Risk taker and I'd risk more if you trust me with your kind heart.
I read poems this morning and wonder how anyone could be so mean.
I like what I like and know who I like nobody should worry about me.
I don't feel used, abused or the fool for seeking out who I like.
If I'm lucky and have the pleasure of getting to know you in the real
I would feel happy and honored and it would be what I want.
What you want is important to me so no hurry on meeting.
I'll be spending time getting to know what you care to share.
Would be my pleasure to gift you a ton of present and sit
with you and watch your face as you open all.
It would also be nice to spend time with you in a cabin sharing
time reading the real Christmas story from the good book.
Whatever makes you happy and at ease makes me happy.
I learned something from posting all the poems about you.
If I want you to know it's about you then I must post your name.
This one is about and for you and hope to meet you Betty Ponder.
Went to the General Store today
it was named
FAST & EASY
Must have been tongue in cheek
I went in and the general manager
was eating corned beef from the can
Went in to buy a pack of cigs
for a friend
Was assaulted by
Bob's Country Made Molasses
Dried Baby Alligator Heads
A Candy Counter
Antique ? Furniture
no judgement, just not sure
A dirty bathroom
blowjob offering on the wall, nice
Walked out of the general store today
FA -T & EASY
looks like the neon turned on
What a place, I like it a lot
Or maybe it's just the warm Florida air
It comes in waves
So many different emotions
And no explanation as to why i feel them
They wash over me
Pulling me under
Screaming at me to feel
To notice their presence
There has been a time
When i have felt nothing
And in that i found comfort
My body moving
But my brain not functioning
Dont like feeling numb
But i find comfort in it
When these waves
Of emotions come
I feel as if im in the middle of the sea
The waves thrashing me about
The current pulling me under
I feel lost
And it doesnt feel nice at all.
They say that love is meaningless
They say that it is everything
They say it hurts
They say it heals
They say it like they know.
But what do they know about love, really?
Do they see it the way I do?
Do they recognize the pure innocence of the young;
And how they look at everything with wonder,
Like a tea-spoon
Do they feel the sinking feeling of your stomach hitting the bottom of the ground
Every single time I see your eyes?
And how it hurts to see them in my dreams.
Do they realize that I'm stronger than the average person
Because my heart is so big I must protect it;
From the control that you have over my life?
Do they understand that I am weak and will rely on you to give me hope
Because my smile will fade and only you can bring it back?
Do they see that I believe not in romance but in love;
And that there is just one person out there for all.
And I can tell from the moment we meet?
Do they hear the song I sing for someone to love the way I do;
Where your heart becomes filled with the hopes and desires
Not of me but everyone else?
Do they feel the call I make from deep within my soul
To wake one day and be half of a whole
And do so everyday until I'm old?
Do they contemplate the existence of life without love;
And come to the same conclusion,
That life without love is no life at all.
Do they wonder why I am a repellent
To all things that my body and mind pray for
Silently as I lie in the meadows of thought?
My whole life, everything I do;
It revolves around you,
And you keep changing,
You always have nice hands
You continuously move and shift through dimensions
While I stay here waiting for your vowel
Not changing at all except for the growing hole only you can fill.
I have not met you properly,
Each time it someone else who wears your mask
I long for the constellations of your skin
To brush the earth of mine
And make new starts and galaxies
That only we can wonder
I am waiting on a drum stool
That replays the pounding of my heart
Full with love and devotion
But no where to place it
For you have not arrived.
They say they understand love but they do not understand at all.
Love consumes you and controls your thoughts
Till you are absolutely nothing but love.
I am love,
with no one loving
To give my love a meaning.
Come and find me
Be my swan.
it's kind of nice to
that one person out
is willing to ask you
how your day has gone.
it's nice to know that.
In ’68 Hutch and me,
Sitting at the bar drinking
Our third cold beer.
In a semi Fern Bar
In Laguna or Newport Beach
Which now, I’m not sure.
It was around eight or so,
A week day night,
The place more empty than not.
She came in alone, made
Entry like the dramatic host of
A TV show. As if she were the
Center piece on the worlds
Thanksgiving Dinner Table.
Over dressed to the nines,
Lots of color, heavy make up
She didn’t really need.
Her perfume scent hovered
Around her like a cloud of insects
On a hot summer night in a wet meadow.
Kind of made my eyes water up.
She perched daintily like a dancer,
Upon a bar stool,
Three empty stools down,
Nodded to the bartender her regular order.
A martini, a double it was,
With but a dab of vermouth.
One green olive on a stick.
The glass was pre-chilled as if
It had been waiting for her.
She pounded the first down,
Another stem glass appeared,
That one also quickly consumed.
Two bright red lipstick stains all that
Remained in or on the stemmed rim.
Her main task accomplished,
She audibly exhaled,
As if tired or relieved.
I could not tell which.
Turned around on her stool to face
Hutch sitting closest to her.
“You boys Marines.” She declared,
More than inquired.
Hutch just nodded, he never did say much.
A Sniper just back from Nam, a scary guy
Of few words.
She opened her fur trimmed coat and exposed
Two very nice stocking clad legs,
And just a quick flash of red underpants.
Rotating towards us so we got a better view.
She announced her name,
like we should know it.
Our blank stares informed her we didn’t.
Her face was to me, somewhat familiar.
From movies in the 40s or 50s.
We were early 20 guys, she much older,
Trying hard to look younger, not succeeding.
Soon she was sitting right next to Hutch,
Two more Martini stems had come and gone,
Her lipstick finger prints upon them.
And still Hutch had not spoken more than
Three or four words.
She bought us a pitcher of brew,
Hutch grunted a short bit of gratitude.
We did not have to say much, she was in charge.
It was all about her, she rambled on and on
Speaking volumes saying not much at all.
Beating back her crushing obscurity,
With flowery reminiscence recall,
Of glory days then long gone away.
Important for the moment, if only to her.
It was all; “me and I, I did this, I was that,
I slept with him,
And him and him”.
How about so and so? I asked,
“No Darling not him, he was gay!
It was not long and she was touching Hutch.
On the hand, the shoulder, she was working him
With languid hungry looks from her big blue eyes,
And the message could not have been plainer,
Had she held up a hand lettered sign.
I don’t believe she was a “Working Girl”,
Just someone very lonely seeking to find
Herself, and some company for the night,
All to prove that she was still alive.
Looking at her, I could only think,
How sad and pathetic she looked,
How desperate her plight.
To humble herself so,
In that dingy bar, among strangers,
She did not know, Acting yet, still
On the only stage she could find,
Staring in her own bad ‘B’ movie drama.
In that dingy smelly bar.
Hutch and her left after a hour or so,
He never told me much about it.
He was unofficially AWOL for three days.
I covered for him, kept his name off the
Missing Morning Formation Reports.
No one cared to check. Our unit made up
Of mostly guys back from the war,
A pretty loosie goosy outfit.
Once in a while I see an old movie,
most are Black and white, Film noir stuff,
And there she is, a much Younger her,
Looking pretty damn good,
Not real big roles,
Playing some damsel in distress,
A mobster’s gun moll,
Or unhappy Play Girl.
I guess it was type casting that done her in.
Or maybe she got a little too long in the tooth..
A sad ending to a short B movie career.
Life ain’t easy, even for a so called “movie star”.
Fame is not all it’s cracked up to be.
one or twice, looking for Hutch. He told us to tell her that he had been
Shipped Out, when he actually hadn't. She no doubt found someone
else to tell her story to.
I saw that woman the other day on TV, an old film on Turner Classic Movies
doing her thing. I sort of wonder what ever happened to her, but refuse to
Google it to find out. Some information you don't need or what to know.
It did inspire this little Poem Noir write however.
Got a letter from Hutch in '70, we were both out of the Corps. He was
headed to the Arabian Desert as a hired gun, to guard some pipe line
operation. Have no idea what became of him after that. Hutch was
a real hard case, I hope he made out all right.
I find it funny that the girl who brought us together
was the one who taught me how to smoke.
It’s funny because now, whenever I smell cigarette smoke
my mind strays to thoughts of you.
My mind wanders back to the times
when we would share a cigarette together,
when the only thing I could be conscious of was how your lips
had just touched this very same filter 10-seconds ago,
and how nice it must feel to have you
inhale all the good parts in
and exhale the bad parts out.
I concentrate on how delicately you balance
the cigarette between your lips,
how knowingly you
grasp it between your fingers,
how you hold it like
it means something,
and how much I want to be held by you.
My eyes un-focus
and all I can visualize is the
way the smell would stay on your fingers
as you caressed my face,
leaving untraceable fingerprints on
the edge of my bottom lip.
All I can think of is how the taste of the tobacco
would still be present on your lips as you kiss me softly,
with just enough nicotine staining them to give me a slight head rush.
I know you enough to know that cigarettes are your biggest vice.
It’s the thing that brings you comfort in times of stress,
the one thing you’ve tried to quit, but always go back to.
We used to do this trick where I inhale the cigarette smoke
and exhale it into your receiving mouth;
our lips touching, closing off everything else but each other.
You’d exhale the excess and smile at me and I couldn’t help but smile back.
You see, it may have not been obvious but I wanted to be your cigarette.
I will always want to be your cigarette.
I want to be something you always crave,
something you go out of your way to posses,
something you keep close by at all times because you’re afraid to lose it,
something that you’re wary to give out and share
because you’re scared you’ll run out of enough of it for yourself.
And I know that they say that each cigarette
you smoke takes a day off your life,
but when we’re smoking together,
and we inhale the same amount,
and smoke the same number of cigarettes,
it’s almost as if we’re creating a bulletproof plan
where we lessen our days here so we never have to live without the other.
And I also know that cigarettes ignite then crumble to ashes,
and I’m aware that they have their inevitable end.
But maybe, you’ll have enough of my nicotine personality stained on your lips
to get you through the empty pack,
enough creativity to not let me burn out to the filter,
and enough passion to not let me disappear through the cracks
but let me linger
on your clothes,
on your fingers,
in the air,
like cigarette smoke.
I never thought I'd have to see her like this so soon. So young. So cold.
I should have listened to her. I should have talked to her more. Seen her more. She always asked me why I seemed so distant from her, I always got frustrated and denied it.
Now she's the distant one.
We would argue often. About communication. Our feelings. Her feelings. She had a very hard life. A violent alcoholic father. She grew up untainted by her surroundings, but scarred. Chronic Anxiety and Depression. She would cry often, and get mad and angry for sometimes no reason. She said she didn't know why it happened; it just did, and that I couldn't understand. That made me angry. Even though she was right; I really couldn't.
I haven't had an easy life in the past few years, but it doesn't compare to hers. I didn't know what is was like to be as depressed as she was. To be as anxious as she was. She would always check up on me, because she always worried about me. I myself, just took it and never did it for her.
What a mistake.
I remember my 17th birthday. She was more excited than I was, and couldn't wait for me to finally see what she had done for me. She was adorable when she talked about it. I spent the day with her and she made me a homemade card themed my favorite video game, and a Key Lime pie from scratch. I love Key Lime pie.
How I wish we could make it together, one last time.
A couple days after my birthday, a package she ordered came and she was ecstatic for me to finally have it. They were custom made genuine dog tags. They had my information on one tag, and a personalized message from her on the other. Her message read, "KNOWING YOU HAS MADE ALL THE DIFFERENCE, AND LOVING YOU HAS MADE MY WORLD." I wear them everywhere, even to today.
But when her birthday came around, I didn't get her anything. Not even a card. She was really upset, and I felt guilty when she mentioned it, so I never did get her anything; I felt it was too late.
Whenever she was happy, she shined brighter than the sun. She smiled and laughed and was goofy. She would make up little songs about how much she loved me, and she would do anything for me. Now, I can only imagine how she felt when I left for the night, not doing anything for her.
I knew she had had problems even before she met me. I knew she was chronically sad. I knew she had always been a rock, but had slowly started to erode and needed someone.
Why was I so selfish!?
I notice her mother is crying. Hysterically. They were so close. Her mom was so nice, always inviting me over and cooking for me even when they didn't have much food. Now, she looks like an empty husk of what she used to be. Crumpled on the floor, covered in her own tears, mourning the loss of her world.
Her younger brother sits with their dad, hugging and crying on each other, as well as the rest of her family. You can almost smell the saltiness in the air from all of the tears.
I've cried as much as I can. When I heard the news, I was in shock. I didn't want to believe she was gone. But eventually I screamed, bawled and raged at my loss. She was the only thing that mattered to me.
Now I stand here, silent and empty. My mind is numb, and all I can do is stare at her. Eyes closed, chest still, but still so beautiful. I had to battle with myself to even come and deal with seeing her like this. I finally move my stiff hand towards her curly hair and stroke it, and slowly move my hand to her shoulder. I imagine her opening her eyes and smiling at me with one of her beaming smiles. But I know it won't happen, and that's when the tears come.
I'll never see her smile, feel her lips against mine, hug her small body again. I can never hear her sweet voice again, telling me "I love you." With a glow in her eyes.
Why didn't I show her how much she meant to me? Why couldn't I swallow my pride and be a little more caring and thoughtful for her the way she never failed to be for me? Why? I'm sobbing now. I collapse to my knees and rest my hand over hers. She's freezing. I rub her hands instinctively as if it will warm them up, but it doesn't.
I just want her to wake up. I feel as if it's my fault she's in eternal silence now. Apart of the world beyond, when I want her so desperately to be back here with me. I don't want her to leave me. I feel as if I can't live without her, she was the only one I'd ever truly loved, but in the end I failed her. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her, I should have shown her more instead of using only my words!
I slowly stand up still covered in my tears, and stare at her sleeping body. I watch as one drips down onto her expressionless face. I use my thumb to gently wipe my tear away, just as I used to wipe hers. Now all I can do is think about what could have been, what I could have done, and what will never be.
"I'll miss you." I whispering through my sore choked throat, and kiss her cold forehead.
"I love you."
My mother always called me the devil child
Because I was loud, destructive and wild
I found out years later I was born with ADHD
No one wanted ever to spend any time with me
Parents didn’t know of ADHD or why I was different
They didn’t understand and they were very intolerant
Parents told older sister I was bad and she didn’t have to be around or play with me
So much of the time alone was really no fun, however for some help I did make a plea
I heard my mother double dog dare my father to hit me
Mother would refer to me as a turd in front of the family
All my cousins were smart, while I was failing all my classes in school
Got in to many fights with bullies and teachers who were always cruel
My family would all make fun of me, call names bully and teased
I was the loser that anyone could do or say what they pleased
None of my cousins was I ever allowed with to play
Was always much of the time alone every and all day
I lived in a strange way my dad was very to the T religious
And my mother was always drunk and of course blameless
She’d drink when home from work, on the weekends or holidays
And could always hide it from all her friends and the relatives
No one believed me when I told them that she had been drinking
They acted like I was crazy by then I knew what they were thinking
My mother took me out on Friday nights to eat and buy whatever I wanted, after work
Her last stop was always the liquor store for drink and smoke, I was left in car like a jerk
Bought games that took two or more to play, but she nor did dad never have any intension
Of spending time with me, I was in there way. I was a bad child that needed intervention
Wasn’t the perfect child I admit; I ran off when I was 16 did things I regret parents put me
Away, they came for counseling I complained about moms drinking, and she felt angry
She said her drinking wasn’t my problem, she’d be back to see me when I could face the truth
Never could mother admit her or dad doing wrong, everything was because I was a youth
Came home from school one day mom was passed out on the living room floor dead drunk
Called ambulance for her Dr blamed me and said no visit, and he called me a worthless punk
My dad would come home and find she was throwing up while passed out always in her bed
I’d watch him take bowls put them near her mouth to catch it, was something I would dread
He’d walk to the bathroom, empty the bowl and go back to get the next one to do the very same
And replace the unfilled one repeat the process. I was told by her doctor that I was the blame
Sometimes mom would run down the hall to the toilet bowl throw up then my heart would race
Because I always knew mom would do this and then she’d come to room to scare rant and pace
Since I was a bad spoiled child who had parents with money, nice house cars and good jobs
And I was not willing to help out or be responsible, was told I made the family look like slobs
My sister let her boyfriend talk her into letting him take me to dentist, instead he molested me
No one believed me because in the past I had lied about things, and the truth no one would see
I was different all the cousins, my aunts and uncle could blame me when things went missing
Or went wrong I was then and still am now the perfect scapegoat yes about it I’m still babbling
My father ran out the back door, when he heard me wake up and come out of my room
So he didn't have to bother with me, and I wanted to spend time with him he’d assume
Somehow I managed to graduate from high school and I then would move
To a different city I felt I might have better luck and my life would improve
Married two very bad guys both who daily beat, threatened me and verbally abused
Divorced them both had one child and how I’d raise this child alone I was confused
Tried to work and go to school never was competent enough to follow through
Each time I would start either I did not have the ability of completing anything new
Am not proud of this but I had 30 jobs that I lost in 10 years and even tried going to college
Unable to remember how and when to do things, my head from years of abuse was in a fog
Filed for SSI and Social Security, got on section 8, food stamps WIC and other government aid
I needed a home for myself and my daughter so I had to depend on things like this to get paid
My daughter grew up, became ill with a repeating debilitating disease
I dedicated myself to getting her well, and nothing about it was a breeze
Had to take her in pain for Doctor visits many times she’d cry and wished she were dead
This broke my heart with no family help, just her and I to face things in the years ahead
Unable to attend school for years, the Doctor signed permission to stay home
School system assigned a teacher who was mean nothing about her was tome
School Social workers interfered
And my name they smeared
She finally one day went into remission
And now the nephrotic kidney condition
Seems for now to have forever gone for good away
For years it’s been don’t want others to downplay
For a while I homeschooled her and the first semester back in the public school
She was on the honor roll things seemed to be looking up and I felt exception to the rule
Then one day she lost interest in classes, homework and attending
And the principal of the high school was calling and threatening
Pulled her out of school and placed her in to get her GED
Soon she graduated quite quickly within month of three
A year before she was supposed to graduate
I knew by then that I was doing things right
Enrolled me and her in community college we made the Dean’s list and no student loan debt
Last May she and I graduated have a new life now I don’t feel things in my life are a threat
But alone I’ve raised a good child, self-published a book and kept things together
I’ve published some poetry and stories in magazines that will be on web pages forever
Even though my parents have helped me out once in a while financially
I feel lack of respect since they helped family who treated me crummy
I’m still feeling and have most of the hopeless thoughts when I was young
But I still try to steer my daughter to be different from me and hold my tongue
Those cousins with the high degree
Don’t seem to have too much on me
Both lost their jobs within a year out of college from being snobs and dishonest
But the parents just think that it was because others were being so glibbest
Both stuck alone in life working in their old age
That just mostly pays a low minimum wage
Sister divorced husband for molesting her children still won't speak told her kids I was bad
She lives in my town and over 20 years she’s never visited so by her I've been for life had
Most of all I think it's because my parents never would face reality or admit
To any wrong doing of years of abuse and neglect, something I couldn't forget
Why am I talking about this after all these years still?
Because I think that it may just possibly help me to heal
All Rights Reserved
I don't understand.
Am I the only one?
Who doesn't agree with society
When the day is done.
Bulging hip bones are key,
With gaps in our thighs.
But have you ever thought,
"Happiness can't exist,
With out a man by your side.
And you can't get a man,
Unless you put down those fries.
But have a good time,
Go smoke and drink.
Have you tried this drug?
It's better than you think.
And don't get a job,
Or save all your money.
Just meet the right guy,
And there you go honey!
But he wants a certain girl,
Flawless and stunning.
So go buy this makeup,
And your in the running.
By the second date.
Open your heart.
And open your legs,
Your relationship will start.
He'll always love you,
And he says it all the time,
Luckiest girl in the world,
With a hot guy by her side.
All muscle and gorgeous,
It's just perfect,
No fights, just love,
This was totally worth it."
You you really want that?
Hate to break it to you,
But that's total crap.
Reality isn't this life,
It's fantasy if that.
Society is a demon,
That tells you your fat.
It's a size you can't fit.
It's a race you can't win.
It's a pathway death,
From girls dying to be thin.
No one can fit the standards,
That's how money is made.
Society feeds on that,
And innocent people that paid.
Guys and girls.
Of every age,
Feel the affects,
Of society's rage.
And yes I said guys.
They too feel the hate.
If they don't have the look,
Girls don't wanna date.
"Too fat, too thin,
Where's the 6-pack?
Yeah nice personality,
But who wants that?"
I want that.
Yeah I said it.
That's real love,
And that's where I'm headed.
I want a long life,
I look a head,
And yes I want to enjoy it,
Before I lie dead.
Your journey is not over
When your thirty or forty
You might have kids to raise,
You have to get up in the morning.
You get to grow old,
With a husband you love.
The one you married,
For the brains up above.
Not for the looks,
Because time fades it.
But for the personality.
That's what is truly infinite.
He should love the same way.
No pressure, no harm.
And if he ever does,
It should sound an alarm.
Because your better than that.
And don't compare.
I know its hard.
So be prepared.
I'm here to warn you,
Of the road your traveling.
You will hit a dead end,
And life will leave you straggling.
Change your ways now,
Open your eyes,
To the truth of life,