#missouri
If this is misery, then my mind is rotten with the memories.
Memories of snowball fights in the winter,
fireflies in the summer,
trips to the lake and seeing fairies in the dogwood trees.
If this is misery, then my body is covered in scars.
Scars of hugs, kisses, wrinkles from smiling,
tattoos from my travels and my life story,
and freckles born from the hot and humid sun.
If this is misery, then my soul was doomed from the start.
Doomed by the winds from the hills,
the flowers in the fields,
and the thunderstorms that make me feel alive.
If this is misery, then I'd rather be miserable.
Feb 22
Feb 22, 2026 at 4:28 PM UTC
As I am an older gent, am I, who appreciates the finer finds
of god's inventional interventions, acknowledges
though born by theft of mine bone,
all creatures feline,
I admittedly knowledge this
only heightens their aromatic scintiilating
Je ne sais quoi, that being how one says in French
"I don't what it is exactly, but I loves me some a lot!"
but I play favorites,
and her name is inscribed
in my rapidly aging brain, which
by the bye, is a poor excuse for writing
such a lame po-em
but what the heck,
lucky you, gets to smoke
the chaff & wheat
Sep 4, 2025
Sep 4, 2025 at 2:02 PM UTC
So there we were on the cliff above the railroad tracks, the Missouri River Bridge in the distance. We’d armed ourselves with sticks, rocks, and pellet guns. We were a ragtag militia, all fight and no war.
The roar of the oncoming train drowned out our planning for anarchy and unfocused mayhem.
The five of us waited, unsure how to take best advantage of the rolling brown and yellow Union Pacific. Dan looked at me and wiped the sweat from his face with his *** Pistols t-shirt.
“Let’s hit it!” Rob said. I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t say no. If I said it was wrong they’d have laughed and done it anyway. Tingles ran down my legs. I leaned against a nearby cedar and craned my head in the direction of the oncoming train. From our vantage point on the bluff amongst the trees, the unwary conductor would never see us. I waved to signal the others as it arrived.
The ground shook as the train roared below us. Deaf from its passing, we used hand signals like the guys in Red Dawn. That’s it! That’s who we were! We were the Wolverines! And I was the scout who had just spotted a resupply train that was carrying logistical necessities like...
“Cars! Holy **** This one has cars on it,” Kevin yelled. The other soldiers all gathered rocks and threw them at the passing supply train. I yelled “Wolverines!” as they pelted the evil communist convoy. The four of them joined me screaming the same. My blood boiled, and my face went hot as I embraced the guerilla tactics.
I was dumbfounded when Rob picked up a boulder... and lifted it over his head like a weightlifter. As it flew through the air in deliciously slow motion I thought for sure it was just going to drop straight down the face of the crumbling bluff. Then, with accuracy too precise to have been planned, the boulder crashed through the front windshield of some red Ford, and due to the speed of the passing train, blew through the back glass before tumbling to rest on the hood of some blue Chevy below it.
Dead Flippin Silence
“Rob! Holy **** That was awesome!” someone said...Tim, I think.
Rob stood with fists pumping in the air. He won today, and he became the captain of our squad. I picked up a much smaller rock and threw it, watching as it clanged helplessly off the train’s metal siding. The Russians would surely come looking for us now, and this was a hit and run raid. We bolted from our perches and sought other opportunities to hit the Commies where it hurt!
We really wanted to be Anarchy!
Sep 21, 2019
Sep 21, 2019 at 7:30 PM UTC
Louder than my voice, You have spoken in me
Deeper than my longing, You have sprung eternal
Beyond my foresight, You are prophesying to me
After all my reason, You are unimaginable (unfolding unimaginable things)
Before my expectation, You've exceeded what is conceivable
In the most secret place, You consume completely
And deep calls out to deep
Above a kingdom's reach, Your reign overcomes
Beneath the meaning of existence, Your laws dictate reality
At the moment of seeking, You have sought and found
Greater than my strength, You uphold the infinite (and I within it more carefully)
In the fulfillment of time, You are waiting
With the wisdom of ages, Your ways are everlasting
And deep calls out to deep, whispering your fullness:
"If there is faith, You are believed."
"If there is hope, You are looked upon."
"If there is love, You are reflected."
Oct 18, 2016
Oct 18, 2016 at 12:05 PM UTC
In the Boondocks of the Ozarks
Salty caramel smelt of August
Swathes stench of rotten trailer parks
Imprisons barren mid-west dust
Feral fevered kids a hunting
For to cool; shoot up, or drink
Arthritic railroad; tie and shunting
Ferrous old town wretched on the brink
Since the cease of mine and logging
Depletion of iron lead and zinc
Nag horse too dead for flogging
Folks futures draining down the sink
Some respite in the summer heat
RV’s; tourists and campers for trails
Like blackfly plague pick off the meat
Fly fast; escape as another harvest fails
Dark currents pepper darker mood
Intolerance grinds in the daily way
Resentment bread as only food
At someone’s door the blame shall lay
In the graveyard of the Ozarks
Rednecks dance on industry tombs
Burn brown smoke spice. Moonshine sparks
Oblivion; no life. Back to mothers' womb
©pofacedpoetry (Billy Reynard-Bowness 2018 – All rights reserved)
Aug 24, 2018
Aug 24, 2018 at 8:06 AM UTC
People talk about Tornado Alley,
The part of the U.S where I live.
They act like tornadoes touch down every week in May through October,
Like storms go through every other week.
Like everyone’s not scared and they’re always calm.
The truth is,
Tornado Alley’s not like that.
Tornado Alley is worrying
When a tornado touches down only five miles from your house,
Your family’s in the basement,
Wondering if everything’s all right,
And if your house will be damaged.
Tornado Alley is praying a storm will pass,
The ever-looming threat of a supercell,
Swirling clouds above your roof,
The sky a nasty green and purple.
Tornado Alley is taking everything you have for granted,
Then being scared when it’s threatened.
Tornado Alley is knowing tornadoes exist,
But being thankful that you’re not in San Francisco,
Or Hawaii, Florida, the coasts.
Tornado Alley is flat plains and wide open spaces,
Not being afraid of a storm,
But of what lurks when the beginning is over.
May 8, 2018
May 8, 2018 at 9:51 AM UTC
I got off the bus
At Eighteenth and Vine
Everything in the window
I wanted to be mine
Beautiful shirts there,
Suits, shoes and hats.
But I couldn’t buy them
No, I couldn’t do that.
I was the wrong color
For Matlaw’s, He said.
That place was for coloreds
And rich pimps instead
Not a tow-headed white boy
What hasn’t got much sense.
I went there that one time
And, I haven’t been since.
But, oh I wanted that suit,
With cranberry hat and shoes.
Even though I had no place
To ever wear it, I knew.
But, I love that store there
On eighteenth and Vine
Even though I knew nothing
In that store could be mine.
The bus went by there
Every day I passed it by.
To this day, I grieve
And never understood why
A Caucasian market
Like I represented
Might go there inside there
And be soundly resented.
It wasn’t a good thing
It’s just how it was then
Before the civil rights thing
Would finally begin.
Yes, I never knew colors
They way others did.
But, what did I know?
I was just a young kid.
But, oh I wanted that suit,
With cranberry hat and shoes.
Even though I had no place
To ever wear it, I knew.
But, I love that store there
On eighteenth and Vine
Even though I knew nothing
In that store could be mine.
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 8:08 AM UTC
Ok, I didn't want to do this
but there's rules that you must know
Etiquette to be followed
A line that you must toe
Listen very closely now
I think you all should try it
The things that you will now learn
About a protest and a riot
Firstly, have a purpose
Just random shouting, that's persay
If you do not have a topic
Then all the new folks go away
Throwing bricks at coppers
Breaking windows on the street
Is this a sign of protest
Or is it idiots in heat
No signage, and no speakers
Just random yelling for a cause
This isn't a good protest
Just breaking random laws
A protest has a purpose
It presents a point of view
A riot is an ugly thing
Which one is right for you
MLK could run a protest
Make a point and get things done
All without a mob forcing
A cop to use his gun
The rules really are simple
Keep the young ones all at home
For people in glass houses
Should really not throw stones
A peaceful resolution
From a protest is the goal
But a riot is just aimless
It puts the city in a hole
Victims of a riot
Are not the ones who are to blame
They're just owners of the business'
Who get caught up in the game
Next time that you protest
Protest rioting instead
It will turn out for the better
And nobody will end up dead
Apr 28, 2015
Apr 28, 2015 at 11:36 PM UTC
I called to give you a rearrangement of irony and a bucket full of Jews, I tailor made a rebreather because the past connections were used . Indeed, just like a crossview that encouraged stars to collapse, then did a fix up for the X's and O's so every oxymoron followed with a laugh. A pail of shrubs, an ounce of yore, yesterday you were following your very own bated breath. Up until you challenged yourself to a duel, you didn't look so bad for a disastrous mess. Harms' Way could be the place in town where odds go to get even, or it could be the street where Blow-Pops aren't just made, but also handed out to toothless citizens. We the captured, please and thank you, sir and mam until our captors go, like if you imagine The Godfather in The Graduate, describing how the Komodo dragon roasts. We haven't made it thru a single day since they've come in packs of seven, but today we'll have the chance to share some face time with the hours that we are being given.
Misty-eyed, mournful, and very sorry walked in separately from the yard. They drank cold-filtered PBR and joked about all the kids they may have fathered. Has it been four weeks or just four days, since the Ferguson, Missouri Captain resigned his post? I was always taught that for a captain to go out, he or she must go down with their boat.
In time where boredom lays around with dynamite by the loads, tomorrow remind me of the basorexia I've had since we met not long ago.
Mar 15, 2015
Mar 15, 2015 at 2:39 AM UTC
When white men spit hatred through spiteful lips,
what will you do? Will you raise your fists?
When a white man kills a black teen without blinking,
will you turn from protests to riots without even thinking.
You want to prove something?
Prove that there is nothing a white man could do to break the black community.
Show that you will never fight fire with fire. Keep MLK alive, let him live in your city.
Beat hatred unconscious with love, and drown it in peaceful protest.
For, Mike Brown's death was only a test.
Dec 18, 2014
Dec 18, 2014 at 9:04 AM UTC
i am an ashamed american. this
is supposed to be the land of the free.
please. tell me what is free about ferguson,
missouri. is freedom enlisting three
policemen for an armed white protest and
hundreds of riot police for a peaceful
colored one? please. tell me what is free?
why is racism a 21st century problem?
Nov 24, 2014
Nov 24, 2014 at 9:55 PM UTC