Be a lady, young luck!
You're to me so dear.
Light be in the dark!
Don't let pain go near.

Set us all, pretty, free.
Help our honest fight.
Never ever  let us be.
Wield my sword tight.

I finally came up with the homage poem.
#freedom   #luck   #chant  

She pulled me in with my brother
In a scene from sweet sixteens
Or I went willing, at the first
Sight of a sneaky sideways wink
Bad romance, it became us
Bitter confusion filled us three
My brother, he pleaded on his knees
Will you do nothing with my woman?
I fell under luck's frail favor
When my brother's she became a he
This he pulled me,
Or I went willing?
We became one on his couch
L-shaped leather wet with purpose
Aristophanes spoke of this
Yet now we drift

Drift, sweetly
Pull apart
Pretend we forget each other's names

I keep going back to one place, the same place.
#love   #romance   #trans   #luck   #knees  

I. Lots of Luck
There once was an old Irish rover
Discovered a bright four-leaf clover.
   He reached down to pluck it
   And then kicked the bucket:
He bent down and died bending over.

II. Fairy Folk
A bonny young lassie named Mary
Fell hard for a laddie from Derry
   Who never would try her,
   But only passed by her,
A fairy in search of a fairy.

III. Boogers the Best
There once was a man from Racine
With boogers the best ever seen:
   He'd pick one and lick it,
   Then roll it and flick it
Till all of his fingers were green.

She sat there, in the wine bar waiting,
This chap she was seeing she had just started dating,
In his early forties, mild mannered, and polite,
Steve, she met him on an internet site,
Sipping her wine that almost matched her lipstick,
Smiled and said that’s done the trick,
Little did he know of her, as they had only met once before?
He wanted to see her again; she was a bit unsure,
So they agreed to meet at the wine bar known as Tregos
Conversation was awkward it didn’t sort of flow,
Some guy in the corner playing what you could call blues,
In a dapper suit, bow tie and very shiny shoes,
Steve was talking to her but she was barely listening,
The guy at the Piano was so much more interesting,
He had a white teeth smile and dark slick back hair,
Steve carried on chatting; she didn’t seem to care,
The wine bar was filling up,
There was now a queue at the bar,
Steve was now drinking lemonade,
As he had driven in his car,
Larissa sensed that the date was doomed,
Made an excuse to visit the ladies room,
Once inside, she phoned her mate,
Asked her if she could call and interrupt the date,
Leaving the ladies and now back at the table,
Hoping Steve would believe the oncoming fable,
Miraculously her phone started ringing,
Just as the piano man started singing,
She answers the call, Steve totally unaware,
Her fingers were slowly running through her hair,
That’s awful, you poor thing she went on to say,
Yes, of course, I will leave straight away,
Steve concerned as he had just bought another round,
Caught unawares and somewhat dumbfound,
Got to go Steve sorry it’s my friend,
She has had some bad news the date will have to end,
Shall I call you perhaps we can do this again?
Really sorry Steve I feel a total pain,
The guy at the Piano glances as she crosses the floor,
As she makes her exit, swiftly to the door,
She drops her bag her lipstick roles under his seat,
She tried to pick it up looking somewhat discreet,
On the piano was his card that he slipped into her hand,
Gave him that sensual look that some guys understand,
Larissa then shuffled to the door,
And made her getaway complete,
Hoping next time that Mr Piano man,
Was the guy she would prefer to meet?

Feb 20

It was a true story:
She was stopped at the police checkpoint
and like love itself
had run out of everything
but air to breathe.

Including luck.
She was aware that
she was left alone for too long.
She had eyes for this.

She waited to be led into the forest
of her secret grave
where night would be delivered to her.

She became the queen of a forgotten land.
She had run out of everything

but air to breathe.

#love   #luck   #prisoner  

Another attempt but this one will be my last.
As I look up, I see no light yet dawn has past,
the cloud from the night before had left me a mess -
ending my heart beat is my life's only success.

Enclosed in stained clothes, my hair lay there all but neat
not grazed by a comb in weeks; I play with a blade.
Burnt matches crawl on skin like dirty hands. Discrete
insomnia, I tell death not to be delayed.

Tears could now not touch my eyes as I wonder would
this come as a surprise? reality above
my pointless apologies, I felt the key of
death hit only when on the horizon I stood.

Before I fall to willing death, the most gentle
murder is my suicide. Only one rule to abide:
explicative note. Tell them that I have no hope.
Coincidental stop, your arms put plans aside.

Now my actions are obsolete, life not finite.
Postponed is my last breath, I am now the elite
living with their ashes in foreign eyes. Each blink
tells you alone read my bones before I could sink.

I see a bird, red
and black his wings, fluttering
bright eye in glossy head

will he speak?

#joy   #wonder   #luck  

The morning rained.
Down in the basement he lay flattened by bad luck and worse judgement.
The morning rained.
Despair seeped under the broken sill as his drained accounts stared back blankly and forcasted worse to come.
The morning rained.
Grey skies cut off the last hint of a silver lining.
The morning rained.
And he cried floods.

#broken   #rain   #luck   #money   #debt  

I wished upon a thousand stars
That they would align
And a world would be ours
But the stars are untamably wild
And I couldn't be farther from you
If I was standing on mars

#life   #moon   #stars   #wishing   #fate   #luck   #destiny  

On an Erie night high in the lands
there was an old homeless man who scoured for cans,
thrown out by the rich, sought out by the poor
for one mans trash could be another mans gold.

Food brought out by the wicked as they crept out of bed
only to throw their food down on the streets of Balarstead
where the old man once a young boy had grew
as his society failed to teach him while he was still new

Needless to say while he lie on the streets
waiting for townsfolk to throw food at his feet
enraged by jealousy he knocks and crys out on one mans door
whom he said he wouldnt be willing to help out the poor.

Crying on a stepstone that cold winter night
the old man waited for time to creep out of sight,
another night he'd grow hungry again
until the first mans neighbor took out his trash again.

The olden man went to reclaim his feast
as one mans trash became his golden ticket, the only one he could reach
It seemed that the old man was in a town he once called home
now to find the one mans trash is what he wants the most.

He fights to survive every night
as the snowy mountain town blinds his sight
he builds a fire made of one mans trash
so that he may wake up to make a new day last.

One day the man grew tired of eating all the townspeople's trash
because in the end the satisfying putrid taste would never last
so in the middle of the cold snowy night he fled
and he escaped the town of ol' Balarstead

He wanted more to feed his desires
so once again one mans trash conspires
and in the concrete jungle the old man could feel more at pace
as there was food strung all throughout the place.

As usual the man had always sifted through townspeople's garbage
in hopes to find something quite scrumptious
but on this night the man had found something new
something only in his dreams did he ever knew

on this cold winter night as the townspeople lay in bed
he sifted through the trash cans of Calimastev
where when he opened the trash bags near the rich local homes
to find many finely cut diamonds made from that perfect stone
it seemed that the old man had finally struck a massive treasure
so in the back of his mind he will always remember
that in one mans trash may be another mans treasure.

I wrote this poem out of inspiration from our towns only visible homeless man and recreated what he really wishes what would happen. I wish the best for him as he really is a good man.
#luck   #greed   #poorperson  
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