Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Her skin is full
of holes, and
she's ***** by
the dawn on a
daily basis;
wandering the midnight
streets of this
broken City.
Her feet are
calloused and raw.
That once tough heart is
soft now, looking for
love in the rabid
faces of evil.
Seagulls still fly into
cars, and spiders
spin webs in the dark.
Abandoned houses have
become her home
and her soul aches
for someone to hold.
Sometimes,
dreams float by,
like a dragonfly
on a soft breeze.
https://booksie.chainletter.io/i/thomaswcase888

Here's a link to my recently published Limited Edition book, Rise Up Collected Poems and Short Stories.
Their eyes
Will always
Look down
On you
Their hearts
Will never
Change

So warm
Your heart
In solitude
A hearth
Of poetic  
Flames...
Traveler Tim
30 Syllables

Hang in there!
We write of the past
and guess at the future
Tracks of experience
clear and well marked

Deep in our consciousness
memory hoping
Yesterday’s kindling
— tomorrow will burn

(Dundale: June, 2024)
"Here I am in human form but it was not always quite so
earth is not the only planet I’ve been to
through past life regressions, I definitely know"


I can hear the chiming of my soul at large
ding **** clang it goes all night and day
Cinderella in a pumpkin carriage
no glass slipper in this lifetime's array

I can feel the earth beneath my bare feet
it is the foundation of my courseted life
bound by body but not by soul design
I can shapeshift and loosen all my strife

I am made of flesh and bone but spirit too
so when it comes to lifetimes I can have a few
this outer casing one day I will surely lose
as I recall the moves of my everchanging pews

I am zealous and devout carrying much clout,  
but when I shapeshift, I always find another route.
The glue that keeps your eyes shut
yes
I could do with some of that.

We see
are seen,
we will and have been and it all looks a muchness
when locked into a dream,
but the key
yes
the key is you or me or them and them could be a ten
and wouldn't that be perfect?

He rambles on and gets nowhere which is somewhere if that's where you want to be.

I have been there, had tea and been seen there and there's nothing there to write home about unless you want to moan about it.

Anyway we have to wake up to stake our claim on the day
almost as if it's a gold mine which I suppose every day is.
a dead mouse floats
where water has puddled

in the driveway

and a  whiff of skunk
means

it must have taken port
from last night's storm

in the garage

a slow rusty drip
falls from the gutter

so many early morning
impressions

so many clues
and so many McGuffins

to distract
An impressionistic word painting
In our times,
no one wants
to be politically
incorrect.
"Let's not offend."
seems to be the
chant.
Nice little
sheep
that
stay
in line.
Simple smiles, and
polite applause,
but just
a smattering.
Agreement en masse.

Next time you see
this, look for the
return of public
hangings, the blotting
out of the sun, and the
death of art that is
forged from the
marrow of the spirit.
https://booksie.chainletter.io/i/thomaswcase888
Link to my recently published limited edition book, Rise Up Collected Poems and Short Stories.
They want to rub us out
like Jack never met Jill
vigorously
whether it's with culture or with pills
we're excised
by the rising tide below the hill
we'll die up here
who will be the one to make the ****?

They want to put us out
to pasture
like a light
They want us all to doubt
we have a real reason to fight
They've got us figured out
so They think
well, They might
switching up opponents
quick as day turns into night.

They want us to be quiet
as a mouse is to a man
They want our only diet to be
yellow eggs and spam
They want us smiling sweetly
like our teeth were made of jam
up here we only grimace
at Their sinister advance.

They want us not to linger lest
our love become the truth
They want us to move on
without a second point of view
They want us to point fingers
so that's just what we'll do
and who are They?
the question asked, the answer
could be you.
As the day
closes, and the
night slides in.
The big fish hunt
in shallow water.

The old dog
leaves home to
die alone.
Orphans cry for
love
and the arrogant
choke on
rotten meat.

The libraries
become hostels
and owls
break the backs
of tom-cats on
the prowl.
The ***** is gone
and the cigarettes too.

And somewhere
in this silly
world, a father kisses
his daughter good night.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RkfF5u4vn5k
Here's a link to my you tube channel where I read my poetry from my recent books, Seedy Town Blues Collected Poems and Rise Up Collected Poems and Short Stories.
I live in a quaint little town
In a wink or a blink,
you’ll drive right through
There’s not much to see but lots to do

Take a good look around
we have two parks in town
One; the senior center park
Summer Friday night music til dark

Margaret Polk Park Community build
Baseball, diamonds, and a soccer field
A quarter of a mile path around
is where the dogs’s path can be found

Wildflowers as far as the eye can see
The edge of the forest a fallen tree
A river runs through the northern side
Nooks and crannies for Deer to live hide

Motocross bicycle course for all ages
competition in qualifying stages
A wonderful event on Fourth of July
Fireworks, food stations, watching the sky

Watermelon slices Practice your song
Center stage performances all day long
Face painting Dancers singers, bands
Our great experiment by God’s hands

The annual Damboree highlight of the year
Celebrate the Dam completion beers cheer
Mining for Gold, Rush to Northern Cali
  three encampments called Central Valley.

A Tourist Store find trinkets galore to take
Boating, camping playing on Shasta Lake
This tiny town now has a Dollar Store
Five marijuana dispensaries not much more

One and only Shasta Damboree
Cool April nights car show to see
Asphalt, cowboy’s Pancake breakfast
Veteran’s Parade the celebration blast


Saturday night music in the park
Starts at afternoon until dark
Monthly craft displays
Handmade goods amaze

We have a pet Mayer YES, I say smugly
A seven year old pug named Pugly
The pet mayor contest a fundraiser creates
A Children’s Christmas party Fashion plate

300 gifts to families of our community
Our tiny town no change in 30 yrs of unity
A moratorium on growth we cherished
Sadly, that philosophy has parish

Plans demand. Homeless integration
Tare down homes for new segregation
Build skyscrapers box dwelling
New Drug communities are swelling
There will be a sequel to this poem. Change is all around. You can hardly recognize her a little town.
Next page