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#carolina
In the shadows she now stands a bridge to the past a link to yesteryear. Beside her modern day brother of concrete and steel she whispers " I'm still here" She doesn't pale in comparison that fact is clear. She shines in the sun, in a weathered sort of way. Saying "Remember me" I'll be gone someday. My purpose is now much grander than just reaching from one side to the other. I reach into history, into the memories of those who remember me, when I was vital when I was necessary. Not many left now, of them, or of those like me. So visit when you can, hold a loved one's hand, and pass beneath my eves. "We're still here", so make new memories. Cause when we're gone we're gone, and all that will remain, Is faded photos, old stories, and memories.
0
Apr 20, 2025
Apr 20, 2025 at 12:53 PM UTC
The Covered Bridge
You held me in grass, In times of despair. You my very last, Dont worry, beware. You told me its fine, You’ll see me again. All loves have a line, Never wanting end. To roam the woods more, Was all I wanted. What love away soar, Ever known daunted? All sweet passing through, Carolina knew…
0
Sep 7, 2023
Sep 7, 2023 at 11:13 AM UTC
Carolina Knowing...
i only made it twenty-four hours in a place i thought i had a love affair with. i only made it about twelve hours in the presence of someone i had created a false narrative for. it only took me about five seconds to realize that something was wrong. i shouldn’t be here. “there’s some spark for you and i.” but i mustn’t have understood as there’s no room for a broad like me. twenty-four hours later, i’m back on a plane to north carolina. because the city of roses, your sparkle is gone and everyone i meet lacks luster. kind of, you know... dead in the eyes. an average day is heavy enough, but i can’t carry the weight of this entire city. though my pockets are empty, i know where i belong - and i can put my mind to rest. cause he’s hopeless.
0
Oct 3, 2021
Oct 3, 2021 at 4:50 PM UTC
who needs tomorrow
How could you know? How did you take All the right parts Kind, gentle, and sweet What did you learn? What made you able The first time you tried To make our lives complete When did you know? When did the stars So neatly align To bring wonder into our world Why is it us? Why did the heavens Choose people like we To parent our precious girl
0
Dec 13, 2019
Dec 13, 2019 at 1:21 PM UTC
Carolina
It was New York. La vie en rose playing in the background as you read a script you wrote the morning before. The way your blue eyes look so sad and yet so peaceful and you smirk for me and me alone. The way your hands are rougher then they should be but touch me softer then they should as well. We were passing cars in the night. Looking for each other as destinations we would never get too. It was North Carolina. It was green. So much green. It was airports that seemed to hold too many tears and not enough smiles. It was road trips that blossomed into a never ending love and irrational fear. It was summer in July and the way your lips found mine in every moment of every time. You were the light I had been searching for my whole life. And you became the darkness that was always there under my skin. You are my unfinished book and my unfinished heart. It was California. It was never enough and thoughts that don’t ever truly go away. It was watching you leave. Your fresh start, your growth. My jealousy, my envy. My wishful and spiteful thoughts of wanting to be in your shoes but not wanting you enough. It was Nevada. Damaged and uncontrollable. The never ending fighting and back and forth insecurities. Your ability to make me swoon and cry in the one sitting was gold. The unquestionable loyalty I had to ruining my own life. The sadness and depression. The love I had but never dared speak of. The way you broke me down and don’t understand my feelings still to this day. ***** and ******* Your true loves. It was Me. My will to love too much and yet not enough. My hazel eyes and mismatched hair. My gaze of sadness and darkness watching the men come and go from my life. My inability to connect because of damaged heart strings. But It’s also my strength in finding my flaws. The power I have to change. The growth at self confidence and care I am working on. It’s me. It’s them. It’s someday... someday finding someone who won’t leave.
0
Mar 28, 2019
Mar 28, 2019 at 1:11 AM UTC
The Men I’ve loved & Lost
It was New York. La vie en rose playing in the background as you read a script you wrote the morning before. The way your blue eyes look so sad and yet so peaceful and you smirk for me and me alone. The way your hands are rougher then they should be but touch me softer then they should as well. We were passing cars in the night. Looking for each other as destinations we would never get too. It was North Carolina. It was green. So much green. It was airports that seemed to hold too many tears and not enough smiles. It was road trips that blossomed into a never ending love and irrational fear. It was summer in July and the way your lips found mine in every moment of every time. You were the light I had been searching for my whole life. And you became the darkness that was always there under my skin. You are my unfinished book and my unfinished heart. It was California. It was never enough and thoughts that don’t ever truly go away. It was watching you leave. Your fresh start, your growth. My jealousy, my envy. My wishful and spiteful thoughts of wanting to be in your shoes but not wanting you enough. It was Nevada. Damaged and uncontrollable. The never ending fighting and back and forth insecurities. Your ability to make me swoon and cry in the one sitting was gold. The unquestionable loyalty I had to ruining my own life. The sadness and depression. The love I had but never dared speak of. The way you broke me down and don’t understand my feelings still to this day. ***** and ******* Your true loves. It was Me. My will to love too much and yet not enough. My hazel eyes and mismatched hair. My gaze of sadness and darkness watching the men come and go from my life. My inability to connect because of damaged heart strings. But It’s also my strength in finding my flaws. The power I have to change. The growth at self confidence and care I am working on. It’s me. It’s them. It’s someday... someday finding someone who won’t leave.
Continue reading...
42
eighteen years, my heart has been yours. every time I ran away or wanted to be free, you let me go. but I came back... you had my heart. I guess you always will have part of me. I can't deny that. one way or another I'll always come back. you have me for four more years and then... you gotta let me go for good. and not expect my return so soon. can you do it? -you feel like home
0
Feb 8, 2019
Feb 8, 2019 at 3:05 PM UTC
sweet carolina
I haven't smiled with a glimmering passion since then. The salt water wasn't as pure, but the heat filled my heart. You weren't so far away, yet you were still many states. I sigh with incomprehension, I've forgotten my lease and there's so much to do, yet nothing new to see. I hope I make it in the blistering cold, as I miss who I was but this is who I'll be. It's time for change, I hope we meet again some day. When I reach a fervor with the mildest degree of sincerity, I'll be like I was back then.
0
Oct 23, 2018
Oct 23, 2018 at 12:04 AM UTC
Since Then
The first settlers to the area called the Lumber River Drowning Creek. The river got its name for its dark, swift-moving waters. In 1809, the North Carolina state legislature changed the name of Drowning Creek to the Lumber River. The headwaters are still referred to as Drowning Creek. Three p.m. on a Sunday. Anxiously hungry, I stay dry, out of the pool’s cold water, taking the light, dripping into my pages. A city with a white face blank as a bust peers over my shoulder. Wildflowers on the roads. Planes circle from west, come down steeply and out of sight. A pinkness rises in my breast and arms: wet as the drowned, my eyes sting with sweat. Over the useless chimneys a bank of cloud piles up. There is something terrible in the sky, but it keeps breaking. Another is dead. Fentanyl. Sister of a friend, rarely seen. A hand reaches everywhere to pass over eyes and mouths. A glowing wound opens in heaven. A mirror out of doors draws a gyre of oak seeds no one watches, in the clear pool now sunless and black. Bitter water freezes the muscles and I am far from shore. I paddle in the shallows, near the wooden jail. The water reflects a taut rope, feet hanging in the breeze singing mercy at the site of the last public hanging in the state. A part-white fugitive with an extorted confession, loved by the poor, dumb enough to get himself captured, lonely on this side of authority: a world he has never lived in foisting itself on the world he has - only now, to steal his drunken life, then gone again. 1871 - Henderson Oxendine, one of the notorious gang of outlaws who for some time have infested Robeson County, N. C., committing ****** and robbery, and otherwise setting defiance to the laws, was hung at Lumberton, on Friday last in the presence of a large assemblage. His execution took place a very few days after his conviction, and his death occurred almost without a struggle. Today, the town square collapses as if scorched by the whiskey he drank that morning to still himself, folds itself up like Amazing Grace is finished. A plinth is laid in the shadow of his feet, sticky with pine, here where the water sickens with roots. Where the canoe overturned. Where the broken oar floated and fell. Where the snake lives, and teethes on bark, waiting for another uncle. Where the tobacco waves near drying barns rusted like horseshoes and cotton studs the ground like the cropped hair of the buried. Where schoolchildren take the afternoon to trim the kudzu growing between the bodies of slaves. Where appetite is met with flood and fat and a clinic for the heart. Where barges took chips of tar to port, for money that no one ever saw. Tar sticks the heel but isn’t courage. Tar seals the hulls - binds the planks - builds the road. Tar, fiery on the tongue, heavy as bad blood in the family - dead to glue the dead together to secure the living. Tar on the roofs, pouring heat. Tar is a dark brown or black viscous liquid of hydrocarbons and free carbon, obtained from a wide variety of organic materials through destructive distillation. Tar in the lungs will one day go as hard as a five-cent candy. Liberty Food Mart Cheapest Prices on Cigarettes Parliament $22.50/carton Marlboro $27.50/carton The white-bibbed slaughterhouse Hmong hunch down the steps of an old school bus with no air conditioner, rush into the cool of the supermarket. They pick clean the vegetables, flee with woven bags bulging. What were they promised? Air conditioning. And what did they receive? Chickenshit on the wind; a dead river they can't understand with a name it gained from killing. Truth: A man was flung onto a fencepost and died in a front yard down the street. A girl with a grudge in her eyes slipped a razorblade from her teeth and ended recess. I once saw an Indian murdered for stealing a twelve-foot ladder. The red line indicating heart disease grows higher and higher. The red line indicating cardiovascular mortality grows higher and higher. The red line indicating motor vehicle deaths grows higher and higher. I burn with the desire to leave. The stories make us full baskets of dark. No death troubles me. Not the girl's blood, inert, tickled by opiates, not the masked arson of the law; not the smell of drywall as it rots, or the door of the safe falling from its hinges, or the chassis of cars, airborne over the rise by the planetarium, three classmates plunging wide-eyed in the river’s icy arc – absent from prom, still struggling to free themselves from their seatbelts - the gunsmoke at the home invasion, the tenement bisected by flood, the cattle lowing, gelded by agriculture students on a field trip. The air contains skin and mud. The galvanized barns, long empty, cough up their dust of rotten feed, dry tobacco. Men kneel in the tilled rows, to pick up nails off the ground still splashed with the blood of their makers. You Never Sausage a Place (You’re Always a ****** at Pedro’s!) South of the Border – Fireworks, Motel & Rides Exit 9: 10mi. Drunkards in Dickies will tell you the roads are straight enough that the drive home will not bend away from them. Look in the woods to see by lamplight two girls filling each other's mouths with smoke. Hear a friendly command: boys loosening a tire, stuck in the gut of a dog. Turn on the radio between towns of two thousand and hear the tiny voice of an AM preacher, sharing the airwaves of country dark with some chords plucked from a guitar. Taste this water thick with tannin and tell me that trees do not feel pain. I would be a mausoleum for these thousands if I only had the room. I sealed myself against the flood. Bodies knock against my eaves: a clutch of cats drowned in a crawlspace, an old woman bereft with a vase of pennies, her dead son in her living room costumed as the black Jesus, the ***** oil of a Chinese restaurant dancing on top of black water. A flow gauge spins its tin wheel endlessly above the bloated dead, and I will pretend not to be sick at dinner. Misery now, a struggle ahead for Robeson County after flooding from Hurricane Matthew LUMBERTON After years of things leaving Robeson County – manufacturing plants, jobs, payrolls, people – something finally came in, and what was it but more misery? I said a prayer to the city: make me a figure in a figure, solvent, owed and owing. Take my jute sacks of wristbones, my sheaves and sheaves of fealty, the smell of the forest from my feet. Weigh me only by my purse. A slim woman with a college degree, a rented room without the black wings of palmetto roaches fleeing the damp: I saw the calm white towers and subscribed. No ingrate, I saved a space for the lost. They filled it once, twice, and kept on, eating greasy flesh straight from the bone, craning their heads to ask a prayer for them instead. Downtown later in the easy dark, three college boys in foam cowboy hats shout in poor Spanish. They press into the night and the night presses into them. They will go home when they have to. Under the bridge lit in violet, a folding chair is draped in a ***** blanket. A grubby pair of tennis shoes lay beneath, no feet inside. Iced tea seeps from a chewed cup. I pass a bar lit like Christmas. A mute and pretty face full of indoor light makes a promise I see through a window. I pay obscene rents to find out if it is true, in this nation tied together with gallows-rope, thumbing its codex of virtues.
0
Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 12:47 PM UTC
I-95, Exit 22: Open, My Country
The first settlers to the area called the Lumber River Drowning Creek. The river got its name for its dark, swift-moving waters. In 1809, the North Carolina state legislature changed the name of Drowning Creek to the Lumber River. The headwaters are still referred to as Drowning Creek. Three p.m. on a Sunday. Anxiously hungry, I stay dry, out of the pool’s cold water, taking the light, dripping into my pages. A city with a white face blank as a bust peers over my shoulder. Wildflowers on the roads. Planes circle from west, come down steeply and out of sight. A pinkness rises in my breast and arms: wet as the drowned, my eyes sting with sweat. Over the useless chimneys a bank of cloud piles up. There is something terrible in the sky, but it keeps breaking. Another is dead. Fentanyl. Sister of a friend, rarely seen. A hand reaches everywhere to pass over eyes and mouths. A glowing wound opens in heaven. A mirror out of doors draws a gyre of oak seeds no one watches, in the clear pool now sunless and black. Bitter water freezes the muscles and I am far from shore. I paddle in the shallows, near the wooden jail. The water reflects a taut rope, feet hanging in the breeze singing mercy at the site of the last public hanging in the state. A part-white fugitive with an extorted confession, loved by the poor, dumb enough to get himself captured, lonely on this side of authority: a world he has never lived in foisting itself on the world he has - only now, to steal his drunken life, then gone again. 1871 - Henderson Oxendine, one of the notorious gang of outlaws who for some time have infested Robeson County, N. C., committing ****** and robbery, and otherwise setting defiance to the laws, was hung at Lumberton, on Friday last in the presence of a large assemblage. His execution took place a very few days after his conviction, and his death occurred almost without a struggle. Today, the town square collapses as if scorched by the whiskey he drank that morning to still himself, folds itself up like Amazing Grace is finished. A plinth is laid in the shadow of his feet, sticky with pine, here where the water sickens with roots. Where the canoe overturned. Where the broken oar floated and fell. Where the snake lives, and teethes on bark, waiting for another uncle. Where the tobacco waves near drying barns rusted like horseshoes and cotton studs the ground like the cropped hair of the buried. Where schoolchildren take the afternoon to trim the kudzu growing between the bodies of slaves. Where appetite is met with flood and fat and a clinic for the heart. Where barges took chips of tar to port, for money that no one ever saw. Tar sticks the heel but isn’t courage. Tar seals the hulls - binds the planks - builds the road. Tar, fiery on the tongue, heavy as bad blood in the family - dead to glue the dead together to secure the living. Tar on the roofs, pouring heat. Tar is a dark brown or black viscous liquid of hydrocarbons and free carbon, obtained from a wide variety of organic materials through destructive distillation. Tar in the lungs will one day go as hard as a five-cent candy. Liberty Food Mart Cheapest Prices on Cigarettes Parliament $22.50/carton Marlboro $27.50/carton The white-bibbed slaughterhouse Hmong hunch down the steps of an old school bus with no air conditioner, rush into the cool of the supermarket. They pick clean the vegetables, flee with woven bags bulging. What were they promised? Air conditioning. And what did they receive? Chickenshit on the wind; a dead river they can't understand with a name it gained from killing. Truth: A man was flung onto a fencepost and died in a front yard down the street. A girl with a grudge in her eyes slipped a razorblade from her teeth and ended recess. I once saw an Indian murdered for stealing a twelve-foot ladder. The red line indicating heart disease grows higher and higher. The red line indicating cardiovascular mortality grows higher and higher. The red line indicating motor vehicle deaths grows higher and higher. I burn with the desire to leave. The stories make us full baskets of dark. No death troubles me. Not the girl's blood, inert, tickled by opiates, not the masked arson of the law; not the smell of drywall as it rots, or the door of the safe falling from its hinges, or the chassis of cars, airborne over the rise by the planetarium, three classmates plunging wide-eyed in the river’s icy arc – absent from prom, still struggling to free themselves from their seatbelts - the gunsmoke at the home invasion, the tenement bisected by flood, the cattle lowing, gelded by agriculture students on a field trip. The air contains skin and mud. The galvanized barns, long empty, cough up their dust of rotten feed, dry tobacco. Men kneel in the tilled rows, to pick up nails off the ground still splashed with the blood of their makers. You Never Sausage a Place (You’re Always a ****** at Pedro’s!) South of the Border – Fireworks, Motel & Rides Exit 9: 10mi. Drunkards in Dickies will tell you the roads are straight enough that the drive home will not bend away from them. Look in the woods to see by lamplight two girls filling each other's mouths with smoke. Hear a friendly command: boys loosening a tire, stuck in the gut of a dog. Turn on the radio between towns of two thousand and hear the tiny voice of an AM preacher, sharing the airwaves of country dark with some chords plucked from a guitar. Taste this water thick with tannin and tell me that trees do not feel pain. I would be a mausoleum for these thousands if I only had the room. I sealed myself against the flood. Bodies knock against my eaves: a clutch of cats drowned in a crawlspace, an old woman bereft with a vase of pennies, her dead son in her living room costumed as the black Jesus, the ***** oil of a Chinese restaurant dancing on top of black water. A flow gauge spins its tin wheel endlessly above the bloated dead, and I will pretend not to be sick at dinner. Misery now, a struggle ahead for Robeson County after flooding from Hurricane Matthew LUMBERTON After years of things leaving Robeson County – manufacturing plants, jobs, payrolls, people – something finally came in, and what was it but more misery? I said a prayer to the city: make me a figure in a figure, solvent, owed and owing. Take my jute sacks of wristbones, my sheaves and sheaves of fealty, the smell of the forest from my feet. Weigh me only by my purse. A slim woman with a college degree, a rented room without the black wings of palmetto roaches fleeing the damp: I saw the calm white towers and subscribed. No ingrate, I saved a space for the lost. They filled it once, twice, and kept on, eating greasy flesh straight from the bone, craning their heads to ask a prayer for them instead. Downtown later in the easy dark, three college boys in foam cowboy hats shout in poor Spanish. They press into the night and the night presses into them. They will go home when they have to. Under the bridge lit in violet, a folding chair is draped in a ***** blanket. A grubby pair of tennis shoes lay beneath, no feet inside. Iced tea seeps from a chewed cup. I pass a bar lit like Christmas. A mute and pretty face full of indoor light makes a promise I see through a window. I pay obscene rents to find out if it is true, in this nation tied together with gallows-rope, thumbing its codex of virtues.
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155
Rotting meat lined the walls of the spot where the crime was committed Locked from the outside Shut in as the oil burned, the smoke engulfing, the flames consuming the people as they screamed, "Let me out" but the indentations of the footprints on the door spoke loudest They spoke of 25 beautiful faces lost in pursuit of the American Dream.®
0
May 2, 2018
May 2, 2018 at 6:33 PM UTC
Hamlet, 1991
The places we hide under For sanctimonious pleasure If it fits, it sits, little sisters So don’t get cold hands on me For our feet will burn elsewhere Pious, but intuitive sensations Receieved for all of us Here in our makeshift cubby Underground The faces we hide from For sacrilegious fervor From one scene to another We’ll be the last ones left Here in our makeshift cubby Under the ground
0
Jan 25, 2018
Jan 25, 2018 at 7:17 AM UTC
The Scene
A tale of dawn where my genius at play for her beads if thunder hie will quicken quinine why Doeville surely nigh and on route yon that bare a drove her handkerchief spar in field with hills to make her rich still clad in negligee and between her steps arose Carthage in antiquity a lore of ages to unfold Spain today with a guitar strumming this spicy song of quest so inane
0
Oct 30, 2017
Oct 30, 2017 at 12:29 PM UTC
A Guitar Trade
There was a beautiful lady in China no, not North, or South Carolina prolific of men over, and over again the cause of her death, from angina
0
Jan 30, 2017
Jan 30, 2017 at 10:57 AM UTC
Keep your mind out of the gutter (Limerick)
<Loud as you can say it> I am Outlaw!          -call me Pirate! I live such freedom,          all souls admire it! The awful God,         has judged my soul, Weighs his measure,           I'll pay my toll! <In a high-pitched voice> The sailor's way,         path unknown, Stars are clouded,         nothing shown? The sea's are high,         a storm is here, Davey Jones' Locker,         my home is near. <Loud again, yell it> There is no heaven,         there is no hell, Life on seas,         the seas they swell, Fish scales on arms,          scales on my legs, Heart born free,          dread-locked and dregs! I am Outlaw!           -call me Pirate! Lost lives redeemed,           some should admire it, The ship upended,           all hands to drown, In Davey Jones' Locker,           a peaceful sound... <In a high-pitched voice> The sailor's way,         path unknown, Stars are clouded,         nothing shown? My time has ended,         fate is near, Davey Jones' Locker,         my death is here. <Loud again, yell it> I am Outlaw!          -call me Pirate! A man of valor,           some do admire it. I am Outlaw!           -call me Pirate! A dreadful life,            though some desire it. I am Outlaw!           -call me Pirate! To Davey Jones' Locker,           my deeds require it. I am Outlaw!           -call me Pirate! I AM OUTLAW!           -CALL ME PIRATE! I am Outlaw!!           -call me Pirate! My life on the ocean,           my God inside it.
0
Aug 21, 2016
Aug 21, 2016 at 11:56 PM UTC
The Pirate's Ballad
<Loud as you can say it> I am Outlaw!          -call me Pirate! I live such freedom,          all souls admire it! The awful God,         has judged my soul, Weighs his measure,           I'll pay my toll! <In a high-pitched voice> The sailor's way,         path unknown, Stars are clouded,         nothing shown? The sea's are high,         a storm is here, Davey Jones' Locker,         my home is near. <Loud again, yell it> There is no heaven,         there is no hell, Life on seas,         the seas they swell, Fish scales on arms,          scales on my legs, Heart born free,          dread-locked and dregs! I am Outlaw!           -call me Pirate! Lost lives redeemed,           some should admire it, The ship upended,           all hands to drown, In Davey Jones' Locker,           a peaceful sound... <In a high-pitched voice> The sailor's way,         path unknown, Stars are clouded,         nothing shown? My time has ended,         fate is near, Davey Jones' Locker,         my death is here. <Loud again, yell it> I am Outlaw!          -call me Pirate! A man of valor,           some do admire it. I am Outlaw!           -call me Pirate! A dreadful life,            though some desire it. I am Outlaw!           -call me Pirate! To Davey Jones' Locker,           my deeds require it. I am Outlaw!           -call me Pirate! I AM OUTLAW!           -CALL ME PIRATE! I am Outlaw!!           -call me Pirate! My life on the ocean,           my God inside it.
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65
I want to tell y'all a story About a man named McCrory Made a law about who can use what ***** The rest of the world thinks he is dotty This man is a bigot Can you dig it? North Carolina really wonders How he could make so many blunders But soon we will make him pay When we throw him out on Election Day!
0
Sep 2, 2016
Sep 2, 2016 at 11:25 PM UTC
An Ode To Pat
If I could lay in silence all night This would be the place In the middle of North Carolina With the moonlight shining upon my face. Listening to the trees talk their secrets And the stars shining so bright Yes, if I could have it my way I would be out here every night. I would clear my mind and pack a bag Kiss my dad goodbye on the cheek For tomorrow he will return to California And you will find me dancing amongst the leaves. Next to the river along a county road Under the willow tree Yes, if I could have it my way This is where I'd always be.
0
Nov 18, 2015
Nov 18, 2015 at 2:22 AM UTC
North Carolina
We can wait ten years to change the flag, Or another whole generation. We can turn this thing into just a snag or rebuild from the foundation. We can change the confederate flag tomorrow Or just wait around til we’re last, We can bring the next fifty years some sorrow Or mark it as a thing of the past. We can get made fun of by every other state First place in everything bad, Or we can start to fix our problems with hate, And make being actually first the new fad. We can cling to a symbol of hate and loss, And pretend it’s simply tradition, Or we can dispose of that top-left cross And avoid all of the opposition Because Mississippi, We can wait a week, a month or a year, It really is a choice. But the flag is going to change, it’s clear, With or without your voice.
0
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 3:40 PM UTC
Inevitable Change
Stopped into a back roads diner Somewhere just off Carolina Highway thirty three Sign said "open", I went in Pushed the RC handle made of tin Not a soul around that I could see Waitress came out from the back Name plate said her name was "Jack" I'm glad I came in Ordered up some milk and pie This waitress sure did catch my eye Pushing that RC ad made of tin Told her that I was passing through Not staying long, had things to do Smiling, she  said "You'll stay" I said I'' need a place to rest She named one place...the best Out by the bay There's not much to do round here We only serve three kinds of beer and the Carolina Zoom Zoom we make in the back room It goes down as smooth as ever Turn your insides straight to leather That Carolina Zoom Zoom we make in the back room "Jack" sat down and asked my story told her, "lots of pressure, lots of worry" Don't worry *** it'll go I asked her how she could just say that Took off my coat and then my ball hat Just how was she to know She said "I read people when they're here" Some folks stay, some disappear You'll be here a while She said "you're driving time is over" "I think you'll end up, as the new owner" "Of this place"...with a smile I said "there's no people here to sell to" "What the heck would I do" owning this with no one here at all She laughed and said "I am agreeing" But you are looking but not seeing Money's made behind the yonder wall There's not much to do round here We only serve three kinds of beer and the Carolina Zoom Zoom we make in the back room It goes down as smooth as ever Turn your insides straight to leather That Carolina Zoom Zoom we make in the back room She said it was a truck stop diner That sold the best ***** in all Carolina Carolina zoom zoom in the back Recipe's been here for ages Brewed real slow, distilled in stages Always forty jugs out on the rack We've sold to Robert Johnson and Bocephus You may choose to not believe this I wouldn't lie about that fact The diner never makes much money But, the back room, there's the honey sure as i know I'm called Jack She said she lived in an old trailer That she traded with a sailor For a case five   years ago Moved it back on up the hill There she could watch on the still If I bought, she'd have to go I thought a while, made two offers Money to fill up her coffers And she had to stay She smiled, asked me if I'm certain Did I mean it, or was I just flirtin' I told her I was set to pay There's not much to do round here We only serve three kinds of beer and the Carolina Zoom Zoom we make in the back room It goes down as smooth as ever Turn your insides straight to leather That Carolina Zoom Zoom we make in the back room I've been the owner fifteen years I changed my life, by changing gears Jack is still with me Thank god I stopped in to this diner Back in the back roads off Carolina Highway thiry three
0
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 12:21 AM UTC
Carolina Zoom Zoom
Stopped into a back roads diner Somewhere just off Carolina Highway thirty three Sign said "open", I went in Pushed the RC handle made of tin Not a soul around that I could see Waitress came out from the back Name plate said her name was "Jack" I'm glad I came in Ordered up some milk and pie This waitress sure did catch my eye Pushing that RC ad made of tin Told her that I was passing through Not staying long, had things to do Smiling, she  said "You'll stay" I said I'' need a place to rest She named one place...the best Out by the bay There's not much to do round here We only serve three kinds of beer and the Carolina Zoom Zoom we make in the back room It goes down as smooth as ever Turn your insides straight to leather That Carolina Zoom Zoom we make in the back room "Jack" sat down and asked my story told her, "lots of pressure, lots of worry" Don't worry *** it'll go I asked her how she could just say that Took off my coat and then my ball hat Just how was she to know She said "I read people when they're here" Some folks stay, some disappear You'll be here a while She said "you're driving time is over" "I think you'll end up, as the new owner" "Of this place"...with a smile I said "there's no people here to sell to" "What the heck would I do" owning this with no one here at all She laughed and said "I am agreeing" But you are looking but not seeing Money's made behind the yonder wall There's not much to do round here We only serve three kinds of beer and the Carolina Zoom Zoom we make in the back room It goes down as smooth as ever Turn your insides straight to leather That Carolina Zoom Zoom we make in the back room She said it was a truck stop diner That sold the best ***** in all Carolina Carolina zoom zoom in the back Recipe's been here for ages Brewed real slow, distilled in stages Always forty jugs out on the rack We've sold to Robert Johnson and Bocephus You may choose to not believe this I wouldn't lie about that fact The diner never makes much money But, the back room, there's the honey sure as i know I'm called Jack She said she lived in an old trailer That she traded with a sailor For a case five   years ago Moved it back on up the hill There she could watch on the still If I bought, she'd have to go I thought a while, made two offers Money to fill up her coffers And she had to stay She smiled, asked me if I'm certain Did I mean it, or was I just flirtin' I told her I was set to pay There's not much to do round here We only serve three kinds of beer and the Carolina Zoom Zoom we make in the back room It goes down as smooth as ever Turn your insides straight to leather That Carolina Zoom Zoom we make in the back room I've been the owner fifteen years I changed my life, by changing gears Jack is still with me Thank god I stopped in to this diner Back in the back roads off Carolina Highway thiry three
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I know you haven't heard from me in years . I thought I'd write just to let you know that Tommy Faulkner died , you know passed away . I didn't even know it until it was all over . Don't even know what he died from . Heidi told me . Oh , you don't know Heidi , my fist and third wife . She and Tommy were good friends . Last I heard about you , you were moving to North Carolina , your home by birth . But your home was always with us here on the Southside of Birmingham . Sigh ! I hoped you made a big splash back home when you arrived . Such a polar extreme . I kept your poems for years until Heidi threw out my box of poetry ,with yours included . Also Steven Sedbury's . You remember him ? Last I heard about you , you had a brain tumor and you passed away . Now I stand alone with my ghosts and I have no address to send my posts . Love Thomas
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Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 10:13 PM UTC
Dear Keith Marshall
I sometimes pretend you were just a vision-- something I made up to keep me happy. But I remember it all so vividly-- your red pants, that grey shirt, the cologne you wear and you leaning on the wall waiting for me. Did you move around a lot trying to find the "right" way to stand on the wall? Did you get nervous when I arrived? Did you feel the pressure I felt? I'll never forget the humidity and the way I stared at you when I first saw you again. I'll never forge the butterflies when I tried to smile but frowned instead. I'll never forget the way you asked how my trip was and I replied awkwardly how I needed coffee. I'll never forget the way I looked at you... Knowing we had only one week and then it would be over. And I'll never forget how by the end of the week I lost myself completely... And let every wall I ever built fall down for you. you kissed me goodbye... And meant it.
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Oct 4, 2014
Oct 4, 2014 at 2:47 AM UTC
You meant goodbye forever