He remembers auburn hair

like the color
flickering before him

along Hwy 261.
Thoughts of yesterday

fill his mind 
on this journey.

Roan Mountain fades

as he steadies the wheel

beside the constant stream
of white hyphens
on the blacktop.

Flashes of her

blend into the mountains.
He dwells on her

and their daughter
who now flaunts ringlets

bright as the autumn patches

among the forest display.

While he’s driving
the rear view mirror
reflects 
his creased forehead

like his mother grew
from her many worries.

Travel grants him time 

to think of them.
“Mistakes were made.”

A cop-out rests in that thought:

he made mistakes.
He broods

when he’s in the driver’s seat.

Squeeze, squirt and smear
A pimple,
Keep it disgusting,
But keep it simple.
Like lance a boil
To release its ****,
Describe it well,
Make a fuss
Over the putrid sore,
Use poetic words
To enhance the gore.
Drive your finger
Up your nose,
Spit green lugers
Like gargoyles.
Present yourself
Like a loser.
Pick morning goo
From you eyes,
And wipe it on
Your naked thighs.
Don't clean the dirt
Beneath your nails,
Au natural seldom fails.
Don't brush your teeth
Til afternoon,
This should make
Your lover swoon.
When you pass
The silent bomb,
Take the blame
With aplomb,
Smile as though
You've done no wrong.
Clean the wax
From both your ears,
Use something white
Your love holds dear,
Be ruthless,
Don't show a care.

Use some or all
Of the above,
I guarantee,
A cure for love.

~~♥~~

I used to think men
should be more like books
Both you cannot
judge by looks...

If I didn't want to finish reading
I put it down... no heart was bleeding

A book will never fuss or fight
It will stay with you
through the night...

It doesn't smoke. It doesn't drink.
It won't leave toothpaste
in the sink!

It doesn't binge... it don't eat...
It won't leave up the toilet seat!

It don't forget. It doesn't mope.
It won't hog the TV remote!

It doesn't have to have
The last say...
It doesn't have legs

to walk away.

But it's not soft. It isn't warm.
It doesn't keep you
safe from harm.

Even though it makes no fuss
It can't think. It can't discuss.

Even though it has its charms
it can't hold you in its arms.

It doesn't pine. It doesn't miss.
It can't hug and it can't kiss.

So now I think on it again...
... I think BOOKS should be
             more like MEN!!!


SoulSurvivor
2/20/2015

---

A zombie and a troll
Squared off one fateful night
All the ghouls and goblins watched
Expecting quite a fight!

But much to their surprise
The troll was quick dispatched!
He was dumb, and so outdone
He had met his match!

He WAS good at deception
But now the zombie reigns!
Altho he's in a fit of pique

The dead troll had no BRAINS!



SøułSurvivør aka
Write of Passage aka
Invisible inc
Catherine Jarvis

The situation of departing life.
One thing I learned and be sure.
I have watched several people disappear.
Vessels full of organs.
Once they sparked and buzzed.
Metaphorically of course
Only seen older ones.
Thank heaven.
Couldn't bear seeing an infant pass.

They all looked peaceful with a sublime style.
A visage, that said goodbye without words.
I never saw ****** contortions.
Life's abortion.
Brakes on, they've gone in living form.
The unseen train pulled in at the station.
No tickets or boarding card for this long vacation.
Pre-booked billet.
Free of charge.

Never saw angels collecting them.
Nor saw the reaper grim.
Thank God.
Don't want to meet him anytime soon.
Not saying everyone dies in peace.
All I know is that, those I saw looked comfortable.
Free at last.
Sleep well
I don't know, maybe they're in a better place.
I'd like to think so,
That one thing I'd like to know.
Hopefully, last breathing moment brings forth a silent sleep.
Weep only from love, not pain.
For we shall surely meet again.
(c) Livvi
I don't do heaven and hell stuff, but I was trying to pen reassurance **

I am but willing prey to the wiles of the full grown moon.
She guards the night sky...
While I patrol these grounds...
Grieving over the seconds that have gone too soon.

I am a vessel... all emptied and barren.
what once was full,
now echoes faint
the glories of yesteryears.
Afloat still, adrift upon the currents... aimless and sullen.

I am a ghost... haunting no one but my own.
Immortalised...
Anchored...
to a body of mist and haze...
Occupying this space where worthy wind had once blown...

I am a beggar offering nothing but my open palms.
Hope etched tight
into my knackered knuckles
and calloused digits.
Please... take them in yours...
soothe them...
grant me your touch, your coveted balm.

Here in this my darkest hour
Chilled down to the marrow bone
Once a vibrant now fading flower
Where soon only weeds will grow

I had thought myself invincible
Here now holding auditions with death
As he freely asks morbid questions of me
Standing naked with no dignity left

Too late now I find myself looking inward
At the empty boxes lining my soul
Knowing full well that I was forewarned
That one day this bell would toll

Looking back on the years I have wasted
At mine and others expense
A bitterness so strong you can taste it
The flavor, my own detriment

I clearly see what could be to late for me
Breathing out my final battle cry
When in the end neither fame not fortune
Could replace my need for Jesus Christ

There's a rumour goin' round
That you might or might not've said
I know it's just a rumour
But, it's running circles in my  head

You know a town of our size
Rumours travel through like fire
You're ****** if your involved in one
You say you're not, and you're a liar

There's a rumour flying here about
Of what I may have said
In response to the first rumour
That's just running round my head

I'm not sure if I said it
You see I'm not too sure
But, the rumour is I said it
Is it the truth or something more?

I remember playing telephone
As a kid, way back in school
When someone told you something
And you told the next person as a rule

The game was all a jumble
As the first phrase got all changed
It was my first  time hearing rumours
And how words are re-arranged

There's a rumour flying round the town
Of what you may have done
I hope that I was with you
It sounded like such fun

But, knowing how our town of ours
Can make a rumour fly
I'll not know If it was with me
Until the day I die

There's a rumour flying round the town
I think you may have heard
But, you will not hear a peep from me
Not one **** single word

There's a rumour....

i fought for my country defended my flag
i'll do what i must to support that old rag
i don't drink craft beers
that just ai'nt my bag
i'm just an old outlaw at heart

if there's a chance i will take it
give me a choice and i'll make it
i speak the truth , i don't fake it
i'm an old outlaw at heart

Rules to be broken and highways to ride
I can do both without breaking my stride
I show you one face, but deep down inside
I'm an old outlaw at heart

I'm just a truck driving black hatted man
I defend my beliefs the best that I can
I belief in the flag that flies over our land
I'm an old outlaw at heart

I'll tell you my truths, like it or not
You may not like it, it's the best that I got
I know the pledge of allegiance, each dash and dot
I'm an old outlaw at heart

This July, the thought and creativity that I would have given to a Fourth of July poem were reserved to help save a kitty's life. A frequent front-porch visitor, Princess knew nothing of "amber waves of grain," "purple mountain's majesty," and "rocket's red glare." Rockets shot high above her five-word world, that had little to do with patriot's dreams and everything to do with the promise of tomorrow. Right now, I am the only man in the world who cares about this cat's existence. The truth is I am just as stricken, and we lie side by side equally dying.