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#coach
Yes. No one controls anything. Why would they? " Move at the speed the system demands . " Work sheets, home work , dead lines. Manufactured scarcity from desk to cubicle. Manufacturing fear. “ School spirit” + Nationalism = War. Manufactured urgency. Now, now now. Go, Dog Go ! Another news cycle you’ll never be a part of unless you break in a way they don't allow . Sunday Schools most important lesson , sit down. Shut up. Do as you’re told . Nobody cares about your f---- ing opinion. Get back in line. ‘Bringing in the sheep’, indeed . You ever see how they pack them, the little baby chicks? That’s the whole plan right there , plain as day. No space. No air. Just bodies pressed in until ‘survival “ can only become friction. Chicken friction = slaves in white collars. No one teaches standards or dignity. ( not for free ) Stack them , Fred Trump higher. Call it pre- sorted corporate efficiency. Synchronicity. Ask anybody who's ever had a fast food job where they couldn't keep up. Can’t obey? Try to make it on the street with no EBT. To noisy ? Won’t “ calm down, sir !” Oh, You’re gonna love the stripes in the next place... Concrete. Steel cages. ‘ Moves’ smaller than the meal trays. Another unwanted pregnancy crammed into your cell every other day. Eugenics plan B. And you think THAT’S the bottom? Not even close. Get back in line before they strap you down. Electro shock and needle showers till you... still . More forced injections. The vaccine label slips off the BIG OIL mercury as they Pump you full of whatever keeps you quiet. Gives you autism, Cancer. " it's genetic " = your fault... In the Loony bin there’s little , movement. No sky. No choice. the more clearly realized baby chicken tray. Not even allowed to check out early. A fate worse than hell, with no death just existing. On their terms. At the speed the system demands. And still somewhere up above it all, another Fred Trump hands it off to another little baby Donny, born outside the chickadee packed trays. Now it's HIS job to tell you what freedom looks like. Tells you 2 % spending on welfare is the problem. " Hate the brown skins." " very fine people on both sides." Tells you less will somehow become more as you wait for it to " Trickle down". Let your ' Pep Rally' daughters twerk as they lust for them... anything to try and escape the tray Smile and vote red , As they cut , Meals on Wheels. Grade school Breakfast AND lunch programs, music, art, GONE never to return, not just starving your children physically, But creatively and emotionally. The GOP way . Hiding behind the " star of David " and Supreme Court bribes. you say you don't need me or to be told Old oil Money = power, then why is it still making choices for you,? not some random unknowable ghost in the machine. Policies don’t just appear handcuffed to a briefcase full of bearer bonds out of thin air. Cuts don’t just “ happen “ by Sheeny magic alone. Somebody’s processed boyscout - suit, signs them. Somebody ‘s PTA Oprah ****** -slob benefits. Now HE uses the Marines not just the local cops and the National Guard to keep the fear and the jails “ cranked beyond capacity” . “ why , can’t MY generals be more like Hitlers.” ? ? ? ... born outside the trays… never once cooked never shopped for groceries .. calls THAT freedom. Tariffs no one wants or deserves as punishment . For no reason but himself. Ego. Says less will SOMEHOW become more. Less food. Less art. Less music. Starve the body. Starve the mind. Starve whatever might have fought back. The old system doesn’t just break you. It trains you to break yourself. Faster. Come on. Faster. Go, dog. Go. Talk radio propaganda is your non stop fantasy coach that always puts you “in” another beloved by the community constant pedophile “ INSTRUCTOR” telling your kids “do it faster, baby . Yeah... oh, yeah, just like that, gimme more. One more time , don’t stop now.” Sports or animal ****** ? the only outlets you have given or shown them and you wonder why little Johnny can’t read as the bodies clog the “ busses only” lane in front of another school. slap another NRA sticker on their NFL lunch box. Another golden little chick waiting to be sorted stacked on top in trays as the waste falls used and discarded. Dr. Suess had it right. Go, dog. “Move at the speed the system demands.” Go !(It's not like they just woke up today and figured out that paying one guy to put a gun in your back is cheaper than paying us all. Never forget they can't survive without us, and there's more of us than them.) Oh, and don’t remember “ Think positive”. I mean after all ... They are watching.
0
Apr 4
Apr 4, 2026 at 2:43 PM UTC
Now Hiring : someone willing to " Move at the speed the system demands."
Yes. No one controls anything. Why would they? " Move at the speed the system demands . " Work sheets, home work , dead lines. Manufactured scarcity from desk to cubicle. Manufacturing fear. “ School spirit” + Nationalism = War. Manufactured urgency. Now, now now. Go, Dog Go ! Another news cycle you’ll never be a part of unless you break in a way they don't allow . Sunday Schools most important lesson , sit down. Shut up. Do as you’re told . Nobody cares about your f---- ing opinion. Get back in line. ‘Bringing in the sheep’, indeed . You ever see how they pack them, the little baby chicks? That’s the whole plan right there , plain as day. No space. No air. Just bodies pressed in until ‘survival “ can only become friction. Chicken friction = slaves in white collars. No one teaches standards or dignity. ( not for free ) Stack them , Fred Trump higher. Call it pre- sorted corporate efficiency. Synchronicity. Ask anybody who's ever had a fast food job where they couldn't keep up. Can’t obey? Try to make it on the street with no EBT. To noisy ? Won’t “ calm down, sir !” Oh, You’re gonna love the stripes in the next place... Concrete. Steel cages. ‘ Moves’ smaller than the meal trays. Another unwanted pregnancy crammed into your cell every other day. Eugenics plan B. And you think THAT’S the bottom? Not even close. Get back in line before they strap you down. Electro shock and needle showers till you... still . More forced injections. The vaccine label slips off the BIG OIL mercury as they Pump you full of whatever keeps you quiet. Gives you autism, Cancer. " it's genetic " = your fault... In the Loony bin there’s little , movement. No sky. No choice. the more clearly realized baby chicken tray. Not even allowed to check out early. A fate worse than hell, with no death just existing. On their terms. At the speed the system demands. And still somewhere up above it all, another Fred Trump hands it off to another little baby Donny, born outside the chickadee packed trays. Now it's HIS job to tell you what freedom looks like. Tells you 2 % spending on welfare is the problem. " Hate the brown skins." " very fine people on both sides." Tells you less will somehow become more as you wait for it to " Trickle down". Let your ' Pep Rally' daughters twerk as they lust for them... anything to try and escape the tray Smile and vote red , As they cut , Meals on Wheels. Grade school Breakfast AND lunch programs, music, art, GONE never to return, not just starving your children physically, But creatively and emotionally. The GOP way . Hiding behind the " star of David " and Supreme Court bribes. you say you don't need me or to be told Old oil Money = power, then why is it still making choices for you,? not some random unknowable ghost in the machine. Policies don’t just appear handcuffed to a briefcase full of bearer bonds out of thin air. Cuts don’t just “ happen “ by Sheeny magic alone. Somebody’s processed boyscout - suit, signs them. Somebody ‘s PTA Oprah ****** -slob benefits. Now HE uses the Marines not just the local cops and the National Guard to keep the fear and the jails “ cranked beyond capacity” . “ why , can’t MY generals be more like Hitlers.” ? ? ? ... born outside the trays… never once cooked never shopped for groceries .. calls THAT freedom. Tariffs no one wants or deserves as punishment . For no reason but himself. Ego. Says less will SOMEHOW become more. Less food. Less art. Less music. Starve the body. Starve the mind. Starve whatever might have fought back. The old system doesn’t just break you. It trains you to break yourself. Faster. Come on. Faster. Go, dog. Go. Talk radio propaganda is your non stop fantasy coach that always puts you “in” another beloved by the community constant pedophile “ INSTRUCTOR” telling your kids “do it faster, baby . Yeah... oh, yeah, just like that, gimme more. One more time , don’t stop now.” Sports or animal ****** ? the only outlets you have given or shown them and you wonder why little Johnny can’t read as the bodies clog the “ busses only” lane in front of another school. slap another NRA sticker on their NFL lunch box. Another golden little chick waiting to be sorted stacked on top in trays as the waste falls used and discarded. Dr. Suess had it right. Go, dog. “Move at the speed the system demands.” Go !(It's not like they just woke up today and figured out that paying one guy to put a gun in your back is cheaper than paying us all. Never forget they can't survive without us, and there's more of us than them.) Oh, and don’t remember “ Think positive”. I mean after all ... They are watching.
Continue reading...
104
Track back, she yells. Don’t dive, she yells. Mark your player. Push stronger. Run faster. She yells. If you do something, she yells. If you don’t do something, she yells. If you cry, she yells. If you don’t cry, she yells. Could you kindly refrain from yelling? It might just do my head in. I’m kind of fed up with never doing anything right. Kind of fed up with being shouted at from the sidelines. Kind of fed up with being scared. Scared to move down a team. Scared not to prove myself enough. Scared to mess up one time too many. If you’re moving me down, just tell me already. At least then I wouldn’t have to deal with you yelling.
0
Mar 5
Mar 5, 2026 at 2:38 PM UTC
She yells
To the pitcher who came from Duluth The coach said. Son it's a hard the ruth Your curve ball is shot Your heaters not hot Son, you'd be better off up in the booth The pitcher said he wouldn't go I've spent 15 years up in the show The coach said my son Your arm is just done Don't argue. The answer's still no The pitcher said trade me away I know deep inside I can play Son, we've shopped you around No new team can be found Accept it. Your last day's today
0
Feb 17
Feb 17, 2026 at 3:11 PM UTC
The pitcher
I laid down my fears and took up a new Spear I took hold of a mind-set that said I’m not done yet I swallowed my bitter and grabbed something better not just mindful of me more mindful of others I stopped pushing away started having my say pushing on through and I found a new way When anxiety said ‘No’ I said 'What do you know?' There’s much more outside this comfortable zone I’ve found a safe space where I can relate where I can be heard where I am embraced where I can be me where I can be seen to take up my place in my chosen workspace
0
Oct 19, 2021
Oct 19, 2021 at 5:33 PM UTC
Taking up my spear
We are about to go out you need to get me ready Complete the night Lets keep us steady I will be your secrets Also your escape I will hold for you a memory Even a weapon you can take Designed by Coach He is arriving in a domestic? Already my value is decreasing this is hectic! Don't forget the ****** that mini shots and tampons too I can make them fall out on command to scare him off If you want me too!? You look stunning in chu glad his clutches have not released I have one more night to be clutched for peace. Careful when setting me down as they say never put me on the ground or money will fly away. *** he is here He had better at least be hot Don't forget Snoop and the *** In case we have to drop it like its hot!!!!
0
Aug 18, 2020
Aug 18, 2020 at 6:40 AM UTC
Catastrophic Clutch Bag
A Czech chick dribbles but rebounds on the court that a running game allows her basket there in breakneck time that they belch instead of cry and teammates once they've shined in their field house atop the hill.
0
Jul 29, 2017
Jul 29, 2017 at 5:14 AM UTC
Allysa For Coach
I sit next to my sister on the coach to school. She is talking to her friends nearby. I look out the window. The radio is on playing pop music. There is talk around me like a babble of sounds. Fields and trees and hedgerows pass by cottages and country lanes. I wonder if John is looking over at me? he was when I first looked over after getting on the coach and he smiled and I smiled. But I don't know whether to look again. If he is looking and I blush and my sister sees him she'll joke about me blushing to her friends. The sky is dull it looks like rain. I hope it doesn't I want to see John on the field if I can. Shall I look over? I want to but what if he is? I try not to blush but can't help it. The bus stops to let other school kids on they clamber aboard like pirates onto our ship. They sit more talk laughter from the back. I wish I wasn't so shy. I look over John's looking at me and smiles I smile. I feel myself blush and look away and stare at the sky.
0
Jul 27, 2017
Jul 27, 2017 at 1:32 AM UTC
ELAINE AND PUZZLEMENT 1962.
Look to this when you are hungry, and sinning and look deeply into your vision, what do you see? A man made marvel. That is all. Is that what you strive for? To obtain nothing and hold it for god to see is simply heinous. Unrepentant ignorance. So is that who you wish to be? The pathetic corner where no one treads, the person who has no future tense, and even the person who lacks any will. Constitution, I should say. You are who you make yourself, after all who controls everything you do? Inaction and action have the same power, so decide. Choose for yourself, is it now, or tomorrow, or even better, never?
0
Jul 12, 2017
Jul 12, 2017 at 2:05 AM UTC
Glory to strive for
This is a black day for sports, Even if not in the world, Surely Indian sports. Virat - the young junior player, He made the engineer quit, Kumble had to give up. Virat Kohli has a harsh ego, He let his ego defeat the team, Whereas Anil Kumble had none.
0
Jun 21, 2017
Jun 21, 2017 at 12:25 PM UTC
Guru - the Coach
Reflection can be simple but so easy to ignore when darkness casts a shadow over every single pore in moments such as this let not your fingers reach to find the wounds that have congealed themselves so perfectly in time Instead of making circles round a past's familiar pain retreat into your senses and embrace the hands of change The difference made today might feel like nothingness at first but follow through in boldness and again you'll find your worth Tomorrow's moving forward while a yesterday holds back and now's the only moment you may have to choose a track
0
Jun 9, 2017
Jun 9, 2017 at 9:11 PM UTC
Coach A & Coach To Be
If I were to do it all again I'd tell my mother that I was sorry I'd tell my brother that I love him And I'd tell my best friend that Maybe the skirt was a little too short for brunch with the parents I'd tell my sister that I wish I had an ounce of her integrity I'd thank my coach for believing in me I'd kiss my teacher on both cheeks For not leaving me in the hallway crying I'd thank her for being my only friend for almost an entire year I'd thank her for carrying me on her shoulders for so long But most of all I'd thank her for letting go at the right moment If I were to do it all again I'd be more honest Not blunt. Because blunt is uncompromisingly forthright And I, for one, give a **** If I were to do it all again I'd understand that in order to get to "success" I'd have to climb the thousand feet tall ladder called "fear" If I were to do it all again I'd jump out of the plane on two Because people hold on to the edges at three If I were to do it all again... Man I'd be at the top of that ladder
0
Jun 1, 2017
Jun 1, 2017 at 12:14 AM UTC
Do-Over
Can you belive it? Belive me when I say I used to trust myself In any way This silver cord is shorter Now I've all but lost my health Poor forked forced set of mental blind Heady terminal path soon to be mine Grimy iron taste so sublime Salt water spilling into overtime ***** I hated that Complete tripe **** you, ******* subjective Yeah, I AM glad you died Like, in a present for my future It's all mine, you... It is all mine. Low end rent roach Bring around the stage coach Pick myself a lane god ****
0
May 31, 2017
May 31, 2017 at 3:23 AM UTC
Stop asking
Trevor talked about football and whom to put in the team. I sat next to him trying to shut out his football talk. I looked over at Elaine on the other side of the coach and smiled. She smiled and blushed then looked away. Trevor asked about a kid named Jones whether he'd be any good in goal. I said I didn't know how he'd be I couldn't care less. I wished it was Elaine next to me not him and his football yak. I sensed her eyes on me but when I glanced over she was looking out the window. Her sister gazed at me with her scornful eyes. I looked away at the passing scene fields and trees houses and hedgerows. I hoped I'd see Elaine on the sports field at midday recess. Trevor opened wide his arms talking about the big kid Bailey how his reach could save better than Jones. I said go for Bailey he's the best I said nothing more. Felt like a marooned sailor on a lonely shore.
0
May 28, 2017
May 28, 2017 at 9:03 AM UTC
JOHN FEELING MAROONED 1962.
You never realized eyes could smile like hers did, and that she could smile in such a way as to make smiling a gift of God. You sat by a window seat on the school coach that first morning a new boy at a new school and she there at the front eyeing you and smiling that smile and you gazed out the window at the passing views trees in fields birds flying overhead cows in passing fields eating grass or staring at the coach driving past. You looked up and she was still eyeing you and her smile still there and you looked away and felt something odd open within you and felt self conscious as if the whole world was in on it and the eyes of each and every kid on the coach was aware of her eyes and smile but none seemed to notice or care if they did. Just you and her eyes and that smile and you opening up and becoming undone like some poor sod stripped naked under a hot sun.
0
May 26, 2017
May 26, 2017 at 3:26 AM UTC
LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT 1961.
John sits on the school coach by the window next to Goldfinch watching the trees and fields and cottages go past. Goldfinch is talking of football: who do   I put in goal lunchtime as Potts is way, who do you think? Goldfinch says. Not me that's, for sure, John says, his mind isn't on Goldfinch or the goal, but on Elaine sitting over the other side of the coach. He looked at her when she and sister got on the coach, but she looked away, and not at him. He guesses she was shy after all the rumpus since Elaine's mouthy sister told everyone on the coach that he had kissed Elaine. But it soon died down and apart from a few How's the Frump Elaine? When he got on and later when Elaine got on, then it died out. Now the kids are talking amongst themselves or listening to the music from the coach radio, some pop song about loving somebody. Need someone by lunchtime, Goldfinch says, whom do you suggest? Green might, he ain't bad, John says. Green? He couldn't save a 1p for Christmas; someone else, Goldfinch says. John doesn't care who, he's thinking of Elaine and whether she'll let him kiss her again after the rumpus; he hopes so, although he's not sure he'll be welcome at Elaine's home now. Why did her sister tell like that? He muses, listening half heartedly to Goldfinch's talk, it was just a quick kiss not too passionate and it was only while her mother was out of the room briefly that day. He looks over to where Elaine is sitting quickly to see if she's looking his way, but she isn't she's staring out the window. Her sister glares at him, so he looks away, and back out of the window and the passing view, not sure what to think or what to do.
0
Oct 6, 2016
Oct 6, 2016 at 4:39 AM UTC
WHAT TO DO 1962.
John sits on the school coach by the window next to Goldfinch watching the trees and fields and cottages go past. Goldfinch is talking of football: who do   I put in goal lunchtime as Potts is way, who do you think? Goldfinch says. Not me that's, for sure, John says, his mind isn't on Goldfinch or the goal, but on Elaine sitting over the other side of the coach. He looked at her when she and sister got on the coach, but she looked away, and not at him. He guesses she was shy after all the rumpus since Elaine's mouthy sister told everyone on the coach that he had kissed Elaine. But it soon died down and apart from a few How's the Frump Elaine? When he got on and later when Elaine got on, then it died out. Now the kids are talking amongst themselves or listening to the music from the coach radio, some pop song about loving somebody. Need someone by lunchtime, Goldfinch says, whom do you suggest? Green might, he ain't bad, John says. Green? He couldn't save a 1p for Christmas; someone else, Goldfinch says. John doesn't care who, he's thinking of Elaine and whether she'll let him kiss her again after the rumpus; he hopes so, although he's not sure he'll be welcome at Elaine's home now. Why did her sister tell like that? He muses, listening half heartedly to Goldfinch's talk, it was just a quick kiss not too passionate and it was only while her mother was out of the room briefly that day. He looks over to where Elaine is sitting quickly to see if she's looking his way, but she isn't she's staring out the window. Her sister glares at him, so he looks away, and back out of the window and the passing view, not sure what to think or what to do.
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110
We slept on the coach from Madrid to Malaga apart for getting out for meals and to stretch our legs Miriam sat next to me sometimes laying her head on my shoulder other times looking out at the passing Spanish scenes that last meal was nice she said I could have eaten more so that is why you were nibbling my ear back there? I said no that was for different reasons she said if we were alone on this coach instead 30 odd of us I'd have you on the back seat not sure the driver we'd be pleased us ******** on his back seat I said when we get to Malaga and in our tents maybe *** can be on the cards she said but you share with that quiet girl who wouldn't say boo to a goose not sure she'd appreciate it I said she laughed not with her or with her there Piccaso was born there I said my favourite artist was he? she said yes and there's a Roman theatre there too I said not too much culture please she said ok I said she unzipped my jeans and her put hand inside to investigate my pecker her fingers like a bird's beak pecking at it I held her hand and removed it you'll have to wait until we hit camp I said she sighed and put her hand back in her lap I placed my hand on her thigh and touched her skin she smiled but wouldn't let me in.
0
Jul 18, 2016
Jul 18, 2016 at 1:27 AM UTC
ON THE ROAD TO MALAGA 1970
She was coach that held much change today with her sky aloof and her draw still has gallop and harmony sweet as fudge with striker here and her most strident step in soccer today.
0
Jun 26, 2016
Jun 26, 2016 at 11:43 AM UTC
Pia
Which way do I run ? Where do I go from here ? Tell me which direction Where do I go from here? I hit the ball and have to run But which direction do I go ? Remember, this is new to me I'm five, and I'm afraid I do not know. He hit the ball, what do I do ? Don't let it come to me ? I don't know where to throw it And I really have to *** Oh..here it comes, what do I do? glove down and bend my knees I have to stay and focus Will someone help me please? I've got the ball..now throw to first Jeez, that's a long, long way I'll never get it over there At least not the way I play Drop the bat....and run like mad Where's coach?...jeez, that's a long way I'll never make it down to first Not the way I run today Listen to those parents They're screaming, wow...they're loud Who are they all screaming at ? They're quite a noisy crowd I can make it over there With the ball faster if I run I don't want to throw it bad Then it wouldn't be no fun I can get it over there I run faster than I throw What are all the parents yelling for? Is there something I should know? This is only one hit ball It's the first game of the year This is what a t-ball coach Has to go through for the year Each child is not focused Every one is full of fear It's when they roll the ball across the field That makes the game so dear They run to third before first base Then they cut across the mound Through the season they shed many tears Enough to make a grown man drown They try to do what coaches say They aren't the fastest or the best But these kids, they are true all stars Starting out on this huge quest Remember folks, it's baseball It's a game and nothing more Make sure it's fun and sporting Please remember who it's for They don't know where to throw it They don't know where to run But support them in their efforts And help make baseball...fun
0
May 9, 2012
May 9, 2012 at 7:35 PM UTC
Make baseball fun
Which way do I run ? Where do I go from here ? Tell me which direction Where do I go from here? I hit the ball and have to run But which direction do I go ? Remember, this is new to me I'm five, and I'm afraid I do not know. He hit the ball, what do I do ? Don't let it come to me ? I don't know where to throw it And I really have to *** Oh..here it comes, what do I do? glove down and bend my knees I have to stay and focus Will someone help me please? I've got the ball..now throw to first Jeez, that's a long, long way I'll never get it over there At least not the way I play Drop the bat....and run like mad Where's coach?...jeez, that's a long way I'll never make it down to first Not the way I run today Listen to those parents They're screaming, wow...they're loud Who are they all screaming at ? They're quite a noisy crowd I can make it over there With the ball faster if I run I don't want to throw it bad Then it wouldn't be no fun I can get it over there I run faster than I throw What are all the parents yelling for? Is there something I should know? This is only one hit ball It's the first game of the year This is what a t-ball coach Has to go through for the year Each child is not focused Every one is full of fear It's when they roll the ball across the field That makes the game so dear They run to third before first base Then they cut across the mound Through the season they shed many tears Enough to make a grown man drown They try to do what coaches say They aren't the fastest or the best But these kids, they are true all stars Starting out on this huge quest Remember folks, it's baseball It's a game and nothing more Make sure it's fun and sporting Please remember who it's for They don't know where to throw it They don't know where to run But support them in their efforts And help make baseball...fun
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60
I can't deny it anymore. I am in love with you. I didn't fall mind you. I chose this. I chose you. And I can't help but feel that I have chosen wrong. That I have chosen too soon. And it didn't help that you chose me as your beta. As your apprentice. As your most trusted photographer. Didn't help that you nursed all of my fangirl tendencies. Didn't help that you claimed to be my alpha, my coach, my captain. Didn't help that you made me feel like it is just the two of us in the pack. Didn't help that you verbalized my feelings and told me there is only us in the crew. That I am your first mate. The co-captain of a ship That only the two of us can set sail. The only thing is... I am the only one shipping us. And one day, you'll go canon with someone else. And believe me darling, those canons can sink our ship.
0
Jun 16, 2015
Jun 16, 2015 at 10:32 AM UTC
First mate
5-Hello Mr. Chippppp, I'm ready.... 7-It is time to dine Mr Buddy..... 5-Are you an MR CT Buddy?
0
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 11:00 PM UTC
Time to dine
5- Are you an Mr. CT? 7- I am from the waters of Lake Minnetonka... 5-Please do not touch me there....
0
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 10:48 PM UTC
CT (HAIku)
It must have been thirty five years ago now, I remember the kid as clear as day His name was Eddie, or Timmy or something Remember him clear as day, I think it was Eddie Well, this kid was sure something A true believer in his ability to play the game He really loved it, ****** at it, but the desire You could see it in them brown eyes of his Or were they blue?, no matter...they might have been brown Anyways, kid had desire, no talent, but desire Played third base for me, thought he was a pitcher But, he played third...that I'm sure of He didn't have speed enough to move anywhere else And I think he was blind in his right eye, So, he could only move left Good kid, Timmy or Eddie Had an arm like a rocket the ball would just explode out of his hand I never knew where it was going And truthfully, I don't think he did either But, wow....it went fast, wherever it ended up Kid actually made it rain one day Just because he threw the **** ball so high into the clouds He was trying to throw to first, but hell, it went high Always smiling this kid, always... don't know if he was just happy Or if his jaw hadn't grown right for his teeth, But, he was always smiling couldn't hit worth a **** had a nice swing But, that blind eye....couldn't see a pitch until it hit him Cooled us down on the bench though Made a hell of a breeze when he swung He was good for that, lots of wind from Eddie, or Timmy He did get a hit once or twice, I remember that Scared us, scared him too I imagine But, he did hit it, and it did go a long way Problem was it happened so infrequently He always forgot to run And when he did, he ran like a duck *** wobbled all over, arms flailing, head still Quack, Quack...run Eddie, I'd yell He'd smile, and take off, couldn't see where he was going But he'd run....and he'd stop only when he felt like it I remember he was Mexican looking, or Spanish There, brown eyes...knew I'd remember anyways, he got called out for swearing once Knocked the **** cover off the ball then he stood there and watched it go By the time he started to run, He'd Holy ******* at least three times And got tossed by the umpire I argued, but, the ump would draw the line at two Three holy shits...that's a little much But, he knocked that ball into the next county He'd probably throw it there too if he tried The kid had desire, no talent, but a smile and desire Got tossed after striking out once too Struck out a lot, once he let loose with a barrage And I mean a barrage of swear words ....In Italian no less I always thought the kid was Mexican or Spanish or something But, he swore in Italian in front of an Italian ump Poor kid, three holy ***** in another language And he got tossed, If I could get him to stop at two....he'd be fine Eddie was a good kid, I liked him He tried, he smiled, and he was terrible couldn't hit water if he fell out of a boat But he didn't care, and neither did I But, Eddie, or Timmy, whoever he was Was a good kid, I hope he remembers me as fondly as I do him.
0
Feb 24, 2013
Feb 24, 2013 at 10:23 PM UTC
Recollections of a Baseball Coach
It must have been thirty five years ago now, I remember the kid as clear as day His name was Eddie, or Timmy or something Remember him clear as day, I think it was Eddie Well, this kid was sure something A true believer in his ability to play the game He really loved it, ****** at it, but the desire You could see it in them brown eyes of his Or were they blue?, no matter...they might have been brown Anyways, kid had desire, no talent, but desire Played third base for me, thought he was a pitcher But, he played third...that I'm sure of He didn't have speed enough to move anywhere else And I think he was blind in his right eye, So, he could only move left Good kid, Timmy or Eddie Had an arm like a rocket the ball would just explode out of his hand I never knew where it was going And truthfully, I don't think he did either But, wow....it went fast, wherever it ended up Kid actually made it rain one day Just because he threw the **** ball so high into the clouds He was trying to throw to first, but hell, it went high Always smiling this kid, always... don't know if he was just happy Or if his jaw hadn't grown right for his teeth, But, he was always smiling couldn't hit worth a **** had a nice swing But, that blind eye....couldn't see a pitch until it hit him Cooled us down on the bench though Made a hell of a breeze when he swung He was good for that, lots of wind from Eddie, or Timmy He did get a hit once or twice, I remember that Scared us, scared him too I imagine But, he did hit it, and it did go a long way Problem was it happened so infrequently He always forgot to run And when he did, he ran like a duck *** wobbled all over, arms flailing, head still Quack, Quack...run Eddie, I'd yell He'd smile, and take off, couldn't see where he was going But he'd run....and he'd stop only when he felt like it I remember he was Mexican looking, or Spanish There, brown eyes...knew I'd remember anyways, he got called out for swearing once Knocked the **** cover off the ball then he stood there and watched it go By the time he started to run, He'd Holy ******* at least three times And got tossed by the umpire I argued, but, the ump would draw the line at two Three holy shits...that's a little much But, he knocked that ball into the next county He'd probably throw it there too if he tried The kid had desire, no talent, but a smile and desire Got tossed after striking out once too Struck out a lot, once he let loose with a barrage And I mean a barrage of swear words ....In Italian no less I always thought the kid was Mexican or Spanish or something But, he swore in Italian in front of an Italian ump Poor kid, three holy ***** in another language And he got tossed, If I could get him to stop at two....he'd be fine Eddie was a good kid, I liked him He tried, he smiled, and he was terrible couldn't hit water if he fell out of a boat But he didn't care, and neither did I But, Eddie, or Timmy, whoever he was Was a good kid, I hope he remembers me as fondly as I do him.
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2014 may not have significance to you But it is really 1914 in being the clue It will be the 100th Anniversary of the Greyhound Bus company creation I felt it would be fitting in the mention Supposedly May is the month of the celebration Imagine the hound bus being started in the form of a car Innovation history that has taken the hound company far It’s the hound bus existence spanning from a beginning to present Today the hound still continues to represent A nation and global citizens that welcomes Greyhound buses everyday The idea of going my way The land transportation carrier that helps travelers convey their own passenger portal by-ways It’s the everlasting journey that stays The bus hound has weathered many storms It was the company’s acceleration beyond any norm The hound’s bus wheels have turned for centuries being its own reels A moving bus with windows like screens An adventure in motion in what it seems Happy Anniversary to the hound and continued more years in staying around State to state has always been your bound Give the hound dog a bone Your stretched out approach you have shown You have become a passenger’s friend to which we have come to be known Keep those wheels turning and our inspiration always urning.
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Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 7:31 PM UTC
THE TEST OF WHEELS: 1914-2014