Bucket List


By Harriet-Tecumsah Watt

What's left when it's done
No more to cross off with glee
No more to choose from


http://hellopoetry.com/poem/648367/bucket-list
~~~~~~~
never write angry,
wise counsel for most,
but not this holy *******
poet~person

I am your bucket,
I am on your list,
or I better be,
and don't be thinking,
my dearest poetess,
that you are all done,
till we meet in the park,
***-freezing,
beneath the Golden Gate Bridge.

You, my Hamlet,
always questioning and
annoyingly annoying
keeping me ego-honest,
Ergo
you are on my
the toppiest ten of my numerous
bucket list
of lists,
and I ain't crossing you off,
no way, no how.

Word-slapping your face,
frustrated and infuriated,
Watt is left for needy me
in a world with no
rhymeslut*

broke, busted, disgusted,
life can't  be trusted,
so take your disruptive crying poetry,
bring to me in NYC,
and I'll take you to poetry slams,
tango parties, a real Chinatown,
blow smoke up your nose, Waltz step on your toes,
drink with you in Central Park at five am,
visit half a dozen museums,
take you to the ballet,
and then you can maybe,
cross a few to-do's
off of our mutual
intersections.

write poem lines together alternately,
hell, even post-modern alternatively,
if that is watt it takes to slap the
Most Uncommon Sensibity
into a woman asking an
A+ stupid question

you are one of gods most
hauntingly lovely gifts
to me,
and I ain't giving you back,
NFW

No-red-me-likey-heart* for
Watt's "I'm All Done Bucket List" poem,
just me bucking the trend,
just a lightening bolt to send
up your sorry-for-me ***,
and a private, tender,
missive.

I'll come to you if you feeling blue,
but
get this straight my Indian chief-girl,
no matter where or when,
you better have yourself
Sequoia tree hugging me,
list unchecked,
and not till then
can we toss,
our lists,
in the trash bucket
they belong in.

Am I clear?

Running down that Ecstasy Highway
as fast as my little legs can carry me
I'm blind as a bat with ear plugs
But we  were both
searching through this night time
skyway
reaching out to touch some one
and be touched.

All the guide books said this is the way,
turn right at Desire
turn left at Oblivion
and head on down
to the
neon lights, you can't miss it
as long as you are riding that
Ecstasy Highway.

I was told
some people find it at the end of a needle
others wait for the drop of the cards
and there are those who throw themselves
off that mountain side cliff looking for the winds to ride.
Some find it laying with you.

I've gone somewhere else I can't describe
made a wrong turn
thought it was a Transcendental highway
maybe
because I've been up and down,
made wrong turns right and left
made a wrong turn
at the corner of Sanctuary and Bliss.
I'd ask directions but there is not a soul around,
smacking my GPS
lost beyond words
with nothing familiar
in
neighborhoods looming
stark cracked out buildings
and
broken street lights
people with apocalyptic eyes
even the cops won't come down here any more
and the only help I've found
the only guide I have
is delusional and lost
though occasionally profound
dressed in piercings and tatoos
and she keeps yelling at me
something about going home to you.

Too tired to go on.

Had lost that bat back at the beginning of dawn
finally sat down at the coffee shop
at the corner
of
Love and Compassion
ordered up some hot self-acceptance
took a breath and looked around
still looking for the way back home.
I know it's just down the road
a stop light or so
maybe there's an on ramp
or a sign pointing out the way
to get back
on that
Ecstasy Highway.

I stopped at a gas station
talked to a guy
who told me lefts and rights
but my eye lids fluttered
fell asleep
right when he told me what I wanted to know
and when I opened my eyes
the station was closed
not a soul around
and I was running down
unfamiliar roads.

So if you hear a small lost voice
in the night
that's probably the sound of me
standing at the crossroads
of
Self-pity and Remorse
knocking at the Post Office
trying to mail these words
at a place that been long closed.
Please give me a hug or two
and send me on my way
if you give me any advice
I probably won't hear a word you say.
You see
I'm trying to make my way
back again
to that
Ecstasy Highway.

You will not be meeting me
at the train station,
wearing nothing but a sundress and
the warm scents of
wet desire rising as
a lustful fog
from your steaming forest,
anytime soon.

The heat would **** the sun.

I will not be showing up
on your doorstep,
rigid and pulsing
with the blood of
centuries coursing through
my thick roots,
in the nearest future.

The pressure would crush the moon.

Instead,
I swim in your teacup
and warm baths
while you roam in
the smoke at the edge
of my shadow.

I feel your soft whispers
across the ocean of time
as they float on broken
spiderwebs of memory.

Our love is in the words
between the worlds;
resting in the
wet soil of
an afternoon nap,
we bloom as one.

As the fire of night
descends, destroying
the boundaries of time
and space,
we transcend all that
is cold and unforgiving,
leaving behind only
echos of wanting.

Eyes that peer into the fire
Dancing flames of true desire
Consuming lust quite divine
Burning hot within your mind