There's a tale that is told
In the night Yukon cold
Of the shooting of Dan Mc Grew

The truth as it's known
Is a legend that's grown
And the truth is known by very few

It's twenty years on
The Malamutes gone
There's nobody left from that night

But there's talk of some gold
That sometimes is told
Of what happened just after the fight

There is word of a bar
"The New Yukon Star"
And a fellow down there who can play

The place it is grand
The best in the land
And it's found down by Old Frisco Bay

Now, remember the poke
Of McGrew's the tale spoke
And what happened when Dan was now dead

From his neck it was freed
And the poke held the deed
To Dangerous Dan's claim it was said

When the Northern lights glow
Bringing life to the snow
They say that old Dan walks again

But twenty years past
Dan took that breath, yes, his last
And left the world of mortal men

Now, the saloon down in Frisco
With a barkeep named Cisco
Had a picture of Dan on the wall

They say that his ghost
Makes it smile when you toast
Dan McGrew when it is last call

A traveller came
And remembered Dan's name
One night as he sat with his drink

The piano was loud
And he saw through the crowd
A face, which made the man think

He once was a cop
And on occasion did stop
At the bar when Dan McGrew died

He looked at the face
But wasn't sure of the place
That he knew it, but damn boys he tried

There's a place saved in hell
For those under the spell
Of those who cheated out old Dan McGrew

In the stories it's told
how his poke with his gold
Was stolen by someone he knew

Think of the name
Of the one living with shame
From Dan's last night beneath the north star

Just who could build
A place always filled
A hotel and a popular bar

There on the stair
With long silvery hair
Through cigar smoke that made the air blue

Was the girl who once danced
And had Dan entranced
The girl known only as Lou

My life is filled with endless apologies

Sincere and heartfelt promises that are shallow and empty


It's not a conscious thought
The words aren't spoken with known deceit or intentional mal-intent
But somewhere in my brain, buried in my subconscious, I know...
A self-sabotaging automated programming constantly running
And regardless of my cognitive actions or conscious thoughts, desires and intentions
My automated programming will find a way to inevitably run its code, follow its routines and execute its prime directive

And that's not a cop out
They're still my actions
Conscious or subconscious
Actions resulting from subconscious "thought" are those I'm too ignorant to see or too weak to change in that moment

I don't know what's worse
The subconscious lies and heaps of horse fertilizer, day in and day out, I shove down the throats of those who cross my path
Or the incessant feed of regurgitated words, phrases, thoughts, ideas and worst of all.... hopes.... that is being forced through my digestive track only to be excreted by my body and re-absorbed by my central nervous system

Hope

The worst trick of all

And it always works. Without fail
Why?
Because it psychologically and emotionally preys on everything I want to be
The Hope that THIS TIME I'll get it right
THIS TIME I won't FAIL
All those things inside of me
All of my
......
Potential
.......
This time it won't be wasted
This time I'll come through. You can count on me!
I promise!
This time I'll be on time
This time I won't be late!
This time I'll meet expectations
This time I'll EXCEED expectations!
This time I won't let people down
This time I won't....
                                 .....
                                    ..... let
                                               ME

                                                      .­....down

Hope

The saddest and ultimate cruelty of lies
Created by the Devil to prey on the weak and gullible
If Hell is living your worst day over and over again for eternity;
Then repeating the same detrimental behaviors over and over again for life, sustained in this perpetual motion by something so simple and harmless looking as "Hope" must fall at the Devil's hands

A wolf in sheep's clothing sprinkled in fairy dust
The worst of thoughts and beliefs are kept alive by Hope
Hope is a disease; a psychological virus
A damaged idea spreading from person to person, hijacking their system, and infecting their thoughts
For Hope is not a singular idea, isolated in seclusion, yet ultimately wrapped up and packaged out with other ideas
No, Hope is the vehicle that all thoughts that follow must ride in and by which be delivered
It is the Uber for ideas that follow
And like an unscrupulous and unsuspecting Uber driver,
Hope takes your brain to a secluded spot against its will and does as it so pleases
But unlike survivors of such horrific events
I, like a wide eyed doe in the headlights
I continuously expose myself to the exact same scenarios
over
and
over again

But not to worry

Eventually,
Hope will lose its magic
And the void created will be filled

By,

Regret,
Resentment,
Animosity,
Self-doubt,
Self-loathing,

And worst of all,

Denial

Denial is Hope's evil twin

The not so secret malicious trickster who, even though wears his emotions somewhat more clearly, is still capable of a lifetime of successful pranks

But unlike Hope, Denial doesn't always reveal his trick if the tricked has yet to become aware of the ruse
Instead, Denial will let them build
Stack upon stack
A colossal suspension bridge built and supported on Denial
And when I, with blind faith, cross that bridge
Putting everything and anything on the line, without question
That's when Denial delivers its reckoning
And in one all encompassing swoop it swallows me whole and any resemblance of "life" with it

Hope and Denial
My Atlantic and Pacific Oceans
and Me, a tiny island
Flanked on either side by the endless majesty of each
And like this planet,
I too,
Am a sphere spinning
A tiny island against the enormities of the the deep blue
A shipwrecked survivor
Floating on the driftwood of my subconscious
Left to the will of my environment
A helpless passenger on this ship of life
Constantly spinning between Hope and Denial
Some days calm and serene
Others, tormented by storms
Monster waves,
Flashes of lightning,
Ear shattering crackling explosions of thunder
And howling winds so fierce they must be the breath of God

And regardless of what scenario lays before me,
I'm left repeatedly with the same "choice" and same action

Enveloped with fear,
Hanging on for dear life,
Like a helpless and horrified child.....

On the verge of soiling my pants
Written: May 28, 2018

All rights reserved.
Myrrdin May 28
Stumbling into a room
Innebriated, flushed
Sweat collects heavily
Over your brow
A shaky forefinger
Thrown into faces
Of strangers in the hall
And then back at me
Swears used as adjectives
You tell the tales
Of the disappointment
You can't help but feel
When you look at me
I find myself apologizing
For carrying your genes
For knowing you
For being born with your name
I find myself apologizing
And though I don't say it
I'm really apologizing
For not being as valuable
To you as whiskey.
Sharkey Poems May 26
Hey,

I'm not mad anymore.

What was I thinking
As if love actually
Keeps score.

The fever passed.
Odd.
It felt so intense
at the time.
Now. it doesn't make sense.

I remember when:
                     My emotions blistered
                  
                                .......whatever that was,
.                                     .......that thing that you did.
                                            ..........or was it something you said.

                                     Well, whatever you or I did
                                     To me, it is buried
                                    And dead.

So, now is now and then was then.
What do you think?
Can we be together again?

Hey,
I'm not mad anymore.
....
Stacey May 7
i fall and shatter into so many pieces
that leave splints and gashes in so many people
that they fall and shatter
and lay here with me
Simra Sadaf Apr 29
after he was dead
his ghost came to visit her
impassive and emotionless
he sat in front of her
begging to be noticed
whispering apologies
it was futile and in vain
cause she buried him in her mind
and left him to rot there.
Dear Poetry,
I left you for a month.
I’ve ignored you so much
but I’m sorry.
I need you, you’ve help me when the going gets tough.
You’ve helped me when all the sentences and phrases I say don’t unseal or make any general sense,
You’ve helped me express myself
When I am just a speechless coward and
When I have no audacity to speak for my own conscience.
You give them a home,
All my mixed emotions and letters
You call them
poetry.
Sense full or senseless
Forgive me,
I need you, I need you more than before.
I’m gonna start writing again. I have too much sealed in me.
casey Apr 18
I'm so sorry that my poems are so cheesy
I'm so sorry that my life is so
worthless
I'm so sorry that I still talk to you
I'm so sorry that I love you
I'm sorry
I'm sorry
I'm sorry
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