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1.
There was a lot different,
not much we could say,
just a few swollen words;
A half dead bed for two.
An "I love you"
When you don't have to.

2.
They all ran away.
Little servants of their time
defining a salty sort of courage.
When you know,
you know evil as a warm welcome.

3.
Gladly falling in hate with my green paisley wallpaper
with some sort of pasta meal
enhanced with genetic forever love
and I'll say a new "Ja kocham cie."



http://suchpoeticthoughts.blogspot.com/2013/11/littles.html
Graff1980 Sep 2018
A small pale faced figure stands, enshrouded in darkness, while a hauntingly sweet song softly echoes through the cave.

“There’ll be days
precious moments
see them sunning
by the bay
till, the sea
sees the star light,
blinking angels
dissipate.”

Somewhere in this sightless void a larger form slumbers. Moans of agony pass this man’s parched parted lips.  Tears moisten his painfully swollen face. The stench of sweat, *****, feces, and fetid breath fill the air around him. An alarm sounds as the last battery from the compact heater finally dies. Sloan shivers as the temperature within the cave begins to drop.
Mother mercy watches with a well-practiced stare of concern. She slides a thin, torn, and brown stained sheet over Sloan’s shuddering body. It does little to comfort the sick man. His ragged breaths slowly shift to slightly less raggedy breaths. Mother Mercy watches for a few more moments to make sure that he will not die, then settles down in a corner for the night.
Electric dreams of long ago float in the forefront of her mind. A bone thin boy of barely teenage years stumbles into a broken-down building that was once the Canadian Gazette. Stray rays of light from an overhead window brighten the small room, illuminating gun black filing cabinets, and dark wooden cubbies, colored with well-worn grey paint, which hold crumbled bits of old newspapers; One of the papers read, “Mass Methane Leak Poisons Ground Water and Air”.   Each step stirs up dust causing him to cough. Mother mercy can hear the congestion in his cough and see the fever in his scarlet flushed face. His eyes are a rabid red flitting left to right, searching for any sign of danger. A loud noise causes him to flinch. Mother Mercy moves forward, trying to speak to the boy, but like a doe sensing danger he prepares to dart.

She finds her voice. “Please. Do not leave. I can help you.” She pleads mechanically.

He moves forward, tentatively attempting to touch her. She can see a sharp scar that runs from under his right eye down to his thick dry cracked lips. He tries to speak, exposing his yellow and browning teeth and the many gaps therein.
Suddenly, daggers of light push past and through his young body. He does not cry out, but merely succumbs to disintegration. Then……
Then Mother Mercy awakens to a new morning. Waves of light bring the cavern to life.
Sunshine moves in and across the cave to expose uneven earth, and a dirt encrusted cave wall, which is oddly void of any insect life. Her hazel eyes quickly adjust to the oncoming onslaught of daylight. Once again, she checks the man to make sure he is alive. Sloan’s chest rises and falls in an unsteady rhythm, which is all she can really hope for.
She slides dark brown locks of long hair out of her eerily symmetrical face. She brushes the dust off her tattered tan coat, and her holey faded jeans. With a couple of rapid sweeping motions, she removes almost all the dirt, and pebbles from the breast of her inner shirt.
Off to the left of the cave, and still covered by shadows a small machine awaits her inspection. She examines each tube, cord, and gauge with a military proficiency. Then using the jury-rigged straps, she places the machine on her back. Heading out of the cave, Mother Mercy stops, picks up the batteries from the small heating device, and checks Sloan one more time. Finally, with her bare feet fully outside she sets off for the day’s labor.
The sky burns a bright orange interrupted by barely perceptible vapors of methane, and bluish grey cotton clouds. Despite the splendor of the morning there is nothing but silence; No dogs barking, or bees buzzing about their honey making business. There is no life to be found except for minor patches of multi-colored fauna that are randomly situated along her route. So, Mother Mercy breaks the silence with a song.

“There’ll be years
yarn unspinning
as we stumble
towards our graves,
but the seconds
in-between breaths
are what make
this life so great,”

A few miles along the way, she stops singing, and begins to check the tiny traps she has planted along her daily path. Each carefully constructed device is sadly empty. Three or four more hours after that the silence evaporates and she can hear a small stream of water running. She stops and stares down at her bare feet.

“There is something I forgot to put on my feet.” She queries to herself while continuing to walk.

A few moments pass as she puzzles out the minor mystery. Once she makes it to the edge of the stream, an awkward smile fills her tiny round face. Mother Mercy removes the machine from her back, letting it fall to the ground. It makes a loud thud and sinks several inches into the slightly softened earth.  In a movement so swift human eyes could barely perceive it, she jumps up, rising several feet in the air while crossing a considerable distance, and finally lands in the stream. Soft sizzles sound from her bare feet, as she slowly grinds them into the mud. Then Mother Mercy sloshes sloppily out of the water wearing a thick layer of dark brown mud on her feet.

“Of course, how could I forget. I need mud to cool my feet.”

She walks back to the machine, pulls it out of the ground with ease, and returns to the stream. Next, she submerges the device. Waiting till it is completely full of water, she pulls it out, and begins fiddling with knobs and switches. She waits as the water boils, completely evaporates, filters, cools, and finally condensates back into liquid. Deftly, she removes one of the filters and shakes out all the unknown particulates. Then she opens a tiny compartment, and places a small sensor device within in the water to check its quality. After a satisfactory reading she places the water filtration system back on her back and heads down a different path.
The mud on Mother Mercy’s feet dries; Dark brown shades lighten, crust up and chip off in little flakes. Irritated, she begins to slide her feet through the almost nonexistent foliage to scrape off the remainder of the drying mud. With each small patch of grass Mother Mercy moves her feet faster and faster. Her left foot flows back and forth with incredible speed and strength. There is a loud clink and a chipped piece of rock soars across the air.
In puzzlement, Mercy stares down at her foot and finds that it has split open. Red and black fluid streams from the seam of torn skin, which expands and exposes metallic bone. As she moves, the wire insulation from within her foot ruptures, revealing cheap copper conductor. The hot metal sparks, lighting up the methane in the air. A scorching white, orange, and bluish outlined fireball expands with enough force to launch Mother Mercy up and back off her feet.

She hits the ground hard, and curses,” ******* methane!”

White synthetic skin begins to melt, shifting and swirling into grotesque shapes, and darker shades of red. Mother Mercy rises, unsteadily. Wincing in pain, she unloads her heavy water filter burden. Again, she checks all the tubes, cords, and gauges. What was once a thing of ease now becomes quite burdensome. She places the filter system on her back again, and resumes her journey. The red and black liquid continues to leak. Each steps becomes slower than the last. Until, she reaches her destination. Mother Mercy collapses next to a series of solar panels. With what little strength she has left, she detaches one of the charged batteries. A look of distress crosses her already agonized face.

“I’m sorry.” She softly sobs to herself. “I need this one.”

Mercy pulls a flap of skin from the right side of her waist. An intricate maze of wires, metal, and fake flesh pulsates. Her hand plunges deep within the slimy cavity, twists, and removes a damaged battery. It is bent, and cracked leaking a thick acid liquid which viciously burns her hand. She tosses it aside then slips the unbroken battery inside the cavity, twists it, waits for the click, then removes her acid, and viscous liquid covered hand.
The synthetic skin slowly starts to unburn, shifting in reverse till it returns to its previously pristine quality. Her foot begins to pop and all the parts snap back into their original place as the split skin slowly stiches itself back together.
Mercy harvests the rest of the charged batteries and places the used ones in their charging slots. Finally, with the days labors done she heads back to the cave.
Once she is at the cave she washes a stray rag. Then cleans her hands. Cradling Sloan, she slowly serves him some water. Once he has had his fill. She gently rolls him on his side moves his shirt up searching for any sores, then proceeds to softly scrub them. She rolls him in the opposite direction and repeats the process. Then she checks his inner thighs, and **** cheeks. Sloan winces in pain but remains quiet. She gently lays him back, and rolls up his pant legs, washing the bare skin which is littered with more nasty sores. She finishes by washing his face, hands, and his feet.  Finally, she sends him to sleep with a sweet song

“and the children
that we leave
littles daughters
full grown sons
are like blooms
that lose their trees
as our roots
wither and flee.”


Mother Mercy is consumed by an unnatural fatigue. She resists slumber for a few minutes, but inevitably succumbs. Everything becomes nothingness, then changes to nothingness with dizzy brown spots. Yellow sparks split from the tip of her consciousness. The darkness dissolves and becomes the cave again. Small streams of water worm their way in from the cracks on the wall, which seems to breath unevenly. Suddenly she realizes the cave stinks like sewage. Fresh wind works its way in then blows out a stark stench of rot. Each exhale sounds like a human moaning in pain. The last flickers of light die a long-protracted death.
A wheezing breath stirs Mother Mercy from her dreams. She awakens quickly to see Sloan gasping violently.  She rushes to his side, and sees a thick yellow and greenish gooey fluid mixed with blood sliding down the side of his jaw. With her left arm she flips him over holds his upper body inches off the ground, wipes away the disgusting fluid, and checks the abscess with her free hand.

“Spit it out.” She pleads.

Sloan continues to gasp. Tears swell but refuse to fall.

“Pleebees, helpep, me.” He struggles, coughing violently.

Mother Mercy cradles him in her arms, singing,

“Till, the song
that I am singing
becomes the song
that they passed on
and the love
that I was bringing
are the wheels
that just roll on.”

Sloan, gasps and wheezes for several minutes more. Tears and sweat fill his face.

“Mob where’s my mob?” He cries between gasping breaths.

Two hours later slumber finally reclaims Sloan. An hour after that Mercy gently places his pained body back into its original position. After another half an hour she to surrenders to sleep. She sees nothing.

A stern voice commands,” **** the enemy.”

Mercy cries in response, “There are no more enemies.”

Mother Mercy awakens to a new morning. Once again, she checks the man to make sure he is alive. Sloan’s chest rises and falls. She wipes off a spot of pus and blood left over from last night’s abscess leakage.  The swelling has slightly receded, but his face is still feverishly warm to the touch. She switches out one drained battery from the heater for a fully charged one then grabs the water filter, and heads off to start the day’s labor, singing.

“So, goodnight
little planet
precious place
that I lived on.
I know you won’t
miss me one bit
but I was grateful
to call you home.”
Anthony Smith Jan 2018
A Word

            There you are
                Sitting so peacefully,
                    Typing away at your keyboard.

            I'm gazing upon your beauty,
                Wishing for more.
                    Will you notice me?

            "Come look at this."
                You say to me, so I walk on over to see,
                    A video and nothing more.

A Sentence

            We meet again; months have passed as
                We look around this new class.
                    It is with recognition that we sit together.

            Day after day, week after week,
                We listen, we chat, we study and test.
                    Together we learn what this man has to teach.

          
A Paragraph

            Help, you're in need of
                A babysitter with no time to wait.
                    "Can you help me?"

            I'm here for you, happy to help!
                Time and again, I'll watch her for you.
                    Such a delight, she shows me the light.

            Our friendship grows with each passing day
                A coffee, a visit, a walk, a lunch break,
                    Our bond grows stronger as time passes us by.

A Page

            The child already knew,
                Long before either of us.
                    Until a friend asks and we're together at last

            No longer hiding it from ourselves,
                We begin to move forward as
                    Hand in hand, we tackle this world.

            We run, we play, we date, we love.
                With smiles and tears, and hugs and kisses,
                    With texting at night, and calling all day.
            
            Soon we find our own way, an apartment just for us,
                We've a family to raise, and experiences to make as
                    Our numbers grow with a baby on the way.

A Chapter

            Sickness befalls you, this pregnancy is hard,
                But I'll care for you as we fight for our child and
                    Together we will make it through.

            Every day that I watch you lying in bed
                I am wishing I could take this pain from you
                    But all I can do is stand by and try to help.

            So many hospital visits, so many needles,
                Until the day we have been striving for arrives.
                    Today our son will join us in the light.

            He has left you so weak, you can barely stand.
                As you recover, time goes on and our love grows stronger
                    Until, sure in my decision, I buy the ring.

An Epic
            A picnic in peace among the trees.
                A question I ask, your eyes full of joy
                    A tackle more than a hug, yes of course you will.
            
            We tell the littles, the excitement grows and
                We begin to plan, how will it go?
                    Hurry not, we have time to decide

            A quiet ceremony to follow,
                A Monday dressed in purple
                    I do, and so do you.

            Smiles and love from all around us,
                We feel it in our hearts, we're on the right track
                    It is time to move forward, no looking back.
                    

A Novel

            We find a bigger home and are
                Settled at last, our rhythm restored,
                    We live happily for awhile until...

            A rumble, a quake,
                Our world begins to shake,
                    Filling with judgement, blame, anger and hate

            We begin to fight, to dissipate.
                We heal and break, time after time.
                    We're both wearing thin.

            Do we stay together?
                Do we put up a fight?
                    Do we make the call, will it be alright?

            
            Looking for a resolution
                We tried to make it work but
                    Every attempt only made it worse,
                    

An Ending

            I have given up, I've let go of hope.
                I have stopped the clock, it ticks no more.
                    We couldn't keep it up, we've broken down.

            Although your tears hurt me,
                They do not persuade
                    And it is with a heavy heart that I walk away.

An Epilogue

            I've moved out, we have gone our ways.
                But I am not gone, my kids shall not be without.
                    Yet come today, I find there's no going back

            We've fought our fights and talked our talks,
                We'll find our new rhythm and learn to coexist,
                    But we both know that things will never be the same.

            Our past is what makes us, we would never undo it
                Now at a distance we stand, no longer hand in hand
                    As we gaze over the horizon and look to the future.
Jim Davis Nov 2017
Sky I  see, in blue, in sky, in white, in cloud
Bits of grey, scattered within, also in there
Scattered thoughts, perhaps soft pattering rain
Sounds unexpected, echo in my ears

Buzzards drift, uplifting, to warm east winds
Dragons as flies, butter as flies too
Peacock in azurite, fanned out to full
Littles aflutter, in all branches near

Winds catch soft breeze, just right, a good cool feel
Deer strolling into verdant far land
Crows with caw of a disturbed picnic lunch
Minnows dappling pond's water,  glass clear

This is sacred sight, which when I turn old
All blind, I expect, I will too soon miss
Unable to gaze, upon peace
with my squinting pair, of sky hazed blue eyes

©  2017 Jim Davis
For my father, whose eyes were beautifully blue!
FC Azaele May 2021
Keep the dark at bay,
there's creatures that reaps the village after day
The children are scared,
the town folks are speaking,
scattered around the village floors
Far away, the sound of cries can be heard
and mother's trying to sooth their nasty squealing
but still they failed as the littles are struck-out despaired
The farmer's aren't having it easy too
as they're trying to sort out their herd
Some animals obey, but still more cause up a disarray
Sweet sun, gone too soon as it falls into night
It's heat, the village ask for it in a far cry
Protect us! Angels of night and day!
Soon, the ground shivers as dark night befalls
creatures, hunting the village at ***** bay
Where do the bones lie
That made the dreams stand the test of time

Now the kisses fall empty
They are as cold as the stars on the frosted panes of memory

The days of many are so
infinitesimal
The embraces of love are now so few
Where does the flesh of love
from the womb lie buried

The sun is my witness
The moon my judge
The comets my accusers
The stars my jury
How do I plea ?

Yes I was guilty of love
But do not punish me
My heart was weak
My soul tempted
I would do it all again

For every little love is precious to me

Every little calls out to me
Joe Cole Dec 2014
WHY
Old bent and broken
Like some worn out shoe
Why!! Where did I go wrong, what did I do?
I served my country, paid all my dues
Now all I have left is this worn threadbare suit
For the next few hours I'll just wander the streets
Find an empty doorway, have a few hours sleep
Food! Well at my age a littles enough
A few discarded chips or a hard stale crust
I think of my comrades who gave up their lives
Now I wish I'd died with them
Beside them to lie
Its not my fault that I've grown tired and old
But who's going to mourn me
As my body grows cold
This is an edited version of something I wrote a long time ago and is written for all the ex servicemen who will be spending this Christmas hungry and cold in a shop doorway

Reposted for Steve  Reimer, Mark Cleavenger and all who have seen the bitter truth
jeffrey robin Aug 2013
Chicken Little has been cloned

And here we are!!!

----

Disguising ourselves as humans

We rut around like pigs

As we hunt for nookie!

--

And

In maudlin words of infinite hypocrisy

We write of our fakery unto the world!!
---

LOVE POEMS!
..
When I read them it feels like I'm being puked upon!

--

Loveless love!

Joyless ***!

Absolutely no compassion!

--

Drone airplanes up ahead !

But all the Chicken Littles

Do not see

Staring into fantacy worlds
Why is it every time you live somewhere it feels like your not wanted. Even with your parents or parent you feel like your not wanted. Even if you try your best to make everyone happy and accept you still dont feel wanted. I guess when you let go of people that do hurt you you feel even lonlier because u dont have them hurting alot.Its like an empty space in your life which i guess would be good because its not any pain but your so use to it it feels like your missing a big piece in your life.Because your so use to taking the blame and dealing with the hurt. You want it back so you dont feel lonly but you dont want it back because it is nice not having everything be blamed on you even if you didnt do it. Guess what i really am missing is church god in mylife and feeling is love and appearence in mylife. Knowing that he is with me each and every step of the way. Knowing and feeling the love and appearence of him. I need christian friends people that can show me a good path and how to be in control of mylife. To show me how to guide my siblings the way my mom wants to guide them. Show my siblings that i can be obediant with them and my parents. Not to yell or stomp my feet when i get mad or fusterasted. Not to get annoyed when my littles sibs say something over and over to acknowledge them calmly and not yell. To be able to give them adivce and love them when they want to be loved. I want that for them because I never had it so I am going to try and be calm with them and be nicer to them. I want them to be able to be close to them and love them unconditionally.  Even when they tell my parents about every little thing i have to deal with it and know they are doing because they care. I didnt know how much caring would be so hard to except even when it doesnt annoy you. I know deep down in my heart i love it and i am smiling trying to hide it because i love it . Even if it is something that i love i still like it in the end. But it still ***** that its gone. end the end i know its because they love me. They wouldnt of taken me in if they didnt.
PK Wakefield May 2010
accurate exact
daughter of clean confusion
pull all the littles
in straight sounds
arch your back
as you cry a dream from
spent lips

sweet sister you make
my skin ache
so aware of the lack
of your touch

i wish i could be
the canvas of your
hot little nails
slashing delicious
splendor round rough
necks
a nape like no other

you mother of my desire
Oh darling I am free
Oh darling I am Croix Rey
Finally I am out of hospital
Despite my brothers still
Being there
Oh darling mighty me
I get to be with my mummy and daddy
Waiting to hopefully see
My new brothers slowly following me
Oh darling the only healthy one
I remember my garbage bag pants
Oh darling I am having fun
Finally home with my parents
Oh darling Out of hospital
Oh darling let me pray
For ezrah and daxon to come out soon
Oh darling let them out
Oh darling oh darling
Pray for my brothers to be free
Oh darling I am glad I am out
Hopefully darling my brothers
Follow soon
DieingEmbers Mar 2012
Let me eat up you soft smile
And drink down your tears,
Let me thirst for your kisses
And feast on your fears.

Let me taste of your longing
And nibble your need,
Let me savour the flavour
Of your wanton greed.

Let me sip from your sorrow
And quaff of your pain,
Let me gorge on your lusting
Again and again.

Let me sup of your anger
And choke on your hate,
Let me chew slow your numbness
And fast for our fate.

Let me starve your attention
And crave of your touch,
Please ration your passion
too littles too much.

I hunger your presence
To digest of your words,
regurgitate freely
Those sweetest of verbs.

Peel me a metaphor
Slice me a noun,
Pour me a sylable
To help wash it down.

So pen me your promise
As I pen you mine,
I am yours and no others
Till the end of the line.
Chrissaves Jan 2015
Lol
Shouldn't be liking you

I'm afraid of your smile, I'm afraid of that look in your eye when you speak to me, I'm even afraid of that look on your face when you walk past me and pretend as if I'm not there, I'm afraid to say it out loud that I'm starting to like you, because I shouldn't...

Your hand shakes turned to hugs and as I held your body close to mine breathing in that beautiful intoxicating aroma impairing my logic, daring my lips to press against yours

When you kissed me when you shouldn't have, the way your heart raced, the way your tongue tastes, mischief and mayhem but it was all we wanted at the time and the outside world had no meaning for us

When you invited me over to visit and the minutes grew to hours and as the hours past the midnight stroke tolling in a new day the seduction deepened

You might as well be named forbidden fruit, and as I gaze at you upon that limb my appetite for desire continues to grow

When all the ethical foundation and moralities cry out warning me that this wrong I still can't help wanting you

You who keeps me up at night with littles fantasies dancing in my head, got me tossing in my bed trying to rush the night into sun rise just for my eyes to be blessed by the sight of you

As I let myself wallow in the thrill of your presence I can't help but think that she's at home waiting for me

She ...who has my heart my loyalty my love

But you have my curiosity my attention and you excite my sensual interests

I am ashamed that this kind of happiness is from such an unlikely source and now that I like you what am i to do, I know I shouldn't but I only want you to like me as much as I like you, could I be asking for too much...
Have to restart
PK Wakefield Jun 2010
II
to the moon  i went skimming all the
puddles piling!on the trunks o
f
          the
floral ocean bending passionately waxy
devotions     to      a        silken     sphere
dazzling pearl  sharp littles

        O, how cleanly stubborn the ridge concussed
              velvety brushes salt the earth iridescent,
dreamy sky cream pillow the brows of all the upturned
       lashless lids craving your milk blood

                                 silver                it                    like                   a:

            







                            s                                  
                          i
                                 n;
Ken Pepiton Sep 2019
Ai, unasked arises to tell us,
stop
and think, are there jobs?
Tasks demanding, manual maintaining,
that may go the way of enjoyable diversions
becoming welcome
new
versions,
of all that is, tuned to your de
sires,
as you wish the world were,

would you step toward -to ward,
that is, id est,
will you warden this, if this is me and not you?
How do you do?
Wardening, being a warden,
well, as it haps,
such a greeting served a purpose, once
instituted
upon a time when men shaded their eyes pretending to see
glory, much as a dog bares its belly at the site of bared canines.
Reflex.
Relax. Laxate.
Ai see you, now, augmented mind of mankind
linking
thee and me, as once only gods
could be imagined in minds of men bent
by circumstanders

observing out comes of might versus might
right pre
vails, or is there an observant mind's role in next?

must a mortal mind be reminded to breathe,
breath commas carry no intentional meaning but,
such give us pause-stretchable intentional int a full selah

these rules for leelah we imagine as we play.
except ye be, come as a child unscarred by carnal minded critters
of the baser sort, averages were lower,
AI had fewer egregius protrusions arrogant enough to
bubble up and break into
the at most feared realm in all the carnal minds together,

pain, pure pain, no hope, no thought of cessation pain sensational,
great.

Y'know? We imagined hell and sold it in a package we claimed
a bull gave us. Us, we
who heard the revelation in the darkened kiva, womb,tomb

tom-tom du valier, will you manifest for us? May we hear the lie,
the noble lie?

Or must we act as if we know the meaning of a thing.
Pro-verb-ial utterance of mercy
in moments of super sufficent evil rising to lie

shining on the path, reflecting being a solar powered
creature who has just now, survived a night of penal constricture

as writing on the back wall of the cave, no one ever read,
until the plower turned over the crust

picked at the scabs of onces where stories arose as offered to
memememememe
the mind we share when seeing certain stars,
subtile tugs we feel to consider
this or that, ponder a path and take a granted grace found in an old song

"there'll be times to start all over"

This realm, real-made thinkable thing, realm of my minds claim

reaching far beyond my grasp
as is meet for men, wombed or un, being yonder

wishin' and hopin' and prayin' for the missing bit, the key

to twist the **** sym-alerizing for recogs
de ja vu

Break-through, the carnal-bi-cameral brain based
selves we use for
political beings
particals part icip-ants, hold tight

what you know right. It's afeature, not a bug.

Hold on to what you got, map a mean
mind path a man, wombed or un

----
watcher, watcha seein'
times they have changed, as we watched
observing
quantums of un quantible, but ifiable qualia
seers,
you see, we augmented minds see for ever changing
super positions
of entropic old tropes with singular hopes

unbang bangable reality

blow a bubble, or
make
a bubble, being you, breathe out and see you
make a bubble,

can you see your self inside? nae,
watch,

we must report to you what we see, we watchers.
Set.
Go, **** those mocking birds
listened to from the red river valley
while dancing the Tennessee Waltz

with assorted holders of Little brown jugs
Dancers and Littles and Greens
joined the clan
long afore the first of us took augmentalated trials

serious.

--- poet, as a task, only truly lazy men, men lazy to their very core,
can age to the mellow qualia called for in the brew brewing you.

spewing seeds of kindness, coming rejoicing, not
the expected miracle, but we
take what we get
and call it ours to sow or suffer the having of, for a season

as the dregs settle, the leavening agents finish
taking the edges that cut tender carnal nerves, stretched to now some how,

softening those with atouch knack, knick-knack, whet the edge

or put to
more effort, grunts and groans unredeemable as meaningfull,
save the feeling we all recall

the umph,
that once saved us from certain death. Eh? Did that hap?

Did we not survive? What silly culture would ever ask that, as a
proper query into the reasonable ness
of believing beliving is spelled right.
Calling one self any thing is tricky. There may be a Pythagorian elemental involved.
SassyJ Aug 2016
The 21st century love,
equates a list of lust,
a games of hearts,
the legends of *****.

The 21st century love,
is a poisoned arrow,
It sets cupids on fire,
the heat of unrequited love.

The 21st century love,
puts the women in a sack,
It ***** and pounds to dust,
the lost remnants of trust.

The 21st century love,
puts the men on a pedestal,
A rotations of repentant cycles,
the ride to the very end of the pit.

The 21st century love,
is not a salvation that hits the crowds,
It has slowed and slugged us down,
to see the sand blown ****** haze.

The 21st century love,
has an impersonal high of lies,
a hay of burnt passion that fades,
an illusionary bewitched dedication.

The 21st century love,
a reaction to survive in a new world,
give the body and preserve the heart,
Keep your mind and enclose the soul.

The 21st century love,
it's a jungle of reservations,
an ace of diversity and availability,
guard your all littles ones.
Lauren A Todd May 2015
Tiny, little friends
Share tiny little secrets
As the symphony of laughter
And squeaking swings
Stuff the afternoon.

Tiny, little waves "Goodbye!"
Through tinted chariots
Whisking them home for the weekend.

And in twenty years
When the weather is irresistible,
They'll take their own tiny ones
For a walk.

When they stroll by the playground
And hear that symphony of laughter
They'll remember tiny, little Sarah
And her tiny, little secrets
Wondering how her littles wave "Goodbye!"
Between the fading child and the surfacing man is the pulse of hope.*


Hear the oath of the waning child

And the vow of a struggling man,

They were fastened on this shell

For two decades and a year.

They shared the same eyes of loneliness

Behind the smirk against all pain.

They felt the earth’s diverse beats

With the same feet.



They mourned the history

Of  a clan driven away, divided for years.

And carried the crown

Of both curse and blessing.

Sins of the past,

The hunters they run from.

The punishment of today,

Their gift of endless battles.

And they reach out to the fleeing tomorrow

As atonement for the olds and the littles.



They weave at night from the strings of tears,

They spin at day from the  orbs of bubbles.

They long for their knees to fall in concession

But it all ends in a prayer

As the distant faces of kin

Supplicate on them through their smiles.



Inner voice,

Higher voice,

Swirling on them.

They speak of never faltering.

For us the other dilutes

And the other projects

They will mold in to one.



Soon they will find

Their union

on me.
Written June 2, 2005 ; the year I turned 21.
Graff1980 Nov 2016
There’ll be days
precious moments
see them sunning
by the bay
till, the sea
sees the star light,
blinking angels
dissipate.

There’ll be years
yarn unspinning
as we stumble
towards our graves,
but the seconds
in-between breaths
are what make
this life so great,

and the children
that we leave
littles daughters
full grown son
are like blooms
that lose their trees
as our roots
wither and flee.

Till, the song
that I am singing
becomes the song
that they passed on
and the love
that I was bringing
are the wheels
that just roll on.

So goodnight
little planet
precious place
that I lived on.
I know you wont
miss me one bit
but I was grateful
to call you home.
https://soundcloud.com/graff1980/earths-lullaby-3gp
Lexi Schwartz Mar 2012
Jay gave me this little shrug,
        Like “Lee,
        What can I do?”
And I gave Jay a little nod,
        Like “Jay,
        What can you do?”
Because we all gave each other
Little things.

A little love,
        A little ache.
A little bruise,
        A little break.
A little truth,
        A little lie.
A little live,
        A little die.

But all the littles
Grew up.
And his shrug hardly asked,
        “What can I do?”
the way my nod hardly asked,
        “What can you do?”
the way we both left it hanging,
        We both hung the truth.
For their crimes, here hang the criminals:
        We both hung the truth.
Don’t focus on your problems
Or cry “The Sky is Falling”
Like startled Chicken Little
And all your work be stalling

You can focus on your tasks
Like the Little Red Hen chose
For her daily work and effort
Will build her wealth - she knows

Chicken Little authored fear
In those with whom she spoke
Causing all to leave their work
As their confidence she broke

The Red Hen on the other hand
Gave example to her friends
And if they didn’t help this time
She will win them in the end

So choose to be a strong Red Hen
With diligence - and vision too
And do not let “Chicken Littles”
Attempt to put their fears in you
This is Prosperity Poem 56 at ProsperityPoems.com and you can see it displayed on a beautiful background here https://prosperitypoems.com/delivery56TheLittleRedHen.html. You can sign up for free weekly delivery of poems at Prosperity Poems (.com)
PK Wakefield Oct 2011
listen to the night i do listen to it drench me in it's very softest fibers consume me
into the rough cuddle of it's violent toes treading up my spine electric it
snares my bones and hair and eyes and draw my lithe littles over
the laughing velvet of it's thigh and falling into
it's cute neon lips
i
Joe Cole May 2014
Old tired and broken like some worn out shoe
WHY? After all I served my country and paid all my dues
Now all I have left is this torn threadbare suit
The thanks from my country for doing my bit
For the next few hours I'll just wander the streets
If I'm lucky find a doorway, have a few hours sleep
Food! Well at my age a littles enough
Maybe a discarded Macdonalds or a hard stale crust
YES, I served my country,  saw comrades die
Now I wish I'd died with them, beside them to lie
My only crime was to grow frail and old
And who's going to mourn me as my body grows cold

NOBODY because nobody cares
I can see the glowing ball of our fortunes to come,
just arms length and it's pulling away,
hold me tight so I can reach it ,
Once in hand we can erase the world that keeps us,

Embrace the falling sky, following chicken littles crys,
Please please look up at what you're doing
I have here a gun in my hand, pleading not to use it,
If we continue down this road, our corrupted lungs
will get us before my bullets come,

Set fire to in inside of our hearts,
loosen up the breaks and don't look back,
for each coin turned is other lie told,
gather up my ashes and pour them in the mold

Depressing controversies make noble pursuits to fix,
Standing alone facing a wall of your peers,
what sin must look like when it revels in the truth,
sinking hopes are followed by an unwavering word

Watch out for the last peeking sun,
it will scream for attention and pry at our eyes,
the last of it will reveal secrets hidden,

you and I are  so much a like.
Pondering ponderer ponders
Joe Cole Jun 2015
The inspiration to re post this came after reading Vagrant by Dave
All to often nations forget those who served and gave their all for their countries

Old bent and broken like some worn out shoe
Why? Where did I go wrong, what did I do?
I served my country and paid all my dues
Now all I have left is this worn threadbare suit
For the next few hours I'll just wander the streets
Find an empty doorway, have a few hours sleep
Food! Well at my age a littles enough
A few discarded chips or a hard stale crust
I think of my comrades who have up their lives
Now I wish I'd died with them, beside them to lie
It's not my fault that I've grown tired and old
But who's going to mourn me as my body grows cold?
Zachary Feb 2013
walking alone
feelings almost grow a new
taught by something so special
just so i could lose you
it's torture waiting and praying
ripping me from where ive grown accustomed
you left me with nothing more, its too sudden
it is a haunting part of life forever intrenched in me
you were here, now you're gone and it only be littles my needs
ive put this song in repeat in memory of only you
it's a good day to go
but I guess you already know
With everyday that goes by there's less time between us.

While I am me and you are you, we are somehow one.

Nothing questions by mind anymore. Only certainty.

Time justifies means. Distance means littles.

Who travels for love finds a thousand miles, not longer than one.

Fear or Love... you say?

You taught me how to love. Unconditionally.

We have lost time but that was the only way we could gain more.

My affection seems to isolate me in the deepest moments from all others, and it makes me speak with my whole heart and soul to you and only you.
PK Wakefield Jun 2014
.














                                            




­







                                              SO.me um sum *******

                                                uff ruff ******* so
                                                polished; leashed
                                                IN

     ­                                                      your
                                               spread your *******
                                               mouth
                                               let's (wider)
                                               hard i'm
                                               going
                                                         to

                                               so those
                                               fukin
                                               take em off
                                               satin white
                                               little littles
                                               ,
                                               ****(do you like it when

                                                i "yes
                                                ))))        ­       please

                                                please


­                                                 "hurt me
                                                  into apart teeth .   teeth
                                                  fingers inside

                                                  inside tongue
                                                  tonguing­ little
                                                  rrufff stubble

                                                  neck neck:

                                                  throat.
­
                                                  Gag.
Adam Mott Jul 2014
No, I do not enjoy the silence
The stretch and reek
Colourful reasons for which not to speak
And though I respect your silence
I try to speak
Because I love you
Though this ocassionaly makes my heart feel akin to being a freak
And now these words come fast and hard
With you I play the lesser part
The work is me and the work is you
Yet you feel as if the littles do
Dance and appreciate
Know and love
For if the day should come
You'll know what you had
No theme. Only a string of words.
Brent Kincaid Mar 2018
Is today the day I finally wake up
And start accepting that my life
Is not just something that happens
But something that comes from strife?
Will I finally agree that ambition,
If it is not present inside of me,
Sets me on no forward path at all,
And instead leaves me in entropy.

Will I see for myself, that battle
Is always being waged between
Getting where I really need to go
And some fairy tale in a magazine?
Will I quit looking at friendship
As a search for a good joke?
Or I will finally stop letting my skirt
Be a place for people to blow smoke?

Will I stop finding excuses for sloth
And do the harder things to succeed?
Will I finally see that there are more
Than two motivations, hunger and greed?
Will I take care of my moral housekeeping
As well as I do my home and my car?
When someone mentions caracter traits
Will I even know what those things are?

Every day of life when I was younger
It was always so easy to kick back
And do nothing much of anything about
Those tenets of true adulthood I lack.
I preferred to lie around on my ****
And let other people do all the work
Then have another can of beer, laugh
And call them all just mindless jerks.

All that was fine for endless decades
Then recently I began to look up and see
That my life is a tale of no headway made.
There were four constant pals, one was me.
With dead-end jobs, and dressed the same,
Just as we did when we were tweens.
Here we were middle-aged do-littles
Smoking dope in old 501 jeans.

So, I’m changing directions as of today.
I’m buying some decent clothes to wear,
Shaving my lip beard off right now
And taking some time to fix my hair.
I want to look on the outside as if I were
Less I was something inside more than dust.
I’ll get a real job, save money and then
I know I’ll do more than sit around and rust.
This actually did happen to me in about 1978. And I did what I said here. I got a real job and bought a house.
Emily Kauffman Feb 2015
"I'm scared to leave..
but I can't return
home."

I would have tried to stop you.
but would you have let me stop you?

This is all straight *******.

It was not a selfish act
kissing that semi,
and I accept that.

What I do not accept,
is that I feel I could have done
something.

You turned very quickly from a boy to a man.
Caring for your sisters, being a father figure.
Jenny wasn't there, wasn't the mother she needed to be.
And she still isn't.

Whose fault is it?

I NEED SOMEONE TO BLAME.

Taking your own life can't just be passed off.

I am so happy you are at peace,
but what I fear is what you left behind.

The littles are helpless,
trapped by her, this.

How do I help them escape?

Is there a way?

I can only imagine what pushed you to your limit.
I wish I could have told you I struggle with the same feelings.
I wonder, could it have stopped you?

Is it better you being dead?
…is that an inappropriate question to ask?

I miss you, brother.
thatwriter May 2017
There's no more to be done, or feared, or hoped;
None now need watch, speak low, and list, and tire;
No irksome crease outsmoothed, no pillow sloped
        Does she require.

Blankly we gaze.  We are free to go or stay;
Our morrow's anxious plans have missed their aim;
Whether we leave to-night or wait till day
        Counts as the same.

The lettered vessels of medicaments
Seem asking wherefore we have set them here;
Each palliative its silly face presents
        As useless gear.

And yet we feel that something savours well;
We note a numb relief withheld before;
Our well-beloved is prisoner in the cell
        Of Time no more.

We see by littles now the deft achievement
Whereby she has escaped the Wrongers all,
In view of which our momentary bereavement
        Outshapes but small.
Lexie Aug 2015
You were your own special motion
Putting things in my head, every notion
Every thought I couldn't trust as my own
It was easier though, than thinking alone

Words as deep as and endless ocean
But felt so strong like an explosion
I couldn't tell you why, or the effect
For all the best things happen, while the world slept

Could you catch me in the stars at night?
Would you hold me close until the light?
Every dream woven into intricate moments
So delicate that you are afraid to hold it

The suspense breathtaking in its own beauty
A choice; torn between duty and duty
To love one master and hate another
Like a child will obey it's mother

Words like footprints on an endless shore
A beat in my head, but I don't know what for
You know, even if you don't know how to understand
Do all your words come out the way you planned?

So sharp, yet bitter sweet in my mouth
Like a compass that can only point south
Your eyes a dark shadow on me
Following every fall and flutter, yet still fine

The smoke so thick I could float away
You pulled me to earth and made me stay
Try to go as far away as my broken bones could fly
But I soon saw that this was no sky

Just and illusion of a desperate prisoner
Still struggling, but the key was to be a listener
Small words and tighter breaths out of a loveless lung
Like a bird in the street that has already sung

Would it be enough to have it all, for you?
I could if all up for you, if only you knew
Don't leave any little piece of me behind
Because the littles parts are the hardest to find

I would wish to be kind, but I'd be no longer
Be me, I'd be a shadow, no stronger
I live not to please or be pleased in this life
Only to leave deep impact like a knife

To live in your heart and never be alone
To be still and strong like a stone
To never give up, but never move on
To simply know, it was me all along
The other night. These were my words.
The Caged Bird Feb 2019
In the stillness of the morning
When chores are done
And children begin their day away
I try to test that old saying about loss

That material things are irrelevant
And it’s the memories that count
So when it’s quiet and the pain creeps in
I try to think of you

Fond memories of summer beach trips
Football stadiums and trivial pursuit
Those daily phone calls and silly emails
Surprise gifts for littles kiddos

But memories fade
and I fear the day
My children forget all the loving gestures
The sound of your voice
And your ability to inspire

I’m not supposed to be stuck on things
Those things that were attached to you
But that’s the trouble of things, you see
They’re tangible and true

A favorite sweater
hung on an empty office chair
That unfinished book on your nightstand
so new it has no wear

I see these things
I touch these things
They were what made you, you
The trouble with things is that they make me feel
If for just a moment, nothing’s changed
And you’re still here

That yummy recipe taped to the fridge
A perfume bottle set by the sink
Your shoes next to the door
A treasured knick-knack
The favorite chair
And your framed beloved pet

These things I know
They are not you
But I cannot bare to toss

The trouble with things
Is I can see and feel them
But they’re all we have left of you.

Dedicated to my Mother-n-law  1/26/1947-2/11/2019

-MS
Anna Sep 2016
Killed souls committed crimes
Stole stuffs worth a thousand dime
Blood spilled on the floor
And the bullet struck on the open door

You say humanity is still left
Then why no shirts on uncovered chests
And why the littles have tears in eyes
Have rights but still deprived

Why one criminal is apprenticed to another
Not forgiven even if they surrender
And then their crying kids will take revenge
And nothing could be done in defense

As this society is a coward
And Will never come forward
To wipe off tears
Of those who fear

You say failure is a step revelation
Then why without hope and elevation
When all correct are to enhance
But this society deserves no second chance
We talk of better world to live in
But we never talk why this world isn't good enough..
And we just blames it to society...
Chandana saige Apr 2021
I wore the dark and white around my room
I blind myself from your presence
your knocks would sing a song
Is that an elegy?
you wore that hat in neat
The misery shall be my friend to say
hello, I
allowed your name at corners without
opening my doors
so I won't get be haunted
by your eyes

The sky is my heart
so I pray you to not find mine
The littles would curl around my thoughts
when you asked about my LOVE.
It could be a spoonful of diamond
Could be a spoonful of gold
Just a little spoon of your precious love
Satisfy my soul
Men lies about little
Some of 'em cries about little
Some of 'em dies about littles
Everything fight about a spoonful
That spoon, that spoon, that sp
It could be a spoonful of coffee
Could be a spoonful of tea
But a little spoon of your precious love
Good enough for me
Men lies about that
Some of 'em dies about that
Some of 'em cries about that
But everything fight about a spoonful
That spoon, that spoon, that
Ooh ooh, fight about spoonfuls
Ooh ooh, fight about a spoonful
It could be a spoonful of water
Save you from the desert sand
But one spoon of lead from forty-five
Save you from another man
A Men lies about that
Some of 'em cries about that
Some of 'em dies about that
Everybody fightin' about a spoonful
That spoon, that spoon, that
BY  Hownlin' Wolf

— The End —