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Coop Lee Oct 2014
they emerge from the wooded neighborhood ridge and fringe at dusk
into breadth of lawn
& limb.
witchy chicks
casting banter n bitchcraft.
teenage dead end dreamers tipped in black magick lip gloss
& glitter, their
genderfluid familiars &/or wayward boyfriends apparate
in the street pink cloud spinning wheel,
& hawking bile.
****** stella smile.
swallow a hex, send a snap, tongue along his neck
promising to fold bodies before sunrise.
the effervescent gasp
of post-ritual clarity.

in the house,
is a kid.
a gig.
the devil with a younger grip.
& the kid thrills on a bit of the ol’
         u l t r a v i o l e n c e.
****** videogames, ****** anime, ****** mayhem n melodic music.
he is a conduit of dark energy.
a pure blooded offering of the stone age/video age,
mind in a kind of kaleidoscopic way.
he is me.
bred on televised bucket slime ceremonials.

she checks her purse.
drugs & snacks & juul & a pretty dead bird.
a daughter of delphi watching your kid.
tending to him.
trending him.
popcorn smelling him, the texas chainsaw massacre on vhs just before bed.
palace of teeth n twigs.
just a short walk to the edge and then its bath time.

             the demon version is grisly and cruel.
             the angel version is starry-eyed and adventurous.

to conjure some
  thing,
at the cliff jumping.
it was fun.
previously published in BlazeVOXMagazine
http://www.blazevox.org/BX%20Covers/BXspring14/Coop%20Lee%20-%20Spring%2014.pdf
judy smith Jul 2016
The 9.6 million followers who tune in to watch Miranda Kerr having her hair done on Instagram — for this is how models spend most of their time — were treated to a rather more interesting sight last Thursday: a black and white photograph of a whacking great diamond ring.

Across it was the caption “Marry me!” and a twee animation of the tech mogul Evan Spiegel on bended knee. Underneath Kerr had typed “I said yes!!!” and an explosion of heart emojis.

A spokesman for Spiegel, founder of the Snapchat mobile app, who is 26 to Kerr’s 33 and worth $US 2.1 billion to her $US 42.5 million , revealed “they are very happy”.

At first, the marriage seems an unlikely combination: a man so bright he founded Snapchat while still at Stanford University, becoming one of the world’s youngest self-made billionaires by 22, and a Victoria’s Secret model who was previously married to the Pirates of the Caribbean star Orlando Bloom (she allegedly had a fling with pop brat Justin Bieber, leading Bloom to punch Beebs in a posh Ibiza restaurant).

Perhaps the union indicates that there is more to Kerr than we thought. More likely, it reveals something about Spiegel — and the way the social status of “geeks” has changed.

Since Steve Jobs made computers cool and Millennials started living online, nerds are king. Even coding is **** enough for the model Karlie Kloss, singer will.i.am and actor Ashton Kutcher to learn it. Silicon Valley has become the new Hollywood, as moguls and social media barons take over from film stars and sportsmen not just on rich lists, but as alpha men.

Being a co-founder of a company is this decade’s equivalent to being a rock star or a chef. And, if their attractiveness to models and actresses proves anything, then being a Twag — tech wife or girlfriend — is a “thing”. Sources tell me Twags are also known as “founder-hounders” because they like to date the creators of start-up companies.

Actress Talulah Riley was an early adopter. She started dating the PayPal founder Elon Musk in 2008. Riley, then fresh from starring in the St Trinian’s film, met Musk in London’s Whisky Mist nightclub after he had delivered a lecture at the Royal Aeronautical Society. I interviewed her shortly afterwards and she told me they had spent the evening talking about “quantum physics”. A month later they were engaged. Their on-again-off-again marriage lasted six years before she filed for divorce again in March. Currently Musk, worth an estimated $US 12.7 billion and focused on Tesla cars, is said to be “spending a lot of time” with Johnny Depp’s estranged wife, Amber Heard.

Model Lily Cole dated the Twitter founder Jack Dorsey in 2013. Later she had a son with Kwame Ferreira, founder of the digital innovation agency Kwamecorp. Actress Emma Watson is going out with William Knight, an “adventurer” who has an incredibly boringly sounding job as a senior manager at Medallia, a software company. Allison Williams, Marnie in the HBO television show Girls, is married to Ricky Van Veen, co-founder of College Humor website.

Could it be that these women are onto something? Dating a bro certainly has its appeal. They are innovative: how else would they invent apps that deliver cheese toasties or match singles based on their haircuts? They are risk-takers who must be charismatic enough to inspire investors and attract crowd-funding. They may not be gym-fit, but they are mathletes who can do your tax bill. They are animal lovers: every start-up is dog friendly. And they are fun: who would not want to date somebody with a ball pool in their office?

There is a saying about dating in Silicon Valley: the odds are good but the goods are odd. Nerds are notorious for peculiar chat-up lines and normcore clothes. Still, if geeks can be awkward, that is part of their charm. Keira Knightley, complaining that Silicon Valley was all men in hoodies and Crocs, described how one gave her his card, saying she should get in touch if she wanted to see a spaceship.

One Vogue writer recalled a Silicon Valley man messaging her via a dating app, in which he noted: “In 50 per cent of your photos you’re holding an iPhone. It may interest you to find out that I invented the iPhone. More accurately I was an engineer on the original iPhone . . .”

Most promisingly, some guys are astoundingly rich. It is suggested Kerr’s engagement ring is a 2.5-carat diamond worth around dollars 55,000. She has already moved into Spiegel’s dollars 12m LA pad. Between his money and her Victoria’s Secrets bridesmaids, no wonder sources claim they are planning an “extravagant wedding”.

It might rival even the Napster founder Sean Parker’s $US10m performance-art bash. He married songwriter Alexandra Lenas in a canopy among Big Sur’s redwoods decorated to look like an enchanted forest. Some 350 guests wore Tolkienesque costumes created by The Lord of the Rings costume designer Ngila Dickson. They sat on white fur rugs and were given bunnies to pet. Presumably rabbit babysitters were on hand when the disco started.

If such fantasies inspire you to become a Twag, the great news is you do not have to be a supermodel to be in with a chance. Such is the dearth of single women in Silicon Valley that one dating site, Dating Ring, crowdfunded a plane to fly single women to Palo Alto from New York.

Be warned, though: guys are single because they are married to the job.

No wonder most meet their partners at college or work — the Facebook chief executive Mark Zuckerberg met his wife, Priscilla Chan, at Harvard.

The Instagram co-founder Kevin Systrom met girlfriend Nicole Schuetz at Stanford. Melinda met Bill Gates when, in 1987, they sat next to each other at an Expo trade-fair dinner. “He was funnier than I expected him to be,” she said.

Kerr began dating Spiegel in 2014 after meeting him at a Louis Vuitton dinner in New York. You can bet he was networking. Shortly after Louis Vuitton showcased their cruise collection in a Snapchat story. Last season Snapchat went on to become the biggest new name at NY fashion week.

If you want to meet tech guys, you might catch them at Silicon Valley parties, which is how the Uber chief executive Travis Kalanick met his partner, Gabi Holzwarth, a violinist hired to play. Or they might be schmoozing clients downtown in a swanky Noe Valley club in San Francisco or a boring Union Square hotel in New York. In London you find them around Old Street, aka Silicon Roundabout, in bars, at hackathons, or start-up meet-ups. In the day they are coding at Google Campus or practising their pitching in a co-working space.

Some tech boys date the old-fashioned way: on Tinder. Airbnb founder Brian Chesky met his girlfriend of three years, Elissa Patel, through the app. When I interviewed Instagram co-founder Systrom he admitted that when he had been single he had signed up.

Dating agency Linx — presumably a play on operating system Linux — is dedicated to making Silicon Valley matches. Amy Andersen set it up in 2003 after moving to Palo Alto and being “flabbergasted” by the number of eligible men. She claims her clients are “extremely dynamic and successful individuals’’: tech founders, tech chief executives, financier founding partners of large institutions and “tons of entrepreneurs”.

Andersen says tech guys make “fabulous partners”. Romantic and chivalrous, they write love letters, plan dates, “even proposing on Snapchat!” If you want to marry a tech billionaire, she says, “you need to bring your A game.” Her clients look “for women who are equally, if not more, dynamic and interesting than he is!”

There are drawbacks to dating tech guys. Before Google buys your amore’s business, he will be living on *** Noodles waiting for the next round of funding — and workaholics are dull.

Kerr says Spiegel is “25, but he acts like he’s 50. He’s not out partying. He goes to work in Venice [Beach], he comes home. We don’t go out. We’d rather be at home and have dinner, go to bed early.” Which might suit Kerr, but is not my idea of a fun.

You had also better be prepared to share your life. When Priscilla Chan miscarried three times, Mark Zuckerberg wrote about it on Facebook, while Chesky used a romantic trip with his girlfriend to promote Airbnb - uploading a picture of her in bed, with a note saying “f* hotels”. Besides all of which is the notorious issue of Silicon Valley sexism.

It has a chief exec-bro culture that puts pick-up artist/comedian Dapper Laughs to shame. Ninety per cent of women working in the Valley say they have witnessed sexist behaviour, 60 per cent have experienced unwanted ****** advances at work, two thirds of them from their boss. Whitney Wolfe, a co-founder of Tinder, took Justin Mateen to court for ****** harassment. Her lawsuit against the company alleged that Mateen, her former partner, sent text messages calling her a “*****”.

Spiegel has tech bro form. He apologised after emails from his days at Stanford emerged: missives about stripper poles, getting black-out drunk, shooting lasers at “fat chicks”, and promising to “roll a blunt for whoever sees the most **** tonight (Sunday)”. After one fraternity Hawaiian luau party, he signed off emails “f*
bitchesgetleid”.

No wonder some women are not inspired to become Twags. Especially when you could be a tech billionaire yourself. Would you not rather be Sheryl Sandberg, chief operating officer of Facebook, than married to the boss?Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/evening-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/black-formal-dresses
Mateuš Conrad May 2016
i know, rubbed off reading Pound, but scout's honour, but scout's honour, yet again: but on scout's honour it was a collage, and and and that's what could make Ezra's too a moment of weakness with a rainbow of subjects, a page ripped out from an encyclopaedia.

night cinema, and films from to preceding decades
this the current, 2nd of decade of a seemingly
never-ending September -
first - the disappearance of alice creed (a british
                                                         ­                            film),
second - the firm (                                            "           "   ),
the other two american, one an ageing classic -
sleepless in Seattle, and the last one the devil wears Prada -
already the differences are so relentless,
modern british cinema loves to capture grit,
graffiti on estates, meaningful f-off conjunctions,
and boy the slang in *the firm
is as good as any -
one of the few films worth rummaging with at sunrise
with it fresh in memory (preferred it to
trainspotting given one face value:
Bex is way more sociopathic than Begpie, and
he doesn't end up living the easy life in
Miami or whether he is being an artist),
but the problem is... the library is too big, it's the sort
of library you'd find in heaven, although less grand,
already outside the realm of sensible reality,
beyond 2 to the power of 83 (named yogibyte),
we have this library, right now,
the 2 to the power of 3.321928 of a googol,
i.e. a Nikolai Gogolplex... but! it's not technically
a library, it's also a stock market, a phonebox,
a ***** booth, a casino... HMR & Customs, banking,
so technically we're not talking a heavenly library
(add to the list cyber warfare,
everything apart from a librarian's shush
is acceptable here)... but it got me
thinking, that film the firm (set in the 80s)...
three strands of music that interest me from the 80s,
synthesiser music (sounds really cheap now, i know)
but at least it sounds better than castrato rock
of the 80s... the synthesiser music of pseudo echo e.g.,
but these instruments were picked up by kiddies and
it was like a harpsichord to them, given previously
Bach's organs and the grand piano: a pool table
compared to a snooker table...          
and the third strand of music from the 80s... post-punk,
Joy Division (i'm not exact on the dates, blurry lines)...
Bauhaus (the man with x-ray eyes)... Staatliches...
well... post-punk... punk-entrenchment, all that
pre- post- proto- pre-fixation post-fixation...
the darker side of punk...
                                              god, this library is too big!
it's a bit like walking into a bookshop and falling
on your knees in desperation:
you can watch the aesthetic of winter through
to autumn no problem, hell, you might get a mystical insight
into this recycling bin... but when it comes to
the aesthetic of mankind's recycling bin, everyone
breaks down not having read or bothered to
read Melville or something: the price of creating
civilisation and moving away from tribalism -
and again onto cinema... cinematic warfare with
gaming, or cartoon cinema, gaming cinema,
in Seattle in 1993 they still used babysitters, now
the grown-ups sit at home while the babies
go out swinging - games less about joystick
button indentations on the fingers and more about
cinema... cinema more about games than about
meaningful conversations - take that word
games in two ways: social gaming, you know
what i mean: ******* people over;
but seriously, can you believe a band like
the soft moon exists and released an album in
2010 with such seminal songs as
parallels and sewer sickness among others?
two thousand and twelve... i was as much
gob-smacked when i realised
that godspeed, you black emperor! released
their album f# a# ∞ in nineteen ninety eight! 1998! i thought
progressive music from any genre died with punk
and the impatience at yet another solo from
robert fripp when no one wanted to do an air guitar
version of his solos (which largely borrowed from jazz).
Joseph Schneider Jul 2014
Miguel is a boy of mystery. His whole life has been a disturbing whirlpool of broken memories. His home's a train wreck, his family has vanished, his life lays in waist... Since the day Miguel was born, its gone unseen by no one of his sinister and baneful behavior. Miguel's own family could not bare the sight of him. By the age of 9 he had been put up for adoption several times. Along with scaring away any hope of accumulating a friend. Even neighbors felt the need to move through pure gut feeling something wasn't right with this young boy...but why?

   Well, the answer lives with a man named Michael. Michael was Miguel's Father. Michael lived a life searching that in which we all seek, riches, the big house, the life of a celebrity. Given the mere fact Michael was simply a fry cook, his dreams looked distant and impossible to achieve. That being said he was ready for a change, no matter the circumstances... One day, Michael was walking home from work when he stumbled across a woman in the doorway to an abandoned building. Not any ordinary woman, a beautiful woman. Her beauty wasn't like anything he had ever seen before. Her cheeks blushed, her voice could sooth a giant, and her eyes glimmered through the moonlight. Covered head to toe in jewels, in Cashmere, in Prada... The woman without hesitation snatches the attention of Michael. Her voice so soothing, so soft spoken, it's hard to feel anywhere else but in your own paradise simply being in her presence. 
   "Michael..." The woman whispers. 
   "Michael...Follow me." She says.
Michael so drawn to her beauty he obeys without the smallest of responses. Walking through the doorway into the abandoned building still manipulated by her beauty she brings him to a room. This room seems to have been abandoned for years. Torn wallpaper, carpet stripped leaving nothing but broken concrete. Although sitting in the center of the room sits a table and two chairs. 
   "Sit." The woman Says with authority. 
The man obeys taking into consideration this new tone of voice. She sits as well, directly in front of him. 
   "I, know you Michael." She says with a smile. 
   "I've been following you for some time." She continues.
Michael sitting in confusion he remains silent. 
   "Speak not if you must, It's only postponing your destiny Michael." She finishes with another smile. 
   "My, my destiny?" The man asks. 
She continues to smile gazing her beautiful eyes into his for a few moments. 
   "Yes my love. Your destiny. I have arranged something for you that you cannot pass up." 
Michael's life has him in such a deep depression he cant fathom on passing up the words of what seems like an angel. 
   "What do you have in mind?" He quickly Replies. 
   "Simple, whatever you want my love." She Replies. 
Michael Sits in silent for a second Not really understanding what is being presented to him. Although at this time he comes to terms he doesn't care, change is change. 
   "I accept anything you have to offer, beautiful." He replies with confidence. 
   "You, will live from this day forward wealthy. I can supply you with a house and enough money to live comfortably for the rest of your days." She offers. 
   "Is it that easy?" He asks  
   "No, you must in return Inflict my religious beliefs into your first born child." She says. 
Michael, not really sure what that means, accepts her deal, for she seems like an angel of the sky. Well, as for Michael he lives his life as planned, Wealthy, happy, Full of adventure. He even finds himself an amazing girl who he falls in love with. They even get married. Now, however, things get more difficult.

   They find out together they are having a baby boy. Yes, the greatest gift to any man or woman they think is about to happen to them. Michael's wife having no difficulties through the pregnancy goes into labor. After 6 hours of labor Miguel is born. He is healthy as can be. Miguel's mother on the other hand has surprisingly gone into shock. Hemorrhaging Viciously in her brain. She is quickly put into emergency surgery. With her life in danger they begin to operate. She, does not live to see another day. After doing an exam on her body trying to solve what caused her to hemorrhage, they find something very odd. During the birth of Miguel she suffered three broken vertebrates, and her ****** had been severed. Not being able to explain the cause, life goes on. Michael is devastated at the loss of his wife. The visions of raising a baby boy together have been wrecked. As devastating as it was Michael was forced to accept it and continue on, raising Miguel on his own. It wasn't much after Miguel's birth that Michael really started to realize something wasn't right.

   Miguel had no emotions. Although medically they could not find a single thing wrong with him, he still remained motionless. His eyes seemed as a portal to oblivion. No smiles, laughs, or anything. Once again as odd as this was Michael was forced to persevere on his mission to raise Miguel on his own. Until Miguel learned to walk. Once this happened Michael started to get overwhelmed. As his Miguel was a walking nightmare. Miguel had killed three of their animals within a months time. Things were looking to get out of hand. No matter how much Michael tried to discipline him, Miguel did not listen. Michael couldn't get a babysitter to watch him for any longer then a few minutes without scaring them off. The babysitters would leave startled, leaving Michael with responses such as "He won't stop staring at me" or "when he is around me the hair on my neck stands up." Miguel had become such an outrage Michael lost custody of him just two days after his third birthday. Miguel had driven His father to the point of insanity. Michael tried to suffocate Miguel and end this misery once and for all, but he could not. Miguel had grown too strong even by age three.  Everyone hated Michael for it and Miguel was taken from him leaving Michael now in prison. Michael at that point realized that woman was not an angel, but the devil in disguise, soon after he committed suicide. What others don't know is Michael knew something they didn't. Something so evil, so sinister, that it would ruin many more lives to come. More and more the people started to realize something wasn't right. He bounced from home to home, leaving every home in complete disarray. He was the talk of the town. He was referred to as the "Devil's Child" or "Miguel From Hell."

   The city was angered by the boys effect in the community and knew something had to be done. The council knew the boy had to be murdered. If only this same council would have seen it as Michael did, when he did. Things would of never gone so far south. However the town started planning in the dark for their attack. They didn't want the boy to catch any wind of this whatsoever. So one night as he was asleep in his foster bed the city made the building evacuate, quietly. All but Miguel had evacuated the building and at this time they said their prayers and begun. Six men volunteered, to enter the building. Holding rope, gasoline, and faith. They grab the boy holding him down on the bed tying him up. The boy begun to rage, but he wasn't quit strong enough to escape the six men. After tying him up and leaving him inside they lit all four corners of the building at the same time. Watching it burn to the ground. Once they thought it was finally over, the body was never found...

-Joseph B Schneider
© Joseph B Schneider. All rights reserved

Short story.
The Devil won't approach you in his form. He will approach you with what you love.
Justyce Regular Apr 2013
I was never a simple person
but I craved simplicity like I craved my grandmother's strawberry jam
I loved school, whistling and everything taller than me
They reminded me of my father
I hated screen doors, cracks in pavement and goodbyes
When I was four he left me all those tainted things
but I loved him

Four years later
my mother asked me what I wanted for Christmas
I told her I needed a baby brother
I used to spend every night while he slept
at his feet
When I was eleven, my mother moved us to a new city
There were a million games of cops and robbers
and my first boyfriend, Spencer
He had blond hair and eyes so blue they put my brother's to shame
He told me he loved me under an oak tree
kissed my cheek and got so red in the face
I thought he was going to burst

My mother was in University
and had the softest piano hands
Her eyes were glossy from all her tears
I collected them in my jewellery box heart
There were rust on my edges
and hers
I was a rusty by product of drunk unintentions
A mathematic, scientific accident
Not a young mother with high hopes and goodluck

On Sunday afternoons I played hopscotch
on my babysitters driveway, I was nine
On Sunday evenings he brought me to his secret lair
He'd secretly touch me in all my secret places
I hated him
I think he hated me too

When I was six, I wanted to be a teacher
Ten years later, a man with a medical degree
told me I couldn't have babies
I couldn't look at another child, so I figured teaching wasn't my best option
Plus, I've never been a fan of teaching children not to make a mess
I spent my whole life making sure it wasn't messy

When I was fourteen, I wanted to run away
I wanted to go to Europe
with my best friend Oskari
he cut his arm and told me he couldn't really bleed
he didn't feel anything
I wanted to bless him
I wanted to read him Jane Austen in an open field
Under a single sycamore tree
We never made it

When I was seventeen, I ran away
I moved in with my father's mother
He has her eyes, just like me
That same year I met a boy
Who rode a stolen steed to my grandma's couch
Made love to me all night
took on me on walks and sent my heart off to the races
He made my life a little simpler
nactuyah Apr 2014
okay this isn't a poem but i babysit a little girl named Catherine and every time  she comes to my house she has been ***** her diaper is always full of *** and sometimes **** from the day before, she never has been given a bath from what ive seen, and she is just now walking since i started babysitting she walks talks and asks for stuff but with her mom her clothes are *****, don't fit right and she is 18 months and still on a bottle? is this right i would love your opinion and any suggestions she also has 5 little teeth and she sometimes calls me mama. I bath her every day, i take her for a walk every day and she is a happy baby when she is with me at 18 months with 5 teeth is it time to change her routine? a sippycup and some solid food? she walks with shoes now and can walk on her own for 2 minutes at a time she is great with dogs and her mother wants her no where near animals at all
he adults new year rave that 6 year old patrick dunbar




in the year of 1945, patrick dun bar’s family were invited to a rave

but there was one small problem they couldn’t find babysitters

for patrick, so, what his parents did, is, go to the department store

and buy a tiger costume that would fit a 6 year old and this way

patrick can’t see the adult nonsense that was around, patrick dunbar

was ever so excited, as he called himself the new year tiger, and

every time an adult walked past him, he went growl like a

really fierce tiger cub, and his bro, rob dunbar also dressed up

as a tiger, but he looked at it as just another tiger costume

when new years eve came, patrick and rob were getting themselves

used to their tiger costumes 5 hours before they left for the

adults rave, well back then they called it, a new years eve party

and the parents said, don’t get too *****, cause their kids wearing

tiger costumes, dressed up as patrick said the new year tiger

was the only way in, and 5 hours later, they all hopped in the car

and their grandfather wore a tiger hat, to joint patrick and rob

and patrick screamed out the window, HAPPY NEW YEAR

and the father said, put ya cotton picking head back in the car

and patrick didn’t listen, and kept his head out of the window

yelling out happy new year, happy new year, happy new year

and in those days they couldn’t control the window from the

drivers seat like they do now, so he kept on driving with little

patrick dunbar yelling out of the window, HAPPY NEW YEAR

about 23 fucken times, and when they arrived at the party, their mum

told patrick and rob to hide inside, pretending your dwarfs, and

patrick said, i am not a dwarf, i am the new year tiger, ya see

in this life, i was a tad isolated, in my room, and there is no way

known to man, how i can figure out a lll this, but, as we walked in

i think the party people knew we were kids, cause dwarfs look different

but patrick and rob played all night, as much as it was fun, and despite

them knowing we were kids, we thought we would be treated differently

cause me, patrick was the new year tiger, and i used the biggest growl

to make all the adults spill their drinks, some drinks stained the carpet

and this really upset the host, and wanted the dun bars kicked out

and patrick dunbar said, i am not a dunbar, i am the new year tiger

and if you kick us out, i will bite ya with my teeth, but this party had 1940s

morals, and the dun bars were kicked out, and went for a walk down the

beach of green bay, and patrickj and robert were swimming in their new

year tiger costumes, and patrick rode one wave in, and said, the new year

tiger is coming, actually the dunbars sat on the beach till midnight, and there

were a great beach parade, of navy and army planes as well as the lifeguards

wearing clown uniforms, and then the lord mayor of wisconsin, cut the ribbon

to open a very colourful fireworks and patrick dunbar went up to the lord mayor

and said, i am the new year tiger, and i will eat ya up, and then the lord mayor closed the speech

there, and yelled out HAPPY NEW YEAR, AND patrick dunbar yelled out

a big HAPPY NEW YEAR too, as patrick dunbar was wisconsin’s new year tiger

GRRRROOOOOOOWWWWWWWL,

i am patrick dunbar, he was my previous life, before greame thorne

HAPPY NEW YEAR
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2016
.the crows' persistent croak undermines all attempts at man's adventure into universal fame, or one that might distinguish man's composition, from earth, as intended for adam, to air, as intended for odin, to water as intended for poseidon, to fire as intended for the tetragrammaton.

it fails, most of the time,
poetry is scarce,
too much fondness of the abstract,
hence residues of
distracted verse, whimsical,
overburdened pronoun usage -
such likes - complex punctuation
to replace diacritical marks in
france or germany or norway,
poetry doesn't have the impetus,
just doesn't have the impetus to
package fudge, package fudge paragraphs
of fiction, poetry isn't anything
unless it's anti-fiction,
there's no point idealising
how you would fit into a glass stiletto
when it doesn't allow a fitting: cindarella was first
two jealous sisters got their heel
and big toe cut off, you want to encode
that as .pdf or .jpeg?
technophobes ***-standing:
is that enough for a start-up religious cult?!
i'm just wishy washy wondering,
all bets on it taking off - congregation of
en masse suicide seems a fanciful expression,
mind you, i have no excuse.
where there's a middle there ain't no finger,
no message evaluation and furthered to
an execution, the middle has an eroteme:
not exactly erotically thematic, just
a hunch off huh...
so... poetry... it's scarce, tumble **** practice
of a lost joke...
poetry exhibits itself sometimes in tight-tangle prose
of a knausgård - fancy wording a mile apart
would make traffic accidents aplenty,
and it happens... ramble ramble ramble (worded),
then some poetic ecstasy like an unguided tour
of a gallery making you kneel in anti-catholic
gesticulation of a painting by francis bacon...
shouldn't happen, but it did...
so while prose writers are like things infused
with packaged designation of the right
digestion and right diet content of carbohydrates,
poets are like: what sustenance from air?
we ramble sometimes, **** naked i presume,
but we do, and when we do, we draft novels
for other people, we're not into nation building
or writing novels... we're the anorexia of prose...
and that's grand... because it means
that our readers have to be self-involved,
not ready to grasp the rooting of prose diction...
more fused to the open airs
of writings' scarcity...
we need strong readers not numbers...
we need people who are self-involved,
who would spit and kick a copper statue of
the poet represented in a public square with
people of the spoken tongue the real tourists
wondering: who's that?

that aside...
          i went to sleep thinking about chess...
into bed at around 1am
woke up at around 9am...
past two nights? interludes of
perhaps 2 / 3 hours...
    cutting on the alcohol is one thing...
keeping a tally?
proof: co-op sells 1liter labelled bottles
of scotch,
but as it turns out, according to my braille tally?
it's: ⠷⠷ (500ml) + ⠷⠷ (500ml) + ⠷ (250ml)...
they label it as a liter...
but it's actually 1.25liters...
three days later: you get the full picture:
-esque akin to 'and on the third day he rose
again, according to the scriptures...'

good luck to the men and their vanity
projects...
   i will never become as famous as
the man who "invented" stumbled upon
fermentation to produce beer / wine...
distillation to produce whiskey / *****...
dom perignon and albert hofmann
are known now... give it a few centuries later...
****! gone!
       but to overshadow the universal
stability of a woodland pigeon cooing,
a crow croaking, a fox laughing?
   my words are here: yet these examples
retain the future unchanged...
by void, crook, vogue or folly...

so i went to sleep thinking about chess...
there's the king: the point
of the game...
              to topple the king...
get ol' charlie firsty on the chopper...
distract charlie zee 'eck'und
with pseudo-harems and handel...
and fireworks on the thames...
little learning tool offshoot of louis XIV...
the king is just an elevated pawn...
it seems the king only controls the pawns
given his own movement rules...
the queen though?
   she's the bishop and the rook combined,
as she's also the king and pawn, combined...
the knight is the only odd piece
on the whole board...
   why? didn't queens feast their eyes
upon knights of old, at tournaments...
chivalry: the dropped oopsie handerchief moment
when the king wasn't looking?
the knight piece is the only outsider piece
on the board... hence it's ontological
grasshopper routine of jumping
outside the line of pawns and then
jumping back into line...
the king is a king in name only:
it would appear...
  while the most powerful piece on the board
is the queen: since if the king merely
control the pawns:
   at a battlefield a king command pawns
(soldiers)...
  in the background...
the queen will command...
   the bishops, the knights,
   the rooks (houses, castles) -
she's not on the battlefield with with pawns...
and soon knights become judges
and lawyers - merge with the bishops...
i never like playing chess -
but i liked thinking about chess...
  from the perspective of: the queen is
the most powerful piece on the board...

you could even rewrite chess by expanding
the board... so it would look like so:

1. denotes pawn         9. denotes king

2. denotes bishop        6. denotes queen
3. denotes knight        4. denotes rook.


1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1
         9 3               (battlefield formation)
      2 4 4 2             (behind the scenes formation)
        3 6    

but the board would have to be expanded from
64 to say... 100 squares... per board...
it's still chess... but with a twist...
it's what real life would look like...
one knight would be faithful to the king
and stand behind his army on the battlefield...
the other knight would be *******
the queen in secret surrounded
by castles and the clergy / the judicial system...
well: so many people have become so good
at the game of chess...
   kasparov vs. deep blue...
         so smart: and yet no imagination.

besides... i had more important things to do
today than remember what i fell asleep with...

1. making the perfect sausage rolls...
the most pristine invention of the english
and how the french fumed when their puff
pastry was "degraded"...
never use meat from sausages...
always minced pork...
and instead of adding carrots...
celery... and who would have thought
that fennel seeds are the secret ingredient...

2. watching india get their *******'
whipped and their ***** put into
a meat grinder by the new zealand side
at the cricket world cup...
**** me the last 5 overs!

3. lamenting the state of cinema...
the pursuit of "being" via distraction
with the end goal of fulfilling "happiness"...
so much for "being" and so much for "happiness"...
take two prime examples...
it only took 8 years to spare all the details
that seperate them...
1958's the inn of the sixth happiness
starring ingrid bergman...
those movies! mmm hmm!
i would gladly take away all the current
heavy editing and metallurgy scaled
CGI for a classical western panoramic view...
no dialogue... just an expansive camera
distance where the characters are dwarfed
by the grander scheme of things:
even if it's just a valley or a field...
cinema dropped the paranoramic
   interlude, resorting for the clausto-****
of heavy editing with multiple cameras
switching backwards and forwards
like watching a game of tennis...
    actually: both genres degraded themselves
dropping the panoramic view at times...
less in sport, more in cinema...
but this is 1958... the 1950s! the glory days of cinema...
fast-forward to 1966... and the film:
ALFIE...
       what's the difference between a lothario
and a ****? a self-employed ******...
or some other weird combition of 'not-a-joke'...
wait a minute... why are the women
so ******* dumb come the mid-1960s in cinema...
while back in 1958: they were so admirable?!
ingrid bergman learned mandarin,
she was ambitious, she was stubborn...
she was bossy...
  come the 1960s we're talking about
    beings without either soul or will
simply orientated at being dumpster *** toys...
i don't even know where the men
did that to them...
           the women in 1950s cinema
gained respected... they were commanding...
or at least decisive in giving
the least expected virtue: generosity
and on top - a sense of fairness -
                             a merit pyramid...
1960s cinema women, "women" are nothing
more than sloppy teenagers...
these women are not women...
1960s cinema doesn't depict women...
it's starting to depict one direction:
  pissy-pants teen girls...
               ******* at the sight of harvey styles
sighing and ****...
        plus... back in the day:
cinema used to be... engaging...
ben-hur? how long? 5 hours?
  gone with the wind? how long? 7 hours?!
cinema like opera: 15 minute interludes,
toilet breaks before the next part went on...
now? a quckie 1.5 hours long CGI ***** fest
of minimal dialogue and the heavy editing
juxtapositions of "angles"...
       people don't watch modern cinema
because it's engaging...
they watch it... because it's... distracting...
pretty bright lights! ooh! aah!
i love the fact that i'm being snarky
           and sarcastic... what else can you be?!
   i don't even think is missed that much
when it comes to the sub-culture of drugs...
psychadellic or otherwise...
i ****** well missed on a decent amount
of cinema...
   and when that happens...
       look at me...
                            what's that phrase...
a bitter old man... aged 33...
bitter doesn't even cut it...
              it's not even a bitterness...
it's an elevated sense of nostalgia...
   for me nostalgia is something i was present
at when it started going to ****...
late 1990s... cartoon network, early internet...
etc.,
              1990s date night movie quality
requiring adults to employ babysitters...
i was there...
1950s cinema? yeah: i wish i was nostalgic
about that... but i wasn't there...
hence the technical observations...
and how, objectively: movies were...
oh god so much better.
Robin Carretti May 2018
No time for having

withdrawals_
All friendship
click
Lets 
 Click-bank it

Gratitude
so thanks

Just mail it
My mind
chocolate
clustered
Wounded
like a
bullet
_

Postcard
Like
E- Allen Poe
related

Polluted by
Naked Gun
My heart was
fully loaded

"My Psyche"

Glossinidae so
****** "Red"

Women Wartime
she knits

Wildflowers
in her bed
He was more
worried
about the
postcard

Split Banana
personality
Plain Monkey
***
Crazy on Sunday

Sundae's
on Fridays
Yes we have no
bananas
Postcards laid
T-L-C cared for
cabana

But Gina
Loco?
Crazy bridge
Lollobrigida
Postcards
Just
Like Lazy
Susans
Georgiana
Or Brianna
Bella Bella

Leaving notes
with few
good men
Nicholsons
Nicole with
her Kidman

Construction
hard paper
Snip here
Pulled into his
psyche
All cliche's
The fondue
French talk
face to face
Jack snapped
beanstalk

In front, words
fingered
Her words
of roue'
Catch up with
Ketchup
Pretty but Petty
petticoats
"Billy Goats"
Titanic ships
Beguiled
by
him

Cottage home
bacon bits
of
Salad postcards
from
Egypt
The holy land of
Mohammid
Dancing like an
Egyptian

Rumi
of all
Gods
in vain
Your so
vain I betcha
you think
the
postcards
about ya

"Psyche Monday"
Coming to grips
(Girl Friday)
versus
(Man Friday)
with his lips,

The Postcard
postpartum
depression
((What Moves))
on my hips
Strawberry
jam and
my biscuit
"His Girl Scout"
recruit
Being pursued
shortcake
So ironed
longed for

Postcards
floating
through
"Spa dream"

Highlighted
*
Crazy in love
hallucinating
being flirtatious

Oneself
But she doubted
therefore
My psyche
wanted more
(Danger=Hunger)
after you
Darling
Civil war
Loves don't finally
meet someone
They are in each other
all the time-----

Double crossed-Star

Trying to pass the bar

Fair lady or the
distinguished
Gentleman

"Aircraft"
Postcards came with
ownership
Bombs stay funds

So Psyche
The future
Be smart
"Smartphone"
Like a rope and
silvered computer
links
The chain- chain gang

The train blue-skying
Crazy skywriting
A strange device
(UFO) now BOO
requiem in a dream
Royal lips
A plus postcard
Deeply within
The hundred's
of lovers tongue
Going once but twice,
The Postman stamps
psychic
"Auction house
My postcard
Peanuts and
Charmed by Charlie
Brown
The Tarot elephant
pants
Double talk Parrot
Superbowl
the postcard
intellectual

"Hallucination Beware"
Strong accusation to
compare

An app "Activation"
Star Wars  may the force
be with you one and
only card
British fine tea guards

The love red tip
matches
The new
postcard
the
new black
Mary Mack
Stamped and
smacked
Smashbox eyes
like crazy lunatic

(Dora Explorer)
New Orleans
Nasty stickers
Richness of bourbon
Sweet Caroline
Graphic art turban
8 sides
of the moon

Such
consequences?

My hair
ponytailed
You mailed
words short
Styled pixieish

Dots.....crazy points

Oh! Gosh
The
Hoarder
of
postcards
Crazy Gorilla
Mozilla
"Queen of Sheba"
I rather walk my
Shiba Inu doggy

Miss baby jane shoes
French connection my
La Femme
Oh La La
Haha
Funnybone
I refuse to be
loved like
a postcard
Self-assurance
love is frozen
and stamina
Postcards back
in the future

((Wonder all drama))
Psyche ward she got
hammered
Stacks of postcard
Her wrist got cut
Cold cuts
Irish Spring soap
VIP Postcards RIP
Replacing her hip
Her crazy lips kissed
the postcard
her bodyguard
Those maneaters
and deadly hitters
Mega babes babysitters
To be so loved and read

Postcards speak to us
listen
Glisten
Crazy Bitch__ is in
The innie or outy
Paper towels Minny
Mouse
She cleans up
her postcards
When the postman rings
twice

Pass it on

Has it troubled you
papercut you
Was this postcard
meeting
your  card
expectation

All you?
Postcards are so nice when they get delivered but when they come to your mailbox that's another postcard. The postman becomes crazy twice so out of wack Psyched
jeffrey conyers Dec 2013
No regret, on the way I was raised.
Even if back in the day spanking was the thing.
It stopped me from trying to get my way.

My parents was firm.
My parents was stern.
And that discipline made me, who I am today.

Yes, I have no regrets to regret about my youth.
I did the usual stupid things that most kids still do today.

Except, we probably was more creative and imaginable then.
Especially when playing cowboys and Indians.
Just to hear one of your friends claim, they are Superman.
Which ruin everything.

Or tearing apart a good tricycle just to make your own go cart.
Or locating old doors to make your own tree house.

Computer games to us, was simply using your brain.
And having teachers really teach school skills to us.
Not giving you books and turning you on your own.
And not comprehending the subjects matter at hand.

In my youth, we mostly knew all the neighbors by name.
Even the mailman, as they  was called then.
Even the neighborhood assigned police officer.

We knew not to create disturbance at school.
This was one of the vital parent's golden rule.
Then many parents was friends of the teachers.
And all they had to do was called.

Just maybe, this is what's so similar today?
Some kids, with modern parents still don't get their way.
Yes, no regret I have.

Respect and manners was, what you're judged by?
It simply was a representation of your parents too.
Many knew this as the God living truth.

Who doesn't remember saying your prayers on your knees as night?
You was taught God plays a very priority in your life.
No regret, I have.

If they was living today.
I still select to be raise that way.
Friends would do the same thing too.
Our parents was much respected by our friends.

Even if many was free babysitters.
Mariya Timkovsky May 2012
The sun kissed the horizon
The plump Russian babysitters have
Strolled away with their strollers
Long ago.
But I watched her make dinner
On the bark stove she carved into her mind.
She set the table with her fanciest china,
Tonight was a special occasion
I presumed.
She placed a heaping plate of potatoes
On the flower-splattered tablecloth,
Made to match the grass growing
Underneath her feet.
I could almost see the steam rising
From a distance
As she scooped each golden yellow tater
One by one into each dish:
First, second, third.
How sweet,
She’s preparing for our family dinner.
It will be as likely as the willow branches,
Serving as her ceiling,
Will protect her from lightning.
It starts to pour
I start to leave
The horizon has swallowed the sun whole.
I want to run back and tell her
That the willow will not be the only one
Weeping
some day.
The branches will curl onto themselves
And the stove will rust with age
Until it can no longer be used.

I turn
Behind her still thin lenses she peers at me
With twinkling eyes;
Penetrating my already thick ones.
Her head is like a protrusion of the tree.
I want to go back and tell her
To run away with me
Far away from the willow.
But all I can manage is
A heavy yawn
Ready to swallow
The glowing beacon hanging by a thread
In the sky.
How time has flown by
And how I wish,
My little darling,
That my memory of you
Stopped haunting my dreams.

She wanted to tell me
The willow is not as ***** as it seems.
But I’m not meant to make such predictions.
With a regretful tear I turn away
And run up the hill
To what I thought was higher ground.
Maybe one day
She will greet the journey with a smile.
Rob Sandman Jun 2017
Trip Sitter Poem by Rob Sandman

We’ve all got a friend like this of course,
Istabraq, Seabiscuit the ould warhorse,
Snortin like a whale inhaling at the surface,
Smokes til just lookin’ at them makes your lungs hurt its-
Amazing grace while you’re off your face messed up,
They’re in the corner laughin' - not a hair mussed up,
Not out of place in the place to be,
The opposite in fact a life saver to see,
Always at your back with a friendly shoulder,
A spliff, skins smokes-well timed glass of water


Not immune or a ******- just seasoned,
When you’re lost-beyond all reason,
Lost the end of your sentence?-they’ve got it,
a well tuned part in the heart of the party chaotic,
The calm center of the whirlpool, Deadpool-
Quick with a line, not too cuttin’ but nobodies fool,
trip sitter, designated brain at the sesh,
A little OCD maybe, but  nonetheless,

We’re all thankful with a full tankful
Its gas havin' a laugh knowin' you can bank full-
Confidence in your mates if you trip,

But no mercy with the quips,  quick! zip your lips
If you’re not in full control of the tongue,
They’ll be followin’ the slips and zip down your lungs
You’re a wounded gazelle on the plains and they’ll lunge,
Like a cheetah once you’ve taken the plunge


I’m not talkin of only one person of course,
We all take turns as the tour de force-
goes round
Like a Merry go round sound friends abound
While you’re bewildered the wildebeest takes the crown,
Don’t know about you, but I’m blessed with a few true-
Trip sitters babysitters life fitters diametrically opposed to bullshitters


*Sideplitters with one liners that leave you gaspin’
For air beyond compare got the grasp and flavor
Best savour the moments-they’re all too few ,
Best friends are saviours  who help you pull through,
So lets all give thanks to the big hitters,
Thanks lads and lasses I’m always grateful for me trip sitters!
This is a poem for my Mates, we all have each others backs,
we've all been the "Calm at the Center of the Storm" for one another,
I hope you're all blessed in the same way,
Watch this Space for an E.C. Podcast featuring Music, Laughs, and (more than) Occasional over the top Language and abuse!
Bunhead17 Sep 2014
Cloud nine, Kendrick Lamar, uh
I take a sip of Hennessy and then get pissy drunk
I ain't a drinker, I'm a thinker, call it what you want
But if you turn your back, know that you just missed your chance
to witness the realest **** that's ever been told to man
I found myself losing focus at a Sunday service
Embarrassed so I started questioning God, what is my purpose?
He say to live the way he did, that's all he want from me
Spread the word and witness, he rose on the first Sunday
I said alright, enthused that my Lord gave a listen
I opened my bible and searched to be a better Christian
and this from a person that never believed in religion
But ****, my life is so ****** up man, I can't help but give in
I'm giving testimonies to strangers I never met
Hopped on the pulpit and told 'em how I was truly blessed
Felt like I'm free from all my sins when the service was over
Walked out the church, then got a call that my homie was murdered
and lost my faith again

[Chorus: BJ the Chicago Kid]
What am I gonna do? Gotta have faith
Life is too much, understood? Where is your faith?
Oh, faaaaaaaith...
All you need is the size of a mustard seed

[Kendrick Lamar]
Single black parent from Compton raising children of four
That's four innocent *******, cause papa they don't know
Her day consists of working back and forth with babysitters
Can't find no one to watch her kids so she pay her sister
Her baby daddy ain't bout ****, that ***** ain't bout ****
Spent his daughter milk just to cop a new outfit
She pray to God every night hoping that he'll mature
and maybe one day his kids, something that he'll live for
Baby wanna go back to school but she need some help
because it's hard tryna pay the bills when you're by yourself
She thought about credit card scams till she heard a voice
that said the Devil is a lie, make a better choice
And so it's back to McDonald's and every month dealing
with them crazy *** people at the county building
Looked to the heavens and asked 'em to make a better way
Then got a letter in the mail, lost her section 8
Then lost her faith again

[Chorus]

[Punch]
Kendrick, I appreciate the opportunity to vent my *****
This about how faith works, yeah, murk it...
I had dreams of holding a nine-milla to raise Killa
Ask him why as my eyes fill up
Each day it gets more realer, orangutans bang like gorillas
It's jungle when the ****** ensue
The rat's lurking, vulture's circling the serpents
Cats lying through they teeth, my ***** didn't deserve it
I flirted with the idea of caressing the steel
to make karma come faster than she normally will
It's ill, to see my faith try and leave me
It's so hard to get it, to get rid of it is easy
I'm tryna reach cloud nine, that's what my ****** bout
But it never rain in California 'less them pistols out
Until then, my feet planted on the ground
Shadowboxing my conscience till my faith start responding
And if I get no answer, just know I tried
I should have never looked into his son's eyes
Ray Charles voice

[Chorus]

[Kendrick Lamar]
This for my people that stressing whenever times is hard
Your mind's slipping, wondering is there really a God?
Knowing you shouldn't think that way and tryna freeze your brain
But whenever it's pain, that feeling forever remains
We can't believe what we can't see and reality seems stronger than prayer
cause you tried to change your life, and now you live in a wheelchair
And your son was born with cancer and he live in urgent care
at the tender age of twelve, and you feel that no one cares
Searching for answers, that's human nature, you ain't in the wrong
Just know, when you feeling that way his spirit's in the room
I watched people I know pray and catch the Holy Ghost
and wonder why I ain't never caught that feeling before
Maybe they know him better, or I don't know no better
But what I do know is that he's real and he lives forever
So the next time you feel like your world's about to end
I hope you studied because he's testing your faith again

I'd rather not live like there isn't a God
than die and find out there really is, think about it
By Kendrick Lamar
#its harder to get faith then it is to lose it
Tabitha Sullivan Sep 2013
You know that saying that everything happens for a reason?

What’s the reason….

I was born a beautiful daughter

Not knowing each day alive would be another struggle

Left at a babysitters longer than expected

Little tiny baby no longer protected

Bounced around from town to town

Biological parents no where to be found?

Sick with illness, shadowed by fear

Why is this poor child destined to be here?

Skip ahead a few years

Baby is now a toddler

Pat and Lisa are mother and father

Growing everyday

Her faith getting a little stronger

Don’t be fooled

Her past did scar her

She’ll find this out later

From toddler to teen

Slipping deeper into trouble

Pre-K all the way up through

Smart as hell

Yet, fall behind

Defiant, rebellious, stubborn

Outsiders say oh she’s a typical teen

They don’t know she’s out of control

So lost, no where to go

Ups and downs

Can’t believe the little she’s told

She won’t reach out for a hand to hold

What’s ahead?

Nobody knows

Teen to adult

Avoiding the cult

Will she make it?

What about her past

How will she take it?

Can she bury it fast?

Might the truth

Ultimately scar her?
CJ Sutherland Dec 2023
The Baby Boomer Generation
was between 1946–1964.
Currently today between
the ages of 57 and 75.
So that would make most
of us still alive and kicking

No, two people experience,
their generation the same.
It depends upon your age
going through the experience
Facilitates our gauge.

These is what I remember along my way.
Details, I leave out the baby boomers will know what I’m talking about.
One of 8 kids I’ve seen many layers
These recollections are from many players
This memory train stops ,Ends 1979

My generation as a child;
Buying our clothes from the
Sears and Roebuck catalog
Weekend chores morning till night
Sunday church, youth fellowship group
A treat to play baseball in the street
First set of wheels a Banana Bike
with high handlebars, Ten Speed bike
We road for miles but never lost our way.
Made and played with Paper, Airplanes,
Lincoln Logs, Click Clacks and Jack’s
We dug holes to make a Mini Golf Course

I sold fruit from our many trees For lunch
money cafeteria food 4 fruits NO sac lunch,
We were resourceful, earning our own way.

The boys had a Paper Rout
The girls Babysitters. I bought my clothes, by the age of 12 with babysitting money.
And happy to doit.!NO more sister’s things
The embarrassment of hand me downs

We covered our School Books with
Brown paper, trash bags, creative Kids used
comics from the newspaper cool!
We walk to school and back, never alone

We dial a rotary phone plugged in the wall.
Dial zero for operator to connect your call
Yellow page phonebook to find numbers.
chores and homework done, before fun!
Boys collected Baseball Cards MadeCrafts

Junior High; The quarterly Shop classes
Boys Only,
Auto Shop, Wood Shop,
Electronic Shop and Plastic Shop
The boys sold what they made
for a pretty penny(expensive price)$$

Drivers Ed
In the classroom and in the Car
The schools had four Cars;
4 kids and the Instructor

Home economics
Girls Only;
learn to Sew, A-line Skirt, Gym Bags
with Embroidered Names, one freestyle project. Anything from Turning jeans into a Jean skirts. Imagination creation,
Original design Homemade crafted gifts

Cooking Class had 7 mini Kitchens
Nutritional well-balanced meals, but my favorite Cake Baking tips and techniques.
We had a lemonade Stand in the summer
Sold Fresh lemons off your fruit trees.
Baked cookies, cupcakes, and cakes as well.

Every meal was made from scratch
Feeding 10 meant more than one batch.
We ate Dinner as a Family every night
Us kids, brothers and sisters were tight
We went to Drive-in, Movies in our PJs
We got our information from Encyclopedias
We waited for the Milkman, and the Helm’s 
Whistle Blow, Diaper Services at the door.
We listened toTransistor Radio on the floor.

My Generation as a Teenager
Bellbottoms and Crop Tops” peace signs”
mini skirts, go-go boots, moccasins beehive
Hair with Flowers everywhere
Bought my First Vinyl Record

Rationing Gasoline;, odd, and even days
By The last digit of your license plate
In 1993 and again in 1997. Gas Ran Out!

Changing the TV channel with the ****
First black and white TV followed by color
FineTune the antenna, rabbit ears for clarity.
We piled in the wood panel station wagon

A Phone Booth on every corner $.10 a call.
The simplicity of it all
Until The Moral pendulum Shifted Society
The shooting of John F. Kennedy
I knows where I was the day it happened
The shooting of Martin Luther King
These two Events shaped our Generation.

The Vietnam war, Kent State Univ. shooting
Our Generation Before
Cell Phones, CDs, ATM, machines, Internet, Pagers, Cassettes Tapes Eight Track tapes
in the car. The swear jar

We barter food, sold eggs Goods,& Serves
Wore Galoshes to school on muddy roads

My generation as an Adult
Neighbors Voted in our garage
Their loving façade was an allusion Mirage  
Never answer “Who did you Vote for”
Airing ***** laundry in public, not smart
VOTING couples screaming, fighting in the street taught me.NEVER talk about;
Religion and Politics. Two Deadly Battles
The price, too High, to lose, your happy life

Gypsies gave daisies At the Airport
Make Love Not War, Peace bohemian style
California rock ‘n’ roll bands in the city
And to the sand, Artistry in the air
Music flourished,Bands played everywhere

The Doors, Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd,
The Beatles, , Crosby, stills, Nash, Young
Simon and Garfunkel every day fair
Woodstock a whole other scene
To describe it, you had to be there

Drugs,;mushrooms, ***, psychedelics, acid
Roxy, & Rainbow Club where the weirdos went or Chinese tour buses,
filled with people dressed in 60s wear
Men wore a camera around their neck, Hawaiian shirt, black Horn rimmed glasses, Ladies poodle skirts with Peddicoats and white button down blouses and sweaters
in the 1979. I kid you not. strange people!
I wanted to ask what movie they saw that made them think this was California style?

Car Races on Van Nuys Blvd.
Parking with your boyfriend
Teen center held under 21 Dances.
The San Fernando Valley(Valley Girls)
Really said “for sure”. “Totally awesome” “whatever” “ not even” “ As If”

Orange Grove and walnut trees as far as the eye can see. The city Tarzana was named after Tarzan. South of the Boulevard 4 miles from Michael Jackson’s house. Modest home. Difference as night and day

Curiously, I never thought we were poor
We were rich in love, and that was more than enough. Help a friend in need
Because it’s the right thing to do.

people were people, Just getting along
Decent folks Kind and Caring,Sharing
God-fearing Christians, Moral Values
Live and let Live. The American Way
A trip down memory lane. Every 10 years your life change is 100% birth to age 10 is easy to say. Age 10 to age 20 you get the point. Each of those are new lives. I am in the second year of my sixth life.
Michaela Roach Aug 2011
But “where are you going? Daddy.”
The words repeating under her breathe…
Mommy called.

Babysitters coming,
She’ll bring a pizza, and play a game.

Grandma. “why is she here.”
Whispers are exchanged outside, little ears don’t need to hear such
Business

Grandma. Leaves.

Mommy doesn’t come home till,
Later than usual.

With grandma.

We gather around the table.
Something is to be said.


“wheres daddy?’
Agenda:
Item #1: Padres Presence.

Guys… papas… gone.

Tears, like the murderous blow to a jugular, flows from my eyes.

It was merely those words that brought forth her reaction.
Not the actually death. How are you supposed to respond… to that? Those words?

She was only 15, adults can take it with dignity, but she just a babe.

Faces, they just saw, her.
They just, couldn’t, wouldn’t, didn’t know how to act.

Item #2: profanity.
The cause of a life to pass on,
“please, why couldn’t it have been sickness, car crash, ******?

Just not that. Anything but
…please.

I awoke, in a tent, the fresh summer grass, its Wednesday.
Its also Wednesday, every drop of blood, only to cope with the hole in her childish heart
Endorphins they say: makes her heart beat.

…Now she hurts on the outside too.

Year later, as the heart beats, the pain is back, like an ol war wound.
The memories fade, the pain grows strong.

I hereby commit my life to saving those who struggle with depression, and helping the families of those who couldn’t get help.
I know how you feel, I love you.
Gwendolyn Jun 2014
My sister said I didn't raise myself
And maybe, in some ways I didn't.
But she doesn't understand
Just because we had babysitters
And that people were around
Doesn't mean that they raised me.

All my life I have been taking care of the people I love.
My friends
My family
Making sure if someone got hurt,
It was me.

My sister said that she grew up fast
But I grew up faster.
If I was to be loved then I had to be old,
I had to be an adult.

I'm not saying my life was always hell.
But if it was, then my family were demons
And I was the queen.

I protected my people
From a throne made of broken dreams
And a lost childhood.

The black on my soul will not
Wash off. But I was just protecting them.
I was their savior

**But they didn't know it
Mary McCray Apr 2019
(NaPoWriMo Challenge: April 11, 2019)

In New Mexico I started with reddish mud in the backyard
and water, making pies in the rain or  driving Matchbox cars
through the soft dirt tunnels in the front-yard planter.
Moving the elastic earth. It felt like work. It was work.

Then we moved to Missouri and other imaginations came into it:
menus handwritten on shiny black cardboard for cafe tables.
Our customers were only conceivably truck drivers.

We were en plein air writers on the hill between our houses.
Math and grammar workbooks were re-purposed
for playing student and teacher.
The plays and newscasts we choreographed over a full day.
We were talent and the crew with scripts and backdrops.

Even when we played at motherhood, we left our babies
without babysitters and left for work.

When we were pirates we had to build our tree houses.
When we were scholars we need to assemble piles of books.
When we swam we were swimming to dry land.

Practicing work. I still do it. I think I’m doing it right now.
Prompt: "write a poem of origin. Where are you from? Not just geographically, but emotionally, physically, spiritually?"  The example they used is Origin Stories by Safia Elhillo and I have literally written my own about New Mexico with a very similar opening sentence! Mine was “I came out of the clay” vs. “I was made out of clay.” But mine must have a self-imposed office spin so this is the origin of me as a worker-bee.
Whit Jan 2019
that crick in your neck when you're looking at books

sometimes violets pop up early

there is always chocolate

it's fun to get letters in the mail

things are going to be ok.

rainbows happen (or you can just draw some)

there are babysitters getting bored of peek-a-boo

drinking really cold water when you just finished exercising

again, chocolate

i know this looks like
nothing more than a list
but, it's a new year and
for some reason
in the middle of
silly traditions
we can get a little
booster of hope.

things are going to be ok.
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
David Hilburn Sep 2023
Hell, in a stare...
Which, need and prosper
Couldn't, find and kind, make merry?
A windy thought, for silence to serve...

A yawn in the times, to have altogether a clash
Sport of sigh's, exaction of a focused soul?
With memories, asking in an embarrassed fashion
To reach and never fail; the senses of old in their fold?

Waiting hours, that rescue a relenting since
Pretty bolts of wishes, that use wisdom as a friend
Secrets like these, are made for thumbs to lend...
A passing guidance to and from, a host oft shyness's, ends...

Total, are we a favored sincerity?
The fact we display, is a halt to seemingly, the toil...
Of everyday couth, we hope is a reason in the city
Where one patience above all, has meant us for a kept health...?

Running and playing, now
Tremendous sours and happier sweets, share futures...
Like a miracle to witness, the curiosity of ought and how about
Is yours forever, until a friend comes for it, a burden we have worthed?

With the lips of fortune, or the silence broken by dissuasion?
Time is a caring hour, such made, for ourselves...
Letting sunshine have the mercy, its supposed to be, stay...
A doubt to compare so with well, the voice that delves...
Satan appears, to have fallen by following you, too...
CJ Sutherland Mar 2018
Raised by my father
I was knee high to a grasshopper
My brothers and sister and I had
Many Nannies and Babysitters

When I turned sixteen
I applied for my drivers permit
The paperwork returned
Wrong date of birth

It had to be a mistake
Crazy right  everyone knows
their own birthdate

I Requested my birth certificate
Come to find out
My birthday is 13 days later
I felt lost in the shuffle

Forgotten hurt
Of course leave it to
One brother to call every year
On my fake birthday
Laughing
happy fake birthday


the irony I was my father’s favorite
Charmin Carmen
Well at least he calls right in a day when families drift apart
wordvango Sep 2017
called


******* three AM  

fast asleep I didn't answer

that is when the earth shook
the 747 crashed and two people
aboard survived
and the survivors  appeared on CNN thanking God

I was having a dream about
babysitters I think or
raw bare muffs
muffins getting stuffed
i forget

anyways
I appeared in my dream all staring
back inside me laughing
you are an imbecile
my me said coarse
harsh

I then awoke
I ain't gonna take **** from my **** self
tried to call me out
fight like a man
you imbecile

I had divided thoughts
I and me presumed
and doubts along a thin line
left or right
and in between

as fisticuffs met jaws and legs tangled up
noses bent but
most of the damage went to
knuckles aching again

that night
God's office
didn't call
I don't
know why
When does life get fair?
How long does it take to dare
To wake each day and take the chance
That today is the day, life will become the Dance

We're born into a chaotic world
To parents that know not what to do
They do thier best to raise us up right
But this world sure gives them a fight

We grow so fast, our parents can hardly keep up
First an infant, then a toddler,  soon a child, growth like a pup
We begin school, elementary to start
Twelve years go by like the beat of a heart
Teenage years start and pass as our parents continue to try
To catch the years that pass by them at the speed of light
Next thing you know, we Graduate from high school , move out, and start our own plight

Our parents watch us as we grow from infant to adult
And they marvel at the people we have become
Remembering the days we played horseyback on the floor
Next thing they know, we're out the door

We find that special someone, get married or not
Have children of our own, the cycle begins again on the spot
We remember what we've put our parents through, then
We're always on the phone asking for advise about when

Our children will follow the milestones we did
We depend on our parents as babysitters to our kids
They're our advise givers and our best friends and they forgive
Grandparents they become after a full life lived

Our children grow as fast as we did
We try so hard to keep them as a kid
Maybe, someday, Grandparents we will be, early or not
Only time will tell, time is what we got

Life as we know it has changed once again
The time has come for our parents time to end
We spend as much time as possible before the end of thiers
Knowing in our heart of hearts, They'll soon see those glorious stairs

They will rise from this chaotic world
Up to Heaven and join God's fold
Relief from pain and peacefulness awaits them on the other side
We watch them go, only along for the ride

Someday peace comes to us all
Family gone before us standing tall
Within the Pearly Gates we will be
Our Savior Lord Jesus Christ with thee
And someday walk hand in hand from this chaotic world
To the best place we could ever be

No more pain, no more grief, no more chaos, we are free
The Golden Gates of Heaven we see
We leave behind a precious few, Knowing that someday, they will be with us too
An Ode to lives lived. For my Mother.
Written by Julia L Carlson Vogel copyright ©️ Original creator
Jude kyrie Aug 2018
BIG DADDY

It was me I know it was.
I was too young
18 is a cruel age.
I like to say i was too vulnerable
but that's not true
It was stupid me for sure it was.

I was struggling financially at school
I was short of money
no scholarship no real job I just pizza delivery.
I needed that education to build my future up.
The Boston Fertility Clinic was high end expensive.
All I had to do was
Bash the bishop
Wressle the snake
And aim into a cup
I got fifty dollars every time.
Hell I was doing that anyway
five times a day for free .

What I did not know
Was that the ***** was toxic
highly mobile the doctor said.
If one landed on a ***** hair
it climbed up and found an egg.
You were pregnant honey.

And what I really did not know
Was the doctor at the clinic
impregnated over 200 women
With my *******.

That was twenty five years ago
I am in my forties now working as a computer analyst
Dating a lovely nice police woman
that told me yesterday she was pregnant
I was taken aback
I did not like or want kids

But then the lawyer appeared
There's always a lawyer isn't there though.
What's the difference between a lawyer and a carp.
Ones a **** ******* bottom feeder
the other is a fish.

She said the clinic I donated my ****** fluids to.
Was being sued by a group of people who wanted to know
Who their biological father was.
There were over 130 signatures on this claim they said the clinic used a pseudonym called big daddy and would not release  the actual name of me.
But the thick legal claim had the details of a hundred and thirty one of my offspring.
I thought I was more guilty of carrying a concealed weapon.

She elaborated,
  my ***** was so high performance
they Used it again and again with great results.

! got a lawyer to protect my interest.
She said don't contact anyone on the list profiles.
But I did.
The first was a young  lady of 19
She was pretty and feisty but out of work and had taken an overdose of drugs I found her at the hospital. And sat in a chair next to her ?she looked so frail and lost. It touched me I needed her to be ok. I held her hand as she lay sleeping that's when the bonding thing happened,
I stayed with her until she regained consciousness.
Who are you she said, I could not lie to her.
I am your biological father honey I whispered.
She looked at me with tears in her eyes.
I kissed her forehead
and said it's all going to be alright
you have me now.
It was a dumb thing to say
but somehow I felt it to be true.

The next one on the list was a young man of twenty.
Very very handsome and very gay.
He was walking hand in hand with his boyfriend
they stopped under a flowering blossom tree
and held each other closely.
He noticed. Me watching them and turned to me.
Kind of angry .whatsapp
  never seen a gay man before
or are you coming out of the closet.
I said no son not that
I am your biological father.
He stopped and then walked to me
touching my cheek like I was not real.
Then without hesitation he hugged me
and I hugged him back.

Then there was Olivia,
*** Olivia
She was only 10
apparently they freeze *****.
I found her in the orphanage,
she had been there for seven years.
The old nun grabbed my arm
when I asked to speak with her.

She told me her sad little story
there was a car crash involving a drunk driver
isn't that always the case.
Her parents were killed
and Olivia lost both of her legs
just below the thigh.

I noticed all the children looking at me
with sad pick me take me home looks in their eyes.
Then I found Olivia
she was so beautiful sat in her wheelchair.
My heart hurt
I wanted to do something
I did not know what but I had to do something.

She asked sweetly are you my daddy?
I nodded holding back a tear
and an irresistible urge
to pick her up in my arms.

I knew you would find me one day
she whispered
I just knew.

That's when

I got a letter from the lawyer she said the children that I had met had organised a meeting at the local cinema for all my children
That  I had sired
on the list of those who wished to meet me.
She advised me not to go
but I did.

I sat at the back no one noticed me
as this room full of about 120 young people
discussed their lives
and the reasons they wanted to find me.
Some good some bad.

There was a common thread
in their stories
of feeling isolated or alone.
Perhaps different from the rest of the herd.

I went to the front of the theatre
and introduced myself.
I am your biological father
all of you
every single one of you.

I want to say you all speak
of isolation and being alone.
Well you are not.
And never will be alone.
You are members of the biggest family on earth.
You and the ones
that have not yet joined your group.
Look next to you
at the beautiful woman or man
they are your brothers and sisters
you are all one family.

The room went silent
then they applauded
and started hugging each other
talking differently with each other
irrevocable bonds
of the family unit from time itself
was with us all.
Sure a rainbow family
but that's not unusual
in this digital world we live in, is it?

That's when the wheels fell off
And I fell down the mountain.

Unfortunately
we were not the only ones there
the newspapers
if you can call the filthy tabloid newspapers
had a field day,

I was the nine day wonder they crave
it was relentless my face on tv and.
The newspress.
I became the **** of all the jokes
On night time tv monologues.

Like

I did not know jerking off was a job.
And
He's representing America
in the olympic ******* freestyle event.
He came in 1st 3rd 9th and 12th in the trials.

He's making money hand over fist.
He works his fingers to the bone
it was endless.

I lost my job
the paparazzi hounded me at work.
But what hurt me most of all
Was losing my beautiful pregnant police lady.
She was disgusted
that I had fathered all these children
The guys at the precinct laughing at her all day.
She forbade me to see her.

I ****** the lemon
and tried to move on with my life?
I had Olive stay with me every weekend.
And she was visited by some of her blood relatives
Who took her out and to the mall.

Four months later
I got a call from the hospital
My police lady was in labor
I rushed to the hospital
and stayed with her as our son was born.
She said you are still an *******.
I hung my head.

Then as we looked into the doorway
of the small wardroom.
We saw a huge crowd of young people
over a hundred of them.

they had soft bears and baby stuff
leaving it in a huge heap.
Who are these people?
she asked me.

I Said they are my children
and our sons brothers and sisters
They love him
and want to welcome him into our family.

They pushed olive
into the front to see the Baby.
She smiled at him
and kissed his tiny head.

She said I am your big sister,olive.
and I will take care of you.
My police lady put her arms around me.
And said welcome home big daddy.

Epilogue
We married just before Christmas
and the adoption papers were cleared
as olive became my real daughter
not just my biological daughter.

The fertility clinic paid my lawyers
$500000 Settlement
against any action for damages
by me for overusing my *****.

It did not end there
The newspapers and tv
showed the adoption of olive
and a hospital in minneapolis
donated the latest robotic legs for olive
who now walks and wears jeans and skirts.

And I have constant
connection with my children.
And best of all
we have an endless
supply of free babysitters.
I like this one
jude
PEARL SMOKE Jun 2018
Yes
She’s okay.
Everyone sit down now !
She’s Fine Now.
Put your mind at ease & Stress no longer.
She’s Good on her own .
Everyone can stop looking after her now (:
No more babysitters are needed.
No more extra Attention
Etcetcetc

Everyone live Normal life’s now !
She’s got it together, She’s Ok
del Feb 2018
long since have we left behind
peaceful naivete and tight pigtails
gradually adjusting to a harsher world
progressively preparing us for
what they call real
and what we call hell
where did our quiet trusting go?
was it left behind with the
colors of our happiness?
did it leave when our hearts got broken
or when we began to love for the first time?
i miss our understanding of life
constant curiosity and wonder
when we looked at the world and it gave us knowledge
now we look at the world and it gives us debt
with the turning of every year
new children are indoctrinated
screens used as babysitters instead of books
learning how to spell youtube on an ipad
before learning how to say "mama"
dont mistake this poem for a condemnation on electronics
rather, a condemnation on parents
unused to any method other than the age of technology
they slowly grow more attached to their computers rather than their parents
for the computers took better care of them
than the people who gave them life

— The End —