits. Eight miles in. I haven't got stuck at an intersection. Not that I ever do. Runners got the right-of-way. And like my buddy Randy Run 'N Gun would say, I'm zen. Very ******* zen. Used to be a walker. Not no more. Not after the heart attack. No, siree, I'm a runner. A good runner. Lost 45 pounds. I did. I did. I stick to the left side of the road. So I can see the guilt in the drivers' eyes as they pass by. They're thinking, there's an old man out there taking care of hisself. I should be taking care of myself.

And they should. They really should.

But what's exercise to the people in this town? A walk down the block to Loaf 'N Jug for a Snickers, that's what. Or if you're a rich *****, it's twenty minutes on a Stairmaster three times a week. And I have to wonder if they're really doing it for them, you know?

I'm on the way back to the house. I peel off 30th, cutting across four lanes of traffic. Head into Garden of the Gods park. I do this so people get the right idea of the city. When I was a tourist here, I thought to myself, why's everybody all lumpy-assed and tied to children. Made a promise to myself. Told myself, when you move out there, you're going to be the trophy. So, I run through the red rocks and insert myself, mid-stride, into all those family photos. That way, when they get home, they'll point at their pictures and say, everyone in Colorado is so fit.

Now I'm getting close to the spot. It happened about a mile--mile and a half into the Snake Trail over by that 30-foot tall rock that looks a bit like Lyndon Johnson. I was a tourist and a walker then. Not no more. Not ever again.

There's a stretch of blacktop that cuts Snake Trail in two. I can't remember the name of the road. I think it's named after some preacher who got cholera, lost his faith, regained his faith in the end. One of those touching trajectories. Those stories always sound like a lot of fluffy *******, if you ask me.

Cars are backed up on Wishy-Washy Preacher Road. There's a crowd of people gathered in the middle. I look at my running watch. I don't like this. This is the kind of unplanned circumstance that skews your splits. Then your run time makes you feel like a lumpy-***, and that ain't me. Not no more.

I start pushing through the crowd. There's a lot of whispering and a lot of little kids all snotty and teary-eyed. And it's all just frustrating, because I feel like I'm cutting through molasses. I look at my running watch. I reach the center of the crowd.

A mule deer had been runover--well, halfway. The stupid beast still uses his front legs, dragging his crumpled and ****** backside along in a mad circle. A screechy whimper comes out in intervals like beeping hospital machinery. He's so scared, some middle-aged woman with a kid to each hip, says. A longbeard, beergut hippie starts into a prayer,

Gods of the natural world, gods of the sweet animal kingdom,
we ask that you wrap this wounded beacon of your light
into your warm embrace. May you replace his great pain
with the great comfort of your cool breezes, with the great
comfort of your warm sun, with the great comfort of fresh water.

I unzip my running belt. It's not a ***** pack. I pull out my NAA Guardian .32 automatic. It's not a woman's weapon. See, Randy Run 'N Gun, got his name because he invented this kind of running. I respect him for it. Got nothing but respect for that man. See, a fella has to be prepared at all times. There are mountain lions. There are bears. And perhaps worst of all are all these ******* mule deers. They ain't even scared of people. They stop and wait for you to feed them, blocking the sidewalk when I run, skewing my splits.

These hippies ain't going to do ****. They're taking photos with their cellulars and saying theologically vague prayers. And all these tourists are watching. So I walk right up to the mule deer. Someone behind me breathes in so hard, it's like she vacuumed all the sound. Pop. Pop. The beast stops its beeping. Legs twitch. Legs stop twitching. I'm the only one with courage enough to grant a mercy ****.

It's all about doing. Right? That's what the heart attack taught me. Before the heart attack, I thought about being a runner. The rhythm of it, the mechanical discipline appealed to me. Liked the idea of doing a marathon or the sound of it.  I was walking in Garden of the Gods. Noticed the LBJ rock, said to myself, Holy hell that looks like Lyndon Johnson. I heard these quick steps coming from behind me. I thought some potstentch, beergut hippie was going stab me. Felt like the gears at the center of me came off their handle. The right side of me just wasn't there anymore. As I fell I saw it was only a runner.

I reach the Lyndon Johnson rock. I'm eleven miles in. My splits have averaged to 7:43. ******* deer. The ground is lower at the spot where I had the heart attack. Why? Because I dug a hole there, that's why. The old me, the walking me, the tourist me lies dead in that hole. As I pass by, I spit it the ditch as I always do. Good riddance. Yep. Yep.

The trail finally turns downward. A little more oxygen in Ute Valley. Randy Run 'N Gun he calls moments like this, Runner's Reward. And I like that. Nature's okay. The cedars, the meadows, rivers -- all that **** -- is just fine. But what I like about running is the metaphor. See all the hippies, all the tourists they live their lives in a constant state of reward. They think, I'm alive, so I'll smoke this ***. They think, I'm alive, so I'll take ******* pictures of everything. But runners, runners know that you don't deserve life. It's a gift to be earned. So you work your *** off. Mile after mile. A reward for me is a valley. The reward doesn't last long, just long enough for me to catch my breath, you know?

I exit the valley. I pick up the pace. Try to make up for earlier delay. I cross Flying W Ranch Road. I hear metal-scraping-metal. And I'm hit.

I'm in the air. I'm sliding. I'm bouncing. My knees and elbows are hot. I blink.

A woman in a bright pink tank top and yoga pants stands over me. Stay in the car, Jacob, she shouts. Oh my god, oh my god.

I tell her runners have the right-of-way. But she doesn't respond. I say, Lady help me up, you're ******* up my splits. But she doesn't respond to that. She repeats over and over, You're going to be okay. Your'e going to be okay. Just keep looking at me.

I turn my head. The display on my watch is cracked. I can't read my splits average. My head is a ton of bricks. My elbows and knees are hot.

Jacob, stop, the woman says.

Her boy stands over me, taking pictures with his cellular.
J  Feb 2021
The Runner
J Feb 2021
Stuck in the thick that drags me under
I struggle for breathes, grasping for the surface
The runner appears beyond the drowned
Do you see me?

A sense of familiarity blankets my surroundings
Yet it is shrouded with insecurity
The runner stops to peer into the abyss
Can you help me?

I reach to where the moon and stars used to be
Your conflicted face reduces to fear
Only hesitating before fleeing
Where are you going?

I sink deeper than before
As the runner abandons the gloom
A stream of tears left next to your footsteps
Why are you crying?

Now I am consumed
Now I am alone
And now I am tired
Why did you leave?
The runner suffers just as much. They do not want to runaway, but it is in their nature.
Harold r Hunt Sr Oct 2014
Moonshine Runner
Old grandpa is at it again. The is still up and cooking once more.
He fills the bottles so carefully. Not to spill a drop
Loads the old pickup truck with boxes of shine Ready to make a run to the bars.
He goes so fast the Fed boys can't catch him in that old truck of his.
Running down the road to the bars not missing one with a jar.
The hills knows the old moonshine runner as he runs the shine tonight.
So get your or
order in now for tomorrow will be too late for the moonshine runner.
Will be right at his still.
Carolyn Cagnon  Dec 2016
Runner
Carolyn Cagnon Dec 2016
I am a runner.
I run from the truth,
I run from the lies.
I run from possibilities,
I run towards my demise.
I run from the chances,
I run from any and all.
I run from my pain,
I run from happiness...
I just hope that I can keep
From running from you.
I am a runner...
In the past that's all I knew,
Now I have a chance at staying too.

I've always been a runner it's true;
But maybe I can be a fighter too.
Kon Grin  Apr 2017
Runner
Kon Grin Apr 2017
An adroit runner,
Living in plethora of hardbound texts,
Makes a way - way out,
Out of the common mass.

Sharing nights in paper,
Digging up a hole and cuddling in,
An adroit runner
Worships the abundance of the ink.

She will not perturb herself when time's out.
Nights are days. She has no time to speak.
Wonder,
Whether it cajores her to be stout
Wonder,
If it cuts her weak.

I won't beard the lion's den
An adroit runner
Will run on and then
She will lead me in,
So sane.
Mistakes?
Bryce  Jun 2018
Roller Derby
Bryce Jun 2018
Gliding deftly along the city street
rolling quick and constantly
onward to some unknown scene,
some backward park in the nighttime
smoke curling from these
parted lips, moist and inviting
calling me somewhere I've never seen.

New day, new night
new feelings, rage in delight
fill me with your hilarious entropy,
knock my quarks into the next century,
will you please?

Now you're smoking the pipe and all at once you are free
between you and me, this smoke is thicker and sticks
like glue,
wispy and dreamy and the world spins and calls Toltec
telephone company can't pay me for all those calls collected
and rendered obsolete
Sun god dead as that silly calendar meme

Amaterasu,
and Imma tell you
these ladies in the picnic table
buried alive for boxed lunch and god's brunch
Jesus ******* Christ
and a indelible roster of good guys,
to which we all must strive to live and die
behind,
never moving forward
chasing our tails like a sick dog
under the jasmine runner between the decades-old tanbark
imported from overseas
dead trees
dead canine
and oh isn't it just divine?

You see it, pretty lady.
I can see it hiding behind your eyes
the things you don't tell the others because you're afraid
if they found out,
you'd be crucified.

Well honey I hate to inform,
With KGB efficiency that these love-a-dumbs
aint Methuselah,
they'll be dead!
long before your flood of tears tears me from the land
ballistas me across the great expanse to some strange Ararat
of the eastern seaboard,
or maybe wash me deep along the 80
into the desert sands and tiles
on a leaky cell phone screen
desperately trying to dial home on low battery,
realizing all this was one big deferred dream,
baking in the sun and shriveling
oh well, back to the grindstone-- all those lies plucked your nose,
gotta cut it back to size,
'else your soul it'll outgrow

Don't worry honey bee
It hasn't happened to me,
and We know with calcuable mathematical truth
that it'll never happen to you.

— The End —