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Brent Kincaid Apr 2016
When I was young high school kid
I wasn’t doing very well with girls
I didn’t know what to say to them
But I really wanted to give it a whirl.
So, when Mama saw me struggling
She saw me blowing my chance
She told me, “They’ll come around,
All you have to do is learn to dance.”

So, she showed me some rather easy
Stylish steps from her jitterbug days
I took them and danced to the music
That the deejays chose to play.

Mama taught me jitterbug
And that helped quite a bit
She won awards as a teen
I heard she was quite a hit.

I rocked and I rolled and bounced
My shoes got to moving with the beat.
Then I was snapping my fingers and
My body went along with my feet.
I twirled the girls I danced with and
Held them snuggly up close and tight.
And the girls started asking me to dance
Right away from that very first night.

Mama taught me jitterbug
And I very glad she did
It turned a geeky wallflower
Into a much more popular kid.

I learned the Stroll and Hully Gully
The UT and the Electric Slide
With a changing bevy of beauties
Dancing along right by my side.
This was before Twist showed up
Which everybody could learn to do
But even then I found that I could
Teach them another trick or two.

Mama taught me jitterbug
And that helped quite a bit
She won awards as a teen
I heard she was quite a hit.
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
Robin Carretti Jul 2018
Walking and saying
Things our wellbeing
The soul needing love possessions
Have absolutely no meaning

Playing and praying
Overstaying and Under-paying
Rising sun and Symphonic searching

" Is this the way it is?" Tis the season

But the tightness no business like
searching business
  She is combined and mixed like a song
fully lined both with keynotes somehow
we declined
The feeling that you cannot breathe
or  trust both of us
 we can  bearly **** it all in
My music playing just click my belt buckle
Will start to begin

The soul is not a crime or just a rhyme
I barely cannot breathe
I am in a chuckle, you see his
smile raising up his dimple

Ms. Thumbelina cobblestone
narrow-minded street your
in the tightrope symphonic beat

But its dark outside your ringlets
Waved him on got excitedly mesmerized
His Goblet of wine she curls up in
his body heat brilliantly dazzled
The sky to your dreams he is
reaching your
soft side skin
whats actually within
our souls

So  hooked into your ride not to slide
better grades and goals
The awesomeness symphonic hatter
Victorian divineness
Her paper cut out hearts as real
as they come
The Eastside Symphonic tip of his
Heavenly Bliss private Quarters
What becomes of the broken hearted
Heads or dimes not landing on her stone
Floor heart
The Duke of all trades of the hat he's smart

Cool running ******
Addictions to the mind so fanatic
What a good soul sometimes
He overexaggerates about
love and fate darkness drives him demonic
What are you kidding me
She doesn't rest her heart on his
soul for the burning desires of food
for thought
She keeps piling his poems like any sport
He's her everything she learns to be taught

Searching lips pricing
Red bloodshot eyes of crying onions
She is so fierce controlling
Musically like a Tiger roaring
He is like a design of graphics tattoo
The earring piecing the sweetest taboo

More soul searching
She's the snake purse
to his snake eyes fancy,
he took a ride
Upper-false teeth
The upper west side
have some prideThe dark side
became her thing
The wildflower not to stand to
bloom and bang like her band

Westside sounds came deep
his pride and joy like a parade
and wickedly dark his charade

It was  sneaking up on her backside
And the other side was just hiding
and smiling
She definitely saw the light lamp post how
the smells came stronger the darkness of desire
she was famished not to have vanished

Feeling like a *** roast love continued
She had a gift for her lover, not the
toast who would brag to boost
Two ****** British what
divine glasses at a cost
The symphonic soul
captured them like the
Dark-Knight of words
Symphonic sounds came
hearing names
soulful hummingbirds buzz-net

And there weren't any more
words there was silence
Eating shepherds pie table was set

Taking over another soul that's a lie
just like magic searching for a love
so long ago became tragic
You need more perseverance
Her true love gave her
an incredible sixth sense
of deliverance
The top seat at the concert
classical wicked taste of music
candescent erotically sonic

She had this certain quality
He was a symphonic love bounty
Her lips moved so fitting fantastically
The flower shops caught her eye
She couldn't sense what was real or a lie
The fast pace of the people all worked up.
What a soulful smell music sounds
she faintly known

To her ear wanted to hear only him shown

Besides the faintly illuminated
shapes evergreens were
heartily trimmed
She stood out bright as the ground
She was turning gray losing reality
not to be found or heard
So soulful her lips speak
she was walking with her head up
in the air fancy dancey
How those men could speak.
You could smell all the ethnic
flavors of foods
She felt the search for something
of a Saint, she was trying to
hard to be good
What a Haydn, his wife
was the mad hair driving

Miss Daisy soul of hers crazy curled
inside her book
She's the lady-like curler
How he played through her hair
Hunchback of Notre Dame who was to blame?
How his eyes wondered playing
and observing
But she was holding his stare

like a womanizer and his eyes flew
what a haunting moon
But Samatha the harp shady tree
He said, my fair lady,
He's stringing something together

What! creepypasta but sometimes her powers were weak
The symphonic love potent every other week

Some Gothic man symphonic music started
Playing Rossini Opera he could stand on his head.
She was pinned to his eyes
Pinterest such interest
she was all bloomed like a fly

By witches, flower came he passed her and he knew exactly who she was as is but wait not his?
The pleading the beg humbug far from her tunes of the ladybug

Razzamatazz all body of Jazz jitterbug
He winked she-devil
summoned him on
What a binding spell
She wiped the sweat off her face
She was beautiful with pale
porcelain skin
So alluring walking
with her parasol
This is my darkness of a read I hope you enjoy flowers even if they perk you up if they are the darkness stay alive to bloom there will always be a flower like you
Danny O'Dare, the dancin' bear,
Ran away from the County Fair,
Ran right up to my back stair
And thought he'd do some dancin' there.
He started jumpin' and skippin' and kickin',
He did a dance called the Funky Chicken,
He did the Polka, he did the Twist,
He bent himself into a pretzel like this.
He did the Dog and the Jitterbug,
He did the **** and the Bunny Hug.
He did the Waltz and the Boogaloo,
He did the Hokey-Pokey too.
He did the Bop and the Mashed Potata,
He did the Split and the See Ya Later.
And now he's down upon one knee,
Bowin' oh so charmingly,
And winkin' and smilin'--it's easy to see
Danny O'Dare wants to dance with me.
Where did that evening go, when I being under your spell danced
real slow with you on the ballroom floor
and you told me more in your hips that I ever knew?

How time flew,
those jewelled minutes flashed and waved me goodbye
and now I remember,try not to forget
how we met
under the clock at Waterloo.I felt like a film star
did you?
and in the Strand at Lyons corner house,
me, tongue tied and as quiet as any mouse you'd ever met
I try to remember,sometimes I forget.

We walked in the park by the palace, until it started to get dark and then quick off the mark in case you were thinking of going
I, pretending to be all knowing said,
'I know of a place where we can dance cheek to cheek'
I was thinking of dancing and looking into your face 'cause your smile was enchanting,my heart beat fast until at last you said,
'that's a good idea'

The place that I knew was quite near,quite dear
but I'd have paid an awful lot more
how could I put a value on you,the dancefloor and me?
we danced on and on and then it was midnight or gone one o-clock
I try to forget but remember that look of surprised shock which narrowed your eyes.
We said our goodnights but not our goodbyes for we were to meet the next time that time flies
and I took you to the taxi rank
where you thanked me
with the most beautiful kiss
and this was just the start.

And still this heart of mine beats fast when I remember the look that you cast as the taxi drove down the cobbled street
I think we'll meet again, and very soon, as soon as I wish again under the wishing well moon.
I try to remember and when I forget
I make a bet with myself that when time is right
I'll remember again and
remember again
all through the night.
Robin Carretti Jan 2019
Only paper to feel our
secret lips sealed to expect
something posted
money is what it is
The blessing Sweet Lord yes
Well I have news for ya

Haha Tra la Oh La La
The laughing stock
Having any luck the
fortune teller 
Tick tock birds
in a flock
His cards race timing
clock
He's so dapper
The double bond of paper
Further apart or closer
_ what?

What did you expect
Oh! what the heck
Tip of the hat  "You Rock"
paper scissors
All resisters fingers scratch
Round paper another match
Did we see the black cat
The movie cut no time
for losers so ****
Out of our head zigzag

On the plane paper card
and I somewhere over
the rainbow
Prepare yourself for the show
Judy's turn and Johnny
be good taking flight
        jetlag
_?

In life, if you play
your cards
Eyes so set to win
Just begin don't dig your
own grave expect to
be saved
The invitation the best
Scotch and match her
Gin standout grin
The Queen of the Ball
Oh! God Godmother
Expect another brother

From strangers to lovers
From birth expected
I will always love my
Mother
The lucky number
Fathers birthday January
13th I remember

Morning glory flower
"Robin-September"
Other peoples money
"The Bee's A= Honey
"Law of Attraction"
Time at birth
Does money grow on
trees
How unexpected
I saw you on your knees
The new year online

The--- world--- we--- all-- shine

Showing your good heart
writing in your diary
He is so loyal his
wedding finger just mastery
Knows her hand and fingers
New lyrics to your song
A card to nose falling
snowflake
She tingles like the keepsake
"Robin Remake" jitterbug
jingles

The silk ribbon heart card
for singles
If its only paper you could
rip to tear
What do you really fear?
The whole world
trigger happy
If your happy and you
know it
Clap your hands
SunFace to Dark world
 Hitman
The Wizard of Oz
It's in your stars
Who is your
biggest fan?
The movie card Tinman
If I only had a heart
or brain
Expect Robinhood train

You better be good
He acts like he's God
Smell the orange zest
Expect your New Year to
be the very very berry best

If its only paper
money flies down
to zero
You're bigger than life
Expect a hero
So many good ones
in poverty
The rich what do
they need
to confess?

Everything goes bam
Uncle Sam chances slim
What's left for
her Social Security,
She-devil with patience
The "Grand Entrance"
The door goes slam
Your health insurance
truly your protector
In paper cutout heart
forged signatures
Camera light fourteen carat
card like copycats
High cheekbones you love
Your I tunes

Whole world feeding lies
Apple computer like a virus
just dies
Your best paper card
remained in your head
Thinking of Valentines day
Its hot Red red red

Like Moms delicious
Nutritious Apple
Paper card coconut- lime
Not a crime "Mon Cherie"
Hear it for the boy's
boysenberry
Taking the New York ferry  
The right words to a card
What you got way beyond
ambition you worked hard

Then smile when your heart
is aching New year we are
expecting you
You will find your words on
the paper card

Some people have no regard
Like poem words so strong
believing who you are
God is not a paper moon
Expect a card real soon
All in the family everyone's
happiness stack of cards
It's in your smile you touched
Someone's heart inside there
card and met "Godliness"
What we expect to stay happy when its hurts stand tall don't pick up the paper if you feel not the person you so really have the best spirit love you for who you are  without such high expectation to only fear
Geno Cattouse Oct 2013
not since nor silk.
Mother's milk for the generations.. yes she was .

Greeted Lindbergh on touchdown.
Society clone. Rich ******* could not leave her alone. Tall tale teller.Paperback
construct. Stepping into the ball with no invitation and stopped the music and conversation.
Pale skinned poser.
Gettin over.
Her daddy was a man of means.
Hired by the Majesties to count jellybeans.
He loved the local **** to the tune of
Poppa was a rollin stone.

The magistrates and potentates in the republic of bananas. Pinkys up tea sippers .
Could not get hold of collective zippers.

Faded portrait. long dead poser.ball buster. Pretty as crystal.Tough as pig iron.
She was high flying flapper. Cutting a rug. Charleston,Jitterbug. Short skirt flirt. Grandma ?

Smokin hot and  smokin when women did not dare. C.O.P.D. and a hacking cough came the pipers toll.                                                            ­       The Wages.
                                                                ­                           Just keeping it real.
                                                           ­                                                               Sl­ip sliding away.

Drove a Jalopy.
Aiee Pahpi chulo. Bestin May West with a smaller life jacket.

                                                        ­                  Turn the century.
                                                                ­          Trench warfare.
Over the top.The war to end all ? shiiiit.  Great Grandma
was a show stopper. To the very end.
Retrospective on my great grandmother in Belize In the early nineteen hundreds. She was an extremely beautiful woman who was independent and bold in Colonial British Honduras. She was a ground breaker and fearless. Had wealth and lost it all. But remained strong.
You arrived suddenly in my tangerine bliss
with my heart clinched in your fist
you touched me... and the dance started
with a gape of spontaneous combustion
you swirled me around the dance floor
dancing cheek to cheek....

we skipped the light fandango
fox trotting and waltzing to the beat of tango
the big band broke into a swing
while the love light shone as a crystal disco ball
jitterbug jive and a reet beet
dance macabre and so light on our feet

You lead me by the hand bodies musing
all the while... you lead me out by my hand
and made way into the galaxy for our feet
as we danced like fine wine...becoming intoxicated
by its beauty~ you danced me into Shangri-La
with my eyes wide and full of imagination
we danced through tangled forests of light

like Fred and Ginger
tiptoeing upon the backs of stars
dipping into galaxies and twirling on quasars
i hold your hand as you pirouette
upon the moons of a mystic world
as our romantic lambada is unfurled
forbidden planets and forbidden dance
the secrets of whirlwind romance

we were like Phoenix that had risen
dancing into the morning dew and nectarine
and I kissed you as the tangerines fell
from the sky~ dazed with a trial of stars
and then oh yes then.... I pronounced myself
as yours....as we escaped to paradise
dancing all the while.....cheek to cheek
as you gave me the Tangerine Kiss.....

tangerine kisses, tangerine dreams
sipped of the nectar of the gods
the fruit of creation in the form of love
a blessing from goddess, earth and above
we dance the steps of swoon and lean
and sweet nuances of tangerine
with every blessing in between

I felt a kiss upon my frozen cheeks
a clear promise of all our tomorrows
as I sleep with love within our hearts
your sweet tangerine kisses and dreams
are part of our creation... straight from above
My heart is dancing and dreaming
with you always a blessing from God.
What a joy and what fun to write collabration with awesome poet wolf spirit aka quinfinn
I knew you forever and you were always old,
soft white lady of my heart. Surely you would scold
me for sitting up late, reading your letters,
as if these foreign postmarks were meant for me.
You posted them first in London, wearing furs
and a new dress in the winter of eighteen-ninety.
I read how London is dull on Lord Mayor's Day,
where you guided past groups of robbers, the sad holes
of Whitechapel, clutching your pocketbook, on the way
to Jack the Ripper dissecting his famous bones.
This Wednesday in Berlin, you say, you will
go to a bazaar at Bismarck's house. And I
see you as a young girl in a good world still,
writing three generations before mine. I try
to reach into your page and breathe it back...
but life is a trick, life is a kitten in a sack.
This is the sack of time your death vacates.
How distant your are on your nickel-plated skates
in the skating park in Berlin, gliding past
me with your Count, while a military band
plays a Strauss waltz. I loved you last,
a pleated old lady with a crooked hand.
Once you read Lohengrin and every goose
hung high while you practiced castle life
in Hanover. Tonight your letters reduce
history to a guess. The count had a wife.
You were the old maid aunt who lived with us.
Tonight I read how the winter howled around
the towers of Schloss Schwobber, how the tedious
language grew in your jaw, how you loved the sound
of the music of the rats tapping on the stone
floors. When you were mine you wore an earphone.
This is Wednesday, May 9th, near Lucerne,
Switzerland, sixty-nine years ago. I learn
your first climb up Mount San Salvatore;
this is the rocky path, the hole in your shoes,
the yankee girl, the iron interior
of her sweet body. You let the Count choose
your next climb. You went together, armed
with alpine stocks, with ham sandwiches
and seltzer wasser. You were not alarmed
by the thick woods of briars and bushes,
nor the rugged cliff, nor the first vertigo
up over Lake Lucerne. The Count sweated
with his coat off as you waded through top snow.
He held your hand and kissed you. You rattled
down on the train to catch a steam boat for home;
or other postmarks: Paris, verona, Rome.
This is Italy. You learn its mother tongue.
I read how you walked on the Palatine among
the ruins of the palace of the Caesars;
alone in the Roman autumn, alone since July.
When you were mine they wrapped you out of here
with your best hat over your face. I cried
because I was seventeen. I am older now.
I read how your student ticket admitted you
into the private chapel of the Vatican and how
you cheered with the others, as we used to do
on the fourth of July. One Wednesday in November
you watched a balloon, painted like a silver abll,
float up over the Forum, up over the lost emperors,
to shiver its little modern cage in an occasional
breeze. You worked your New England conscience out
beside artisans, chestnut vendors and the devout.
Tonight I will learn to love you twice;
learn your first days, your mid-Victorian face.
Tonight I will speak up and interrupt
your letters, warning you that wars are coming,
that the Count will die, that you will accept
your America back to live like a prim thing
on the farm in Maine. I tell you, you will come
here, to the suburbs of Boston, to see the blue-nose
world go drunk each night, to see the handsome
children jitterbug, to feel your left ear close
one Friday at Symphony. And I tell you,
you will tip your boot feet out of that hall,
rocking from its sour sound, out onto
the crowded street, letting your spectacles fall
and your hair net tangle as you stop passers-by
to mumble your guilty love while your ears die.
zebra May 2017
serpent girl dancing    
on a red stone cobbled hill    
ritual of
Leviathan    
trident to the belly    
on stained alters bleached    
blood and sweat sacrifice    
candles burning    
from the bottoms up    
dipped in tears and pearls    
      
nothing she won't do    
swaying her hips    
rhythmically    
while toothless mouths sobbing    
gum her body    
a curse of deification    
      
necromancer    
*** pact    
gorgeous fornicator
walking under water
her heart like a diamond    
player of the infernal tarot    
creeps daughter down on all fours    
eating ***** with her butter *** up    
quantum jumping    
doing the planetary bunny hop    
on vacation in a fire red bikini  
and la dolce vita sunglasses    
shes a guest of the sage of pyramids    
catching solar rays    
reading    
from the book of doom    
and fake dogmas    
      
lips like obsidian fire    
that eat bad children    
especially ankle biters    
scryer of black warped mirrors ranting    
singing in the Vatican of the dead living    
worm girls kissing muscular arterial shafts    
and ***** in a twist    
while making vampire paintings    
in dark ritual adorations    
    
****  
of    
oodoo    
voodoo    
i    
do    
to    
you you    
plying your soul    
with dreams    
of    
Hollywood    
cinema    
and headless swiveling  
Bollywood    
jitterbug    
      
beating devils gory    
with harrowing archfiends    
and ****** heels    
for  
love money *** and combat    
      
gods above    
angels to the flanks    
north south east and west    
seventy-two demons below    
a crystal floor of vice gripped cherubim    
with steal shewed pentagrams    
holding dominion  
with golden ring    
enclosed in a synagogue of will    
she's my hot randy *****    
in leopard *******   
      
don't **** with her    
she eats souls
like taffy    
while posing    
as a kitten    
outside her window
Grace Jordan Oct 2014
This is rude. I should stop using misnomers for my own devices, but I cannot help myself. So insomnia it shall be called, when I cannot find the words to sleep or the fervor to close my eyes.

That sounded all wrong on my lips, but my head could care less at this point.

The cool touch of my glasses on my nose wake me further. Way to go Grace, you're even more awake now. Like you ever needed it.

There's a jitterbug in my leg, sending me so sky-high.

Should I go to bed or continue pondering existence and words and dreams until my tongue goes numb from rolling all these R's: Rest, redeem, re-purpose, redo, remember. Always remember. Its hard to forget.

Days past and the insomnia persists. I have slept, perhaps, in that time, but yet I have not dreamed, and that is where my insomnia lies. Which lies do I mean, that is the real question, duality always tricks the eye.

Let's get these hearts beating faster, faster, to the beat of the music, while they touch each other's fingertips and kiss each other's lips and meet hips in a vain attempt to have it mean something more.

The words have left me, and I do not know where to end. So i propose another unbirthday be the day of reckoning, and maybe another poem, another day, my make more sense to me. Adieu my dears, and hope to pray to live just another day, for life is the most beautiful tragedy we can ever love.
Eulalie Oct 2013
I have half-written confessions about you
And all of them are simultaneously as weak and gauche as the struggling flight of a butterfly with half its wings ripped off.
I have no coordination when it comes to dancing, Darling, and it's probably becoming more and more prevalent as you catch me tripping around my declarations
Because I am filled with so much self-doubt, but I can't help it that this new piece of my life has me second-guessing the placement of my feet and the rhythm I'm swaying to.
And with you being so honest from the dawn of our affair, it's made me guilty for doubting anything at all.
But I can't help it that you're a natural dancer and I'm just a mess.
I felt that the strength in my emotions were something to be ashamed of and in turn I've put them on display
A lewd circus performance to weigh the mass of my words and predict the approximate level they could wriggle down beneath your skin
Because I can deal with the stern looks and careless scoffs from sporadic digital strangers,
It's just that you aren't one and that means your opinion counts most of all.
I want to dazzle you with crazy dance moves like the Charlie Brown or Jitterbug or even twerk a couple of times because I can't impress with my mastering of the Hokey Pokey and the Cha Cha Slide
But I digress;
It just seems that all I can talk about when you're not around is how swell it'd be if you were.
And making our sweet dancing anything but comprised of candlelight and champagne and red roses just insults the beautiful parts of myself I want to so desperately share with you.
I'm no poet, dude,
And I've got no graces in dance,
But I'll rearrange the constellations in the sky to help better express myself if it meant figuring out how I managed to fall in love
With you
If you're patient, I'll learn to dance well enough. Give me time.
mûre Feb 2013
Afternoon-light in our periphery
our cerebellums glowing happy like...
maybe a plate of cheesecake, and two bent forks
the atoms that separate 'you' from 'me'
laughing within a jitterbug
but now there's no cake for us.

Why aren't you here?

afternoon-light in our periphery
and our cognitions like a strawberry swirl
Sweet, home-made, toujours innocente
and I scratch your brilliant head for
the secret to unconditional love
and your smile becomes lyrics,
the first line of a perfect song.

Shoulda come.

At the bottom of a teacup, we reveal
our secret selves, in a boy scout pact of friendship
spit-locking our hearts into a ferocious loyalty
to take care of each other in our parallel lives
and to cherish what we cannot see.  

Because I cannot see you,
and you cannot see me.

I forgive you, next time- it'sraininganyways
i'mnotmad, i just don'twant to revealhow
muchyou mean tome.


You shoulda come, friend.
Calen C Bunn Jr Jan 2018
Maybe if I had tried
My parents in another **** fight
Seemed like it was every night
So I ran away and I lied
As the lightning flashed
And the storm lashed
With each boom I cried
I was just scared
Why was it so hard to say?

Why do we even try
I don't want to fight
Not another **** night
I hate it when you lie
As our time flashed
And my heart lashed
I couldn't help but cry
I'm just scared
Why is that so hard to say?
This is about how our values change as we grow and become what we used to hate.
Jade Aug 2021
I’ve tried to bury my friends
the way you‘ve buried yours.

But their skeleton limbs
unearth my amygdala

shoot through my catacomb skull
in a morbid hail of
bone and grey matter.

Beneath this demented firework display,
the ghouls jitterbug in their demon florals--

if only their hauntings
were as beautiful as their gowns.


Billie Eilish,
I’ve tried to bury my friends

but their remains
could not remain
buried.

My brain
bubbles and blisters
like witch’s brew

as I succumb to the hellfire
of regurgitated memory.


Billie Eilish,
I’ve tried to bury my friends

but they’ve stolen away my oxygen
to resurrect themselves.

I guess I am only what they
feed to me—
dirt.

Billie Eilish,
this trauma is a tomb
I cannot worm my way out of.

Billie Eilish,
my head has turned to stone.

Billie Eilish,
I’ve tried to bury my friends
but

they ended up
burying me instead.
Inspired by Billie Eilish’s song “Bury A Friend”
tricia lambert Feb 2014
I'd like to eat a mango
As I glide through a Tango
My bubbles would pop
While doin’ Hiphop
I’d soothe my soul
Swingin’ Rock and Roll
No time for slumber
While doing the Rhumba
My blood would pulse
To a Viennese Waltz
Dizzy’s how I’d feel
Skipping a Scots Reel
I’d dance Ballet
With my valet
I’d cut a rug
Doing jitterbug
I’d be happy as
Improvising Jazz
I'd like to swing a Fire Poi
In exotic far away Hanoi
I’d fly to San Francisco
To indulge in Disco
I’d as soon not talk
Sliding through a Moonwalk
I’d wear a yarmulke
While doing the Polka
I’d get the gist
Of doing the Twist
I could unwind
With a Bump and a Grind
I’d take off my wig
For a fast Irish Jig
I'd be a hot Mama
Performing the Cha cha
My heart would sing
To a Highland Fling
I’d step up the tempo
To stamp a Flamenco
I'd feel alive
Just doin’ the Jive

Now the ending’s your choice
For better or woice!
One is glad One is sad
Pick one and it’s done-                                      

I’m off to France                                 It’s the witching hour
For a chance to dance                        And I’m a wall flower.


Tricia Lambert
janelflorendx Mar 2017
You are a drug to me
Im a passionate jitterbug when you hold me, carelessly falling like a debris, avoiding all casualty

I wanna kiss your lips
Pull you with my tight grips, hold your hips, endlessly killing you with my kiss

Im in love with you
In and through the blues,
Hon, what allure do you have
It got me all stuck and caught through your rendezvous,
slept all sizzled by our paramour
woke up in the morning all so glamoured, your love always felt me so pampered
Brycical May 2014
In this moment,
we are all together.
In this moment,
we are healing.
In this moment,
we release our selves

Flesh bodies sizzle
cadmium red rhythms--
thunder gourdes rumble
as everyone shouts cobalt lightning!
A few stand quietly, hands
prancing in the air feeding the one
in the center of the circle a steady diet of colors.
Drums bubble & thump beat primal heart screams--
yipps & mews & prrrrr's
fill the Shipibo patterned room.

Joyous dancing scorches the floor,
tension falls away like the clothes
of lovers laying atop each other under the bed.

Here I sit,
at home amidst the somatic chaos sounds
chanting magic storm-wolf tones,
pounding away on bongos
patter-pitter jitterbug swing jungle vine jazz
as my body rocks forth and back
mountain lion paw hands tap crystals
red eagle wings flap smiles
navy ****** tail slaps bass
brown snake-eyes snap out of reality!

In this moment,
we are all together.
In this moment,
we are healing.
In this moment,
we release our selves
Marie Comeaux Dec 2011
They said she'd never walk again
That she'd never be the same
To a wheelchair her world confined
But my faith lies otherwise

They said she'd never walk again
But I know she'll do much more
She'll dance and leap and sing
And shout with endless joy

They said she'd never walk again
But boy were they wrong
She's as lively as a mockingbird
And sings even livelier songs

They said she'd never walk again
But I push them off with a shrug
I dream at night and I see her
Swinging, waltzing and doing the jitterbug

They said she'd never walk again
And swore it on their graves too
But I swear now on the whole wide world
Grandma: I Love You
Poetic T Oct 2014
I danced with death
It was a slow dance
I had to make
Every
Breath
Count
We tried to keep in step
For the wrong move
Took away a much needed
Breath,
Inhale,
Exhale
Keep him in your sight,
It was a tiring dance
But it was keeping me alive
We break-danced,
We tangoed many ways he tried
To break my step,
Fandango(Spanish)
Jitterbug
Ice dancing,
Was my winner, as bones don't
Do well as his **** sat on ice ,
"I laughed out loud,
He didn't take kindly to that,
But a
Deal,
Was a
Deal,

Another year to live
Many more breathes
Till next year death,
Till I dance once again with he called **death
Emma Jul 2016
The rose red dresses flutter and float
Over beautiful girls with smooth legs cartwheeling
Dancin' like swinging jitterbug springs
Going round in a bebop rhythm
Through the saxophone blasting soul
And the jazz drums which clash and simmer

The yellow lights and red smoke floods
Singing and a' ringin' in circles
Filling the air with childish smiles and laughter
Freedom reigns on the crowded dance-floor
Synchronisation in the joyful movers
Who dance and drink into the night
blushing prince Aug 2018
morning light is always the most beautiful
there's a kind of tenderness that borders on pure naivete
an inexperienced fracture of grace that
unfortunately the sunset does not contain
although i am never awake for it
i am acutely aware of it behind closed eyelids
There's an optimism I've never felt on the creases of my palms

i wish i could explain to you
how boring that art gallery was
i can't remember what color shirt i was wearing
there's a lot of things i'm only half there for
i'll drift to nowhere precise and my eyes will get that faraway glow of a look and you'll think i'm in love
but it's just my inattentiveness to stay in my body for long
i'm less devil may care and more jitterbug hiding it's own epileptic seizure

i guess it's all about forgetting things and then trying to find where you put them
sometimes you stop looking altogether and come to terms with the fact that some things want to remain lost
morning light is always the most beautiful
this is a careful deconstruction on how i feel about delicate and ethereal things
Robin Carretti May 2018
A  Articulate
C  Christ
D  Demon
C  Challenge

The writer group
session Australian
Hard Rock Lion
Rebirth Laptop
All grouped in
The City
Singer she thinks
her style of the pick
Raw sugar on me
The Taylor Swiftly
Her wings of
gravity
No  Ladybug  
Patriot Brady Bee

A group meeting
Got stung doing the
jitterbug
Jazzy lounge Bearhug
Music notes of Junk
Whole marriage records
So group me in
((Single))

Signed rotten Platinum
fink
Miss the concert line
Jibb
Jibbering
Riveting
Jive Five
The tribe
all feathered
Group( Kiss)
Dark eyes vibe
ACDC
the King of rock
You shock me all night
Elvis ain't nothing
hounded hitchhiked
ACDC-Money Talks
50 shades of the Greyhound
Those twin singers
Tinker Bell Groupies
Now it's the
Hells Bell
The four letter word

F--K
_
F---K E Fake

What a ***** of
the light finger
The bands became
AARP Old Rocker
chair
What a **** in her
rocker pants

Drum roll
Headlights
Rock and Roll
Tour group of

FRANCE F- Friendship  R -Remain
A- And N- Never C-Can E-End

ITALY I- T-Trust  A-And L-Love Y You

ENGLAND E-Every N-New G-Guy L Leaves
A-After N-Ninety D-Days

The world in
Eighty tight money Days
Group 8 days a week
ahh I need
your love girl
I guess you know its true
And when you're Pregnant
Hey we are Rockers
we don;t have a clue
I phone fingers do the
Hard rock Art of music
strumming
Please no old
folks snoring

Days so long belly
stretched
The canvas
one-day creation
The car broke
her water broke
Due date
280 days
Group Pregnancy
pays

The mechanic
charging by
the hour
(Midas--
That Callgirl
not interested

Age of the rush
Pinterest pictures
Poison Ivy itching

Slower age Envy
To crush *******

And going back
Forever modern age
Hey world be clever
ACDC

We are all  a group
linked
My jackpot
My baby
most blissful
Inked in Pink
Spiritual, Group  rock, and roll all words with comical meaning light me up face needs a recharge money cannot buy love or money can be nothing when you don't have your cards played right with Jackpot baby
Lucy Tonic Oct 2013
Jitterbug to the beat of amnesia
A blood-red head
Dreams of Rita Hayworth, blood-money and blue keys
Landing the lead role, your face in magazines
Diamonds and pearls painted neon pink
A diner with a monster behind the kitchen sink
Look into the mirror and you see that it’s you
Walk into the bright lights of an angel city
Find a room, relax, and look pretty
The dream is broken by a phone call
Snap back to reality and begin to fall
But before you pull the trigger
Watch the box open
And let it remind you of your ***** motives
Daisy King Mar 2016
Apathetic, acataleptic, anthropomorphic abstractions aided an anorectic.
Biology and botany, both broad, but bellicose blossoms bring banality.
Considered communication can conceal certain capabilities- cruelty without causality.
Delirious dreams of divination dwindle during daytime's discontinuation.
Echoing and eerie, ecclesiastical ecstasy eclipses eccentric ebullience in extroverts.
Face-to-face farewells facilitate friendships & fatigue families, familiar in fantasies.
Grace goes gardening, garnishing and ghostwriting, good god, glistening a glittery glaze over.
High, hovering, hallucinating helps habits' hardening and hiding in hazy harmony.
Introduced ideologies, indeed, illustrate ingenuity in idiosyncratic individuals I impersonate.
Jumbled and juiced juxtaposition of jitterbug and jazz justifies jovial jumpiness- jeez.
Karaoke on ketamine, a kettleful of kerosene, kindling kisses, knocking knees.
Last but not least, the lawless laying low are liberated, later learning large life lessons.
Mainly markedly meticulous, maids manage the meagerness of mess, mollifying mothers.
Namely narcotics, not either naivety nor narrow-mindedness, necessitates a nosedive.
Obligations to obtain n occupation only obfuscates obvious obstacles, and oftentimes objectivity.
Pervasive paradoxes parody people's past perceptions, predominantly persistent patterns.
Quick-witted quarrelers query quantifiable qualities, quotations never quivering or quiet
Rickety, raggedly radios ring with ragtime, rainbows remain a rarity.
Sick, staggering students suddenly spill, saucer-eyed, onto streets and scatter.
Thrown together, the tank top, the trousers, tempted and tongue-tied them, totally.
Underestimation ultimately undid the understanding of ubiquitous underachieving underdogs.
Variability in validity and value variance violates the valuer's viewpoint very vividly.
Wandering war-torn wastelands, wayfarers weaken, wait for water, wearily wonder at weather
Xenophobic xylophonist's x-ray wouldn't show his xanthopsia, xeroxed in the xanthic Xs of his eyes.
Your yawning and yelling is yellowing your youthful yearnings for yesterdays.
Zigzagging, zany zookeepers zestfully zone out with zoom lenses, to see from A-Z.
zebra Jul 2017
there is a place
in fetish land
where breathing idols
live below the belt
their busy mouths unveiled
soiled shimmering lips yielding
warm spit
thick and wet
the crimson flood
is the flood of love

Dark Hazel
plays
legs spread
like a baby in a bathtub
wiggling her toes
and circulating flesh
in vaporous waters
with scarlet rings through her nose
and smarmy Gods command
neoprene priestesses
***** with a switch blade
and an ***** to die for

color me on my knees
grateful
**** lovin derrière kisser
reading comics
from
the book of *****
while she queen's glare
through ***** party masks
jitterbug arcane rituals glitter
hellions in love
you can smell the volcanoes

malleable baby dolls
with tiger skin bindings
evoke eager spires
through tribal unga bunga
shimmy **** and ***
drenched in yearning
night fires and sacrificial rants
*****'s like fat plums weeping pink milk
mouthed terrorized ******* drooling

tarnished yoga's
of dancing feet scorched
inferno's of pleasure
vanquishing the temples of normalcy

the sky is red with rituals
souls set free
in a **** for all
like a cluster of stars spooling a galaxy
keep dancing
to the rhythm of life
let your every step
be a beating fife

you'll feel well ensconced
in the groove
on partaking of its
tremendous move

never stop dancing
stay the round the clock tempo
don't break for a pause
cause the dance has a long way to go

tap dancing
is perfectly okay
and you can change it to
a waltzing sway
and you might like
to disco or jitterbug
on another day

the rhythm of life
is so good for the soul
and it's a dance
of peerless extol
At a Paul Jones in 1960 was the start,
at the HermanSons Hall she stole his heart.
Her twenty told Adolph Hoffner when to stop
Ooh! He was handsome and a cotton top.

It starts with a soft shoe, or a boogie beat
he twirls her around up out of her seat,
off they go to the smooth dance floor
he pulls her in, to throw her out once more.

He smiles, she radiates, all so natural,
the two step, the jitterbug, having a ball!
So fluid and together like poetry in motion,
Number 9 was his favorite love potion.

About ten years later, it would be,
back at the dance hall he and she.
Me and my two sisters all around their feet
happy and singing to the country beat.
Then he'd pick us up, daughters all three
and a dancing family we would be!

Baby sister on his shoulders, us on each hip,
mom had his hand and could still get a dip.
He'd spin us all around as if we were one,
I can't remember ever having so much fun!

Sore feet, out of breath, on into the night
never remember them ever having a fight.
Dancer's move back, some room to give
Encore! More! for them to dance is to live!!!

The smells were "Charles of the Ritz",
and "Old Spice",
it used to blend so very nice.
The Texas Tophands were the band
that first night that he took her hand.

That's how she hooked him, she would say,
bribed a whistler, to look her way,
blew the whistle, so that he would stop
and be her partner, spin her like a top!

He's been her partner now for 48 years
had her hand through laughter and tears.
As their daughter I just wanted to say,
Happy Anniversary! Have a wonderful day.
My parents met  in 1961 at the Herman Sons Dance Hall in San Antonio Texas.; Married 9/2/1961. They have three beautiful daughters, and many happy years.; A poem to celebrate your love. Happy Anniversary Mom and Dad.
Tina Marie Oct 2014
A double handful of children you raised
Way back in the olden days
You made their clothes from flour sacks
Did work that'd break a strong man's back

Your husband kept a drink in hand
And gave away food to the band
Of children living down the street
When you could barely make ends meet

You were so talented musically
For any instrument you'd see
You only had to sit a while
And soon your music would cause smiles

You loved to dance the jitterbug
In the parade in the back of a truck
Though some said you were too old
You simply smiled and told them no

I always loved it when we'd fish
And it is my finest wish
To tell you great-grandmother dear
Though you are gone you are still here
I wish I had the talent to really express what an amazing woman my great grandmother, Virginia Cardwell, was. I was very fortunate to have had the opportunity to spend quality time with her. She died when I was in my teens. The best I can do is quote Alexandra Ripley in "Scarlett:"  
"That's a whole world gone, an era ended."
Jwala Kay Jul 2013
I annul to love you anymore;
but these words jitterbug
only ab't you, along any paper lengths.
Lewis Bosworth Nov 2016
When I Was Fourteen
I took a walk around the world
When I was fourteen.

A round-trip from the country
Of Florida to the province of
Friendship.

I broke out my camp gear on
The way to the sea of desire
And edged my way to the point
Of view.

When I was fourteen
I took gym class and failed
Showers.

The water lapped at my body,
Its steamy blows pelting my
Boyhood.

The jocks jeered at me ‘cause
I cried in shop class a lot
When I was fourteen.

The girls wore saddle shoes
With bobby sox and they
Liked me seeing as I could
Dance the jitterbug.

I loved the beat, the jiggling
Of my legs against my pants
And I learned to cope with
My feelings of trackless taunts.

I starred in a one-act play but
Forgot my lines
When I was fourteen.

I had a dream in the province
Of friendship that there was
A boy called little prince
Who nourished a rose.
Prince taught me that I would
Only see clearly with my heart
When I was fourteen.

A new boy came to school one
day and sat next to me at chorus  
practice.

He gazed at me, his eyelashes
and lips detailed in copper, head
tipped back as though in trance
and pulled off his t-shirt.

I am here today because he was
There, nourishing me like prince’s
Rose, but with courage.

When I was fourteen
I met the gymnast of love, his
Daring glance, his feather touch,
Defiant, preaching counterpoint.

I tried to run away but his name
Kept Calling me back, like a
Birdsong: “Phillip,” it whispered,
“My name is Phillip.”

And I went to him, to his glance,
To his smile, to his arms, and
He sang to me, this boy named
Phillip:

“I know you, my little prince,
You are a wee patch of blue,
My Mordecai, my Bashar, my
Ivan, my Carlos, branches of
The same tree, so serious at
Fourteen.”

Soon another dream came over
Me, I dozed, drowsy and snug
In the arms of an unknown hero,
And I was wrapped in a frosted
Halo, when I was fourteen.

My halo was a gift from Phillip,
And it dripped so silently down
On the closet, on fire, holding
The me that I now behold in
The mirror.

I saw the shower and stood up
Proud, I saw the stage and
Remembered my lines, and
I was proud.  I was the rose,
Nourished. And I was proud.

I danced and dreamed and was
Filled with courage, my chest
Popping with buttons, my head
Filled with melody and my
Shoes tapping in rhythm.

Today we went home to see
My mom, Phillip and I, and
She put her arms around us
And said “Welcome, boys,
I love you!”

When I was fourteen.  


© Lewis Bosworth, 2014
Booboo Jul 2014
Crush is a word I’ve never fully grasped,
Crushes are just fleeting brushstrokes across the canvas that we call life,
Because in life, I bet, you’ll remember the one’s you love, over the crushes
But you can be crushed by someone you love, and yet loved by your crush,
Cause you could put, your blood, sweat, tears, heart, soul into someone you love,

But what if they say that it isn’t enough?

That’s when the doubt creeps in,
Through every little crack that you body has,
It slowly moves in like the poison of a snake,
With the sole purpose of breaking you down until you are nothing,

Until you’re just the shell of the person that you once were,
You feel nothing, except pain, and doubt, and you think of every bad scenario that could be occurring, is really happening,
Bridges fall, love fades, but I was always told, that we live and learn,

Life moves on,

People come and go,

And eventually, you meet someone who is willing to **** that poison out,
Someone who tries so hard to bring the life back into you,
Someone who takes the shell you are in, and fills that **** with love,
Someone who will sing with you, laugh with you, cry with you, and dance with you,
Dance with you, like you have cancer, and the cure is to do the jitterbug,
Sing with you, like you have a broken leg, and the only cast, is Michael Jackson,
Laugh with you, like those inside jokes you had in high school, were relief to the common cold,
Cry with you, like the Notebook is your own personal diary,

I’m searching for someone that I can spend eternity with,
But maybe I’m searching too hard,
Maybe they were here all along,
Angela Mary Pope Apr 2014
You were the one the that said I've had it
and you were the one that said hey take this have it

It was never a need but a trust
left in replacement of something else
we thought we had then realized we lost

I can't keep running away

All that my friends need
All the roots of this family tree
my mama calls it a soul family
I want more than I can give for all of you
I'm swallowed into the caverns of my guts but still
I have the moves I know you know I make

And now you hurt because I'm hurting
no I'm crazy no, crazy the derogotory term used to define people we don't understand
im thinking now
no, i'm thinking you think it doesn't matter I'm leaving
here, i'll help you grow.
pain is the most powerfully transformative
Tool
I want a Separate Reality for you
a World of Pooh maybe, a Narnia, maybe, a Mirror of Souls, maybe, a Jitterbug Perfume in a way that only a Manic Pixie Dream Girl could sway

lemme tell you that i need you

But i never did
I just wanted you
because sometimes
sometimes the wanting alone is enough to feel whole
when filling short chapters in a desperation to find closure

we don't live to die
we die to exist and feel alive.
Olivia Kent May 2014
You are my night, you are my day,
Since you danced into my world, such magic's taken place,
Guess what honey, you stole my heart away,
Music plays before my eyes when you're dancing close to me.
You, Ellen are my sonata in the moonlight, a rap on the streets,
You are a pure love song, that's written just for me,
The jitterbug, I feel when you walk into my room,
It means the world to me,
My friend from your love, I never want to be free!
A love song's stuck inside my heart, don't ever set me free,
Your name, so beautiful, it echoes in my head,
Your eyes they make me smile a while,
You are a love song strung on an air guitar,
My piano plays your name, in tune,
You are the song,that I hear, when I'm drifting to sleep,
Together as a duet we walk, forever,
Ellen my friend, you mean the world to me,
When I'm not near you, I'm a sad man, singing those sad man blues!
(c) Livvi
A poem commissioned by a friend,
blushing prince Dec 2017
It’s the telemarketer’s day off
he often calls customer service on the weekends as a hobby
he feels like a loaded rifle when they ask
“what can I help you with today?”
a jitterbug with a contemplative stutter
the jilted staleness of his apartment is suddenly
a garden of words
images of violence appear while he rips a hangnail
loneliness is a grown man’s burden, he thinks
“I don’t want you to listen but I do need to be heard”
he waits for silence and he’s spoon fed this attention
“I work with people and yet I do not know people
my mind waters for intimacy not in the sensual term of the word but in the
way hands accidentally touch on a crowded train”
2,000 miles away there is a woman with a headset
a chronic consoler at the tender age of 19
her hand trembles as she hears this man speak
she’s reminded of her grandmother dying in her tiny home
back in Kansas City, desolate like her location

— The End —