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C Nov 2010
My words have been ripped from me
uncovering my naked body below
and I bemoan the cold or mayhap
just existence
My pupils will not focus, a lack of dilation
I am not entombed in life
for I blink with each inhalation
I am subtly encased in flesh
not suffering
simply slipping
Mourning the loss of my language

and when I dream
death pervades my visions
when I wake,
I'm approached by none other than heartbreak
at my most fearful perception

Strength isn't to forcefully remove temptation,
but to resist temptation daily and survive.

A man doesn't reflect until he is imprisoned,
and limited by an external boundary,
I re-forge myself within the internal foundry.
lua Nov 2019
the road home wound and swirled like a coil
the music on the radio tuned out like white-noise
and the sun had set to a point where everything lit up in red
a crimson so deep
it stained the trees, the grass
the tall towering buildings, the calm suburban neighbourhoods
the cracked pavements, the dark alleyways
the glass shop windows, the exposed brick of an abandoned structure
the glossy sides of the cars that drove infront of us, the concrete we drove on
the faux leather seats, the metal of the adjustable headrest
the tips of my hair, the tips of my fingernails
my skin, and all of the things that sat with me in silence

i close my eyes

and i feel.
other title: crimson hour
Jess Sandler Jan 2013
Click…
Click…
CLICK…
Earsplitting silence surrounds me
As I waste time envisioning a new setting,
Where my paper, pen, mug, and coffee are still there,
But the paper is bursting with passion,
And the magic of espresso beans enable the pen to float along my rapid thoughts.
Right now it is used to stimulate the monotony.
Unfortunately,
Money cannot be bled from words on paper and,
Beers are not bought with dedications in hard cover.
Click…
Click…
CLICK…
Yogurt wrappers opening, spoons being slurped.
***** expanding atop their encompassing chairs.
These are the thoughts that fill my head,
As co-workers plan the next birthday party,
The next lunch, client dinner, and snack.
It seems that bars do not enclose me at my desk,
There is no guard at the door and,
Above me the exit sign gives warmth.
Click….
Click…
CLICK…
Not today, today is not a good day.
There are presentations, Power Points, data to analyze.
Analyze feels like a ***** word in my world,
It covers my neurons and destroys imagination,
Synopsis seize to fire.
It seeps into my blood until I become a replica,
But it is the word that takes my balance off negative,
And applies charming labels to my purse,
I wonder if this is how it starts out for everyone,
Humans are adjustable, no batteries allowed.
Click…
Click…
CLICK.
Phairy Aug 2014
"But he shall never know who I am!" Nicotine said in total desperation to her noxious best friend. "You don't understand, you never felt what I'm feeling!" Nicotine pulled away from her friend and ran downstairs
"You will get caught" Lela shouted trying to talk her sense out of it. "What if you got caught?"
"Then I shall be punished for this love but I refuse to regret trying to have it." She wore a jacket and a baseball cap and took off.


Nicotine wasn't a normal girl, she wasn't like Lela or girls in her age. In fact, she wasn't like anyone ever.
She was very brave and creative, dreamy but she makes it happen. She doesn't care what people might think and she doesn't like rules. She grow up with merother and both brothers, her dad died with surgery complex of  adjustable gastric band when she was 13; and he told her before he took the breath of his death "don't ever change, don't be like me. Change them without trying. Just be you, they'll follow! And never chase love, love will find you." And she never lived by any rules except for those.
She was the youngest among her brothers yet she was the strongest emotionally, physically and the brightest mentally. Nicotine never understood why the world decided to be a man's world when she is a woman and better than a lot of men!

Nicotine was a strange girl that wouldn't let anything stop her. And nothing stopped her indeed.
Until this one time...

She was 17 years old when she met a boy. Travis was his name, Travis has traveled from his school to hers and they met in English class. The only seat available was next to her so he sat there. For three seconds, there eyes met and Nicotine never been that much hooked. She was straight forward and hate the games. So by the end of the day she asked Travis out.
"Sorry, I don't tend to be rude but my sister died few months back and I don't feel like being around girls."
Nicotine flustered when this time, she didn't know how to get what she wants. She smiled and waved goodbye.
She wouldn't lose hope and she was determined to be Travis best friend! But Travis never showed on the second day of school or the third. Travis never showed up again as if he disappeared with fresh air up the mountains where people lose their way back in the forest.

Years went by but Nicotine never had forgot his details...

The way his long brown darkish hair flew unlike mainstream. Dark skin tone with black wide eyes. Even though Nicotine was 5,9 feet considered tall, Travis was almost 6,4 or something.
There have been nights when she dreamt of him hugging her tight telling her "wait, don't leave. I'm coming" or the times when she sees him everywhere and never been able to love anyone as half as the love she feels for Travis. Some nights she thought, maybe... Just maybe I love him too much because he is the one who left not the other way around! But most nights, she dreamt about way long French kiss.

One day she was walking down the streets on her way back from college. She is a senior now and a vergin.
Nicotine was in her usual bubble listening to her IPod music when she saw him again.
She wasn't sure at first. His hair was shorter and she didn't recognize the smile. But those eyes and the skin tone. **** it, she can't let him slip again.
"Yo, Trav" some whiteish guy across the road yelled to him.
Trav? Trav? He said Trav? What's the short name goes for????¿¿¿!!!¡
"For the million times dude, its Travis. Never call me Trav" Travis flicked the white guy forehead. "Whatever, u going to Delphic tonight?"
"Yep, best arcade ever!"
Nicotine stood still for awhile, losing her ability to control her lungs. Shortens in oxygen. Her mouth was all rusty and words too little. Suddenly she started running home as fast as she could. Called her best friend and told her about her plan.

That's when Lela started to be noxious.

"Okay okay, hold on" rising her hands up to shush me "you are going to the Delphic arcade across the city tonight to stalk a guy you have been in love with-one sided- for years faking that you are a guy?" She paused. "That's so normal, nothing weird about this." Laughed sarcastically
"You don't need to understand" said Nicotine.
It almost felt as it she's mourning "why are you doing this please I need to understand?"
Nicotine was racing the clock trying to get ready to be the coolest guy. Wig of short hair? Done. Thick eyebrows? Done. Guys shirt? Done. Jeans? Done. ******* corset? Done. She was very sure he is the one. "I don't know how to explain all the feelings I have for this guy. But one time I was a girl and he turned me down because his sister died months ago and then disappeared! Look at me, Lela! Do I look like a girl to say no to?"
"All this trouble for a revenge?"
"Of course not, its a give in to my heart"


Nicotine arrived at 9 pm sharp. She doesn't know is Travis here already or not but she doesn't waste time and she starts looking for him. By a pinball machine Travis stood next to his friends and the white guy she saw earlier. She knew no time should be anymore wasted.

"Excuse me?" Said nicotine in loud, stiff and sharp voice
All the guys turned around of the pinball looked at her. Except they weren't looking at a girl but a handsome guy.
"I've lost my phone and I think my friends left, can I use one of you cell phone?"
"Sure" Travis said first. Pulled his cell out of his ripped jeans pocket and handed to me.
"Thanks, won't take long"
Nicotine pulled herself aside and started pretending that she is talking on the phone by calling her cellphone voice mail. Next step, spend some quality time with Travis!!
"*******, *******!!!" Nicotine shouted through the phone and close the line dramatically groaning.
"U ok?" Travis grabbed nicotine by the shoulder.
"Yeah." Nicotine paused "I need a ride home"
"I can give you one if you like." Travis blushed. "Do you need to leave now?"
"No, I can stay for a while more.... I'm nicotine" we shook hands
"Travis... Don't ever call me Trav. Nicotine as THE NICOTINE?"
"my dad was big fan of the 70's rock bands, I happen to be a sin" Nicotine leaned closer while still grabbing his hand then she whispered "btw Trav, I never play by the rules"

Travis stood there, studying Nicotines face like a map dotting every detail as if he planning to get an A+ on geography. "You're... Different" Travis murmured.
Nicotine grinned.

They've spend days and days having fun going out for ice cream or movies. Concerts and jams. Late night phone calls and early breakfast making. They never talked a out girls which was odd to nicotine but she was relifed Travis didn't like any girls around.


They were on a hill laying down gazing at the stars in the middle of an afternoon sun. It was one the weird games they played that nobody understood.
"Listen" Travis said "I need to tell you something"
Nicotines heart pounded "listening but whisper"
Travis took a moment before he spoke again. "I'm gay." Travis sounded edgy. "I'm gay for you... Don't bail on me I love you,
nicotine. Kiss me"

In a matter of a second nicotine lost all hope for words all hope for love and all hope to forget this love that now has been so close to be reached. She got up and ran away. But this time not home. She ran to the cemetery where her dad laid...

She was caught up between telling him the truth or go get a transgender surgery. But she was afraid if she told the truth, he could never love her like he loved nicotine the guy. If she told the truth, he could not forgive her for the lie she told. She lived. Nicotine was torn in front of her dads grave and wanted for angel of death to come and take her soul. Just for a day or two. Just for a while, until Travis forgets. Until she forgets. Before this, ever have been done by her.

"Why are you crying?" A voice shifted nicotine's mind from lost to found. "What are you doing here? How did you find me" she said.
"You told me, that's where you go when things go wrong." Travis tenderly spoke, sat next to me. "Have they gone wrong?" He said.

Nicotine was trying to control her sobb "yes." Wiping her tears with her arm "I didn't mean to go so far"
Travis stared and stared and looked at nictone in a way she couldn't read his face. "There is something I should tell you" nicotine whispered frighteni for the first time in her life since her father died. "Speak" Travis whispered while his forehead clicked to mine.
Nicotine froze as soon as she felt his skin on hers. She closed her eyes not wanting to look at the disappointment in his eyes. The frown on his face. She couldn't focus when she had his breath on her face. She didn't know how to begin, she didn't know how to open her rusted mouth. "I..." Travis pulled nicotine closer placing both of his hands on the sides of her head and kissed her. Kissed her like he never seen lips before. "I know." Travis said.
"What?"
"I'm 25 years old, don't you think I'd know a girl when I see one? Specially a girl I wanted to kiss the day I met and thought I've lost for good"
Nicotine crocked a smile and rushed to his rough lips. Biting the lower lip as if she never kissed a guy before. It wasn't just lust or the need for ****** *******. It was craving to touch a skin you adored. It was listening to your favorite song alone in the dark. It was comfort that made love.
Travis slowly pulled her away "why did you fake to be a guy?"
"I was afraid to lose you again if I was a girl if you had a lover." Embarrassed nicotine spoke her words. "I'm sorry, I love you. Don't leave."
"You're nicotine... And I'm heavy smoker seeks death if it means to die by your love"

And that's how Romeo and Juliet died of lung cancer. Just kidding. They died with poison
Ben Jones May 2014
Adrift on her very first voyage
With the sea coursing in through her bow
Lay the cruise ship, the S.S. Lumbago
There was scarcely a chance for her now
But Ahoy! On the western horizon
In a flurry of yellow and green
That ender of blight and a damsel’s delight
And he’s always on cue for his scene

It’s Sir Patrick Stewart!
And his Luxury Budgerigar!
It’s got seating for seventy people
And the service is well above par
There’s an adequate medical unit
And a modest but elegant bar
What more could a man ever dream of
In a Luxury Budgerigar?
Well…

The forests of England were burning
So the foxes escaped to the city
The badgers had taken to looting
And the squirrels had formed a committee
But who should arise from a manhole
With a confident gleam in his eye?
That destroyer of woes with a spring in his toes
And he’s quick with a witty reply…

Sir Patrick Stewart!
And his Luxury Budgerigar!
With adjustable hose pipe attachment
It’s got wheels like a feathery car
The forests were dowsed and the fauna re-housed
With a three day retreat at a spa
It’s a thing to admire and surely acquire
The Luxury Budgerigar!
But…

Susan was stricken with sorrow
Twas her darkest, most fearful hour
A spider had wrestled her out of her bath
And set up his home in the shower
But who should jump out of the wardrobe
With an innocent look on his face?
That singer of shanties, remover of *******
And first in an obstacle race

Sir Patrick Stewart!
And his Luxury Budgerigar
With a sucker for spiders and beetles
That deposits them into a jar
There’s a tiny wee restaurant to feed them
It was given a Michelin star
A remarkable thing with retractable wings
Is a Luxury Budgerigar

So if you should be in a pet shop
And you see just the critter for you
Please heed this advice: make a note of the price
Then proceed to the back of the queue
When you ask for your preference of creature
Should it whistle, slither or waddle
Do as Sir Patrick Stewart did
And opt for the Luxury model
Ken Pepiton Mar 2019
Chaucer. Cantebury Tales Thunk Another Time

might be
unimaginable to most

Urbanites of several recent generations
in
These untie-ted states

city folk have never told stories
by the mile,

with piles of rocks marking trail tailin's

so old
that trail, marked by that pile o'rocks been
so long since foot trod that path

only scratches on the rocks say which way we
all
got
here. Today, as we call it.

Hueta, esta dia, right now

here. Walk a while, we're off to find reason
to believe.
Someone I heard thinks we all do.

I believe we do.
---Wha'bou' un believe? D'jewthank we'all'kin?
kin we all un be lieve,
leaven well left alone, hill folk, some say...

...hidden things thought thank worth,
beauty, as an idea,

for instance.

Sunsets.
... ...Yes, and the early morning does
have gold
{}
In'er mouth,
privilege all ovahdat.
Got the rot
all dug

dig it, all dug out cavity, crowned in gold

turn that empty cavity inside out, the wise hermit's cave is paved.
Plenty room for all his eukaryotic friends

then flouride, po-luted our ****** fluids.

Play that song on that ***'ar wit thraystrangs, po'man lute
Jew or juice harp
poing poing poing y'ken?

and keep time wit' the walkin' drum. Do that
dentist drill dance, then sing us a
song o'six penitents
patient sufferers o'the way thangsbe,

left well enough alone.

Strange love was to my tale as, that Bannon guy
might be today. Trump's last quarter email player?
Y'know the guy. He's Youtube famous. Bannon,
(Steve,

or Bruce? )
No, Bruce Banner, was the hulk of burning credulity, the pile
symbol
driver. Digging down to bedrock
.... That's how the Macedonian kid did, at Tyrus. ( ify'wishy'knew)

Pier pressing past the farthest reach of tide.

Past where pearls take graunular expansion to

knackerin' gnosymagi  levels of possible hidden glory believeable by few.

Teller, the infamous Mr. Teller, he taught me duality.
Im balance, make fission, break, slam fuseconfuse, blow

don't burn the whole higgsian bubble to expel the very idea of anti matter, it may be useful,
rightusable or ible

Moby grandular totally tubular, what a clam can do.
According to that story, why not feed swine pearls? I'll tell you.

we may come back to right here, this here here,
if 'n' only

if we do not forget where we saw that

landmark a cient elder mustaset

Straggler mumbler, you okeh? Y'got a story.

I'll listen. It's yetawhile
t' can't we bury it.

---
is the granularity of perception adjustable or ible?

We are li'ble to learn, 'fwee

live so long. Said the old caned creature, in the way back.


-------
At the edge of credulity, eh

how far is how ever, far or ever, time space

same same, but

right. Re
al ity ness realreal reason able ibility

we, you and I, this state of least sharable ible ness
we, at this point,

dancing hermetical waxen winged shoes into flames. Teller level flames.

-------
what lies did I un believe? All of'em.

You seem real. (dear reader)

A pier past the last tugged tide, into the deep

-----

peace, in fly-over country on a sunny day.

Ah, where I live, there in
my peace valley overwitch the marines fly every day

and I talk, in my revery, basking in the sun with my lizard brain in heaven
I talk to the cadre controling machines named for
subjected peoples, Apaches of all sorts.

I knew Johnny. And I knew his brother, Jonah.

Johnny Appleseed and Jonah Whalepuke.

They could been twins, save
the smell and wind's role in the story, when it all

stirs. SSTop and ask, dear reader, is this safe, this place?

Adlebraned idyl word forms framing un imaginable worlds.

Goodness gracious sakes alive gnostic means

you know. Here's one we agree on:

Heretic tic, there a tic tic time you re

call the warning bout finding one's ownself in the book of life?

This is that. You can't get past it on your knees,

this is the bar, you don't pass it, you cross it.

Who inherits the wind if the meek inherit the earth?

inspire expire it is breathing, all the way down.

bubbles. ity bubbles ify bubbles some time bubbles

awefilled imagined bubbles in bubble forever,

mazed bubble pops

those aren't real. Gnostic heretic is one who thinks
he thinks and has all the knowledge

in the real world,

in his hand, and
it ain't even five gee. We can go faster or deeper. You choose.
We gotta understand what standing and under mean as a thing

we can miss. aitia indicates wisdom is not pre packed with
understanding.

She says, you should know by now.

Nothing missing, nothing broken, though ye walk

through the valley of
your own shadow death as I drip drip drip

hear me, gotcha once, gotcha twice

ripples in time can you hear me now?

Thanks.

Seed. Time. Harvest. Information re
garding the entire process

was intentional. You reap what you sow. That is kharma.

Life ain't fair eventually. The good guys always win. It's in the hermit's will.

You can read. It's said, the man
wombed or un, who can and don't's no better armed then than
the critter that can't

read the sign that said stop.
Funeral musings
Stephen E Yocum Nov 2019
The dog firmly placed his chin upon the old
man's knee, stirring him from sleep in his chair.
The only light in the room coming from the
television screen. The dog's gentle message
being, "Time we go to bed" dear friend.
A ritual event occurring more often now
and most likely tomorrow night again.

As the man slowly stood the dog pranced towards
the door, to go outside and do his required business.
The man also to the bathroom did retire, brushing of
teeth and to attend to his own urgent business.

Six years of twenty four seven companionship had
bonded them forever, each knowing the other as
only best friends or family can, both fully habituated
to the other's needs and routines.

The dog sat upon his own bed, close by to the man's
bed,  patiently waiting as he always did. The man leaned
down and took the dog's face and head into his hands,
forehead to forehead they paused while silent endearing
messages were, like every night, conveyed and mutually
affectionately received. Love as real as any.

The man climbed aboard his own bed, donning his CPAP
mask like a pilot before take off and arranged himself
in his fully-automatic-adjustable bed, then clapped his
hands twice to extinguish the lamp on the bedside table.

"Good night buddy, we'll have some more fun in the
morning." the man murmured, closing his eyes to sleep.

Another day ended as most now do, as will, all their
remaining shared tomorrow's.
emily webb Apr 2010
I realized I'd never really visited a hospital bed.
I'd been once for the birth of my sister,
but all I remember are the boxes of krispy kreme doughnuts
and my aunt, who'd not yet had a child of her own,
scolding and snapping at my brother and I
just four and five
to stop playing with my mother's adjustable bed.
And I remember the face of my grandmother,
joyous, though not quite smiling;
but perhaps I remember her that way
because I was always a little bit afraid of her,
and still was when she died six years later.
But it was sudden, and she didn't even make it to the hospital.
I don't even remember my sister herself,
or my mother,
just her bed and trying to climb into it.

But now here I was,
filing past the numbered blue doors
in the halls that didn't smell like sickness
or loneliness or anything poetic at all--
just cafeteria food, close and a bit *****.

In the room, there are two women
lying on their beds, each watching a TV.
They are watching the same show,
but they are each wearing a set of headphones
and watching separate screens.
It looks a bit lonely
and I wonder if maybe they'd like to watch it together.

I kiss her hello
and her eyes are watery, her voice broken;
but I am assured this is not her normal state.
but it's the only way I've ever seen her,
so it's hard to imagine her otherwise.
There's a kiwi and an empty yogurt cup on the table
and I start to zone out,
probably wondering whether they're from her lunch
or already her dinner.

But I let my mind wander
and soon I'm picturing everyone I know in turn
lying in a hospital bed.
One is missing all her hair,
another has an IV,
and I ask myself which ones I would visit.

The woman in the bed is smiling crookedly;
I've been told the tube in her arm is morphine,
and she's speaking about the dinner she had at our house
while my french sister assures her that we'll do it again
when her four days of rest are up.

And I go back to my game.
It's a bit cruel, maybe,
but life, I think,
is all a story of sickness
and who would visit you,
brave the stale air of your hospital room
and tell you stories of the future.
Kenna Marie Feb 2016
Great events often turn on small wheels. It is a gear shift that is not easily obtained.
With time thinning, moments to turn around for better is lessening.
We don't build without foundation, the pyramids also were not overnight.
So to be wan and weary when the seemingly endless journey advances,
you realize pace is adjustable.  
Baby steps are inevitable, but the worth of building up to better is just so patiently inclined.
David Zavala Jan 2019
The sea is the beginning of a poem. It’s color is baby-blue.

It is and certain points has a dark shade tint to it.

The forest behind
  is green, forest-green and at not light not at all light:

Baby blue: I accept happiness and color

Is not: It’s not, it is not three O clock in the afternoon evening afternoon maybe like light and day but or eleven PM shady night I am smart that is not shade. I also think love exists outside of you with so many people to meet. Instances are where for keeping you warm and safe is what I am asking for, but I will and I did thinking of blueberries before you seem to have the problem it makes me smile that the color purple you are not only very pretty, cool, good, Okay, I love you not like but Okay I love you

Hey Mr. Comma you must mean too that are you mean too much to ignore I am soo satisfied with my amounts and experiences because they’re enough

People: Me, too, baby, someday, me, too, baby. Probably no lawsuits.

Between as well, the lighted shade of green-light is not, maybe pink, blue as well our the is the day is incredible and there is the a for the ceiling.

The top: Bottom towards the top is the top of one and so among many more are money pays for this, “Woah, wait, I’m actually at  I’m at Harvard Business School? What’s equity again?” Right, today other times I’m at the University of Sydney where I actually have to do stuff because it’s not Harvard University and what I mean is you should go to Harvard University and I won’t go to Harvard University I only keep saying and writing and actually I already ‘right, today other times’

Podcast: Apply hope you continuously tree where your words continuously are continuously sometimes safe to be to me to me to me

The words were to meet and that happened years like more than eight years ago but parts to me sometimes of the portion of the a pretty, pretty portrait.

I will complete before you also because you are working on next sentences completing next sentences and finishing your third next sentences book is only a small portion or part of the whole the the whole completed product, you pretty product, productively

Please be careful and safe, queen of the definitions that you came up with and answered. I want to be careful.

Hmm, what am I thinking about that is more like fantasy maybe an E topic wait that’s a power chord for a song you will enjoy, okay it is also a song and sure a subject or a topic but certainly a subject, you too should see.

I see that wasn’t too hard.

Hi Joan Mitchell, I like very much your art.

The act of painting: 1 color canvas added on the canvas and not to the canvas there is a difference

2 colors canvas added on the canvas,

3 colors canvas added on the canvas,

4 colors canvas added on the canvas,

Where’s the finished and presented product? I bet I can show that TO someone and that wouldn’t go well ON the person I am showing the finished and presented product to inside at their place and location that should be effortfully coordinated and agreed upon and decided. What’s your favorite verb?

And: lastly guy, fifth color canvas to the canvas. You’re gonna be beautiful tomorrow too.

Here comes the counseling the the. How do I get through?

Woah, maybe where what no more like I, too, am happy, gorgeous.

I, too, can afford a life and my life, I agree it’s color being used here and there there is here and it is a difference among cities and she also did it on her own like that color was chosen in a pair and not alone.

Social anxiety ***** and does feeling like you have depression. I don’t want depression. I don’t want social anxiety.

Boy: Way unique I am I am I am enough for you enough too and you will need more than you and I both can think ahead or plan

And: You should go first, no please, the view is great anyways.

And so are you. Please do not forget about you or your brother who would like to afford more than he needs, maybe five times more than he needs, and will think better of it. What’s permanent?

My head: that bag isn’t large and it also is not big. Nor should the bag be a no so you are a no, not like it used to be like I used to be here and there and there and here and here and here but like that and was supposed to happen and you didn’t be therefore wrong wrong therefore too. I’m in my office and I might have took a good day once at home for you too.

The best thing to do is better safe and be better safe.

That: You are a safe mother and you will continue with your family as well.

You: no more gazing near inky Monet gazette mail into vacuum today and felt badly needed a friend of course more friends but never the most friends

Oh: And so I called him and not her mother as I or because I looked at the trees while I spoke to him because I am not the only one that looks into the trees that are not really there for example, not present, there are no trees present. The forest, behind her terrace also is my terrace because that is something we, she and I, agreed on together like the signed apartment contract that is stored someplace safe and locatable is going well we both received well-being and good formal humor maybe some bad manners and some sort of stuff like I said to you like I said to you that I hope you a good day as well or too I clean the house the for you so you don’t have to clean it yourself.

Yourself: once no more than twice you are perfect and I hope you paint and have a good time at least while you paint.

I’m like that I’m so sorry, I can provide, I can support, I can offer you just never told me when, what or how yet I still did not turn out bad and you too did turn out bad. Wait you’re not bad, pretty pretty pretty pretty. I love you hope sometimes. Other times I am a single sales associate that does not and that think he or she does not earn enough money and does not want to shop from the store they (he/she) works at. It’s okay, it’s time to go to bed. I will get better. I hope it gets better. Before I go, is there anything else I could do? Apple is having a Black Friday sale and I bet the phone looks pretty and comes with a adjustable phone case.
I love you, that’s not right
#San Antonio, #Leader
g Aug 2019
The inevitability of growing older breathes louder at night.

Creeps in faster during the hours of the am, and smothers you until you slowly dream of a life you’ll never have.

Wake up and repeat.

You’ll never be younger than what you are today they say and that worries you more than it did yesterday, but this is only the beginning from now until the rest of your days.

You remember that line forever.

Life doesn’t get better, it just gets more adjustable.
David Nelson Jun 2010
Guitars and Women

Slender neck, nice rounded bottom, and adjustable knobs,
musical sounds carress your ear, you can make this baby hum

take good care of her, lots of polish, not like unwanted hobs,
protect her from the elements, unless you are realy dumb

got to keep her happy, or the tune will be oh so sour,
the blues will roll right out of her, so sad it will make you weep

if she gets sweaty, from playing hard,  rest for half an hour,
if she's screaming way too loud, you'll never be able to sleep

every night before you rest, of her praises you should sing,
this instruction is so important, a very important part

don't strum so very very hard, or you might break a string,
don't ever take her for granted, or you will break her heart

yes, guitars are like women, most beautiful in every way,
they'll be your friend for ever, if you treat them oh so kind

let every word you think, be touched by her hand each day,
and she will reward you, body, soul and mind

Gomer LePoet...
Create a MySpace Music Playlist at MixPod.com
S Oct 2011
Slowly
Revolutions
Loss of the momentary flickering
an inescapable fleeting of infeasibility
spun.
These beautiful colors
Become one beautiful web
Smashing into those hurt eyes
With every pulse, movement
Slow grey spin-spun twist-turn
familiarities modify
With every revolution.
Distortion in the most striking.
potential is no contest
confusion is adjustable when
the view falls
and sees all of those wonders
from the bottom up.
Haphazard,
Those blurs whisper that
The wind tells no lie
When it convinces a soul
To forgot what it feels like
To stand solid
Spun.
I.
With strappy, **** cutouts at the back, this is tempting at every angle.
∙ Allover lace trim
∙ Strappy back cutouts
∙ Front and back bows
∙ Low rise
∙ Minimal back coverage
∙ Imported polyester/spandex

II.
The **** lift of a push-up meets the coverage you want in a supersoft bra you’ll love to wear. With lighter Memory Fit for extra support as it conforms to your curves and a smoothing U-shaped back.

Lift & Lining
∙ Extreme lift
∙ Full coverage underwire cups

Straps & Hooks
∙ Adjustable straps can convert to crossback and snap into place for a secure hold
∙ Back closure
∙ Double row of hook and eye closures; Sizes 36DD & 38D-38DD have triple row of 

closures
 

for a secure, comfortable fit
∙ 4 settings to ensure a perfect fit

Details & Fabric
∙ U-shaped ballet back prevents band from riding up and offers more coverage
∙ Supersoft, double-lined sides for the smoothest shape
∙ Keyhole and bow at center front
∙ Imported nylon/spandex
David Nelson Sep 2013
Guitars and Women

Slender neck, nice rounded bottom, and adjustable knobs,
musical sounds caress your ear, you can make this baby hum

take good care of her, lots of polish, not like unwanted hobs,
protect her from the elements, unless you are really dumb

got to keep her happy, or the tune will be oh so sour,
the blues will roll right out of her, so sad it will make you weep

if she gets sweaty, from playing hard,  rest for half an hour,
if she's screaming way too loud, you'll never be able to sleep

every night before you rest, of her praises you should sing,
this instruction is so important, a very important part

don't strum so very very hard, or you might break a string,
don't ever take her for granted, or you will break her heart

yes, guitars are like women, most beautiful in every way,
they'll be your friend for ever, if you treat them oh so kind

let every word you think, be touched by her hand each day,
and she will reward you, body, soul and mind

Gomer LePoet...
it's another rainy day here, wonder what is happening 8000 miles away
Poetic T Apr 2018
He loved the texture beneath his fingers, contorting folding
it into intricate forms. What was singular undefined,
now had purpose other than what it was before.
He would tear it clean, not displaying its violation that
its purity had been contaminated.
Weaving imagery into a form from what was a newly
developing formation. His thoughts were now as seen
before the eyes, yet when he was finished the beauty before
his eyes lingered for minuscule moments.

Then with the lighter fluid he would caress its form subtly
with this liquid, where once ridged edges they now wept in
collapsing embodiment of the features that defined its complexity.
And with but a finger and thumb, what could have been,
what was before him. But now struck igniting like
a momentary sun, a match lingered as if he was teasing this
inanimate object that feared neither its creation nor its demise.

He waited till it descended like a coffin knowing it was
about to be snuffed out from existence feeding on the
nourishment of this splinter until he felt it crave the flesh
which held upon it. Casting it on his creation,
it was dominated instantly in a flame that gorged
on its new found nourishment. Within moments his creation
and light were expended from this moment and all that
lingered in its place was a pile of grimy ash.

Where beauty had stemmed into creation, now there was
nothing but scarring of what was once adorned in this place.
He looked upon the world as unconditioned edges that
needed smoothing out in his own ideological view of the world.
To his eyes all was rough thoughts, and even more evading
unsymmetrical reflections of what needed straightening out.
Utilising his passion for formation he delved into the creation
of humanity, and with his still hand he decided to appreciate the
human form.

How with subtle tweaks it could be contorted in too a formation
of intricate beauty, not the stale silhouettes that graded his
sight, every motion like drones of imperfection.
He had to see what a rough endeavour would bear.
Either fruit, or a piece of artistic endeavour that would lie
crumpled disowned on the floor below.
It wasn't as easy as he had anticipated the cuts sublime but
flesh tethered to oblivion is nothing, and with each laceration
it became more of a farce than of creation.

He In frustration even though they had whimpered out there
last plea hours before he lunched at this vacant tapestry
ripping into it with the frustration, expelled source material
all over his being. He knew that this was collateral damage,
and for beauty to be formed there were going to be some
cuts that were to deep to mend. So with a sullen heart,
he cradled this fallen realization,that he needed to heed his own thoughts.

He put it in an old shopping trolley and ignited this fallen work, 
standing there feeding the congregation of two opposites.
What once was, now soot on charred grass below.
And to grade himself in books on contorting flesh and anatomy.

Needing ways that he could numb and silence flesh,without losing
the spark that wielded such beauty as it still breathed,
helping him with his creational form.
Time was evident on his further attributions, he had learnt as
one should in future accomplishments. One should learn from
past errors (mistakes) and the first was an abortion of realization.
He needed to find the inclination point where it would be how
his vision needed to be climaxed into form.

With this he had constructed a square metal frame with
segmented stages. Where he could divert this form from
humanity to his desired form.
He could not have just anyone, types or stereotypes.
One may ponder where his persuasion. Not overly skinny
or bigger proportions. For they would either tear from
the strain, or unable to contort to the desired and needed
formation of his vision that needed form.

But patience is a virtue and though it took time, he was able
to attain the needed instruments of creation.
Time was the essence he pondered, and it worked.
The frame was adjustable to expand or decrease the needed
distance and form. Now ready, so much time had passed,
but perfection isn't a clock that stays still, perfection is a movement
of time gradually showing us the motion of before now and after.

His untorn pieces, needing those of no tattoos, of no piercings.
As this would blemish his art, and either contort of split in a
time utter most delicate movements. His fingers were static
his mind as sharp as his tools to motivate this intricate
melody. He wore a ceremonial mask, as this wasn't something
to be taken lightly respect for the form and that of who
was being given this opportunity. In the background soft
instrumental music to expand his muse.

Knowing now where cuts would not induce the death of
this piece. Realizing a wrong furrow could just subjugate
this to a crumbled mess, no longer useful to him or life.
Bones were bent over time so not to break, but to contort
to his new form. Drips hung like tears, feeding the will
to live, even though they wanted to die. He furthered this
creative moment, finding himself smiling underneath
his mask.

Feeling alive again, this was his moment of creative mastery.
He started to peel flesh, this had to be in one sitting due to
the delicate time frame. What was pliable would become brittle
in form. ruining what had taken months to achieve.
The system he had set for this moment, a fine spray of
antibacterial moisturizing seeds of mist. Tt just the right level
so not to make the flesh tear or dry out and break.

It was finished, his art was realized. Now he had to display it.
But as with all creations an audience was needed.
So he cradled it gently, knowing this location would be vacant.
Calling the press on a throw away phone.
He called it, "Human Evolution" even thought it was
anything of the sort. And as cameras flashed, the world saw
his creation. And the horror of his mind contorted from reality.
On what fulfilment was contorted from perfection to this
origami muse of humankind.

Tears of Joy littered his hands, his fingers now shaking with
the anticipation that what was now done, could be done again.
When the news faded and where skin was folded,now there
was just a person. A contorted remembrance of what
humanity can achieve. Tears flow like floating paper boat
on a stream, this one hasn't sunk yet. But this was one of
many creations to come, for what is the body if not art
to be gazed upon.
Bogdan Dragos Nov 2019
she doesn’t let me drink
and insists
that I listen to her

insists with
a viciousness

“It’s because you work night shifts,”
she says.

“What’s that got to do with drinking
while I’m free?”

“Alcohol lowers a man’s testosterone level
and increases estrogen. Why
don’t you know that? You
need to take better care of
yourself.”

she made for me a diet with
rice and garlic

calls me while on the night shift
and tells me to go into the bathroom
and jump 100 times
and do stretching exercises,
tells me to drink more water
She even buys me bags of nuts and seeds
and tells me to eat between the meals

“No sugar,” she says. “No, not even in
coffee. Pure black or nothing.”

she even bought me a
hand grip strengthener with adjustable resistance
to use while I’m in the office

she encouraged me to eat
raw eggs but stopped when
I told her that you can get salmonella like that

when I came home from work
one evening at 23:36
I ate my rice with garlic
and she asked if I wanted anything else
and I said “Yeah, a beer.”

“Okay,” she said. Went into the kitchen
came back fifteen minutes later with
a cup of tea and a lemon

“What’s this?” I asked.

“Ginger tea. It’s better with lemon. Should
I squeeze it for you?”

“No thanks, I’ll do it myself.” I cut the
lemon in half and squeezed it into the cup

It was the nectar of gods
and I didn’t
hesitate to tell her
so

“All right then,” she said. “Drink it all, rinse
with water before brushing your teeth
and then come to bed.”

I did all that and went to bed

and she wanted me to sleep
because lack
of sleep is the worst
enemy of a man’s testosterone levels
Kenna Marie Feb 2018
02/21/2016
Great events turn on small wheels
Great events often turn on small wheels. It is a gear shift that is not easily obtained.
With time thinning, moments to turn around for better is lessening.
We don't build without foundation, the pyramids also were not built overnight.
So to be wan and weary when the seemingly endless journey advances,
you realize pace is adjustable.  
Baby steps are inevitable, but the worth of building up to better is just so patiently inclined.
Stephen E Yocum Dec 2022
The dog firmly placed his chin upon the old
man's knee, stirring him from sleep in his chair.
The only light in the room coming from the
television screen. The dog's gentle message
being, "Time we go to bed" dear friend.
A ritual event occurring more often now
and most likely tomorrow night again.

As the man slowly stood the dog pranced towards
the door, to go outside and do his required business.
The man also to the bathroom did retire, brushing of
teeth and to attend to his own urgent business.

Six years of twenty-four seven companionship had
bonded them forever, each knowing the other as
only best friends or family can, both fully habituated
to the other's needs and routines.

In the bedroom the dog sat upon his own bed, close by
to the man's bed, patiently waiting as he always did.
The man leaned down and took the dog's face and
head into his hands, forehead to forehead they paused
while silent endearing messages were, like every night,
conveyed and mutually affectionately received. Loving
friendship as real as any can be.

The man climbed aboard his own bed, donning his CPAP
mask like a pilot before takeoff and arranged himself
in his fully-automatic-adjustable bed, then clapped his
hands twice to extinguish the lamp on the bedside table.

"Good night, buddy, we'll have some more fun in the
morning." the man murmured, closing his eyes to sleep.
While his friend also laid down, curled into a ball and
released a contented sigh, as they both did every night.

Another day ended as most now do, as will, all their
remaining shared tomorrows.
Written four years ago, my irreplaceable Boxer dog Tucker
passed away two months ago, I do so miss his companionship.
I have lost too many loved canine friends, I will not be getting
another. Too hard to endure the loss. Too old to start again.
I finally got my ring !

I finally got my man !

I finally got what I thought was the perfect wedding band !

It was game night and my family was over.
He surprised me, by coming over .

Only one hand was visible .
The other was behind his back , and he quickly pulled out a box with a ring attached.

I snatched that ring!

I hugged him tight !

I put the ring on to make sure it fit just right !

Without a word I ran to the den.

I was so proud !

I was going to show all my kin .

He tried to stop me, he said hey! Let's not do this right now!
You silly goose ! I love to show it off !
Because I was extremely proud.

I walked through the door practically squealing like a pig, shocking anyone around.

Boy my ring  is beautiful!

Ma, pa, aunties, and uncles, gave that boy a hand.

He started to turn pale, and I didn't understand.
Caught up in the moment,
I didn't catch the signs.

Looking back in retrospect ,
I should have been kicked in the behind.

When we finally got a moment alone,
he picked up my hand softly and gently he turned it over quickly.

He pointed out that there was an adjustable band,  and how the silver was starting to fade.
It was a ring that he got out of a bubble gum machine, for fifty cents his ma and sister got the same.

He said he didn't mean to hurt me .

He said, I shouldn't have shown my folks .

He thought it would be funny, to pull such a joke.

That night there were no carrots , that night there was no salad .

I had a large 44oz cup of something and a large Philly cheese steak sandwich. Lol
david mitchell Jul 2019
upon becoming a nestling sans nest,
i decided to make a half-baked plan of mandates,
stating how i ought to quest, trough to crest.
egesting the presently unpleasant facets,
i adopted a policy of empirical puerilism.
now a newly groovy pluvi-dendrophile philomath,
a counterbalanced feng shui caricature,
promptly finding rapture bereft of culture.
plundering the dysfunctional,
worshiping the digressive.
anything is adjustable,
everything can be lovable.
finding bravery in regret,
forever simply vincible.
basking in the ebullience,
bringing passion with my presence.
learning to rhapsodize my sentience,
projecting admittedly confusing ontologisms,
concerned with not much else than pleasance.
my means of conception have become my heaven,
and with no evidence of the clandestine,
i simply stepped in.
strategically puerile, forever.
Ken Pepiton Jan 2023
-------------- adjust the minute

When people go to the desert,
with no toys to play on, just,
just,
so fine a term, just is. Adjustable,

one size fits all, all together now, yup,

we done it gang, we got to the land
of refrigerators,
and global fresh produce,

the land of corn, and wine,
Beulah's land in that one song,
you knew Beulah, she was the sub-
mom, wise as a neo-oracle, on Channel 3.
She had her own TV show, and she was good.

Now, I'm thinkin', all the colored folk
I ever had a laugh with, was on TV.

For a while they had Amos & Andy, with black
actors and voices, although on the radio,
those guys was white, few knew, I did.

But I did not know how to act around a bunch
of grunts, arrived one night, like 5 Bloods,
by invitation of that mad lieutenant from Maine.

We were approaching listen, quite time,
the once in while,
seems like all the time,
the spirit of the Fishnet Factory
first six months, Forever Changes,
Velvet Underground and Nico, and Jimi

drift up -- feel a night once, with a clear
seven second flash attention paid

to a phrase, a term, in cultural pacification,
- soul brother - said by an obvious hick,
yet,  the curtain lifted when some one heard,
yeh,
really. Show us, what you mean,what you call
experienced?

Radioman dropped acid that night, Purple Double Dome,
un beknownst to any but me who gave it him,

as that question became the point, and it was
a showdown,
and shut up, because the whole place felt it
when the net settled and the framing patterns

fit both STYF with BTDT boots, stolen, and not
really repented for,
it was a stunt, I was not caught, in fact,
I shined those boots to a three day pass,

which I had no clue how to use, it was Georgia,
so,
the experience that night began, with Georgia
on my mind,
and we wandered, into realms few armed men
have ever entered,

more centered in the middle of three point
literature enclosure,

as one, zazen, me. Tom Green, with his Panasonic
Reel to Reel, and Weirder Harold, who ran the radar.

we got this signal see, we think we listen,
its like those people's courts, entertain us,
show us the law,
enacted,
with names changed to conceal the innocent,
rampant false accusations,

witness protection,
you do not need to know why wars are fought
for money,
Nietzsche said power, wills clash to prove
Lobster level stacking nature of us,
- NOISE HUGE ORIENTAL DRUMS
we, the people in any structured we, you and I,
we, are a wedom open
on allsides, as at the bottom of the ocean of air,

we live in a devilishly clever contraption,
mind you,
mind me, we become something more,
flash
ifery point imaginable as novelty patterns,
Submissive art,
-so insert Jello time - absorb
-slow thunk
- whump whump
seen through, as leaves leaving little strands
of cool shade
to mingle with light, soft, recessed lighting
reflecting from limed walls, lacing, subtile shadow

Synchronisity, simple, sure.
Madness come upon a man robbed of hope.

How come he to think of me, and wonder if
ever is itself a mythic psi-psy-science,

called into being,
by the mouth
of a major stadium mob.

In every stadium on earth, the spirit
of the crowd,

people make their living, by maintaining,
constant,
I am not them, they are the prey,
they are my targets,
look for munchies,
- faces tell every thing
look for cotton mouth, search signals sort
those ones,
in need,
Holler - I got it
as the real thing, baby, hear it sung, real,
deal done, in the spring
1970, alive and in attendance during
the cons-umption over some few weeks,
25 hits of the February 1970 Orange Sunshine.

Epic, everything, is epic, if you kept the records.

Yeah, if what we do is written and recorded,
each thought and deed, something tells me,

part of that is true.
We live whole lives, and none of any day we live,
was lived artificially, we did it, as it came to pass,

took baby steps and giant feel like falling ones,
in stride,

struttin', lookin', laughin'

we got past that,
let's celebrate we know, one trick traps,
make y'famous,
make y'ten minute rich, with five of fame,
at the end.

While we die, taking our own sweet time,
finding stacks of seven seconds on acid,
I had forgotten where I put.
Knowing I can think it, do not make it so.
neth jones Apr 2022
pry it open
      clan of lies    libido            and lily lunged persuaders  
             etching wounds                   ills upon those you itched after
        letching tightly in patterns            
               then blooming out          in a ring of your 'brothers'
                        again tightening
                     breaths oppress breathing
                             a clenching jellyfish action
                         offends the natural      teaming in a derangement
                                a loyalty of cowards    each one initiation edgy
                            paid up members     linked in ceremony
                                 a skeleton grid channeling away responsibility
                          thick distaste of the unsightly      and abrasive scent
                              of your speeching spatters
                        it's unmother worldly
                             a clutch of an abusive family thing
                      that psychology      that bonds for life
                         and spans love       in all its distrustful ******
                 violence
                     not a truth
             to mould in his raspy mouth
                this is a reputation
             repeated sellings
     this is not a truth
       this is just repetition
 persistently boomed      into adjustable history
     dying over and again
each hand that takes up the stylus
       muster evidence
   of our mad insistences
         the 'sharing' game
     snaring the population bulk
           and lording over it with
       your repulsating power on display
judy smith Mar 2016
Maria Messier, a registered nurse turned entrepreneur based in Clifton Park, said she has “created a solution to a “growing” problem.”

Though she has been a nurse for 15 years, Messier said she has always had “an entrepreneurial mind.” After having four children and experiencing the discomforts of pregnancy during harsh northeastern winters, Messier decided to come up with her own solution to a problem pregnant women have been dealing with for ages — how to make your winter coat fit as you grow through your pregnancy, without buying a huge coat you won’t ever wear again.

She realizes maternity coats are nice, but noted not everyone can afford to buy a new coat for their pregnancy. “They are expensive and are used for such a short time,” she said.

She calls it the Extendher and it can be used during pregnancies and after for holding your baby hands-free. It is an extending panel which clips onto outerwear with a zipper. According to their website, the product has adjustable pull toggles to ensure a great fit throughout each stage of pregnancy.

Having experienced the frustrations of coats that refused to zip first-hand, Messier began to wonder why something like the Extendher did not already exist. She shared the idea with her aunt, Joanne Frank of Schenectady, at a family gathering. Frank, who worked as a fashion designer for 40 years, told her niece, “You are on to something,” and agreed to create the first prototype.

“After many tweaks and changes, our final extendher was born,” said Messier.

She said the best part is that you can still use the product after having a baby by using it as a baby carrier. The Extendher is not only for expectant mothers, but can also be worn by fathers, grandparents and babysitters. Messier said “Babywearing is huge right now, so customers really love this option.” The Extendher comes in a variety of colors. Heavyweight and lightweight options are available for different seasons.

The business, Extendher LLC, became official in 2015. Messier said their product has been featured on Elaine Houston’s “Today’s Women” on News Channel 13, WNYT.

“Most importantly,” said Messier, “we are 100 percent made in the USA, manufactured in upstate NY.” The Extendhers are being manufactured in Little Falls, New York.Read more at:www.marieaustralia.com/short-formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-sydney
Tommy Johnson Mar 2015
Cleaning the pan when it's still hot
Look at my life see what it is and what it's not

And even with all the lights on
My cluttered room is still very very dark

Night vision goggles would be nice
So I can figure out how to rearrange my life

My girls gone
But I'll be alright

Family's stressed
And moneys tight

So on edge
Won't lose this fight

Looking for help
There's none in sight

People around me are such fools
An adjustable wrench is a more useful tool

My grades in school don’t even exist
All that money they paid down the toilet like ****

But at least I still got my health
Oh wait I ***** when I eat, cant breathe oh well

My girls gone
But ill be alright

Family's stressed
And moneys tight

So on edge
Won't lose this fight

Looking for help
There's none in sight

Stop your whining
Stop your lying

You're in control
So fulfill your roll

There's not much time
Now save your own life

My girls gone
But I'll be alright

Family's stressed
And moneys tight

So on edge
Won't lose this fight

Gotta help myself
And save my life
“Let me tell you,” she said as she reached
For her glasses making her eyes to be
At least five times their original size.
“Let me tell you right now, you don’t know anything.
Hard times, these aren’t hard times, why I remember
A time during the great depression when all we had to eat
Were a few soda crackers everyday, I ate so many
Soda crackers I could wipe my backside with
A wisk broom – Now those were hard times.”

“I know Grandma; I know you’ve been through a lot,”
I said as I held her by the arm trying to get her into
My little compact Japanese gas saver car.
I held her from bumping her head on the top of the car
So that she could try to get one leg into the
Floor of the front passenger seat.
“Watch your head Grandma.”

“You look the other way, how in the name of heaven
Do they expect someone do get into these tiny little bugs?
I said for you to look the other way,
Can’t you see I’m in a dress?
Now your Grandpa, rest his poor soul,
That man - at least he knew how to pick a car.
Why, you could put four of these little
Mutant Ninja Turtles in that old Buick we had
And still get two more in the trunk.
Where is that old Buick anyway?”

“Remember Grandma, we sold it to pay
For your adjustable comfort bed,” I answered
As I - with my head turned - lifted her other leg
And eased it into the car.
“Let’s put on your seat belt, Grandma.”

She slapped my hand and stomped the floor saying,
“Stop it, stop it, don’t you put that noose around my head.
I’ve been riding in cars for Nye on sixty years
And I’ve never worn a seat belt and I ain’t about
To start a wearing one now.
Ted, it’s your responsibility not to hit anything -
And if you can’t drive good enough to keep from
Hitting anything in the five miles to Doctor Langston’s
Office then you can just go right back in the house and
Get that shoe horn of mine and come back out here
And wedge me back out of this torture box.”

Caught up in oblivion, shutting the car door carefully,
While shaking my head, I wondered what
Mortal sin I had committed that created these
Circumstances where I had to be subjected to the
Wrath of my Grandmother’s dominance.
Once underway I reminded her,
“I’m not Ted Grandma, I’m *****, remember me?
I’m Ted's son; *****: Ted had to work today so I’m taking
You to the doctor.” She looked at me through
Those thickened glasses and then tightened her grip
On the purse lying in her lap.
Then she turned her head looking out the side
Window as the trees and mailboxes passed by.

All three of the red lights on the way to the doctor’s office
Were green and we made it there it record time.
I pulled into a parking spot and looked towards her
And said, “Here we are safe and sound.”

She turned her head away from the side window and then
She looked oddly at her purse saying, “I have a confession
To make Ted, I mean *****.”
Like a small child caught with her hand in the cookie jar
She continued, “I really don’t have a doctor’s appointment today.”

“What do you mean Grandma?”

She looked up at me with tears in her eyes,” I just get so
Darned lonely sometimes, *****. So lonely that I think
That I’m going out of my mind.” Then she looked back
At her purse as a tear ran off the side of her cheek.

I felt her pain and I knew a little about loneliness.
I reached over with my right hand placing it on her left
And asked, “How would you like to go to the park
Today Grandma?”

She looked up saying, “Only if I can have a hot dog.”
Take the time to take care of those too old too take care of themselves.
effie ebbtide May 2018
a pair of headphones with the mufflers missing
the wire that goes from said headphones to the computer
a ceramic pug in a red scarf containing tubes of paint
an ocarina that i picked up in a ghost town/tourist trap in california
a red cup for water during painting
a book called the artist's mentor
an adjustable lamp
wristbands a lover made for me
a book for savannah college of art and design featuring someone holding a large inflatable red ball on the cover
an incomplete abstract painting on canvas paper, slightly crumbled,
a box for the savannah college of art and design VR kit that they sent me
a book on writing
a book about color line and form in the visual arts
a red squishy ball inside a a fishnet containment, creating organic bulbous abscesses when squeezed
a book of poetry with a red cloth on the cover
a small packet of konpeito, a japanese sugar-based hard candy
a novelty necklace designed to resemble christmas lights, complete with glowing LEDs
a red colored pencil
a red marker
a red mechanical pencil
a gigantic anthology of american poetry i have yet to dive into
a packet of cherry jello
Sarah Clark Jun 2019
secondary (gleam white bright)-
op ed: the wet fields are yellow
and shouldn’t be. bless the anxious
farmers
                who wait.

the most luminous on the spectrum
egg yolk, ripe lemons,
objective.  turn the screen
of the mind. IKEA, bookshelf,
adjustable shelves,
a bird of open deciduous edges
and forests  (Yellow-Throated Vireo).

             we solve the yellow
             on top of the Rubik's cube
             in two steps:


              orient and cross, coward-
              look at the stars.
100% content sourced from first two pages of Google Search "Yellow"
Reflected smile Sep 2019
Isn't she lovely ??
She's so............
adorable
She's always at the front of my
Smile
She sparkles everytime I'm
Accessible
She is so messed up some times but easily adjustable
To fit in the conference of the
irremediable
She's so fragile and she is
InDivisible
Still she makes me discoverable and
Visible
In the dark because my Youthful Life
Sparkles
DiamondGirl Sep 2014
I would love to be yours
And any season will do
The time that is right
Is not for me to choose

The size of the band is a small matter
And adjustable (like us)
is something I'd rather
Because our love blooms in all seasons
And size of the ring
truly does not matter

I love you my dear
With all my heart
And no season or ring
Could play more of a part
Than all the sweet love you've given me right from the start

— The End —