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piper m Apr 25
My baby
I don't want your leftover time.
Although I am sad that you are no longer mine,
You don't know what you want, babe
And I think that's alright.
But I know that I'm worth more than your leftover time.
The soldier with rosy head
He paints the night in breaths of lead
A wreath of indecisive hold
Cuts into his vicious soul
Ecstasy of wavy hand
Sacred heart on plastic stand
Screaming, “I will soon behead
My likeness, already dead”
Now my cloudy brow is whipped
By his lonesome fingertips
Recite many words of raining glass
Supple actor brimming with brass
The new neurotic debutante
Burgeoning and full of want
Fell from heaven, to my hips
And slowly clambered to my lips

What a day
To be so amazed
By beauty’s caw
With that jagged draw

Follow me and you’ll see
Many people slowly crawling
To the edge of the sun
Trying to prove it’s really falling
To no one in particular here
For nobody really shows up to appear
Now, I interrogate the night
Trying to find a little noise
As it falls out of sight
And it steals away in joy
For the suffering it brought was clear
Now the soldier ***** his head in fear

But every now and then, I see
The headless noise of entropy
Miss Calamity
Takes the train to a shallow pier
Everybody looks so soft
To the waitress that laughs from her loft
The momentum of their talk is all too much
For the rosy soldier on the crutch

Soldier with rosy mind
Stifled motions intertwined
I caressed him in the light of dawn
Then he asked, “who’s side are you on?”
Screaming with a slanted arm
Wishing me to do him harm
So I released my friend with a rhyme
He went on to weep in fear of time
Takes his eye and plants a flower
To impress me in stale hours
He’s capricious, he’s surreal
He pins me to a leather wheel
Then, he asks of birds and men alike
I ask him what marries them in sight
So, he drew a golden tower
Filled with flying maiden showers

Burn the maze
Of his shallow face
A scofflaw fawn
Shy and withdrawn

Come to me and you’ll see
Many people slowly falling
From the edge of the sun
Trying to prove it’s really calling
For a hero in particular light
But he hangs on the noose of the night
Now, I shoot the eye out
Of the day’s rangy snout
As it falls out of sight
And appears in my mouth
For the suffering it brought was clear
Now the soldier ***** his head in fear

Now, the world is tried
For leaving reason in the tide
They hung their heads in pride
For everyone has been proved cruel
Sitting on a pool beside the door
The lover beckons him to her shore
As he makes his way under her porch
The soldier lights his torch
There is a beauty, I must confess
In the roll of her eyes
She is an all-encompassing baroness
In ill disguise
There is something behind her charred lips
That I do wish to hold
But when she sharpens her lilac fingertips
I simply lose my soul

Sat still by the fire, she seemed to me
Sadly contrary to eternity
She speaks with words that one cannot teach
Her gaze beckoned me to reach

She walks to me on scalpels
I cannot deny her
She drowns my tongue
In the sound of lyres
Her name, Her name
Her name, Her name
Her name, Her name
Her name

Escapes my mouth
Through no fault of mine
She cannot be held
In the interest of time
Her age will never show too clear
When her hood falls down
The sun will kneel
There will be no sound
But her spinning heel
This conquest, so severe
Her teeth lash out like mirrors
I held her hand in fear

As she types away all of her rights
She keeps ******* tied
When she asked me to call her Eurydice
I politely declined
She threw a fleeting fit that died with a kiss
From me unto her hand
Then she said, “how could you throw away all this bliss?”
I couldn’t understand
She snapped her toes, the room bellowed
I quickly shrivelled in brilliant fright
Her nest of pearly hair swallowed me
Then she fell out of sight

The lady stood behind me
In a dress of pins
She smiled and swayed
I never saw her again
Her name, Her name
Her name, Her name
Her name, Her name
Her name

Escapes my mouth
Through no fault of mine
She cannot be held
In the interest of time
Her face will never show too clear
When her hood falls down
The sun will kneel
There will be no sound
Nor pain to feel
Her footsteps, so severe
As the pangs of her toes echo clear
I run, for I know she’s near
Mamta Wathare Feb 14
You
Like a threadbare rug
weaved in only the colour of moon
I carried you in my soul
long before
we met

Being with you
is like watching snowflakes
for the first time
Ice melts
warmth fills my soul
and a folk tune plays
in the universe
Mark Wanless Jan 1
the simple folk surround me
the terribles astound me
i wonder which i am sometimes
and walk among the free
Travis Wilson Dec 2019
You've heard of Old John Ford
Who lived like a Carolina Lord
He defied the king
But before that thing
He was the first man e'er to fly

Was fine bright day that drew out
To find a goose good, fat and stout
Into the woods he went
Rope in hand, by a creek he bent

A hunting man is patient, true
But when flock swam by he knew
He had too long waited
To be so easily sated
And one just would not do

So this clever fellow, a fine knot drew
And with his fine rope,
he slide down the *****
And into the water he swam

Arriving at the first fat goose
He slid the noose
Gently around the foot
And with no sudden motion
As to avoid commotion
On to the next he swam

When Old John Ford had counted nine
He figured that'd be just fine
And out of the water he sprang

In terror the geese sprang high
Said Ford "Oh I'm a clever guy"
But quickly the smile faded
For he hadn't anticipated
What a flock of nine can do

And I tell ya boy, he flew!

They took him high
Until to his earthly eye
The world looked small indeed
And he cursed his selfish greed

For days did they fly
With that greedy guy
And do you know what they did do?
They took him to Peru!

When no longer they he could carry
And I tell ya, this is scary
They dropped him there and then
And he fell into a dern bear den!

Said he, "this can't be worse,
I'll rectify this curse"
And stuck behind a cub
He grabbed it's little tail stub
And with his knife, he pricked it twice
And out from the den he was drug!

Then to find his geese nine
For after home did he pine
And for a few more days he flew
And back in Carolina what did he do?

He named that spot Goose Creek
And we call it that today
I heard about this folk take from Union County, NC a few years ago and decided to write my own version of it. I decided it was John Ford because my best guess is that he was the original star of the story.
The summer wind
The golden year
Your loveliness
Dispelled my fear
Your gentle charms enchant me, dear
In happiness I shed a tear

Dear KittyNoir, do I adore
Please keep me warm, this I implore
Dear KittyNoir, hope lies in store
Come live with me forevermore!

The little clouds
The summer sky
Your sweet embrace
Draws me so nigh
While seeing you, I let a sigh
I felt so lucky I could die.

Dear KittyNoir, do I adore
Please keep me warm, this I implore
Dear KittyNoir, hope lies in store
Come live with me forevermore!

So, kitten-girl
Climb down the tree
Don't hesitate
To leap to me
Don't be afraid to live your dream,
And be the best that you can be.

Dear KittyNoir, do I adore
Please keep me warm, this I implore
Dear KittyNoir, hope lies in store
Come live with me forevermore!
The melody used by this poem comes from the unofficial national anthem of the historic region of Moravia, "Jsem Moravan" (I am a Moravian), sometimes also called "Ó Moravo" (O Moravia), written in 1904 by Kašpar Pivoda, with music composed by Vaclav Novotny 37 years ago.

It was one of the first three Chateau poems written by me (the others being "Little Kitten-Lady" and "I Long For Molly", and one of the two poems that were dedicated to one of the Chateau's models, Lea Van Doorn, followed by "Your Cat Ears Tell A Story".
Oh, ye little kitty-girl, kitty-girl, kitty-girl,
Oh, ye little kitty-girl, why do ye purr?
Ye, champagne and roses,
A bag full of poses,
Oh, ye little kitty-girl, that's why you purr!

Oh, ye little kitty-girl, kitty-girl, kitty-girl,
Oh, ye little kitty-girl, why do ye purr?
From London to Denver,
you're glowing my ember,
Oh, ye little kitty-girl, that's why you purr!

Oh, ye little kitty-girl, kitty-girl, kitty-girl,
Oh, ye little kitty-girl, why do ye purr?
I know that you're fluffy,
You're cute and you're puffy
Oh, ye little kitty-girl, that's why you purr!

Oh, ye little kitty-girl, kitty-girl, kitty-girl,
Oh, ye little kitty-girl, why do ye purr?
The sun is a-shining,
The silver a-lining,
Oh, ye little kitty-girl, that's why you purr!

Oh, ye little kitty-girl, kitty-girl, kitty-girl,  
Oh, ye little kitty-girl, why do ye purr?
The moon is a-gleaming
For you I’m now dreaming,
Oh, ye little kitty-girl, that's why you purr!

Oh, ye little kitty-girl, kitty-girl, kitty-girl,  
Oh, ye little kitty-girl, why do ye purr?
So, come ye, and take me
For you will not fake me,
Oh, ye little kitty-girl, that's why you purr!

Oh, ye little kitty-girl, kitty-girl, kitty-girl,
Oh, ye little kitty-girl, why do ye purr?
I love you, my kitten,
So put on your mitten,
Oh, ye little kitty-girl, that's why you purr!
The melody used for the poem was from an Austrian folk song, called "Oh, du lieber Augustin", presumably composed by a Viennese balladeer named Marx Augustin in 1679, though written documents date back to about 1800. The folk songs "The More We Get Together" and "Fat Turkeys" were all based on this song.
Mikey Kania Nov 2019
a daughter
named seble
seven years old

being in a coma

she couldn't hear her
daddy's words

she couldn't see him
fog in front of her eyes
covering differences of
sleep and wakefulness

oneday seble's father
who was desparate
put headphones
on seble's ears

lyrics from two tall germans
they are called the
"wildecker herzbuben"

"herz" means heart and a
"bube" is a boy

seble
closed eyes
slowly breathing

seble's father is called
brhane
rapidly breathing

brhane was pressing play
and after seconds
among lurid lights

seble
harvest
moved her head
seble closed eyes smiled
as the wildecker herzbuben sang:

"Ein letztes Glas'l mit alten Freunden
die geh'n allein nach Haus.
In den Straßen
in den Gassen
geh'n langsam die Lichter aus."

a last drink with my buddies
who go home alone
in the streets
in the alleys
the lights are vanishing

seble moved her head
no windows but
her daddy was there

sebles mother is not alive
anymore
brhane prayed
holding his daughter's hand

seble opened one eye
looking at brhane

seble came back to reality when
brhan had finished his talk to
god

the end of seble's and brhane's
story is wordless
Ken Pepiton Sep 2019
Did I ever ride one of these casino busses?
That's how I met my wife.

Is this weird enough?
seven measured spans of ten plus some,
this bit, this collection of second chances,
in how many?
in ever,
how many spans of tens have passed, without me?
or,
without the star stuff Sagan says  
I am made of?

or I am made? I was.

That's the measure of my worth,

nay, I say.
Rue the day I told that lie

shall be my epitath, should I leave without
a-counting
them there ex
acted, mockinbird killin' days and ways we was

when we was
never governed, as a people, or a tribe.
as ids,
we was wild injuns, us kids was. we did as we pleased.

life was fine,
livin' by the river, you can imagine a cloud

occlusion of green greasewood smoke
softening a barely waking moon
four thumbs high at sundown

keeping fairy tales down low enough
that grandpas
can snag

-- and release and come back jack, right here
--to this dangling hook

and it's always gonna be this way

catch and release,

life's story your story goes on.
You never lose your place,

that's mortally impossible
to pose a

quandry
quandary (n.)"state of perplexity," 1570s, of unknown origin, perhaps a quasi-Latinism based on Latin quando"when? at what time?; at the time that, inasmuch," pronominal adverb of time, related to qui"who" (from PIE root *kwo-, stem of relative and interrogative pronouns). Originally accented on the second syllable.

pronomial adverb, eh?
Writers were warned away from adverbs,
back when grammar tyranny strained
at knots and gnostic gnats magi-ifical
add-on augmented at your own risc

made you notice
tech times change faster than Timex

Sinclair-- sorry, senility function was left on from earlier missions

Force-recon recollected war stories being moved permanently into fish story status before
legend adds a layer
of gloryshit
at funerals.

Reduced Instruction Set Chip, chip
chipping is
addiction diction
A.I. *** us a whole Yah bus win, it's
Free Play day at the Ol' Folk Home.

We sing old songs on the way to Viejas and
laugh about all we left in Vegas.
Thanks, dear reader, my sanity hinges on you, like the swing doors on the Longbranch
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