Ooh. Ohh I love that

That shade of green
You know the  color
I mean
No not that
That minty hue
Oh no no
That green
I mean

Kelly green
Yes, that’s that the green.
It’s gorgeous
Looks fantastic on me
Wait to you till you see

Come on we gotta go

I found the perfect white cropped
Pants
That fit to a tee
No more elastic waistband
For me.

Oh I love it.
Ok now listen to this
The pants has a matching
Bolero jacket
It’s supreme.

Stop being so slow- we gotta go

Oh how I love this outfit.
The shoes. The shoes...
Always a bit a trouble to
Find the right pair.
So, I settled
A wedge heel,
White canvas
Sandal with
Forest green
Four leaf clovers.

I know. What a find.
Who knew
That now
WaWa  sells shoes.

Oh oh I have my good gold cladagh
Earrings with the emerald heart
A gift from Jack
From Ireland
He brought back.

Come on. We gotta go
You get me distracted
Don’t give me that look
Find the keys


Come on, how do I look?
This is me in front
See the zipper is a bit loose-
Now from side to side
Nothing I can do
With my backside
It will just have to do.

Where’s my scarve?
Sugar Mother
Where in the name of God
Is the shamrock scarve
That sparkles?

Oh St Anthony would you
Take good look around and
If you find a twenty or more
I would mind.

Found it!
Thank you St Anthony.
Guess you didn’t hear about the twenty
Who cares I look like  a million

Come on. let’s go.

Ok.  Now keep it quiet
And to yourself
I’m off to bingo
Dressed like this
I should be lounging
In a yacht.
Haha- can you see me and wearing my umbrella hat?
Hahaha
It’s time to go
Me, Honey, Maraget and Jo
Have our favorite spots.
We must be early or those
Bums that bring their own chairs
Will be there hogging the tables
Markers and blue plastic chips
Ready for battle.
Now that old geezer
Who calls the balls
And rattles Jo’s nerves
Better not start yapping
About his woes.

Come on Let’s go.
TheseRoots Jun 21
Don't fight the system, they say
Yet they're okay with splitting families
We sit here and watch the news
And take our pain away with booze
Don't fight the system, they say
But we listen, and they still make us pay?
Raise taxes! Raise taxes!
Why aren't we taking action?
We're millions of people
Letting one, pave our future
Let's talk about schools,
Are you going to sit and wait for another shooter?
You aren't safe, your kids aren't safe
Yet he gets to walk away, unscathed.
Why can you just sit there?
Clasping your hands and saying a prayer.
Don't you think he would have done something by now?
We need to learn to fix this, somehow
I won't let this go any longer
And with more hands in mine
Thou let the peace grow stronger.
I'm back!
temporary Mar 4
Tick tock tick tock.
"When will my breath stop?"
Apparently not appropriate conversation to make at my family gathering.

The chicken is delightful. Would you give me the recipe? (murmurs of agreement around table)

"I wasn't kidding. I avoid pools, yoga and beautiful people that take my breath away so I don't have to deal with slight fluctuations in my oxygen intake!"

The table was set up perfectly by the kids, don't you think? Granted they forgot the wine glasses! (adults chuckle)

"I can't help but imagine those pillowcases in our chests that expand occasionally, as if rotating fans face them. It's an obsession of mine!"

Oh I think Johnny's about to fall asleep! Is there a guest bed room I can let him rest in? (assistance follows)

"Why won't you listen! When I take off my T-shirts, I count down and gulp the air before pulling the fabrics off, out of fear of being found dead, half-naked due to suffocation."

Oh Laurie I really shouldn't have dessert, I'm trying to watch my weight, but let me help you bring it out? (chattering of women on the way to the kitchen)

"Don't you know that I carry both an oxygen tank and an assortment of plants and trees wherever I go. I insert the tubes or the vines into my nose so that even when I'm gone my lungs may never stop rising."

(speaker dies the next day in car crash)
The gift of life is more precious  than  gold.
Brianna Sep 2017
He was late to the war- the canons and guns have already started and the dust is settling in nice and cozy in his lungs.
He was falling apart- running across open fields with battle wounds surrounding every fallen solider he came across- there was so much blood.
He was crying on the inside but god forbid he showed those emotions on the open fields he and his brothers ran through.
He wasn't sure he would see his brothers and sisters all come out of this alive... he wasn't sure he would come out alive himself.

She was late to the war she was covered in dirt and oil from the dirty planes she helped gear up every long twelve plus hour shift.
She heard the engines start, she saw the wheels move and the ocean under the boat seemed more peaceful then the open space above.
She saw her wounded brothers and sisters being dragged out of whats left of the planes landing  feeling their pain as blood smeared across the top deck.
She smelled the gas as the planes started moving towards the edge of the boat and she knew there wasn't time to think- only time to move.

They fought and some survived and some didn't make it back home to their families.
They fought tooth and nail, blood and skin- heart and soul.
They were wives and husbands, brothers and sisters, sons and daughters, lovers and fighters.
They were more than a flag.
They were more than a country with a big name.
Unknown Jun 2017
Oh father, father, father.
Where have you gone?
What have you done?
There is a ghost that beginning to look a little like you.
Lets raise a toast, father.
To the man that is never home,
To the man who does not love,
To the man who never has a plan.

Oh, father, father, father.
Look at what you have done.
Your children have stopped caring.
Your wife has given up.
Who do you have left?
You live here, but you may as well not.
You make these promises and stab us in the back.


I love you, daddy.
Can't you see?
You've ruined me.
You've ruined my siblings.
You've ruined my mother.


Remember? Always and forever?
I think it is time to let go,
and say our goodbyes.
to the kids you feel as though their fathers do not love them, to the ones whose fathers are never home, to the ones who don't see their father as a parent figure - but simply a stranger.
Laura Slaathaug May 2017
Brother, you told me once you were scared
to have a daughter.

You knew this when you baby-sat
a baby girl with your wife,

and you, a former American Army infantryman

melted and was brought down in a way

that the guns you faced in Afghanistan never could.

She’ll be my princess, I remember you saying.

A little girl all dressed in pink,
whatever she’ll ask for, you'll give it.

You were relieved when the first child

you and your wife had was

a baby boy, but to be honest,

you melt all the same,
even 9 months later.

But I’ve always wanted to ask,
“Why are you afraid to have a daughter?”

You know the stories how our mother gave birth for the first time

and how she labored in the car
when she drove herself to the hospital.

And how your pregnant wife came home on her lunches from work

and would cry on the floor because her back hurt so bad,

But she still sat up and went back to work--

the same way our older sister cried on her first day back

from maternity leave and parted with her baby boy for the first time,

the same way Mom went back to work when you and Dad deployed.

What you know of women is that we’re strong,

that we dry our tears and continue on with the world.

Really what we do is keep the world spinning
with the force of how much we love.

So anything, you give your daughter
will be returned in multitudes.

You were taught the same way to love that I was--

instinctively and unconditionally and unrelentingly.

And maybe you’re afraid that your daughter

won’t be able to walk home alone at night

or that no one will listen to her,

And you know this is a poem from your younger sister.

So savor that I’m saying you’re not wrong,
because I don't know when that will happen again.

Your daughter may have to work harder to be heard

and to keep herself safe than any son you have.

But know no matter, how strong she is or how hard she works

that shit still happens

and it won’t be her fault.

and you know because you have two sisters

and you’ve heard our stories.

Statistics say that 1 in 3 women experience sexual or physical violence.

We have one President, who bragged on a Hollywood Access bus

about grabbing women by the pussy  

because they let him

and because no one stopped him.

Brother, be scared of the men who would hurt your daughter,

but brother, don’t be scared to have a daughter,

Because she will love you the same way
your wife, your mother,

and your sisters have loved,

that our bodies may break and tear in the doing
but we will choose to do it all over again.
I look out the window
Into the yard
I see a fluffy Junco
Sitting comfortably on the fence

I see him look around
Then fly over to the feeders
I watch as he gets some seeds
Then goes back to the fence
He puffs back up
And then out of nowhere
A baby Junco
Crookedly and excited
Flies in
Sits next to his dad
And his dad feeds him
And then his dad is off again
To get more food
For his baby

Over the weeks
I watch the Goldfinches,
The Grosbeaks, the Finches,
The Doves, and
The Sparrows.
All gathering on the fence
With their families
To eat
And I am reminded
Of my family
Gathering around the dinner table
Everynight
Chattering, coming and going
But then I think
That those birds must have it far easier
Than we do
All they worry about is surviving
While we have discussions on
Politics, school, wars
Gossip, rumors, things of unimportance

That's when I think back
To my childhood dream
“I want to be a bird when I grow up”
Because they are worry free
Unlike me
Vyscern May 2016
Hey hey,
I've changed
I'm not the same
No not the same

I still talk too much
About life and such
Things
But it was yesterday, no
Oh no, no no

My sister crying on the doorstep
As I left
Behind
Those familiar times
Familiar times

And I watched, expressionless,
As I left
As I left

So why do I feel this way?
Have I no sympathy?
No feelings, no tears,
Over the years
I refused to look back
Feet set upon my tracks
Feeling guilty and saddened
In my frozen wasteland

What does this mean?
Where is my heart?
Perhaps countless tears
Tore it apart
ripped wide open, left unspoken

Over the years
Reassurance allayed my fears
I knew I'd come back again
again
Knew it wasn't the end
No not the end, no

But still
Those tears,
She shed,
This hollow,
I dread
Like where did
It end
My emotion spent
I'm so cold, so cold!

So why do I feel this way?
Have I no sympathy?
No feelings, no tears,
Over the years
I refused to look back
Feet set upon my tracks
Feeling guilty and saddened
In my frozen wasteland

Frozen over, all snow and ice
Hiding in the shadows, as dark as night
Stars above this frozen wasteland
Where my heart shattered and solitude began

So thaw me out, be my fire
Return my heart, for I require
Those feelings I had, coz' I don't want to die
So please, oh please, please bring me to life

coz I don't wanna die
coz I don't wanna die
coz I don't wanna die
coz I don't wanna die

No not tonight!

So why do I feel this way?
why do I, feel this way
Have I no sympathy?
no sympathy
No feelings, no tears,
Over the years
over the years
I refused to look back
Feet set upon my tracks
Feeling guilty and saddened
In my frozen wasteland

With tears running down her face
And a hollow chest I leave this place
My frozen wasteland
To Khaidee, my youngest sister. I am sorry that I seem so emotionless, but I learnt that thinking about all of you, and about leaving, leads to my sadness. Which is something I can't deal with anymore. I guess.... I switched off. I am sorry
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