Timothy Baxter: An intellectual genius with the emotional intelligence of a five year old
so thank you for these closed lips
and thank you for the impeccable hair line
thank you for the one too many thoughts keeping me up at 4 AM
thank you for my 5'7 stature
and thanks for all the self-loathing
thanks for the rent
and thanks for making me love hating responsibility
Mary Hartley Baxter: not one who came from white picket fences and Sunday drives. A giver. A lover. A control freak
Thank you for these psyche wrecking nerves
the bowling ball taking up permanent residence in the pit of my stomach
Thank you for teaching me how to treat women
and thank you for the stubbornness which allows this arrogance
thank you for keeping my feet attached to planet earth
while my head sails among the billowing clouds
for telling me how handsome I am
thank you for teaching me what it means to be in a family
thank you for letting me be a loser sometimes
Harry J Baxter: the heroic coward with a funny joke in bad taste and the right words for the wrong times
anti hero of a story nobody else is aware of
thank you for abusing all those pesky substances, they surely deserved it
thank you for the black lungs
thank you for speeding down dead end lane at five hundred miles an hour
thank you for remembering your helmet
thank you for saving all the words we never said to those we love
thank you for hiding from the unknown to avoid the scars of failure
thank you for getting those scars anyway
just so we knew what they felt like
thank you for the writer's block.... You motherfucker
but in all seriousness,
thank you for building up your tolerance to beatings
because they will continue until morale improves
It's a strange place - the real world - monsters lay in wait in every shadow around every corner
and yeah, you aren't the human being 2.0
but you're prepared enough to board up the windows before the hurricane
and Mum, Dad,
I can talk all the shit in the world
but all of it would be empty
because for as fucked up as I am
as fucked up as you both certainly are
we've made it this far
and god damn it
I can't see our sun setting anytime soon
so my naturally adapted cynical sarcasm behind me
Thank you for loving me no matter what
even when the well was so dry love was hard to find
Angels bowling in heaven, grandma always said;
I’d nod—it seemed plausible enough for a while,
Til I decided so much bowling sounded more like hell.
my friend is a cemetery. his broken fingers are testaments to the boredom of wind. do you write to yourself in prison? your kid cannot scribble. he tries and it makes him fierce. I make heads or tails of him no matter. your mother came to me in a bowling ball. whispered about the dryer opening and out came a burning in your sister’s ear. things are tense. your father still cleans the sounds you make.
the local lads
put in a good showing
at the regional
though they were defeated
they played exceptionally well
John won three ends in his match
but his opponent from Armidale
had a better game on the day
he sent many a fine shot
towards the jack
was well organized
and all the participants
were able to wet their whistles
when they went to the championships
they all complained about
being kept on the greens
and none of them
got a beer
until well after
as the old bowlers adage goes
it is better to be well up
than too short
it was more than a week ago
when he burned my hand
and i called you up drunk.
she pulled the phone from my hand
and told me i was making a mistake.
i told her i was calling my mom
and she gave it back to me.
we were on the bus
when i called her
and i smiled at him and i felt dizzy.
she took my phone from my hand
and talked to her.
you didn't pick up so i called again.
i whispered in her ear
careful and afraid,
( i n t o x i c a t e d )
"don't tell her what i told you earlier."
she turned to me with an eye roll and said,
"i would never."
he watched us.
hands shaking as i texted you
as steady as i possibly could.
it might have been the third time i told you i love you that month.
you told me to stop texting.
she handed the phone back to me and got off the bus.
i told him to come over here.
he said no.
i sighed and sat next to him.
she was giggling in my ear.
i felt sad.
so i started to smoke.
she took my phone away.
my voice was hoarse from all the cigarettes
and my hands were frozen.
inside, someone turned on all the lights.
i handed him the phone.
he asked if you were my sister.
she gave me back my phone.
i messaged you again.
you said you were bowling.
i said i didn't care.
i hung up the phone and asked him where he was going.
we were alone.
he said orleans, what about you?
i said st laurent.
i told him my sister lives there.
you wouldn't call.
your phone was broken.
it went straight to voicemail.
you said i was drunk.
i said i wasn't.
i said he burned my hands and i made lots of friends.
you said congratulations.
i got off the bus before him.
i said i love you.
you said, "you're drunk."
i said i was scared
and that i was alone.
no one would answer my calls.
i got off the bus at my sisters.
i listened to the strokes.
someone behind me called my name.
i played with the cigarette pack in my pocket.
it was my sister's boyfriend.
he lead me up to their apartment.
they gave me beer.
you said i should be talking to her.
i said i'd rather be talking to you.
i met a drug dealer
and tried to roll a joint.
they told me to keep drinking so i did.
it wasn't enough.
you said you were done.
i asked you why but i think i already knew the answer.
"i want to wake up with a hangover."
you went to bed.
i told you i love you.
you didn't answer.
i woke up at one in the afternoon
and told her we needed to talk.
i wasn't hungover.
i went out to my friends house.
i played with the cigarettes in my pocket.
i got home and asked you out.
you said yes.
the Australians are playing
a good brand of cricket
they've got the English
at sixes and sevens at the wicket
our bowlers seem to be bowling
with much strength
all their delivers
are of a fine line and length
last time we met the English
in an Ashes Series
our Australian team
played like a lot of old ladies
but they've made
some key changes to the team
which shall yield
our cricket side a winning dream
play to-day sees
the English batting at the wicket
they've a bit of work
to do on their cricket
the Australian team
are drilled to perfection
with all their plays
going in the right direction
catching and fielding has improved
we'll be making sure
that all the English are removed
twill be a goodly day
at the Gabba Cricket Ground
watching the English batting
Summer of Love
it was the summer of my 13th year
I had never known nor
had I ever felt this thing
the thing referred to as love
but I met this great looking blonde
at the pool that early summer
I was mesmerized
head over heels in love
she was my first serious kiss
3 years later she would become
my first attempt at love making
her name was Susan
I was so smitten I even
gave myself my first tattoo
her name "Susan"
on my left bicep
we were together almost
every single day
at the pool
at the bowling alley
the Friday night dances
hell I even took 3 dance lessons
just so I could hold her close
I never wanted that summer to end
and it did not end for 3 years
she eventually dumped me
for a really dopey dude
and even married him
it did not end well for them...
I had the tattoo covered
with the head of a Panther
while in boot camp another summer
not a summer of love
but I'll never forget that summer
hell I'll never forget that girl
she was my first
she was my Summer of Love
flowers don't bloom in me
they died a long time ago.
but look at the dirt on the floor,
where other dead things
prickly desert cactus,
ugly brown grass
constant lonely practice
staring in the looking glass
where'd the colours go
that resided in my eyes
did they fly with the wind flow
whatever they thought wise?
do they not hear my cries
as they soar in the skies
i need motivation down here
but instead I'm filled with
how do i get to success?
...and when you ask what that means to me
i'll tell you lesser stress,
a cleaner mess,
and this all sounds so blessed
when theres facts, nothing to guess.
my mind plays games
no one else has to play
if they knew the rules they'd never stay
I've been at it long enough as it eats at my brain
but id like to grow back;
roll the bowling ball in the other lane.
grow my flowers, get back on track,
because thats what really should be in me
even if i have to whack and thwack,
i'll win these games.
i want to be free;
so i will be.
Somebody comes along wearing a sweater.
Perhaps you have known him a little while.
Perhaps now and then you exchange a smile.
You look at him, you think he knows no better
Than many unacquainted with eloquence,
Than many who've not drunk a wisdom wine.
He seems to show no remarkable sign,
Wearing jeans and holding no PhD,
Never having won prizes or been on TV.
But he's friendly enough: you invite him
For dinner, and suggest bowling that night,
And the following weeks bloom quiet delight.
One day, though, he attacks some cherished belief,
And you quiver, stir like an autumn leaf.
He may be rude, abrupt, and from then on
What earlier affection there was is gone.
You speak politely to him and you smile,
Laugh, thinking of moving on all the while.
Perhaps deep within he repulses you now.
Yet there is something wonderful within him
That could never be caught in word or hymn:
Though he wasn't aware, he opened a door...
He was a wind shaking brown leaves, wind of spring;
He wanted something within you to awake and sing.
Part of him wanted you to see anew,
And it never occurred to you that clinging
To your belief was in fact harming you.
It was on this day years ago..
That a piece of me began..
lived 30 years of my Exsistance..
before I ever was created..
Learning Lessons that would guide me
making decisions that would mold me..
You straight A! Bowling Queen
You Drama Class, Afro swag
Making memories for bed time stories
Reminding me of my history
The pieces my genes reenacted
that I just couldn't seem to recall
The muse of my creation
she who place life into this world
Strongest thing I've ever seen..
Before I could understand a thing..
Thank you for your amazingness
your gentle heart and friendliness
I would never be a piece of me
If you never were All you could ever be!!
Happy Birthday Momma!!!