"attendee" poems
i always end up like this
no matter what type of event i'm at
sitting, alone, in the back
but this time, there
on the church basketball court
converted into a dancefloor
just as roughly as i also was converted
into a church dance attendee
in dark grey corduroys
and a crimson dress shirt
(missing a collar button)
not to mention a shave
(far too thorough, as i always am)
and a haircut by my uncles hand-
it was there,
that i was choking back tears,
tears caused by glancing up momentarily,
javing five or more beautiful girls
meet my eyes, and smile invitingly
(telling me to stand)
but still being unable to drag myself out of that chair
and walk over to them.
an inability caused by her,
the one i still love(d)
wherever she happens to be.
but, this inability to move
is not her fault.
we're over
and i'm a free man,
so i make my mind up,
wipe my eyes,
and stand;
rising to look at the faces
of the two who are telling me
to walk, to tap, to ask, to dance
and
without a word
i walk into that crowd
leaving them behind.
but
she's still here.
and, keeping that in mind
i enjoy myself
but every face
every conversation
dissolves,
as my footsteps do-
as the music does-
at the end of each song
©Brandon Webb
2012
Nov 15, 2012
Nov 15, 2012 at 9:21 PM UTC
How Much Gets Me On A Bus? to the City?
(I live 30 minutes away)
more than this ever will - POETRY
I’ve been writing ‘poems’ ever since I remember
ever since 11 –
reciting these phenomenal words of wisdom
to any and all who would listen
forcing family-members & friends
that’s the thing about poetry,
it makes you feel like it’s important,
makes you think the words you sling together
aren’t really yours
it comes to you, through you, needs to come out of you,
and when its over you’re just as amazed
as they should be.
but they’re not, I mean
they like poetry, admire it,
even enjoy it sometimes,
but they could honestly
give it up in a heartbeat,
live without it.
You know what I mean?
I’m like you
like all the people who come here
I'm part poetry as poetry is me
A Dodge Poetry Attendee many years –
my arm once around Gwendolyn Brooks,
cried in a church with Lucille Clifton
talked Newark to Baraka –
know the honorable Slammer, Patricia Smith!
I’ve sat many years with the Lords of Literature - my professors
who all seemed to know “whose got it”
the intellectuals of American prose who seem to be searching for a rookie,
the next best troubadour college-student that will grace their faculty-doors…
The poetry I read here is incredible
Some of the best stuff on the net,
poignant, painful , honest, raw, sensual, serious – provokingly real
words I read here startle me, stun me at times
so clear in meaning, well-crafted, chosen words
unusually strong
They’re the kind of words the got-it people have,
the poet people (probably all people have)
poetry is just another way of finding an infallible song –
(I still say we should go sing it on the bus!)
Jul 26, 2013
Jul 26, 2013 at 11:29 PM UTC
today,
walked the river arcade,
by the river~side.
same,
where, & when,
a decade earlier
and a laugh ago,
we performed
a daily differential calculus
of the distance to that line,
a watermark,
where my accidental drowning
would be insurance covered
don’t recall, if back then,
poetry writin’ was a good
a daily companion, or-even
a mere passing acquaintance
but went to
all-in-all-alone-freedom,
found riches,
yet still pressed in rags
of remorse, mourning surely,
until & still a
woman, or
three, rated me a
good looking edible,
even
if only didn't always dress
in black, head to toes, like an
extra cool new yorker, or an
attendee at my own fun~ereal
since those days,
gallons millions, zillions
of brackish seawater has flowed
out to sea as far as
England, Philippines, New Zealand,
whichever be connected to the
rain water of Adirondack mountains
flowing past East 57th Street,
my salty tears replenished,
but time changed the causation,
from oy to joy in simp terms
that rhymes…with me and yours
water woman water woman water
makes the heart capable of weeping
tears of joy,
oh! happy drowning
how do
you cross from woman to water,
that, now I walk on a
water bridge of loving
hard, steel & liquidity of
concrete, smooth roughness
became the path to loving living
Nov 21, 2024
Nov 21, 2024 at 7:13 AM UTC
What a way to spend October 11, all in one day?
There are many enterprising words that I could say
It was the 14th Annual Mass Transit & Trolley Modeler’s Convention in New Brunswick, New Jersey
It was held at RUTGERS UNIVERSITY Gymnasium Annex
All attendee’s wore badgers and stepped back into time
Trains, busses and trolley’s all had their preservation combined
A look at steam engines who was the workhorse of the rails
Come and follow me as I explain in more detail
Transit and highway buses the vintage of their trail
Towns with trolley’s, a matter of tracks and wires
A world from the past with tomorrow that’s here today with plenty of technology advances that inspires
A trip down memory lane in years before my years
Yet the honor of preservation to continue my passion for buses in preserver
Then there were highway buses I once rode
Purchased a scale model MC7 Challenger of Vermont Transit, and added to my personal collection of look and behold
A day well spend indeed
The story goes on in proceed
I really didn’t know where time went
This was my exploration being support
You could say, “My determined will”
It was my ambition running on still
Yet it was a worthwhile experience
But it was a lot of walking and you had to have endurance
I learned even more mass transit and buses
This places me like an Ever Ready battery to influence
Also with that knowledge, I learned about the back roads and rails no longer exist
This was a thought I couldn’t resist
The mass transit flow and time is moving with systems go.
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 5:30 AM UTC
You were much more than a church-goer,
Much of your history floated under my nose,
But I realize now and am honored to have known you.
You served in the Navy,
At the Bay of Pigs in 1963.
I also read through the names of people
Who loved you and continue to hold your name in high regard, in faith.
You were a loyal, local church attendee,
You were always willing to volunteer during liturgies.
The fact that you would talk to my parents each week
And, in future years, also becoming my friend,
Showed how much you loved my family,
Which made you family, regardless of the sporadic times my family and I saw you.
I’d always round the right
To walk into the vestibule.
There you’d be, not intending to harass,
But to make me laugh and see
Sundays as a celebration of community
Rather than a somber type of solemn atmosphere.
To me, you are an insignia of St. Leo church
Being one of the first figures I’d link to the parish title.
I also cannot forget how,
When I began wearing ties to church,
You’d wrap the tongue of my tie(s) in your grasp:
“Let’s have a tie party,” you’d chuckle
As I tried mutely laughing back in the sacristy
Where silence was enforced, but you challenged the norm
And went against the tide of rules, remaining true
To your person, being an example for me
As I struggle to, like you, remain true to who I am.
May the halls of everlasting peace
Welcome you, Dan Desmond.
Apr 22, 2018
Apr 22, 2018 at 11:25 PM UTC
the planet makes another pass
around its lonely star
an arbitrary point in space-time
delineated by a self-aggrandized
emperor stabbed to death by
those closest to him
et tu
brute
i spent the night
the sole attendee in a
dreary cinema
half-asleep
ignoring spasms
of guilt and envy
witnessing the depravity
to which the 1%
would sink to ensure
their profits never
decreased
you were getting wasted
with strangers and
fair-weather friends
on cheap liquor and i can't
help but wonder if he's there
does he even ask to hold your hand
and i'll nurse
my jealousy
the way you'd
sip a lukewarm beer
it tastes foul but
no one wants to be
the only one at a
New Year's Eve party
who has to be
sober
some nights i imagine i am
the lone survivor of an ill-fated crew
the very last human being
in an apathetic galaxy
awakened from hypersleep
trapped aboard this
spaceship
Jan 1, 2016
Jan 1, 2016 at 1:16 AM UTC
Charleston Fashion Week added $3.5 million to the local economy this year, an increase of 20 percent over 2014.
Organizers of the event, sponsored by Baker Motor Company in the spring, announced Thursday attendance grew to more than 7,500, a new record.
The five-day event also boosted the local economy, according to Wayne Smith of the College of Charleston.
According to the college’s findings, total expenditure per out-of-town attendee averaged $1,900; the event drew more than 275 million media impressions including TV, print, radio and online; its social media reach was more than 6.5 million; and 85 percent of those sampled said they would return next year.
Since the event in March, eight of the participating models have signed with national model agencies, including Directions USA, Elite Direct, Elite NYC and Wilhelmina Miami.
“We are thrilled with the continued success of Baker Motor Company Charleston Fashion Week and the recent survey results reinforce the growing economic impact of the event,” said Jed Drew, president of Gulfstream Communications, which owns and produces Charleston Fashion Week.
Dates for the 2016 event will be announced later this summer.Read more here:www.marieaustralia.com/pink-formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/blue-formal-dresses
May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 11:24 PM UTC
New Jerusalem Worship Center did it again
Pure Gospel through and through
Plenty of Praise from everyone that was due
Celebrity Gospel Recording Artist that performed
The names in appearance were Tasha Cobbs, JJ Hairston and Tye Tribbett
All the recording artist were talent given by Jesus himself
It was nobody else
Each Artist had their own blend of music
It was rhythm straight to the heart
Harmony in lifting Spirits
Praise being blessings in honor of the Lord’s merits
The concert took place at where I worship at New Jerusalem Worship Center
It is known as the big white church in Jamaica, New York
The music was enriched in God’s goodness
Every attendee was the personal witness
God was pleased with the concert turnout
This was a reason to praise with a gloried shout
I am sure the harmony reached the Heavenly gates
The music having many messages for the audience to take in such as, “Change Your Ways”, “This is War with having the Full Christian Armor on”, “It’s time to be Church and not act like Church”, “Let your Faith and prayer be powerful”
Calling on the name of Jesus there is power
It doesn’t matter the day nor the hour
Well the ****** Win Tour Concert ended with a positive note
Death could not hold Jesus down
One day, we will all be Heaven bound.
May 29, 2017
May 29, 2017 at 4:29 PM UTC
I set down my script
and took a seat
today,
I'll be an attendee
I grew tired
of
being
Nov 1, 2019
Nov 1, 2019 at 5:19 AM UTC
Invent me an app to bubble wrap crap and another to take it today,
send me a dime every time that I fail and let me fail very safe far away.
My attention was tweaked reading informative leaks by the whistles that blow in the night, invent an attendee to stand at attention whilst my attention is diverted elsewhere.
There's an app that does this and another does that, but one doesn't cover the two, there's an app that bores and one that roars and one takes you off to the zoo.
But an app for the crap and the bubble wrap zap sounds like a good idea to me.
Jan 8, 2016
Jan 8, 2016 at 7:13 AM UTC
I wish I could think of
the right way to say
I love you...
It's like there's no possibility.
My vocabulary is far too limited
The love I feel is far too complex
And I am far too unimaginative
to give you something that hasn't been
Said a million times.
you would certainly find a way -
youve always been fantastic at words
and i wish i could borrow
some of your genius...
Every combination
Every language
Every time I try
I can't figure it out
You have made me feel like...
Like the solar system revolves around me
Like death could never take my life
Like I know the Name of the wind
... no ... i can do better
i want to keep trying
i need to keep trying because
if i cant figure it out
im going to implode
You deserve a special
I love you.
something to mimic the special
you make me feel every day
i yearn to give you that
so bear with me while i paint you
a written picture instead and
hope it can convey some semblance of
i love you:
------------------------------------------------------------
You are a city.
And that city, in my head,
Looks a little like... well
it's under constant construction, the
scaffolding where you expand
the buildings - your knowledge.
and despite what you might think
it's a comforting presence
between them run roads, so many intersections
all leading to different interests
but those streets have potholes - your past
experiences - and there isn't enough tar in the world to fill them.
not that it matters, because your traffic never stops and the
streets are never still; potholes and all
zipping around on those roads are cars
that get you from point A to point B - your responsibilities,
when you really need to stop for gas. it's admirable
how dedicated to those pit stops you are, and
that you still really love driving
fortunately, despite pollution - the toxicity dumped
by other people - your city is still eco-friendly. you wanted
fresh air, so on each building you install solar panels - you
never sit back and let people ruin the world
so people sit on their porches and listen to music you pipe
through the city streets, via loudspeakers you installed
because you want people to enjoy themselves - and they
absolutely love it. they show their appreciation through
smiles and laughter. how could they not? nothing can compare
In your city
I want to be a window washer
a maintenance woman
a taxi driver
a gas station attendee
an ecologist
a musician
I want to be someone involved with all you are.
You're a constant inspiration
So call me selfish, but I relish just being around you
And lavish that I get to be special to you
You deserve more than these simple three words
but for the sake of concision - your favorite, I know -
I'll simply say
I love you
Apr 27, 2020
Apr 27, 2020 at 12:44 AM UTC
A technicolor thriller movie hits me up the head.
It comes sneaking around the bright corners of my mind.
It breaks through the firewalls of pleasant memories.
It melts my thoughts into mush.
I give in.
My heads drop to my side and my nails begin to dig in to my palm.
Immediately I started toying with the dead skin on my bottom lip.
The winter has been cruel to my skin.
Each rip of dead skin feels cathartic.
I am peeling away my pain and discomfort.
My Flashbavk looms over until I am completely defenseless.
Which is one or hits.
I feel I am on a shaky old roller coaster that have up.
The ride attendee has side bye.
The silence is deafening.
My breath catches in my ears.
I wake up on the floor of the cold, wood floor of the living room.
I have no recollection of what happened.
I feel deattached and removed like a minor character in a big movie.
The star has just gotten hit by a track and the perky comic relief friend turns serious.
That is my flashbacks.
I am not as scared as before but I don't trust him.
I worry he'll come when my defenses are even more eroden.
I whisper the duas I learned in Sunday school to ward the ailments of my conditions.
I tell myself it's a just a test.
I put my headphones back in and resume listening to stromae, letting the tears take control.
It's all that I have known.
Dec 6, 2016
Dec 6, 2016 at 5:55 PM UTC
There were twelve in the room.
The room of the feast.
One attendee was the beast.
The uninvited one.
Poured scorn upon his company as one by one they ate their tea.
The first two had roast beef, coated with lashes of horseradish sauce.
The second two they both had fish, deep fried served with peas and chips.
A little more weight round their porky hips.
Three to five had boiled crab, served with salad, and several French fries, okay frites,
Six and seven only wanted sweets.
Eight and nine, shared jar of cockles , a jar of chewy rubber bits, all served up in brine.
Eleven and ten started to cuss, wanted a huge bowl of custard.
Such a mighty fuss.
None left, six and seven polished it off.
All satisfied and fit to burst, number twelve's diet was worse.
Not much left over, so he ate all the rest.
Livvi
Sep 22, 2015
Sep 22, 2015 at 7:29 PM UTC
by Ryan P. Kinney, Aaron Shinkle, and Ohayocon Jigsaw Workshop attendee
The fall of man
It was the end of monsters
The end of mothers
The end of haters
Of lovers
Of pain and suffering
Of bliss and ecstasy
Nothing to hide under the bed
No terror floating in your head
Just the buzzing and swarming of the insects
There was just the animalistic need to survive
And Gaia had decided
It was best for her survival
If we did not
How did we let this happen?
A new era begins
For the worse
I will not be silent
The seventh gateway opens
All the trumpets sound
Clamoring in the hallway.
Truth is subjective.
Truth be told
We did it to ourselves
One never sees the monster
Hiding in the open
No one ever suspects that we are hiding something
When they are staring it in the face
Everything from nothing.
And to nothing we return.
To the whole of the way,
We hastened our downfall through an illusion of control.
Only through letting this run its course
And stepping to the center could the master hope for survival.
Jan 26, 2020
Jan 26, 2020 at 5:20 PM UTC