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Robin Carretti Feb 2019
Oh! Heaven no back path
         To Hell*
Those down days bills
No Jack and Jill 
Up for love of Venus  
Going down memory lane
Here's to our future
       Arthritis

The love walk special
treatment  
Guilt with love
resentment staying
resilient
Washed up Queen
  Parliament

  OH! hey  RIP_to VIP

Who named my plot
Calling all girls last shot

Is anyone  *Up For Love*
lovesick from your Ex
Or the *Fed Ex* trucks
A big kick in the pants
   
"Backing Up" words
We cannot hold
them forever
__
They swing like Tarzan
Good posture "Mighty Jane
Yes we have" Bananas  
Where to elope

Getting licked through the envelope


Watch your back
Engraved love
impression
Love is healing
Do you want to know
a secret confession
Backing up Love Gods  

 *Strawberries eye patch  
   Stay loyal that's a match"
 Not getting your money back
 I'll be back but he's not
    coming back
     I'll back your
     Wedding steps


  "I Cloud" backup
just ******* 
* Recovery file back up
Slingback Stress-free
Wearing  low back
The camel-back coffee cup
Android never avoid callback
*

I wish I was back
Pat on the back praise
Top notch raise
Tree grows* in* Brooklyn*
How can I back the world up
On a tablet Duracell
Goes on and on message

Can be a bad habit?

Somewhere over the
    "Rainbow Hobbit"
Being a servant a butler
Your personal trainer
True lover four leaf clover
Or writers block
*Is love always by the clock
We all need a back up plan life can be sweet counting all the hearts love can be the biggest performance  love is fierce like a truce throw of dice backing up love we all need the right advice
he drank wine all night of the
28th, and he kept thinking of her:
the way she walked and talked and loved
the way she told him things that seemed true
but were not, and he knew the color of each
of her dresses
and her shoes-he knew the stock and curve of
each heel
as well as the leg shaped by it.

and she was out again and whe he came home,and
she'd come back with that special stink again,
and she did
she came in at 3 a.m in the morning
filthy like a dung eating swine
and
he took out a butchers knife
and she screamed
backing into the roominghouse wall
still pretty somehow
in spite of love's reek
and he finished the glass of wine.

that yellow dress
his favorite
and she screamed again.

and he took up the knife
and unhooked his belt
and tore away the cloth before her
and cut off his *****.

and carried them in his hands
like apricots
and flushed them down the
toilet bowl
and she kept screaming
as the room became red

GOD O GOD!
WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?

and he sat there holding 3 towels
between his legs
no caring now wether she lft or
stayed
wore yellow or green or
anything at all.

and one hand holding and one hand
lifting he poured
another wine
Tommy Randell Nov 2014
The music was spilling out of us
The Guinness was going in
Terry’s octave mandolin
Was riding out in front of him

Like a boat tethered in a tidal surge
Like a young colt backing off the rein
And for each unexamined wreck of a song
He’d let out a little more sail

We were flying

Upstairs in The Taffes Inn
Was an oven of chords
Songs about the famine and
Ireland’s tragedy of wars

And I answered
With an ash-pit tongue of a poem
Showing our Yorkshire wounds
Made by London’s bonds

We were crying

Telling of Fishing, mining and grief
That having no say was having no meat
Coming stumbling and shaking to our common regard
To a Dublin breakfast, a mixed grill of the heart

Where we agreed to our passions
And our histories’ concepts
Where we sat and said nothing when saying nothing was best
That one sausage alone is a very deep subject

We were frying.
One sausage etc is a quote from Ciaran Carson's book on Irish Music and culture 'Last Night's Fun' - A must must read!
Waverly Mar 2012
It's better to back
into you
with all the lights on.

The headlights
swerving
like
doves.

The taillights making devil's eyes.

The **** in the ashtray
and
its
ruby.

It's better to pull into the driveway
while your husband
is
asleep.

He doesn't get up to take
a ****
in the night.

It's better to back into your guest bedroom,
with my back turned,
the boogie man in the closet is a
****** psychologist,
and may just spoil it
if we go looking for him.

It's better to back into the bed,
because I can drink the coffee
in your eyes.

You can sober yourself
over mine
if you want to.

It's better
not to back into
saying goodbye.

It's better to dismantle the brakes
and **** ourselves
over it,
than this constant reversing.

So,
over a slow goodbye
you grind your teeth
because you are no yellow light.

I would like to think
you have thick skin,
but you wear a perfume
like burning rubber,
and I know the backing in
is not your speed.

It's not mine.
Mateuš Conrad May 2016
and Cinderella danced to the music box seduction & pursuit song from the Hellraiser soundtrack.

no one really speaks about the aesthetic element
of darwinism, this strange godforsaken
we-ain't-got-no-fur-but-Chernobyl-happened
conundru­m d'uh... people never care for
aesthetic darwinism, as long as you appear
able bodied: you might as well be a romanian
donkey on a building site with the anglos
trying to save money on crane hire...
oh yes, the respectable english dudes
that got me reading *hazlitt
- i'm backing
Britex! and you know why? i'd love to see
Brits on a building site! i really would!
i'd love to see them sweat like cow dung
on a donkey's head... rear those ******* in!
modern Britain was built on the sweat of
eastern Europe... exit! send the Romanians home!
bring in the Salvation State Civilians to sweat
it out! oh... but they won't! they won't!
hardly a crown among a 1000 men and they're
all second class colonising ******* colonising
their home turf! romanians are donkeys!
that's what they say, takes two to shift a tonne or
two of stones while saving on using a crane!
where's an Impaler when you need one?
the richest country in Europe making cutbacks,
what a paradoxical crescendo! you'd think
they'd be better at athletic sports having saved up
on construction work muscle... but no... oh no...
they're ******* anaemic in both departments!
shrivelling muscle athletes.
VOTE BRITEX! VOTE BRITEX! SEND BRITS
TO CONSTRUCTION SITES LIKE
****** SENDING JEWS TO THE GAS CHAMBERS!
VOTE BRITEX! VOTE BRITEX! I WANT TO SEE
THESE ******* SWEAT.
pk tunuri Apr 2018
If someone, you trusted the most betrays you.
People blame you for trusting him "Blindly"
and also quote "Trust No One".

But have you ever seen anyone pointing their fingers
at the person who betrayed you, looking him in the eye
and asked him why would he do that to you
or how dare he betray you or anyone?

No! right?
I feel, the people, the society encourages this betrayal and the betrayers.
If anything such happens around you,
stop giving free pieces of advice and
stop backing him(the betrayer) up.
You better warn the betrayer not to betray anyone
and also quote "BETRAY NO ONE"

What kinda foolish statement is "Trust no one"?
How can you not trust anyone?
So everything you do is just drama!
Acting like you trust him/her,
that's where these betrayers come from.
They are you, who sit silently when betrayal happens
You got to trust! Nothing works without trust!
Why is it, not trusting anyone even an option?
Let's say let's "BETRAY NO ONE"
Amy I Hughes Oct 2012
I knew it'd happen.
A dead Ladybug over our heads.
But we drank.
Beer,
Champagne,
Sun.
We painted our nails
Black, red, ladybug's dead

Out we went,
In our finest.
One drink down,
New town.
Sticky floors, sticky web, the Ladybug hung dead.

I say something,
to you.
I know it's going to happen.
You fume.

Tick, tick, tick...

You start to shout.
Cigarette.
Here we go.
I'm not backing down on this,
I'm trying to help!

Help me, help me, set me free, let me live, ladybugs free!

*****

I bite my lip

SNOTTY

I breathe

LIAR

I blow

Tears spill on your face,
My truth comes out,
You pushed me!

Poke, Poke, Push!

Poke, Poke, Push!

We hurt each other.
Over nothing.
Over something you don't like?
What is it?
I give up.

Taxi for one,
Taxi for two.
My head is heavy,
Eyes weak.
I'll be the bad guy.
You'll cry to them,
and lie, lie, lie!
Fly, fly, fly far away. Ladybugs aren't here to stay.
L B Nov 2017
Did I touch you as I left?
That night of beer and music
Almost tipsy,
laughing good-byes

Backing into blindly
I felt an arm... a moment
guide me
before I all but fall
against you
Knew that warmth
of mass was male

You exhale
I sense your being--
behind
Amused
By accidental intimacy
I come unglued
By your flirtatious
catch of eyes
in lowered light
By faint fragrance
of whatever it is
you've drunk or used
to put yourself together

Turning
guarded
Apologize
glancing down


Women always look, though
however briefly
Anyone ever been to this pub?  :D
Celeste DiLullo Sep 2012
5 minutes.
I sit on the water. The water’s surface is calm and quiet.
While the strokes continue, I look at the person sitting in front of me.
I can only see their back, but I’ve become used to it.

4 minutes.
The coxswain is calling starts.
There’s only a few minutes left, but I cannot keep time.
Everything’s happening so fast.

3 minutes.
The judges call for the boats to line up.
Gracefully, we glide across the water.
Smooth and kept.
Our balance leans the boat port-side, but it is soon restored thorough the echoing voice of our coxswain.

2 minutes.
We’re in our lane. I now take in the presence of the other boats.
They look fierce and prepared, then I look back into our boat.
We need to stand just as strong.
We are strong, if not stronger.
I remember that, because there’s no backing down.
I will not show fear.

1 minute.
Coxswain tells us to sit at three-quarters slide.
The point is adjusted and voices become silent.
I am reminded of every day I worked at practice.
Down to the last hour.
Down to the last minute.
My concentration becomes keener.
I take my final reassuring breaths.
I am fearless.
I am strong.
I am a rower.

0 minutes.
“All boats, ready.”
I dip my oar in a bit deeper. The silence is almost frightening.
My nerves are on a thin thread.
I breathe deeply. There’s no turning back.
“Go!”
“Three-quarters, half, three-quarters, full, full.”
“Power 10! Let’s do this! That’s 10! 9!”
Only three sounds can be heard.
The placement and swing of our blades against the boat.
The coxswain’s encouragement.
My ragged breaths.

I don’t dare look away.
“Keep the pressure, girls! We can beat Oakland! They’re a boat-length ahead! Bring me up to their 8 seat!”
I disregard the alarms going off in my body.
I exert all of my energy. I’m feeling lighter.
“We’re gaining on them! Get me to their 7 seat!”
Time is nothing to me.
I cannot think, only do.
My sole thought is my technique.

“Ladies, we’re walking them! Bring me to their 3 seat!”
I don’t doubt my coxswain’s words, but I am tempted to look to the side.
Our boat leans starboard for a stroke, but jolts back in balance with the next stroke.
My body begs for a rest, even a let-up.
But that’s exactly what the other teams want.
A chance.
A single chance to dominate us.
But I won’t give in.
Not now, not ever.
“We are even with Oakland! We’re in the last 500, girls! Don’t let them catch up!”

The last 500…?
But we have gone so far.
I won’t give up!
“Ladies, power 10 in 2! That’s 1! 2! That’s 10! 9!”
This is the last chance…to show them everything.
My will.
My strength.
My resolution.
The time is now!

Suddenly, added adrenaline runs through my body.
My breaths become more ragged and I feel a bit high.
I don’t let up.
The horn goes off, signaling our finish.
I lose the will to move.
Our coxswain tells us to paddle, but relearning how to breathe seemed more important to me.
Regardless of the silent screams of pain in my body, I obey my coxswain’s order.
We wane off after a while and once all boats cross the finish, we congratulate the other clubs.
I’m becoming tired; my body is crying, but we’ve succeeded.

Everyone worked hard.
We shared everything.
Endurance.
Hardship.
Strength.
Courage.
Friendship.
C­onfidence.
And there’s only one way to show how strong we really are.

We row.
And that’s all there is to it.
Coxswain: The boss of a row boat
Starts: A warm-up exercise for rowers to begin a race correctly

I wrote this poem when I was in the Los Gatos Rowing Club. This is poem was my farewell speech as I graduated.
Mikey Barnes Oct 2018
i have decided i no longer want my jacket back.
the one with no sleeves and the handmade back patch
that i liked to wear over hoodies -
you can keep it.

not that i don't miss my jacket,
because i do.
the louis theroux patch with iron-on backing...
the only somewhat ironic high school musical pin...
the hand-stitched ***** division pink triangle...
it was a ******* cool jacket.
but i no longer want it back.

when i left my jacket hanging on your wardrobe door
we both thought i'd see you soon,
but that was last june
and november's creeping round.
you're a college kid now.
your family packed up and left,
and i guess i'm fine with that
because i no longer want my jacket back.

i will no longer send you passive-agressive messages on facebook, kik, or whatsapp
asking for my jacket back.
when my friends offer to send you vaguely threatening emojis
conveying that they may or may not be willing to throw hands for my jacket,
i will say no.

sometimes i fantasise about what might have happened to my jacket.
i imagine your mother, pragmatic as always,
throwing away every trace of me remaining post-break up.
i picture you in a fit of rage
hacking my hard work to pieces.
i doubt that you took it to new york with you,
but somehow that's the scenario i like the least.

sometimes i think how if i had never met you
i would now own 25% more jackets.
but,
had i never met you,
i would also own 30% fewer pyjama shirts,
several less ****** hang-ups,
and 2 fewer stamps in my passport.

what i'm saying is
no matter what you did with it,
i forgive you
for not mailing it when you promised to.
and i forgive me
for leaving it in the first place.
i no longer want my jacket back,
because it probably wouldn't be the same anyway.
i have been moaning about my ex not returning my jacket to me for over a year now. i guess writing a poem means i'm finally over it?
The critical reviews are in.  It looks as though Socialist Heroes will not become a Broadway play.  The following comments concerning the desirability of socialism were gleaned from the Facebook page of the National Liberty Federation.  Group members indicate a resounding thumbs down on the idea of socialism.  

Popular comments from the Facebook group include:
Kool aid drinking
Semper Fi
Following Gunny to Hell and Back
Lots of Good Gunnys out there
Obama’s socialism must be stopped
I’d rather die than live under communism
Join the Infidel Brotherhood
Ted Cruz, just love that guy
Stock Up on Guns and Bullets
Greece invented democracy and they haven't used it for years
Jesus is coming to destroy the Anti-Christ
there are a lot of ******* out there posing as americans

The passionate posts and learned comments from the Facebook group members of the The National Liberty Federation follow in all its grammatical and misspelled glory.  All comments from the public group are posted verbatim….

(Editorial Note: The link to the Infidel Brotherhood was redacted.  The Editor wants no role in promoting neo-fascist vitriol. )

Thanks!


National Liberty Federation
Like This Page · 11 hours ago
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4,560 people like this.
2,627 shares

Eddie *******Where's MY koolaid!
Like · Reply · 9 hours ago

Charles Noftsker Semper Fi!!!!!!!!!
Like · Reply · 175 · 11 hours ago via mobile

Justin P. Emery Semper Fi, my Brother
Like · 13 · 11 hours ago

National Liberty Federation Semper Fi!!! 0311 here
Like · 9 · 11 hours ago

Justin P. Emery 3521 listed... but did whatever the hell my Gunny told me to do lol
Like · 5 · 10 hours ago

National Liberty Federation there are a lot of good gunny's out there.
Like · 2 · 10 hours ago

Justin P. Emery Yeah... Gunny's you'll follow through Hell and back
Like · 2 · 10 hours ago

Kathy Stephens Grant We have our future generations to think about!
Like · Reply · 172 · 11 hours ago
7 Replies · about an hour ago

Clint ****** I am on the right side which is I am an American and I do not want obamas socialism
Like · Reply · 11 · 11 hours ago

Joyce Tidwell Burns Backing Americans into a corner is never a good idea. Bad thing is both sides are ready and if this crap starts its gonna be very very bad...
Like · Reply · 9 · 11 hours ago via mobile

Jim Blackwell I may be getting to old to fight but I still shoot straight. Just set me on a bucket behind a bush on a hill and I will just pick them off one at a time until I get all of them or they get me. I would rather die free than to live under communism.
Like · Reply · 14 · 10 hours ago

William Slingo I"m with ya Jim. I'm too old and crippled to be a soldier but I never planned on dying alone if ya know what I mean........
Like · 1 · 8 hours ago

Susannah Fedders I'm 60yr.old female with 4 Grand Son's I'm ready to do what is necessary to take our country back,for my Grandchildren.
Like · Reply · 10 · 11 hours ago

Robert Haller To coin a phrase, I regret I only have one life to give to my country. I will give all that I have and until my last breath to defend this country. Semper Fi.
Like · Reply · 4 · 10 hours ago · Edited

Michael Knorr even some civilians will fight that!
Like · Reply · 3 · 11 hours ago

Adam Capi This generation of young voters and first time voters Proves americans are Plain Stupid
Like · Reply · 4 · 11 hours ago

Andrea Gardner Ahhhhhh....Social Security? How about we get past the labels and just do what's right for the people instead of the rich Plutocrats who have managed to take over our Government. Our Politicians are nothing more than prostitutes sold to the highest bidder.
Like · Reply · 7 · 5 hours ago via mobile

Alice Shinn I may be old, 67 years young. I am disgusted with our country. I know that I am not alone. My friends and family cannot believe what our congress has let laws pass, that are not equal under the law..
Like · Reply · 2 · 9 hours ago

Savi Braun Then get it back!!!
Like · Reply · 2 · 11 hours ago

Leslee C. Carles you can help too!
Like · 10 hours ago

Diana McGowan Nelson I totally cannot understand how many people don't see what this man in doing. By the time they open their eyes, it will probably be too late.
Like · Reply · 2 · 7 hours ago

Brian Chaline Please help us reach 900 likes.
(link to Infidel Brotherhood redacted)
Thanks!

The Infidel Brotherhood
The Infidel Brotherhood is a group established to promote education,warning andunderstanding of the danger involved in the spread of Islam. The twisted Sharia Laws and Ideologies that Muslims are using against Non-Muslims, women and childern.
Community: 921 like this
Like · Reply · 3 · 9 hours ago via mobile

Dale Rumley I am gonna fight till death for it. I with Jim Blackwell. The longer the shot the better!!!!
Like · Reply · 3 · 10 hours ago via mobile

Bettie Stanley Amen
Like · Reply · 2 · 10 hours ago

Nancy Jacobson I am with you .
Like · Reply · 2 · 11 hours ago

Marino Fernandez I wish this was true, pray that America wakes up to reality, and the mistakes it has made in the last two elections.
Like · Reply · 1 · 50 minutes ago

Jule Spohn Semper Fi!!! Jule Spohn - Sgt- USMC - 1960/66
Like · Reply · 1 · 9 hours ago

Savi Braun Everyone needs to help get our country back
Like · Reply · 1 · 10 hours ago via mobile

La Fern Landtroop Praying that God helps America !
Like · Reply · 1 · 3 hours ago via mobile

Terri Britt Smith Read Senator Ted Cruz last post.... gotta love that guy!!
Like · Reply · 1 · 5 hours ago

FJay Harrell Yes it will. The Boomers will not give up their party.
Like · Reply · 2 · 8 hours ago

Vanessa Mason Be careful in Obama Care they come after your children because of your military training, read up on it, it starts with home visits. I salute all military, and Thank you too.
Like · Reply · 1 · 10 hours ago

Lois F. Neway Semper Fi ......We have our future generations to think about!
Like · Reply · 1 · 10 hours ago

Joe Riggio Nor will mine....Semper Fi!!!
Like · Reply · 1 · 11 hours ago

Michael Coulter oorah!!!
Like · Reply · 2 · 11 hours ago

Joyce Ballard I pray this is right.
Like · Reply · 2 · 11 hours ago

Billy Wells I pray that you are right!!
Like · Reply · 10 hours ago

Carmita Depasquale Semper Fi, indeed and thank you for ALL that you do..God bless and God speed!
Like · Reply · about an hour ago

Rose M D'Amico I pray not....the young ones must be strong & we seniors will help when we can!
Like · Reply · 2 hours ago

Nathan Gartee I stand beside my fellow americans to FIGHT for FREEDOM !!!
Like · Reply · 10 hours ago

Thomas P Zambelli oh hell no!
Like · Reply · 3 hours ago

Marvin Moe Mosley Let's hope they stand up and be counted
Like · Reply · 3 hours ago

Bill Yeater gonna be a near thing
Like · Reply · 11 minutes ago

Dante Antiporda Obama's socialism will never happen in the US, if only its citizen will use their PEOPLE POWER a mass action together without FEAR and gun fired and NO BULLET hurt anyone.
Like · Reply · 34 minutes ago

Diane Stevens Abernathy Too late.
Like · Reply · 44 minutes ago

Chuck N Marv Pelfrey AMEN!! AGREE!!
Like · Reply · 2 hours ago

Jane Garrett Amen
Like · Reply · 3 hours ago

Sandy Thorne You got that right.
Like · Reply · 5 hours ago

Jane Hanson GOOD FOR YOU.
Like · Reply · 10 hours ago

Buck Wheat **** near already there
Like · Reply · 3 · 11 hours ago

Carol Lowell Already happening,
Like · Reply · 14 minutes ago

Ellen Aaron I surely hope not, but it's not looking good, right now...
Like · Reply · 16 minutes ago

Timothy Tremblay It would be a cold day in hell
Like · Reply · 18 minutes ago

Peter Krause Not without a major fight...
Like · Reply · 25 minutes ago

Mike Beakley You are a stupid person.
Like · Reply · 2 hours ago via mobile

Anibal Gonzalez Jr. I hope. And trust.
Like · Reply · 1 · 2 hours ago

George P Palmer Well son you better get off your *** cause I am one of last of the grate generation..
Like · Reply · 2 hours ago

Steven Canzonetta I don't think you people know what socialism is, take a civics class. Not mention democracy has been around for thousands of years, and the country that invented it (Greece) hasn't used it in century's. Shouldn't that tell you something?!
Like · Reply · 1 · 3 hours ago via mobile

Kenneth Chartrand we sure hope but there are a lot of ******* out there posing as americans
Like · Reply · 3 hours ago

Ann Morse unfortunately, we already have...
Like · Reply · 3 hours ago

Robert Dixon Aim High and I agree with you

Steven Canzonetta I don't think you people know what socialism is, take a civics class. Not mention democracy has been around for thousands of years, and the country that invented it (Greece) hasn't used it in century's. Shouldn't that tell you something?!
Like · Reply · 1 · 3 hours ago via mobile

Kenneth Chartrand we sure hope but there are a lot of ******* out there posing as americans
Like · Reply · 3 hours ago

Ann Morse unfortunately, we already have...
Like · Reply · 3 hours ago

Robert Dixon Aim High and I agree with you
Like · Reply · 3 hours ago

Deb Siener I wish but think it is already too late to take our country back
Like · Reply · 4 hours ago

Code Jah Capitalism, socialism, fascism and all the other ism's have all failed. They're all corrupt and unequal. No sense using any of that crap anymore, its a round world with unlimited potential. Why not start something new that works well for everyone not just a handful of industrialist pigs?
Like · Reply · 1 · 7 hours ago

Marco Moore are future
Like · Reply · 7 hours ago

Lydia Perez-Cruz If we don't want this, Everyone better Wake Up and put a Stop to it!!!!
Like · Reply · 9 hours ago

Terry Maeker Thank you!!
Like · Reply · 9 hours ago via mobile

Gayle Wright I AGREE
Like · Reply · 9 hours ago

Glen Dauphin Too late! All we can do is take it back now.
Like · Reply · 1 · 11 hours ago via mobile

Ruth E. Brown It's never too late. We stood by and allowed this to happen, so it's up to us to fix it.
Like · Reply · 1 · 5 hours ago via mobile

Michael Therrien Socialism? Really you folks need a dictionary. Socialism is not the same as Communism. Socialism is not the same as Fascism. Most democracies in the world operate under the banner of socialism. So stop getting your patriotism mixed up with fighting socialism. It has NOTHING TO DO WITH IT. And you gunners yeah... Your JOB IS DEFEND THE PRESIDENT not the politics. How is that going?
Like · Reply · 1 · 5 hours ago · Edited

Kathy Williams What are you going to do to keep obama from turning this country into SOCIALISM ?? We and congress just sit on our hands and expect God to do the work ????
Like · Reply · 1 · 53 minutes ago

Nancy Anderson Makes me glad I don't have kids.
Like · Reply · 1 · 11 hours ago · Edited

RoyLee Clouse Jr. AMEN!
Like · Reply · 4 minutes ago

Cherrie Fields Collins United we stand!
Like · Reply · 5 minutes ago

Pamela Lowry we need to fight
Like · Reply · 15 minutes ago

Jorge Alvarado I challenge you all to write your representatives, and demand change. Make a promise, if you see no change to vote out those representatives. When you are finished writing, go out to the corner of your street and hold up signs, advising others to do the same. Change starts while on your feet!!!
Like · Reply · 44 minutes ago via mobile

Humberto Gonzalez never
Like · Reply · 45 minutes ago

Robert Wilkins You elected a Socialist loser as president, twice! So yes, you are the generation whose stupidity and intellectual sloth let America fall to a bunch of two-bit dictators. Hope you're all proud of yourselves.
Like · Reply · about an hour ago

ColleenLee Johnson Sure hope this is the case - we have two years or less....
Like · Reply · about an hour ago via mobile

Darlene Nelson Stand up America if you love this country.
Like · Reply · about an hour ago

Jole Workman too late!
Like · Reply · about an hour ago

Pete Johnson Our grandfather's generation already did it when they elected Woodrow Wilson.
Like · Reply · about an hour ago

G Cindy Albe u are RIGHT about that!!!
Like · Reply · about an hour ago

Lynn Stacey Amen
Like · Reply · 2 hours ago via mobile

Mary Labonte If we must go down it will be one hell of a fight!!!
Like · Reply · 2 hours ago

Emma Joyce Wolfe THANK YOU
Like · Reply · 2 hours ago

Charles Twentier Someone please tell our country is under attack from inside and we need them to do what thier signs before it is too lat for us and them .
Like · Reply · 2 hours ago

Patsy McMillian Hartley Hope so.
Like · Reply · 2 hours ago

Ron Hendrix Keep Communist Cuban Guerillas out of the Senate and the spotlight.
Like · Reply · 2 hours ago

Matthew Keenan We already did!http://www.foxnews.com/.../
Why ObamaCare is a fantastic success
www.foxnews.com
There are 2 major political parties in America.
Like · Reply · 2 hours ago

Maryann Del Giorno Avella amen
Like · Reply · 2 hours ago

Selena Ervin i think we are almost there
Like · Reply · 2 hours ago

Rhoda Dietz we better all do smthing to stop it
Like · Reply · 2 hours ago

Todd Mcdonald What about Fascism
Like · Reply · 3 hours ago via mobile

Steven Canzonetta Richard A Haines, I see you posted the Mayflower compact. I believe the constitution trumps the compact, especially seperation of church and state. Also " one nation under god" was added to the pledge in the '50s as an anti communism campaign after WW2. Its not an American value, because we are suposed to respect all religeon, and keep it out of social policy. Maby your not an American, since you cant keep your dogma out of our government.
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Harry Mundy Socialism is a rolling snowball gaining size and momentum as it rolls downhill! Let's hope it can be stopped or impeded, but as it is rolling, more and more people jump aboard to benefit from the free ride!!!!
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Gary Carte With you all the way.
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Isaac Tedford Pookey! Let's bring this mother down!
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Else Mccomb God bless you all...
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John MacDonald IN GOD WE TRUST
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Byron Lee you better hurry then ---the ******* are gainigng on us!!!!!
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Justin Klimas HOOAH!!!!!!!!!!
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Joseph Ball Hell yeah
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106 of 172
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David Patton Arm yourselfs now and buy plenty of ammo, you will need it one day.
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Lucretia Landrum Amen !
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Lucretia Landrum Amen
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John Payne that right!!
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Little Eagle ****** McGowan No you too busy falling TO STUPIDITY.
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Carol Pinard Ummmm what obama is doing to our country in not socialism..... it is awful and shameful but it is not socialism. Do research on what socialism is supposed to be and not just what it became in the hands of evil people.
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Tim Veach Too late.
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Pam McBride Don't want it to be.
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Kathryn Seelmeyer RIGHT!
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Kim Janics my mom would love you but we are slowly have been going toward that direction since the beginning of governments.....yes even america
Like · Reply · 10 hours ago · Edited

DeAnna Stone already happening
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Irene Lopez Nice
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Scott Puttkamer A lil late I think! Obama has already done it!!!!!!!!
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Jimmy Oakes 2nd that!
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Diane Kelham OORAH....
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Tami Stanley Perkins Amen to that!!!!!! From one vet to millions of others, we shall rise to the occasion and fight here on our own land to remove a dictator!!!!!
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Fran Gordon Benz Not if I can help it! I see people reaching a boiling point!! Something is going to happen! I'm sensing the anger and frustration!
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Bob D. Beach Right!
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Annie Graham Which generation would that be.....the one that 'allowed' SS, medicare, Medicaid, fire, police, parks, roads, education etc...?
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Kassandra Craig then we need to get rid of obama
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Tony Horton By Ballots or bull
Lianna Walters Jun 2019
!!!!!!Trigger Warning: ****, domestic violence, abuse, suicide!!!!!!!!



When I moved to your hometown, I saw your true colors.
I saw that power meant more, your dominance meant more, your ego and your assertiveness meant more to you than I did.
I tried.
I tried to leave you alone, but like a moth drawn to a flame, time and again I allowed myself to draw nearer to you, shocked when you burned me every time.
Isn’t that the definition of insanity?
Days later, I cut you off. I blocked you. And it felt good. Like I regained some of the control you took away from me. I was starting to feel like myself again until I got home that night.
You busted through the deadbolt lock on my door.
My backpack was missing.
I called your mom in a panic, having not connected the dots until moments after I hung up the phone with her and I heard your voice, calling me from outside my window.
I asked you.
I asked you once.
I asked you twice.
Did you do that to my door?
Your calm, unchanging face didn’t even blink when you answered,
No.
It wasn’t until I put two and two together, you being there, having my backpack, the holes in your story, your unchanging, unsurprised, unsympathetic face, that I realized what you had done.
And when I called you on it, you admitted it.
Why lie to me? Why lie to my face?
So I blocked you, again.
Leave me alone until I give you the word, I said.
Just leave me alone.
Two days later, I was breaking down crying over my inability to be alone, over my inability to love my broke pieces enough to pick myself up and put myself back together
Two days later, I called you.
You told me you were sorry.
And that you sent me roses in the mail, set to arrive sometime before I left, two weeks from then.
And I melted
I caved
I gave up being strong and decided to instead be naïve, oblivious, or simply in denial.
We can make it work at least until I leave, right?
What’s the worst that can happen?
But then the worst started to happen.
Your flashbacks took away your memories of me and replaced them with menacing, intrusive thoughts
Replaced me with other girls
Nameless, faceless, meaningless bodies for you to use as you please
Or a roadblock in the way of you achieving peace at last, kissing death’s sweet lips
The bad guy you worked so hard to bury deep within your subconscious became very, very conscious
Very real
I first noticed it the day we were walking to the park, I said you were less mature than I, a harmless quip meaning no personal injury
You walked on the opposite side of the street as me, refusing to look at me, refusing to acknowledge me, refusing to come back to my side.
But when that car full of guys rolled by me, whistling, yelling various unsolicited, uncomfortable things resembling compliments, you laughed.
You laughed at my fear.
And still wouldn’t walk with me.
It was that day, you got in my face and dared me to put my hands on you so you could lay me on the ground
It was that day, I asked you, why are you talking to me like this?
It was that day, you answered, if I don’t hurt you verbally, it will be physically.
It was moments later, through tears, I begged, why do you treat me like this?
It was moments later, with cold eyes, you answered, to feel powerful
Is it a switch?
Can you flip it on and off?
How can the one who caresses my face so very gently,
The one who calls himself my protector at all costs,
The one who rushes to my side at every beck and call,
The one who opens doors for me
Walks two hours in the rain for me
Spends all his money to send me roses,
Be so cruel?
Three days before I’m supposed to leave, you come spend the night with me
We’re laying down, whispering sweet nothings to each other in the darkness
When I suddenly admit, I’ll miss you.
Don’t go, you say.
But I have to. I have to, my love.
It was then that you grabbed me by the neck, and told me I was not going to leave you.
Baby, please, I can’t breathe.
You’re not leaving. I don’t care if I have to take you away
Then you jolt out of it, looking at me with confusion. Your head hurts.
Just lay on me chest baby, it’s okay
I stroke your hair slowly, softly, calmly
Why is your heart beating so fast?
It’s not baby, close your eyes.
I hear it. What’s wrong?
Nothing, love, I’m fine. Just anxious about the move.
You know, you could stay here with me.
Baby, I already got my plane ticket, I’m leaving in a couple days.
No.
No?
No.
You grab my wrist with one hand.
Baby, let me go.
No.
Babe, you have to let me go. It’s okay.
No. Stop saying that.
Baby, I-
It’s too late. You’re already on top of me, grabbing my other wrist and pinning me down, your dark eyes beating into mind.
Baby, please let go of me, you’re squeezing too tight, you’re hurting me.
Your grip grows even stronger, and I feel the panic rising in my chest again.
Then you jolt out of it. Your head hurts. You need to lay down.
This time, I don’t let you lay on me. This time, I simply watch you lay there.
You reach out for me
I flinch
Concern flickers in your eyes, babygirl what’s wrong? You haven’t flinched around me in months.
It’s nothing.
It’s something, talk to me. What did I do?
You… um.. you pinned me down. You h-held my wrists. You wouldn’t let me go…
You laugh.
I wouldn’t do that, unless you were trying to leave me
Baby, I’m leaving the state in two days.
Your eyes turn cold. You yank my hair, pulling my head back.
You what?
I don’t answer.
You WHAT?
I-I’m leaving in two-
You yank my hair again, harder this time, before letting me go.
Your head hurts.
Really bad, really, really, bad.
Lay down baby, it’s okay.
I kiss your forehead tenderly
You’re okay.
My last day there was the worst.
By far, the worst.
Laying down, we’re past the stage of denial over me leaving.
I’m leaving tomorrow. And I’m so horribly sad to leave you behind.
You’re depressed. You don’t want to be here anymore. You don’t see yourself living without me.
You’re the only thing ******* keeping me here anymore, you say bitterly.
You’re gonna have to be strong for me when I leave, my love. I know you can.
Just die with me, you plead, it’ll be quick. I can choke you to death and **** myself. We’ll never have to be apart again.
We don’t even know what’s on the other side. What if it’s nothing? What if we don’t find each other?
You insist. You beg. You plead. You cry. Until you finally give up convincing me, your hand creeping up towards my neck.
Let me go.
Baby, let me go
Your hand is around my neck. Tightening. It’s getting harder and harder to breathe. There are black spots clouding my vision, like when you stand up too fast after sitting for too long, except they’re everywhere
Please, babe, please just…
Shhhhh babygirl it’s okay, close your eyes, go to sleep
So I do. I close my eyes and you slowly remove your hand from my neck, kissing me tenderly on the forehead, before getting up and going to my window. You open the window and as you’re looking down at the two story drop, my eyelids flutter open.
I reach out for you as you go to climb out the window.
Baby, stop, I whisper weakly.
You’re supposed to be dead.
But I’m not. Just, come here, it’s okay, you don’t have to do this.
I stand slowly and come to you, grabbing your arm to pull you away from the window.
Now it’s your turn to demand that I let you go.
Just let me do this. I need to do this. Leave me alone.
No, you don’t, just come here.
Before I can even blink both of your hands are around my neck and squeezing, lifting me off the ground.
Leave me alone before I make you leave me alone.
Unable to breathe, I nod, and you drop me.
Gasping for breath, I see you going towards the window once again.
Please! Just use the front door. Just walk out the front door, if you go out the front door I swear to god I’ll leave you alone.
You turn towards me, reaching once again for my neck, and I grab your wrists.
You back me up, twisting out of my grip and grabbing onto my wrists.
You keep backing me up, until we’re almost to my closet. I stop and rest against the open door, and you ask coldly,
Why’d you stop backing up? Keep going. Since you don’t know how to leave me the **** alone.
I don’t have much of a choice. You push me into the closet, and turn me around so I’m no longer facing you, placing your arm around my neck in a choke hold and tightening your grip.
I hit your arm once, twice, three, four, five times, and you finally drop me.
Your head hurts.
I turn to face you, with fear in my eyes, cowering under you.
You look at me with confusion.
Why are we in a closet? What’s wrong? Why are you-
You reach out to touch me and I cower and flinch, shaking my head
Please don’t, please, please don’t touch me. Please. I’m sorry. Please.
I break down crying.
You realize what you’ve done.
And you sit in the closet. In your little corner, to punish yourself, as I cower in the corner.
Seconds blend into minutes as they pass by, until you rise from the closet, going to the door. You don’t know where you are. You don’t know who I am. You keep calling me another girl’s name. I don’t know who it is.
Now it’s your turn to cower in the corner.
I can only imagine what’s going on in your head, as you’re crying out with fear and panic over the voices screaming in your head. I let you cry, clinging onto my legs.
It’s okay my love, you’re safe now, you’re not there anymore. Let it out. It’s okay.
My jeans are soaked now. I gently remove you from my legs and go to change my pants. Your face immediately switches to panic.
No, please, I don’t want to have ***. Please. I don’t want to.
Baby, relax. I’m not going to make you. I’m just changing out of these wet pants.
As I change out of my pants and into your oversized basketball shorts, your face changes.
Come here.
I look at you, confused.
Now.
I slowly walk over to the corner where you’re no longer cowering in. I crouch down next to you.
Closer.
You pull me onto your lap.
I gotta tell you something.
I lean over, your lips grazing my ear as you whisper,
I want you
You begin kissing my neck.
Kissing, touching, gently.
I almost didn’t notice anything was wrong. It wasn’t until you looked at me and asked,
What’s your name, girl?
That I realized you weren’t really here. I looked at you, dumbfounded, and you shrugged,
Okay, I guess that doesn’t matter. You’re **** as hell.
I pushed off of you, shaking my head.
I’m your girlfriend. Remember?
You shake your head.
I don’t date girls like you. Why don’t you just take that off?
You stand, walking towards me.
Just relax.
No!
I push you off me, and you laugh coldly.
Babygirl, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. But I love it when they fight back.
You grab me by the neck, kissing me roughly, as your free hand pulls my shorts off.
I’m pushing you. I’m pushing you off of me but you’re too strong.
You grip my ******* tightly and begin pulling them down, but I grip them tighter and keep holding them up.
Stop. Please. Stop.
I use my most authoritative voice and you chuckle with amusement.
Guess we’re doing this the hard way then, hm?
You pick me up and set me on my back on the ground. I go to get up. You pin me back down by my throat, prying yourself between my legs.
You begin to touch me.
I flinch under your touch and keep pushing, keep pushing you off of me.
You pin my hands with both of yours.
You bring my hands together and hold them both with one of your hands.
Stop. Fighting.
You resume touching me.
My body betrays me as I squirm and leak.
You know you like that. Don’t you?
You enter me, and I cry out in pain as you use me for your pleasure.
Call me daddy
You demand, and I shake my head.
You grab me by the throat and begin going harder. Faster. Harder. Faster.
Again, you demand,
Say it.
The word escapes my lips and you grin with satisfaction.
I close my eyes.
I stop fighting.
I do anything I can to take a mental vacation somewhere far, far, away.
I’m not here. This isn’t happening. It’s not. It’s okay. I’m fine. It’s almost over.
You pull out suddenly, and look at me with horror.
No… no… no, no, no, no, no, no
You let go of my neck. Then my hands. You back up and stare at me as if I’m on fire.
Please tell me I didn’t just do what I think I just did.
I wish I could. I wish I could tell you that you didn’t just do what you think you just did, but you did.
Your head hurts.
So ******* bad.
You retreat to your corner in the closet, and I retreat to the corner opposite in the room. Now it’s my turn to cower in the corner.
The next morning, you’re helping me move my stuff out of my room, into your mom’s car. She’s taking me to the airport.
The ride to the airport is silent.
When we arrive, you open the door for me, and scoop me up bridal-style so I don’t get my shoes wet in the puddle you’re standing in.
I hug you tightly, holding back tears.
I kiss you gently, holding back words.
I love you.
I love you, too.
As I walk into the airport, leaving you standing in the rain, I realize:
The roses never came.
This is the real story of how my life has been for the past month. I am safe now, in another state. I escaped but he still lives in my mind. Please no hate or judgement in the comments.
Danny Valdez Apr 2012
My Mom needed something from the store
So I told her I’d walk up there for her and get it.
We were barely getting by
The two of us.
She was living on a disability check
And I was in between jobs
Again
So these little walks to the store were all I had.
I got her some Epsom salts and was walking back
Had just walked past the hardware store
When a small, sleek, black, BMW pulled up next to me.
To my surprise it was a chick
A big titted redhead with pink sunglasses.
There was something in her eyes
When she peeked below the sunglasses
I saw something in them
that frightened me
A voice inside was screaming at me
Just keep walking
Just keep walking
But like a fool
I ignored it
And bent over the passenger seat
In the convertible that smelled new.
“How big is your ****?”
The lady asked
Her chest just heaving and jiggling
With every breath she took
And every word she spoke.
“What?”
“I said….how big is your ****?”
“Ha ha!”
I took a look around
Expecting to see a hidden camera
Or a film crew in a van across the street.
There was no one
No witnesses.
I leaned back down
“7 inches? Maybe 8? I don’t know lady, I haven’t measured my **** since the 11th grade!”
The redhead took off the sunglasses completely and looked me up and down
Those bright green eyes scanning me
From my worn out Converse to my greasy pompadour on my head.
It seemed like an eternity
I got uncomfortable.
Just standing there
Squirming
While the redheaded fox
Kept inspecting me.
“Okay. Get in. Hurry up.”
I wasn’t even thinking
Just reacting to it all.
I’d always dreamed of this
When I was walking down that
Same old ******* street
The only street that I ever saw
Dreaming of
A beautiful woman in a sports car.
And now here she was.
Here we were
Driving down the street
The breeze blowing in our hair
She made an immediate right turn
Onto a suburban side street.
She parked in front of a house that was up for sale.
Again she took off the sunglasses.
“Let me see it.”
She said, staring at my crotch.
“Whoa, whoa, lady. What’s this all about?”
“My husband and I…..we have certain…..tastes. Things we like, things we enjoy. He’s an older guy, so he likes to watch young guys **** me. I mean, just really give it to me good, make me scream. And of course after your services have been….rendered….you’ll be paid two-thousand dollars. Now do you think you can do that?”
“Uh……I—I think so.”
“Well, I need you to know so. And if you were bullshitting me, if that **** isn’t at least 7 inches, you can get out of the car right ******* now.”
“No it is, it is.”
“Well...”
“Well...you gotta start my engine first—“
Before I could finish my cheesy line
She was in the passenger seat
Climbing on top of me.
“Rip it open” She said looking down.
I did as I was told
And ripped the front of her blouse open
The buttons flying in all directions
Bouncing off the windows and rolling on the dashboard.
Her two, round, fake, **** sprang out of the top
Hitting me in the face
As she rubbed them up and down
And all around.
She kissed me sloppily
And then started in with that biting *******.
She met my lip so hard
It drew blood
acting purely on reflex
I grabbed her by the arms very hard
And pulled her back from me
Staring at her with those crazy, intense, eyes
That I sometimes got when startled.
“Oh…..” She said looking down, at the ******* in my Levi’s.
“Alright. You wanna see the house?” She asked.
I let go of her arms and she rolled off of me,
hopping into the driver’s seat and starting the car up.

She drove all the way to the edge of the city
Where the Red Mountains in the east
Meets the long winding road out of town
And into the desert.
It was a large ranch style mansion
Decorated with cowboy themed ****.
The redhead parked the sports car in
A massive garage
Filled with dozen of rare and expensive automobiles .
She told me to leave my plastic grocery bag of Epsom salts
In the car
She said I could get it later, when we were done.
I followed her to an elevator at the back of the garage.
We took it all the way down to the very bottom.
Stepping out of the elevator
I found myself in a large expansive grey room.
The floors were concrete
But they were shiny and slick
Reminded me of the floor in the meat department
At the job I had just lost.
The room had a few beds in it
Some custom built sets were erected all over the room
An office, a jail cell, a medieval dungeon, a medical examination room,
There were a lot these little sets built all over
In the back of the room
The corners
Were pitch black and covered in darkness.
I wondered what they had over there.
“So what do we do?” I asked, fidgeting in my pants
thumbing my switchblade stiletto in my right front pocket.
“We have to wait for my husband to come down. I just texted him.”
“Oh okay.”
“You should take your clothes off and put this on.”
The redhead said, taking a hospital gown from a hanger
Next to the medical examination set.
“….put that on and I’m gonna go get into character.”
She said, walking behind a white privacy screen
The old kind, like they used to have in doctor’s offices.
I undressed myself and got into the hospital gown.
I can’t say what it was exactly
But I still had that real nervous feeling
I couldn’t ignore it
So for some reason
I hid my switchblade on me.
Put it in the waistband of my underwear.
And that made me feel a little bit safer
This whole thing was beyond belief
I was never this lucky
Something was rotten in Denmark
I could feel it in my bones.
But there was no backing out now
I was riding this all the way
No choice.
I took a seat on the medical examination table
The thin paper crunching loudly beneath my ***
They had it down to the finest detail.
Even the little slots with the Highlights magazines.
I watched the black & white clock on the wall
And it took them 28 minutes to finally come out
The two of them together.
The tall, beautiful, redhead and the rich old man.
But they matched in an odd way
His face was nearly the same color as her hair.
A red faced, big nosed, drinker,
I’ve seen that face a thousand times
Ain’t no mistakin’ it.
He had white hair all spiked up
Like how young people have it
And he wore nothing but gold
All over himself.
Gold necklace, full fists of rings, bracelets,
I couldn’t ******* believe it
I tried my best not to laugh
I was snorting to myself
The ******* had a Mercedes medallion around his neck
Like Flavor Flav or something, it was that flamboyant.
But the guy was like 70 years old
None of it made any ******* sense.
The florescent lighting above
it did this thing where
his eyes were so sunken in
that it created these two black shadows
where his eyes should’ve been
just pitch black
endlessly hollow and empty
with a red face.
Satan himself, covered in gold and diamonds.

“What’s up?” He said, extending his well tanned, leathery claw.
“Hey.”
“Alright, so let’s not waste any time. Let’s get down to business? Huh?”
“Yeah, sure.” I said.
“**** yeah! Let’s ****! You wanna **** him baby?”
”Why do you think I got him? Hell, I almost ****** him on the way home.”
“Did you now?” He said, looking over at me with this look
I couldn’t tell if it was pleasure or rage.
“Alright, alright then.”
The chick started to walk up the three little steps
Of the examination table
Her feet were pale as snow and her toes
Shiny and red like a the paint job on a brand new Cadillac in 1956
I remember that.
She climbed on top of me
Started kissing me and
Rubbing my ****
Under the examination gown.
From the corner of my eye
I saw the husband moving over to the camera
Which was setup a few feet away
Looked to be hi-def ****.
She bit my lip again
Really ******* hard
Pulled a big chunk of skin off
“*******!” I yelled.
“What?” The husband shouted back.
“He hates it when I bite him!” The redhead shouted with a smile
blood on her lips, from mine.
“Well, don’t take any **** son! If she does that again, you just give her a good smack!”
“What?”
“Yeah, don’t be timid boy! This ain’t ******’ Sunday school! We’re ******’, here!”
She did it again
And I wasn’t even thinking of what that old coot was yelling about
I just hit her on principle.
A good open handed smack across the cheek.
“There ya ******’ go! That’s what I’m talkin’ about.”
The old man threw his hands in the air
And started doing this little dance it was the weirdest ****
I had ever seen.
The redhead grabbed my face with her hands
Taking my eyes off the old man
Who was now singing some song
And shuffling around the floor.
She looked right into my eyes
Those mint colored eyes
She whispered to me
But I read her lips
“I’m sorry.”
And she pulled me in and kissed me
Put my hands to her *******
And proceeded to kiss me
Like a long lost love
Not some guy off the street.
And that’s the last thing I remember.
Besides the ***** of the needle in my neck.
Just her red hair hanging in my face
The florescent light shining through.
When I came to
I was standing upright
But I was strapped to a table
My arms
My legs
My head
Every part of me strapped down
Tight.
I wasn’t going anywhere
This was that bad feeling I got when she looked at me.
This was where it ended. Right now.
They were both standing there
Staring at me
Smiling with drinks in their hands
The cameras rolling
They had multiple cameras setup
Some 80’s techno playing from an iPod dock.
“What? What are you gonna do?” I slurred, it was hard to talk.
“I know, I’m sorry. Okay, look. We both agree that you probably are owed an explanation, I mean….these being your last moments and all…”
The redhead interrupted, looking at me, like she had before
There was love in her eyes
“Honey…remember what I said? About how there are things that we like and things that we enjoy? I’m sorry, but this is what we like.”
“*****?” I managed to choke out,
just the sound of the words chilled my ******* blood.
“Yeah. Hey…son, let me tell ya…we’re actually saving you a whole lot of heartache and disappointment. You weren’t gonna go anywhere, you weren’t going to accomplish anything. You’d work the same **** jobs, bouncing from one to the other, until you finally died of either ***** or drugs.”
“It’s for the best, sweetie.” The redhead said.
And I’d love to tell you that
They left the room for a few minutes
And I was able to free my hand
Taking the switchblade
From my underwear
Cutting myself free
Killing them both
And cleaning out their safe’s cash and diamonds.
But this was no movie.
Well not the kind with a happy ending anyway.
That’s when she walked over to the table
And grabbed the knife.
The song on the iPod changed
And I instantly recognized it.
It was the song.
I never could explain why
But as a boy
This song would come on the radio
This 80’s electro song
And it always scared the **** out of me
Turned my stomach
I never knew why
But now it all made sense.
That song would be the last thing I ever heard.
With the cameras rolling
The redhead gave me one more kiss.
I closed my eyes and pretended.
I pretended that she was a girl that loved me
That she was kissing me goodnight
Sending me off with a smile.
I just kept my eyes closed
Squeezing them tight
And I didn’t even feel the knife
When she slit my throat right there
In that slick, shiny, grey basement.
It didn’t hurt
I didn’t feel any pain.
Just warmth.
The blood flowing down the front of my neck and chest
pure warmth sliding down me
And I started to get light headed
Everything getting dark
Very quickly.
I could hear my heartbeat
In sync with a high-pitched ringing in my ears.
The last thing I saw
Was the redhead standing there
Luckily the husband had his head behind the camera
So I didn’t have his scary face as the last thing I ever saw.
No
It was the redhead
And those mint green eyes.
They never found my body.
The couple put me through a wood chipper
And fed my scraps to their dogs
After slicing off my biceps for dinner that night.
They went on doing this for years
Picking up guys and girls from the streets
who were down on their luck
And wouldn’t be high profile missing persons.
They acquired hundreds of DVD’s
Selling these ***** films
To their elite and powerful
Friends in high places.
But they justified it all.
Surely I wouldn’t be missed.
I didn’t have a mother
Like they had a mother
I didn’t laugh and love
Like they did
I was expendable
Disposable
Use once and discard.
The rich eating the poor
Blood meal for their insatiable & gruesome appetites.
It’s okay though.
I’m not mad or anything now.
It’s just blackness
A dreamless sleep
I don’t even know how I’m telling you this
But the worst part
The thing I still think about the most
Is my mother.
And what she must of thought
When her only son
Went to the store for her
Epsom salts
And just never came back.
sometimes you climb out of bed in the morning and you think,
I'm not going to make it, but you laugh inside
remembering all the times you've felt that way, and
you walk to the bathroom, do your toilet, see that face
in the mirror, oh my oh my oh my, but you comb your hair anyway,
get into your street clothes, feed the cats, fetch the
newspaper of horror, place it on the coffee table, kiss your
wife goodbye, and then you are backing the car out into life itself,
like millions of others you enter the arena once more.

you are on the freeway threading through traffic now,
moving both towards something and towards nothing at all as you punch
the radio on and get Mozart, which is something, and you will somehow
get through the slow days and the busy days and the dull
days and the hateful days and the rare days, all both so delightful
and so disappointing because
we are all so alike and so different.

you find the turn-off, drive through the most dangerous
part of town, feel momentarily wonderful as Mozart works
his way into your brain and slides down along your bones and
out through your shoes.

it's been a tough fight worth fighting
as we all drive along
betting on another day.
Hal Loyd Denton Nov 2013
We have entered desperate hours they stem from this historical fact they slay a man on a tree that was
Then and this is what all will face very soon Rev 1:12 Then I turned to see the voice that spoke to me and
Having turned I saw seven golden lamp-stands and in the midst of the seven lamp-stands One
Like the Son of Man clothed with a garment down to the feet and girded about the chest with a
Golden band His head and hair was white like wool as white as snow and His eyes like a flame
Of fire His feet were like fine brass as if refined in a furnace and his voice as the sound of many
Waters He had in His right hand seven stars out of His mouth went a sharp two edged sword
And His countenance was like the sun shining in its strength Isaiah 13: 6 says and notice their
Faces were like flames and mentioning of the stars I will possibly offend but know this I am
Going to use this piece and other life experiences as credentials for my having authority to
Speak on these or anything that is Holy
River of time
Your life began in the great head waters at Eden they will end at the mouth of eternity. I was given a view into the celestial I was just a teenager while a sleep this dream came I looked into the heavens and saw two great wheels made of stars the hands of God started to pull the wheels down as I continued I knew what was occurring God was stopping time. The wheels stopped then God turned to the seamless darkness grasped it and started to lift as he did it tore away reveling the bright true world of the spirit that was before hidden this was alarming since I hadn’t made my peace with him. Not long after this I was seventeen working at the refinery I just walked out of the boiler room into the section that was known as the flathead when a voice said time is finished all life and its concerns flowed out leaving me with the greatest sadness other men standing by laid down their tools and started milling about mindlessly. On this wise in some manner this will happen all over the world. The great enterprises so important to man and society will halt government rule and authority abolished in an instant majesty and power will take the reins the river previously known will be empowered its first charge make the deserts bloom as a rose. Georgia O’Keefe and her vision before beguiling but lost on ordinary eyes will dazzle true paradise sands burnished cape now like the Emerald Isle lush manicured pools of water reflecting the gracious transformation. Nothing will abide that is mean or distasteful children of a royal monarch comes from a city that is four square to play to enjoy their father’s wonder. Long ago a garden was the battle ground foolishness ruled the day it ushered in blackest night centuries old the blight has gone unchecked many were the tears as death strolled in to the human condition. His scythe with wide sweeps men and women fell before his awful work now as Victor Hugo said “a new budding will shoot forth” never will you feel the cold chill of death’s hoary breath. The tree of life newly planted take your fill of its leaves it stories only told by millennia not hours and days. The cost for a life so rich and full death to self follow the line of people to rivers where Hallelujahs rang out in olden days in these waters they secured their deed to true life. The harvest is still open many are praying in love will you listen
Before I get to the hardest saying of all I will add another piece about his grace and protection
Angel’s connect

“He could have called ten thousand angels” I could start it that way or I could tell what the guide said
About the Sahara how that it was the only place you could feel spiritual dimensions of that kind of depth
Nowhere else on earth but my theme is bringing you closer to the unseen why miss the greatest show
That truly is happening at the very end of your finger tips in crisis in joy and it goes with thought out
Saying but in Worship in all these areas they are present even in the hotel room in Hawaii at the
Hawaiian village on Oahu I thought the contestants for the beauty pageant that would compete in Miss
America was exciting then I went to bed and then there stood this beautiful angel I know they’re
Supposed to be gender neutral but sorry she had this light golden curly hair with a sweet smile and all
She said was do you have a bible for the Islands I was so very pleased but I admit puzzled I didn’t know
What it meant then or now but it was a treasured moment it dwarfed the islands believe me the
Greatest moment was the saving of me and twelve soldiers returning from church a hundred miles
Away in Monterey I got out of the service and was going down in a Volkswagen bus working the base
And talking those who would go back to church I had done this for the two week revival it started taking
A toll getting them in at twelve thirty every night then racing back getting in at two thirty even with
Every window and vent open and then the Salinas valley always has a high cold wind blowing it didn’t
Help I fell asleep all the way back just waking when I would hear the gravel at the side of the road but
This happened going in we were half way to the company area where fire house and just across the
Company compound was their barracks everyone was a sleep then the only way to explain it we all have
Pulled our hand and fingers through water felt that ripple effect well all of a sudden I felt that sensation
Down the side of my face and body it was so unusual I lifted my total sleeping head just as the bus was
Barreling at fifty five miles an hour straight toward steal a beam that made up a cattle crossing gate the
Kind with the rolls of steal rollers that cows won’t cross the angel stirred this most pleasant and life
Saving movement in a Volkswagen bus you sit on top the engine nothing but windshield and thin steel in
Front of you all or most would have died in their sleep including me the devil was stirred we were filling
Two rows of pews nightly the devil had took a shot a week before I got out of the service we were out on a training session at the pond I was
Showing the guys how to draw water if we were too far from the water point’s one of the other trucks
Was In trouble across the sand I was going down to help them the truck that I was walking beside of was
Backing up I inadvertently crossed behind him as I was looking at the other truck this one beside me was a two and a half ton
Water tanker with a double set of dual tires it caught me flush in the back with a wall of steal I have never
Been body slammed so powerfully even though I got the sensation in Jr high in gym while I was fighting
Someone else the coach came up behind and through me into the bleachers this was worse I heard the
Roar coming out of the tail pipe that was nothing the set of dual tires was inches from my face moving
Too fast to escape Death was inevitable but right when my life was to be crushed out the angel who
Would later stop a runaway car and hold the back end while it beat out the forward motion it was going
In at that most important moment he started the wheels jerking in the sand that was all I needed I tore
Out from under the truck the guy over at the pond who was a favorite who went to church was doing a
Bill in the yard with the bow and arrow but he was almost in tears from his vantage point he thought I
Was gone I could tell you more about angels personally and through others and their stories and I expect
You have you own stories there is so much more to our world than what we see just stop every once
and A while and say what is there really to see you would be amazed and blessed. Bill in the
Yard is another piece where we lost an arrow I was down in the yard looking for it he thought I
Will shoot another the same way only problem that was where I was standing I looked up and he
Was mouthing words without saying anything I knew and arrow was in flight I did everything I
Could but run I didn’t want to run into the arrow I bowed down and looked up nothing my
Problem I was looking for this beautiful yellow arrow with orange feathers and a green guide
Feather no wonder an animal never sees anything when I finally spotted it only the front half was
Showing and it was dark and wobbled not like I thought the same as the train when I was seven
And I played chicken it rolls back and forth and it seems two stories high it got within a hundred
Feet I jumped a little longer and there is a trick the nerves plays you freeze and you can’t move
And as a teenager we outran a train on foot we just turned and the engineer hanging out the
Window shaking his fist over the high roar he hollered something about being a son of a
Something and he was carried on down the line but these guys communicate a few days later we
Were on the front page of the paper down in the corners three youths race and out run train it was
Hilarious my mother was reading it and didn’t know she was reading to the winners but these are
More cases of God preserving my life the car and angel mentioned towing my car out of Chicago
It broke loose the story is included in miracle in the Smokey’s this bleeds in from a post about a
Beautiful car I wrote a piece then hit the wrong button this was a few thoughts I know this is
Serious piece but everything has light moments not being a car expert but I can attest to this fact
A fifty six Pontiac will skid on the surface as it swings back going the wrong way when you take
The corner to fast and the girls will scream but a fifty six Chrysler will stay upright but will roll
Both tires off in the slide and the guys will cuss no one carries two spares and a fifty eight
Pontiac will take a road bridge at a hundred and fifteen miles an hour it will give you the
Airborne thrill and slams down hard do it again loss nerve takes it only at hundred and five miles
An hour your blood has the sensation of turning to ice nothing no matter what can affect you
Fingers or arms it hold it straight or from some where you will hear Father except these dear
Departed ones I will add this piece it references teens drinking pool side in Texas it says there
Not terrible but the story I call them the Burbank five drinking and speed five died without
Getting out of the car one survived later more about L A Basin
The Eyes of Texas are Upon You
A great song a great state but I choose to reverse the meaning to we have eyes on Texas this isn’t
Complicated it will wind a lot but it will become clear first to say this then retie it together the heart
Suffers many sorrows and I was blindsided by an innocent scene of a group of Texas teens for this
Reason our church was launching a new work in the Dakotas’s brother Yoyla had already been to our
Church with slides when he was a missionary to Japan we set in the dark auditorium and on the screen
Was a little grandmotherly Japanese woman I think it was the second or third slide and he described it
Before hand with passion how she came and kneeled for hours on cobble stones praying to this great
Buda that had to be upwards to twelve feet but as we set there you could hear brother Yoyla saying with
His heart breaking it has no ears to hear no eyes to see thank God we have the true living and loving God
Who does see and hear this time the slides showed the work and the progress that had been made but
Then it centered on this beautiful teenage girl folks this is what it is all about I don’t care what any of us
Have if He doesn’t say well done thou good and faithful servant when we stand before him at the last
Day it has all been for naught there was the scenes of her wonderful life and then it carried you to the
Funeral home as she lay in the coffin these were the words what if we had gotten there a month later
On the razors edge of time and eternity precious grain is falling it is harvest time so it was when I saw
These young people in Texas they were poolside they weren’t engaged in illegal activities but it was
Obvious we haven’t gotten there yet these are our kids their back is up against a wall I am not a prophet
And I’m not Jeremiah the weeping prophet but I did weep for them my heart broke for them you say
What are you crying about I don’t look on the superficial show the beauty of their lives are of great
Consequence but they are targeted and the traps are personally designed to take them away from
The true path in both senses spiritual and natural success one is pure joy the other is riddled it starts out
So right but before you know it you are lost and have no familiar sign post your better good is
Undermined the great spoiler is perfected in the art of deception who else could sell us a bill of goods
Cut yourself off from eternal paradise in some cases live an abased life that only makes you miserable
You turn from perfect love to a venomous wanton liar murderer it is insane who would live around that
In life but in the truest deadly sense that’s what we are doing we as the precious teens work in unison
With the very one who has sworn to destroy us the love is streaming in this pool is healing of all of life
Hurts it will fix us on a course of acceptance and love forever we just can’t be late not a month or even An hour
Isaiah 13:6 Wail for the day of the Lord is at hand
It will it will come as destruction from the Almighty
Therefore all hands will be limp
Every man’s heart will melt
And they will be afraid
Pangs and sorrows will take
Hold of them
They will be in pain as a
Woman in Childbirth
They will be amazed at one another
Their faces will be like flames
Behold the day of the Lord comes
Cruel with both wrath and fierce anger
To lay the land desolate
And He will destroy its sinners
From it
For the stars of heaven and their constellations
Will not give their light the sun will be darkened
In its going forth and the moon will not cause its light to shine
I will punish the world for its evil
And the wicked for their iniquity

Once we feared nuclear annihilation the Bible says don’t fear the one that can destroy the body
But the one who can destroy the spirit the Apostle Paul said he worked in fear to save the lost
Because he knew the terror of God’s righteous wrath I dare not make excuses for God and His
Words but even on our level if we bring someone to our befriend them in their time of need and
Then they steal or in some way wreck havoc in our lives wouldn’t we be justified in firing up on
Them well this is God’s home he created it for His precious children then the Devil and the
Garden we are alienated even law breakers it runs the course of who is in charge want a list of
Tragic lives messed up in drugs *** alcohol those without salvation are dammed to be so they
Have to walk up to God and spit in His face the death on the cross who cares I want my way if
You could see all the road blocks you have crashed through the last is coming a weeping savior is
About to stand up and say enough is enough I will show no more pity it is time I am justified
Against all that is unholy and you can’t just say you’re going to heaven you have to be saved by
True biblical teachings baptized in Jesus name not in the titles of the father son and spirit one
God not the trinity read Isaiah 9:6 for unto us a Child is born
Unto us a Son is given
And the government will be
Upon His shoulder
And His name will be called
Wonderful Counselor Mighty God
Everlasting Father Prince of peace
If you read that by and with the spirits help you will know there is only one God and His name Is
Jesus no other savior can be found
I wrote this peace because after more years than Moses spent in the desert God has spoken to me
I have always been called a free spirit that could be loosely translated to being a *** when you
Drag a wife through a life of disappointment and sadness while everything is given to others I
Hope financial blessing differed all these years is about to change if so or not I’m going to the
L A   if I have to live under a bridge and be lovingly stomped and beaten an called a Troll the
Richest place in the world but the Bible says they are blind naked and poor they need spiritual
Prosperity I know the one who has it all I plan on sharing it in a big way if you find word errors I
have been at this five hours if yo
There's a certain peace that settles inside you when you hear the wind whip through the forest, the sound soothes you until your muscles quiver with joy and you begin grinning with delight as the cool air runs soft fingers down your spine and sends shivers back through you. That was the feeling going through Fayowin as he stalked his prey, a nimble buck that mindlessly grazed in the snowy glade. Fayowin was a wolf, tall and regal, his fur ran a silver-white with intricate blue lines spiraling and writhing around his muscled body. His eyes glowed pure white in the night and shimmered in the daylight. The fangs lining his jaw were longer than the other wolves'... then again he was also larger than his alpha as well. Fayowin saw everything clearer and faster than the most skilled hunters in his pack, and he was also the swiftest. He should have felt proud of his uniqueness, but he felt outcast instead. The other hunters shunned him and disliked hunting alongside him, leaving Fayowin to hunt alone.

Today was no different. It was his turn to hunt and he had to hunt alone. If he failed, the pack would force him out into the cold. "If the pack starves, the hunter freezes," was the motto of his alpha, Alexei. Fayowin narrowed his white eyes and drew in the scent of the deer. As he did, he caught the hint of a she-wolf nearby, not of his pack. Distracted for an instant, he snapped back and sprinted for the deer, lunging for it and tearing into its throat and ripping out the windpipe and blood vessels all in one bite. As the smell of blood coated his senses, he began to feel uneasy and whirled around to see a silver wolf snarling at him. It was the she-wolf he had sensed earlier. She stood just a little shorter than him and had strange markings of her own: she bore black marks under her eyes and one on her forehead that resembled a paw. What struck him the most was the band around her upper foreleg. His eyes wandered as he observed her and she growled, bringing his attention back to her glaring green eyes.
"That... was my ****!" she growled. "I don't know how you managed to get it before me, and I don't know how you managed to escape my notice. Who are you?!"
Fayowin sneered and raised an eyebrow, "This, my dear, is MY ****. I've had my eyes on it for a while now. And frankly, this is my territory as well, and unless you want to become part of my territory, I'd suggest you treat me with respect."
She edged closer to him, surprised and infuriated at this male's straightforwardness. But there was something about that and his scent that appealed to her though. "I'm not leaving without this deer."
Fayowin chuckled, "It looks like you will be leaving without it, whoever you are."
"My name... is Feiria!" she licked her lips hungrily, "and that is MY deer!"
Fayowin narrowed his eyes thoughtfully as he studied her. Even through her winter coat, he could see the outline of her ribcage and could smell the desperation on her scent. He saw Feiria's muscles contract as she prepared to lunge at him. He sidestepped and she landed face-first in the snow, a mere inch from the warm deer meat. She looked at him hungrily, almost pleading. Fayowin sighed and nodded his head once, after which Feiria voraciously tore into the carcass.

He slowly meandered towards the center of the clearing and flopped down into the snow. He could hear the she-wolf eating ravenously behind him as he thought of his next move. If he returned to the pack, he'd be ridiculed and forced to live in the snow. If he stayed out here he faced the same problem.

Fayowin flattened his ears back and started to doze off, still listening to Feiria eat his ****. He began dreaming of gaping mountain passes, tall forests, and warm valleys. He felt oddly warm, not freezing cold as he had expected. He didn't care though, warmth was a gift in the winter. He slept peacefully until nightfall overtook the forest and the moonlight shone down and illuminated his fur, the lines becoming like blue fire. His eyes would have glowed if they were open, but they remained oblivious to the change in scenery until a cold wind blew through his fur and he shivered awake. He nearly jumped when he realized why he was so warm: the she-wolf lay curled up, pressed against him, sound asleep. He tilted his head slightly as he watched her sleep, probably the most peaceful she'd been in a long time. Fayowin would've hated to ruin his gift to her, albeit an unwilling one.
Feiria woke up soon after midnight, and gazed fearfully into Fayowin's glowing white eyes, taking in his
Cynical stare and his glowing body. She whispered, "I've heard of your kind..."
he looked curiously at her, "my kind?"
"the star wolves.."
he averted his gaze, "Never heard of them.. I'm just a normal wolf.."
Feiria glared at him, "You're glowing, *******.. Not normal. Unless.... Unless your whole pack is made of star wolves!" her face seemed to light up as she said it.
Fayowin whipped his head around, "No! I'm the only one like this..." he looked solemnly down at his feet as he finished.
She blinked, dumbfounded. Clearing her throat, she said, "I really should get back to my pack. They'll be worried about me if I stay out for much longer." she glanced at the massive deer behind them and sighed quietly.
"Your whole pack is starving...aren't they?" said Fayowin quietly.
Feiria nodded and he stood up and walked through the snow silently towards the deer. "you'll need to lead me to your pack if they're to get this meat."
Feiria blinked again, then nodded, getting up and starting off  
Towards the north. Fayowin gripped the deer's neck and drug the carcass behind him as he walked. After a half hour of walking, Feiria howled long and low, signaling her pack that she was near. Fayowin sighed as he heard their howls respond. He thought, there will be no howls for me tonight...
As they neared her pack's clearing, a group of young wolves sprinted towards them, rushing past Feiria and surrounding Fayowin. "Who is this outsider, Feiria? Why did you bring him here?"
there were five of them and they all went into attack mode, growling and circling him.
Feiria attempted to stop them before they got into a fight, but one of them pounced, and in a flash Fayowin had him pinned to the ground with his fangs around the wolf's neck. Fayowin watched the wolves around him react, stepping back and glancing at each other. Feiria shouted at them to stop but they didn't seem to hear her immediately, backing down only as Fayowin's growl tore through the trees, echoing throughout the forest
. They finally heard her, "he's a star wolf!" by now a crowd had gathered around them, Feiria's packmates watching Fayowin closely. He let go of the young wolf beneath his paws, who quickly scampered away, and Fayowin sat up straight and tall, his markings and eyes glowing for all to see. The wolves ooh'd and ahh'd amongst themselves before the alpha stepped forward and looked him up and down. "You killed this deer, yes?"
"I did."
"Why bring it here? We are strangers to you."
Fayowin glanced at Feiria, who shifted, uncomfortable with the silence. "I brought it here because i could tell that this pack needed the meat more than my own." Fayowin looked directly at Feiria and continued, "besides... She saw it first."
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(End of day one of writing, really enjoyed it, look forward to writing again)
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Fayowin perched high upon an rock outcropping, overlooking the clearing below and the wolves within. The alpha had allowed him to stay, grateful for the meat. Feiria was pressed against him again, but this time Fayowin didn't mind. He enjoyed the warmth that she provided and felt at ease around her. She nuzzled his cheek affectionately, a move that surprised him enough that he turned to face her, brushing her nose in the process. He gazed fondly into her eyes for a moment before standing. "I have to return to my pack."
Feiria looked shocked, "No, stay here with us. We could use a hunter like you. Plus you're a star wolf, and it doesn't seem like your pack appreciates that."
He let the words sink in before replying, "I have to go. I'll return in the morning." Seeing the desperate and doubtful look on her face, he added, "I promise. I will come back."
Fayowin walked to the edge of the forest, the glow of his body soon disappearing from Feiria's view.
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...
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F­ayowin sprinted relentlessly back to his territory, smelling the familiar and not so pleasant scents of his packmates. The smell of blood ran thick in the air as he neared the clearing. The moonlight cast eerie shadows around him and he could feel the eyes of the wolves watching him as he reached the gore pile. The mound of bones and rotting flesh dripped blood into the white snow.
"You're late. And emptypawed. You know what that means, filth." the voice was that of his alpha, Marroy, who stood three feet tall at the shoulder, a whole foot and a half shorter than Fayowin. His fur was a mottled black with a grey underbelly.
Fayowin bared his fangs, the longest being three inches long, and he growled, "My name.. is Fayowin."
Marroy cackled in the darkness, "So straightforward. That's unlike you. No matter, you failed to bring us fresh meat. As punishment, you'll be reminded why we protect you in the first place."
Fayowin heard growls emanating from the trees. The pack of around 25 wolves was massive compared to other packs, and there were enough hunters to go around. Fayowin took a step back and let his eyes adjust so he could see them in the trees.
"You don't protect me, Marroy! You fear me!"
Marroy laughed again, "Not from where I'm standing, Mutt. You look pretty frightened." Fayowin took another step back. "Run! Run! Give us some entertainment!"
The wolves started bounding out of the trees and began chasing Fayowin out of the clearing. They seemed to be pouring from every shadow. He ran faster than ever before, the trees blurring past him as he tried to get away. He ran for what seemed like an eternity before seeing the snowy valley at the edge of the forest. He added a burst of speed and instantly regretted it. A rock beneath the snow tripped him and pain shot up his left foreleg. He tumbled end over end in a heap of blue and white, coming to a stop twenty feet away. Fayowin heard the pack coming for him and he tried to crawl away, but to no avail; the pain was too much. He whimpered as he was surrounded, and shut his eyes tight as he felt them bite and claw at him, retreating only after there was a ****** pool around the star wolf. Marroy walked slowly up to him after they had gone and said, "I hope you die out here. If you aren't, we'll make sure that changes." Then the alpha left him there, cold, ******, broken and alone.
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* (End of Day two/Start of day three of writing and i'm really hooked on this, I believe this may be one of my better stories...)*
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Feiria lay silently on the rock outcropping above the pack and she thought of the star wolf. Something about the breeze brought thoughts to her mind.  
Feiria lifted her nose into the air as the smell of blood became present. She sniffed intently and heard her packmates do the same. She looked in the direction that Fayowin had left in and saw a dark form slowly shambling through the shadowy flora towards her. As it neared her she could see that it was dripping a dark liquid, trailing it through the snow in a scarlet path. "Its Fayowin.." she thought to herself. "Why are his eyes so dark? Why isn't he glowing?"
she rushed to his side and the smell of his blood was almost overwhelming. There were numerous bites and cuts all over him and his left foreleg seemed broken.
Feiria called for the healer, an older female named Sheya, and supported Fayowin as they walked to the glade and waited for the healer. Fayowin collapsed in the center of the clearing, the moonlight hitting him directly, making the blood seem black against his white fur.
Feiria whimpered helplessly, waiting for Fayowin to answer, but his eyes seemed so lifeless that
She felt it was almost a false hope. When Sheya finally arrived, the blood had stopped flowing and his breathing had slowed until he was asleep. When the healer examined him, she looked puzzled.
"what's the matter, Elder?"
Sheya pondered a moment before saying, "His wounds have healed. I'd say its a miracle, seeing as he lost so much blood."
Feiria examined the sleeping wolf herself and found the elders words to be true; there wasn't a scratch left on him. "Leave him here, the sunlight will warm him once daylight comes and his fur is thicker than ours so the cold will not affect him as much." the gathered wolves sat in silence as Feiria washed the blood from his fur with snow and lay down next to him, pressing her body against his. The blue lines on Fayowin dimmed and brightened in tune with his heartbeat, and Feiria listened as her own beat matched it.
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...End of day 3....
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Fayowin felt like he was in another world, this one so much quieter, but at the same time he could sense every noise, every movement, every vibration. His fur was no longer the bright white it once was, but rather a deep black with crimson lines flowing round him. He was lying down, surrounded by a wolf pack, Feiria pressed against him for warmth. He saw, or rather sensed her spirit energy, a type of green fire that outlined her entire body as she slept. Fayowin stood up, thinking to wake her and let her know he was alright, but she hadn't moved. And neither had he; his white furred body remained as it was a moment ago, but he was looking at it as if in another body. He took a step back as he realized he was roaming about in his spirit form. He looked around at the pack and none of the gathered wolves seemed to notice him. He exited the circle of onlookers and gazed up at the falling moon, watching it descend into the horizon, chased away by the rays of the sun coming over the mountaintops to the east. As the sun peeked over the ridge, Fayowin caught something out of the corner of his eye, a dark mass that didn't fit right with the rest of the environment. He looked and saw two sets of glowing purple eyes in the shade. He called out to them, hoping they might hear. "Hey! Can you see me?"
The eyes looked at each other and then back at him, staring for a moment before turning and running.
"Hey, wait!!" Fayowin called after them and began to chase them deeper and deeper into the mysterious forest.The beings moved faster than Fayowin had anticipated, disappearing soon after the chase had begun. Fayowin stood there in the middle of the woods, panting and searching for the elusive forms. After a moment he saw them at the very edge of his vision, their eyes glowing brighter, almost as if they were taunting him forward. Snarling, Fayowin bolted towards them and they led him on a winding path marked by a barely discernable scent trail. The smell was that of burnt wood and crushed pine needles and was oddly alluring to Fayowin as he ran. It seeemed as if he were running for ages, the sun and moon rotating numerous times around him as he traveled over mountains and rivers, through forests and valleys. On the thirteenth solar rotation, the figures finally stopped, joined by eleven other figures surrounding a circular rock with vines and overgrowth covering its base.
As he neared the figures, he saw that they all looked like him, long furred and covered in glowing lines. "Star wolves... Like me..."
The wolves all surrounded the dais and watched him with razor sharp eyes, watching his every move. As he gazed back, Fayowin noticed that each of them had some form of a trident mark right below their left eye, the color matching the lines tracing their bodies. He felt the urge to move forward, as if an instinct were telling him to stand in the center of the circle. Fayowin stood, all eyes on him as he waited for whatever was about to come.
[][][][][][][][][][][][]
....I have nothing to say to you HP... I dislike you at the moment....
[][][][][][][][][][][][]
Nightfall was coming swiftly, the moon and the stars swirling into place above them, reaching their peak and then halting completely. All of time and
Mikaila Oct 2013
I only want you to know who I am.
I don't know why.
It shouldn't matter.
But it's hardwired in, a biological need
To explain myself.
You won't read my poetry
Because you don't want to see my pain.
You won't see the movies or read the books
That change my life.
You don't pay attention
To what my art is saying.
And yet you want me close.
Read one.
Just read
ONE.
You want me close.
I am giving you
CLOSE.
You are the one
Backing away.
Lane Apr 2014
Five years ago
I knew an 8th grader
who felt ashamed for who he was
who felt constantly out of place
who tossed and turned at night
     with deep enough despairs
     with ideas of throwing it all away
     with plans for those actions
     with no dreams, and only one long nightmare

Three years ago
I knew a sophomore
who finally just started to accept it
who reached out and tried
who thought everyone felt the same
     with only blank stares for replies
     with only confused "friends"
     with no family backing
     with no true "inner circle"

Last year
I knew a senior
who carried the burden alone
who perfected his mask
who finally learned how to hide
     with perceived success
     with sarcasm and quick jokes
     with pushing everyone away
     with justified fear of opening up

This year
I know a college freshmen
who is struggling for acceptance of himself
who brags of the physical scars
who is afraid to reveal the deeper ones
     with walls as big as he could muster
     with iron bars to conceal what is beneath
     with pandora's box within
     with that same scared kid locked inside.
Brent Kincaid Feb 2015
ACTING OUT

Trackdown, smackdown
Hit them with the facts.
Showdown downtown.
Teach them how to act.
Outloud, outproud
Backing down no more.
Outloud our crowd
Now we know the score.

It used to be we had to
Keep quiet about it or lie.
They could even jail us
So we didn’t even try.
We changed the gender
Of lovers when we shared.
We could say we married.
Nobody even dared.

We made up these stories
About roommates we had
Wanting any more than that
Could only leave us sad.
So, we used euphemisms
Like confirmed bachelor
To create a smokescreen
For our nosy neighbors.

Trackdown, smackdown
Hit them with the facts.
Showdown downtown.
Teach them how to act.
Outloud, outproud
Backing down no more.
Outloud our crowd
Now we know the score.

Nineteen seventy
Came up suddenly
And a few million of us
Wanted to be free.
So, we hit the boulevards
And sang the marching songs.
Out of the closet, into the streets
And millions more came along.

Trackdown, smackdown
Hit them with the facts.
Showdown downtown.
Teach them how to act.
Outloud, outproud
Backing down no more.
Outloud our crowd
Now we know the score.

Brent Kincaid
6/3/2014
gay love acceptance equality pride demands freedom honesty
I proposed
in my mind
to Kwanseum Bosal
the Bodhisattva
of Great Compassion
so a little while ago
I had a dream
where I was to go
to my wedding
but I didn't want
to go
so today
I switched around
my Buddhist altars
to give Kwanseum Bosal
a permanent altar
of her own
and I decided
instead of marrying her
I would worship her.
Free poem by Kongsaeng Chris Everson - 2010
A boat amid the ripples, drifting, rocking,
  Two idle people, without pause or aim;
While in the ominous west there gathers darkness
    Flushed with flame.

A haycock in a hayfield backing, lapping,
  Two drowsy people pillowed round about;
While in the ominous west across the darkness
    Flame leaps out.

Better a wrecked life than a life so aimless,
  Better a wrecked life than a life so soft;
The ominous west glooms thundering, with its fire
    Lit aloft.
Fred Wakefield Oct 2012
I do not own a motorbike,
Never been a member of the Third *****.
I’m not Italian, French or gay,
(No homophobe, just not built that way).
I’m not Tom Jones or a member of Queen,
I’m not going back to the seventies in a time machine.
I’m not a backing dancer for Madonna,
Talc on my legs “I don’t wanna”.
So why do I own a pair of leather trousers?

This was definitely a mistake,
Like breaking wind on a first date,
Swearing at the boss at the crimbo celebration,
Being caught by parents doing a ****** gyration.
Persuaded to buy them, through the mist of lust she had taste,
I found out too late, she was highly religious, chaste.
Good quality, not cheap, never worn,
Could be used in transvestite ****!
Does anyone want a pair of leather trousers?
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2016
three ante-chambers and then the bedroom, a valet rather than my wife sleeping in the same room as me... if this is a will to power, i'd rather see the Sunday menu of: a will to whatever's on offer, other than hereditary genetics... mind you, 20th century anti-hereditary genetics seemed like quite fun, all that eugenic stuff... i love the byproducts that came with that, weaklings to be sure, missing horse and engaged tractor, celeb culture and the next Raphael pickling a hammer-shark sidelined with Warhol's quote: knock knock - ah cheap, i know, but when wasn't sarcasm ever?

the famoud *will to power
is a fable, there are too few words
in between will and power, since both are rather antonymous
in application, the argument -
the will to power is a state of anonymity
rather than a dualism,
in Versailles Louis XIV questions himself
as both man and king, and the god appointed;
instead of duality there's an anonymity,
a permanent height outreaching / out-qualifying
the jumper, all pampers and demure,
the mirror circus of poses that Louis XIV
was compared to his brother
gauging out an eye of a laughing man in
a role of a Kafka play the nobles thirsted for
and slyly forgot - there was once a prancing
lady of France, who donned the title
as the king of France, but was overshadowed by
his ****-******* brother; there are indeed
Arabia in the King to quench Africa,
but not enough to go further, with his philandering
******* boyishness to succumb to the womanising
artefact with brotherly jest as with a woman's
care for an up-kept boudoir... of matching stockings
and his matching socks
: never mind the places
cut first on the gauges of fear of the guillotine
with the eyes turning all Newtonian searching
for the next cake - the roles we keep are not the
identities we express, keeping the militant
populace ignorant and ourselves kept by
the labyrinth sexed-up, keeping one pronoun
a wall of denoted king and the rest
a scramble which, whoever, we wish to choose -
as ever, preferring a woman...
well i preferred animals, how's that for an argument
from *****? oh wait, that's an argument from Eden...
ooh choo choo the pick-up truck never picked up steam,
the democracy of nobles overtook the notion
of king as the psychiatric, philosophical rigidity
overtook the notion of ego...
well, weeners and winners here and there,
like salt and pepper... mm, push it! push it real
good!
wait a minute, i thought that aristocracy kept
Paris and subsequent Parisian a folded model ready for
corruption with adequate vices?
when Communism came about the aristocracy was replaced
with intelligentsia - the urban version of what was once
property owning now replaced with idea owning -
it all gets a bit murky here, i write with a more detached
defacement in mind onto a head of a donkey to reveal
the saintly cranium, but never mind the joke,
there's still the papal yoke to keep us curbed, after all,
the best ****** travel to home to sing: love live papa,
love like papa.
it just got me thinking, this obscure cannibal of
aristocracy could scare the king, no wonder the king
in chess is just an extension of pawns, while the queen
is an extension of rook, knight, bishop -
reductionist Darwinism uncovered more than
Darwinism per se, we were originally reduced to insects,
revolving past that and encouraging us to exhibit
mammalian tendencies made us into being unable to
choose which monkey was worthwhile to have originated from;
but still the black widow, the mantis -
female reductions took her beyond mammals,
into pre-reptiles,
male reductions took him into pure mammal,
we're both running treadmills now though,
we're both rodents, hamsters, ha ha, it's funny how
equilibrium works, there's two opposites, both need
to be pacified, no trans-gender changes will actually
objectify or personify, it'll just the other more even and the
other mode off / left in / left out.
you never ask so much about art, you just say
the magic Sesame words of Ali-Baba 'i don't get it'
and it opens, but then you suddenly want poetry to read like
chemistry, what a ******* oddity, and say the words
'i get it', but all that opens is a can of tuna, wooh!
what a ******* stink. imagine these words unlike what
you'd might use buying a pint of beer at a pub,
grow up, you hit puberty with fifty shades of grey,
bestsellers this century, the last, Don Quixote...
believe me, these words will be around for not that long,
soon ingested by what the already aristocracy isn't,
modern aristocracy are mere inheritors, spongers,
they overslept the mark of complicated phonetic encoding
being exhausted, hence the dissociation with politics,
the apathy of the former lusts for war -
granny can write a tweet, but granny can't write an app.,
never mind if it's Buckingham Palace or
the French Riviera mansion... Party Harry gives less ****
than the red squirrels when the grey Canadian squirrels
were introduced, and the next Prince of Wales
is wondering: did i really need to waste 20 minutes of my
life watching Head & Shoulders' adverts?!
Caroline Grace Mar 2010
She saves swatches of fabric
pinked with special shears;
orders them in co-ordinated heaps
to keep her life fuss-free.
The finished quilt bubbles in her head.
She imagines it telling her bedtime stories
or lines of poetry to help her sleep -
"Better than sheep" she thinks.
She cuts card; stitches with rough tacking;
fantasizes downy feathers floating
between her patchwork story and
backing of silk slipping against skin,
then secures with neat tiny stitches
and strong coloured thread, to ensure
that her dream won't fall apart at the seams.
copyright © Caroline Grace 2010
David Nelson May 2013
The Mafia and the Pope

the Italian mafia wanted to take control
they wanted control of the church and all its wealth
the leader Anthony “The Boss” Gambatti sent his muscle
to secure an audience with the Pope

Johnny “the Eye” and his storm troopers
pushed by the guards
into the Pope's secretary's office
Arch Bishop Spinozza
sprung to his feet to confront the noise
Johnny “the Eye”, he got that name
after he lost his left eye in a knife fight
and replaced it with a glass oversized eye
that always looked straight ahead

a burning cigarette hanging from his lips
he got right in the Bishops face
“The Boss” wants a meeting with his Royalness
“and he wants it now”
the Bishop well aware of his visitors
and there violent ways
backing away from the smoke in his face
told Johnny that he would arrange a meeting
“tomorrow” he said “tomorrow”

Johnny cocked his head
so that his large fake eye was an inch from
the Bishops nose
flicked the ashes from his cigarette
on the shoes of the Bishop
turning to walk away
“tomorrow” he said

Anthony “The Boss”
dressed in his fine 5K Italian silk suit
leather gloves
black silk fedora
accompanied by his entourage'
walked into the Popes office the next day
he sat in a chair in front of the Pope's desk
“What can I do for you Anthony?” asked the Pope
the two had grown up as school mates
and had maintained a relationship
though not close

“Carlos, I think it is time we work out
a financial aggreement with each other”
“being that the church is known for giving,
I think it is time for you to give me some money,
a lot of money”
  “I have many expenses to address”

“to insure that this happens”
I want you to make love to a woman”

“and if I refuse such a horrid task? quizzed the Pope

“I will begin removing all of your Bishops,
one every hour, from all over the world”
”and it won't be pretty” responded Anthony

The Pope, obviously shaken with the proposal
got up from his chair, his face in his hands
paced back and forth for a few minutes

“I will agree to your disgusting request
on three conditions” said the Pope.

“and what are those conditions?” asked Anthony

“1st  this woman must be blind,
so that she cannot see who defiles her body”

“2nd  this woman must be deaf,
so that she cannot hear any hint of who defiles her body”

“and 3rd your holiness?”

“3rd, this woman must have really really *******”

Gomer Lepoet...
based on the comedy of "Cheech" Marin and Tommy "Chong"
Saint Audrey Sep 2017
Grinding....

Leaving it silenced, drawn and quartered
Clawing for the scraps left over

Predicament I found myself in
Or, towards the end of it
Slipping from the edges
Forager focused on finding any way back home
Sidetracked by some apparition left crying
Alone, in the corner

Grinding...

Paused, with rain drops weighted, heavy sense in the air
I can feel my lips turning blue and
Twitching

It's more literal than I would dare dream in a waking nightmare
The smell of every molecule tantamount to another realm

Hangs motionless in the air
The stone transposed becomes a rooftop asylum, overlooking such uncouth misanthropic parcels, self absorbed in this grotesque imagery, a veritable wall of self hate puzzle pieces

Grinding...

Low, on an almost ominous note, still grows colder in my ears
Blowing on winds filled with the spite and righteous
Anti holy
Fully rupturing sound of far off laughter of the
New root

My lips still moving
No sound produced
And my mind
Grinding...

I still pray to god for you
Beset on all sides by the same wickedness
Still afflicted by myself

Argue for arguments sake
****** up on the uptake
I thought that you might want it
I guess I forgot all the subtle ways
The fires spring to life at night

Arguably the wrong choice is
Looking at him
I try not to
Catch that glimpse in his eye
Already my mind races
And my bones are shivering
At the thought alone

Brickwork backing
Still swells maggots
And filing paperwork
For entrapment habits

Grinding
Whatever happened that night is something we both needed.
As for the future,
I'm not worried about it.
We both learned stuff  
Made a memory
Whatever happens next happens.
Even if that means you can't look at me.
Even if that means we get to be friends.
I'm not crossing my fingers for some crazy outcome of "us".
Magical as that may be,
We only saw two shooting stars
At the time neither of us had anything to wish for
Except the night to never end.
And if we never forget it then it never will.
You have an amazing man who loves you.
I'm just a memory who helped you realize that.
I finally realized I'm not trapped in a bubble of meaningless ***,
I can actually love someone again.
Even though it was placed in an unobtainable
Chimera of every single thing I could possibly love,
At least now I know I can feel that.
And that makes me more happy than any
Ill-fated prophecy.
You love your husband.
And if a day comes you can look at me and call me friend
I'll be ready for it.
I'll greet you with a handshake and a smile
I promise I'll never advance on you again.
I won't ever try to contact you until I know it's appropriate,
Out of respect.
I've been in his shoes and it's awful
There's nothing I can due but stop talking to you.
So I'll do just that.
Until it's okay again.
Thank you for everything.
I needed you as much as you needed me.
I will never feel awkward when I see you.
I hope someday it goes both ways.
I don't feel bad or seduced or betrayed.
I just feel happy to have met you.
Because I never would have been able to get over what my ex did to me
If I wasn't in the shoes of the man who took her.
I finally realized it wasn't his fault.
I don't have to hate him.
It wasn't her fault either.
Sometimes people just feel things.
And that's okay.
Because in the end, we make decisions,
And feel other things.

Goodbye until you decide to say hello.
You're an amazing girl and he's lucky.
I want so many things I can't have.
Renie Simone Mar 2013
"You never finish anything."
Her words pierced my tongue.
I sighed. Hands on hips,
I looked at the broken bulb that flickered at me.

My foot started tapping.
Shifting my weight onto it, bent knee,
I looked sassy.

With the oven steaming, I started backing away.
I didn't like the smell, that's all.
"You're a failure, you know that?"
I knew it. She knew it.

People who met me could see potential,
but my eyes, they screamed disappointment.
I may as well have tattoo'd it on my forehead.

I'd wear it well.
Like Scarlett's letter,
imprinted for everyone to see.

A waste of time, she'd said.
That's all I was to her.
An embarrassment.

And she was right
Tori Jurdanus Jun 2013
She Looks Like a Tiger
See how she places her paws so lightly, so as not to be heard.
Silently, she moves through the crowd, head held high, today she doesn't want to hide.
Depicted in peach coloured stripes. No red, no brown, no blue, no black.
Today, is the first day she felt it was safe to show them.
Asking for the first time in her life, for the world to continue doing what it's always done
Lean on her, sing her our our sorrows so she could sing them back and pretend, that we could not see her scars.
She has always been the brick wall.
The concert hall
The shoulder to cry on.
The logic you would chase after with your pedestrian problems and she was the designated driver.
But when it looks like you're a casual on bridges over troubled waters, there 's no one talking you down from the ledge.

She would never have asked you to.

Hannah, your name sounds like a semi-permanent tattoo.
I hope that's what this poem feels like to everyone who hears it
So that every time they think they know broken,
they feel cold lines crisscrossing their body and can honestly wonder,
was this feeling your blueprint.

But I think you look like tiger.  
And I know, I shouldn't give time to some little boys who refuse to use her real name because it fits her to well.
Callin' her some emo, weak hippie freak.
she's just looking for attention.
Because when you're the first person to make it through Hell and back alive, you're a liar.
A hitch hiker piggy backing on someone else's problems.
But her arms served as straightaways for razorblades for nine solid years,
and its no thanks to people like you she's still here.

You think, she should be ashamed of herself. As if scars are a ***** in the armour.
Like she was peer pressured into self-destruction and couldn't resist.
No one asks you:
"Hey there, wanna cut? Wanna, self-mutilate?"

Just like I won't ask you not to hate the idea of someone being that low
That every beat of the heart feels a little like ****** assault, and cutting was the best way she could find to say no.

She looks like a tiger,
and she didn't earn her stripes. People rarely do.
But she has earned the right to wear them for what they are;
Battle scars.
Things she's long overcome.
Her head is held high again.

And I know, I shouldn't be wasting my time on people
Who refuse to use her real name,
but Hannah is still Hannah inside out, upside down,
Backwards, Hannah is still Hannah,
Even with her insides out,
Hannah is still Hannah.
She's still here.
Let the poetry of others repose in majestic halls:
My poems are filler for paper shredders,
For packing in shipping boxes,
And backing for flypaper sticky strips;
To wipe the muddy soles of shoes
That have seen too much of springtime
In the garden.

Others poetry fills the airwaves, and sits between the covers of books;
My poetry is for grocery lists,
And sudden messages you need to scribble while on the telephone,
And maps to undiscovered geneological treasures
That are only a township away-
To trace the faces of cool tombstones
Under a mid-day sun.

You won't find my poetry near any other kind of list
That doesn't say get bleach, dog food, and toilet paper.
Still, my poetry is from a well lettered life-
I have written all my heartbeats, and most of my sighs
Into sibylline hieroglyphics, from midnight initiations
In the secret brotherhood, of my own soul:
And I will die a freeman, because nobody
Will ever feel the need to own any of these words.
LylexRose Sep 2018
The long time coming now awaits...
Let's ride fast, let's make haste
Got the hoodie pulled up cos I wear no face...
Now let the ladies sing cos I need to concentrate...

This year I've come so far, walking over broken glass has left me scarred, I've understood what it's like to cry, not saying my life was hard, I'm saying it's different to what to you'd expect, but when I out here on the streets you know I don't beg for respect, made my music with feeling of everything building up going though my head, lost songs through mistakes I've made, and I know when you think at the end of the day when life seems that it's all to much just know to look too the light and focus on the music instead, cos I come from a place we're grey skies dominate the streets, when these rain drops fall on your face waiting for a deal to go down, you know it feels so empty just walking around my hometown, just know I've been called sheltered and know it's the ******* they talk when they don't understand the feelings of feeling like you're drowning....

I know it's going down, good lord...
Riding my pace through town...
Attracting the honeys when I sing it loud...
It's time I unwound, feeling kinda aroused, hope it don't affect the sound of my crowd...

Now the streets lights seem to change colour when you see them through my faded eyes, my face shaded out waiting for the man to sell the green so I can get high, let the smoke clear out just so I can see the horizon, it's funny some people don't get it, like they don't understand it, like to dress like a baller but barely making a grand, but just know this music pushed through the space in my mind, destroyed my depression, to my fans I show no oppression, if the music's a little serious then my life is a comedy session, the people I grew with have gone now, have moved along, made they're own path, looking back at me I guess they don't understand that, I been through a dark place, face to face, living with my real family but still feels like I'm being chased, dug myself into grave that I just can't climb out of, they say that fortune favours the brave and I don't need no ladder, don't need to pray, because only God knows I can make it myself, you know I used to never have a say, that never did things my way but now I got a chance to up and leave or change the game if I stay....

 I know it's going down, good lord...
Riding my pace through town...
Attracting the honeys when I sing it loud...
It's time I unwound, feeling kinda aroused, hope it don't affect the sound of my crowd...

Let's just listen to the people speak, but ain't backing me up, they say my future looks bleak, so walk with me and we could be something great you see, I've been told at the root of all evil is something illegal but if you say that then you've never seen **** I've had to deal with, deal it, steal it, this is where the war is, it's why I rap for this ****, so everyone hear can my stories, you don't seem to believe this, I'll whisper it in your ear "this is what work is" and now you all this is how I found my purpose, now let ears do the work, feel no more hurt, used getting beaten, hiding blood stains on my shirt, but anybody wanna know when I take the 10th to the back, knock this ***** with a slap, give him a quick text, show off my face acrawl into his room, I'd **** anyone; for this music I have to protect, waking up covered in blood, smiling down at you and Ill whisper in your ear, you're next!...

 I know it's going down, good lord...
Riding my pace through town...
Attracting the honeys when I sing it loud...
It's time I unwound, feeling kinda aroused, hope it don't affect the sound of my crowd...

Showing these MC'S whose boss, all these other MC'S are lost, all these other MC'S have had enough, all these other MC'S get turned to dust and we all feel the familiar feeling of disgust, all these little people I can here you shout, when I look at my life all I see is devout, to the help I've had, they say the thing that it isn't chosen is family, so would it be a funny thing I disagree, smoking a spliff whilst clutching to the smell of the voice of tenessee whiskey, I'm leaving in 5 but I've been doing this since I was 14, acting like I make bank but struggling behind the curtins, it's a sad thing to see, that I'm just a kid with mummy issues and is a lyrical genius, wanna stand in my shoes, fine but I'm just a boy with a dream whose come so far it's seems like he's losing his passion and forgetting his dreams, it's a shame to see it's ******* I've lost nothing, but I'm only still discovering and it's a shame to see that everybody who was about when this boy has amounted to nothing  going full bearded better know I'm never showing stubble, I'm in outer space just ask Hubble, soaring through stars living out of the bubble, gold wearing and smells like coffee, melting my relationships like toffee and with my feet at the cliffside I just wished it didn't end awfully...

 I know it's going down, good lord...
Riding my pace through town...
Attracting the honeys when I sing it loud...
It's time I unwound, feeling kinda aroused, hope it don't affect the sound of my crowd...
When you think you're lost, keep your eyes to the sky and keep marching on...
Wondering why it had to be this way, why you had to go away
Lining the streets with rose petals that you once walked upon
The living years will always be remembered; the dying years will be long forgotten
You will never be too far from the hearts of many, holding possession to my growth
Molding me into the great man that stands before your grave, with tears in my eyes
I will never grow humble, weak, or run on scared feelings…with you watching
From a great distance, though you are not on this plain of existence
I still feel you as if you were standing in over my shoulder
Looking in, telling me that you love me for who I am, understanding the changes
That I must make, but may not always be the right decisions…learning from those
Cherishing the rightful movements that I take through the shadowy nights
You have given me the best gift of all, you may never know it but I am grateful
Thanking you for the life you have given to me, the name you have shared with me
A great family standing behind me, backing me through thick and thin
Providing an everlasting love that can never be broken, a bond of enrichment
Sharing many great laughs and wonderful stories with me, of the times you ran
An ability you once shared playfully with me, the time was passed on like a baton
Now I run the marathon you once taught me, setting goals that can be met
Setting new standards, living in the light you provided me with when you went away
My love for you will never ever dissipate, never ever will grow old only deepening
With each step I take I will dedicate the footprints to you my dearly departed mother
copyrighted by Aiden L K Riverstone
Kewayne Wadley Feb 2017
In contemporary belief.
A archer went to a shaman for relief.
A answer to ease fear of thoughts.
Finding his way home, the trail of war became too much.
He struggled with the regret of building a life away from what he knew.
When he came to the shaman.
The shaman hung his head low.
Smelling the stinch of blood.
Still he could not turn his back to the archer.
When posed with the young archers question.
He sat puzzled. Summering the long winded statement to "a great change must be made. Else all will fade."
Knowing of the young archers longing for a maiden.
The archer looked puzzled.
Yet the shaman spoke nothing else.

The young archer was called upon.
A war broke on the opposing side.
They needed his skill in fear that survival was utmost.
Without time to think the archer grabbed his bow. His arrows and darted quickly in the direction the war has taken place.
He quickly coiled arrow to bow. In repeated motion until none were left.
A field of arrows covered the small space.
War does something to a man.
A brief clarity after the slaughter of contemplation.
The shamans words dawned upon him like a snake.
He darted to the shamans place in great discoverly.
Finding that the shaman as well as his possessions were completely gone without trace.
He darted back to the field.
Searching through a forrest of arrow.
A heart wrenching feeling stuck on his face.
Guiding his way through the arrows he found a familar hand. Connected to a familar torso.
A face stuck in agonizing eternity.
The shamans words made more sense.
Backing away from the body.
Thinking deeply. Damning his hands.
The thing that came as habit.
He broke his bow in the reflection of his maiden's eyes.
This war gone astray inside of him
Sy Lilang May 2014
You swell some strain on me,
You, middle kingdom!
Eradicating small detachments,
Of both sailors and marines.

They were ranked on islets and reefs,
With an integer of nine –
There in the island next to me,
I’m sure, you know who Spratly is.

Always wanting such detachment
To be eradicated by your own;
Now stationed
On a World War II era landing ship.

Your toy-ships came near me,
With 9-kilometer of the LST.
“It’s there illegally,”
How adamant that be!

I’ve tipped you off already,
Surely will I stand firm!
Then, you’ve countered me on! –
Opting for the ******* of more skyscrapers;
Those that are on stilts;
Now nearby two Reefs & a Bank? –
Nearby my darling Palawan Island!

“There is no room at all,”
For the negotiation on some point,
You’ve declared.

Oh, here’s my friend, U.S.
Left us with course of action to try;
Everyone calm down,
Be less provocative.
For often, he flies over;
Probing some stuffs.

You are the biggest offender, my friend;
In this dispute, you show no sign of slowing;
Or backing, down.
But hey, I won’t give up!

(9/9/13)
+
A bed-sits high and dry,marooned on a sandbank of night.
As  radio 4-casts its nets to isolated ships like me that rudderless drift on into the light.

Still dark outside,no sounds,save the distant echoing bark of a hungry fox ----streets away.
Another dawn ripped blackbin bag of a day creeps and ouzes in

Heavy unfocused lids fogged in the steamy smokeyness of tea and a first ***    
plenty of time            plenty of time.
Time before the world wakes to the morning pips and its flushing, brushing, rushing sounds

A greyness gathers just beyound my pained curtains, as with a silent sigh a roosted blackbird clears its fasted throat.

Then as if by magic I 'm carried, scimming high above and beyound this mooring set in a silvered sea,on a welcomed mantra known to all.

As if a calling pray at day break,following each word in a moment subline
               Un angle vole                                                          un angle vole.

Rockall - Malin - Hebrides
         Humber - Fisher - German bight
               Thames - Dover - Wight.

Each single secert understood and noted only by a few as I glide over in paced, pausey surf rolling words

North northeast - 994 - Falling slowly - Low pressure moving away - Gales 8 very poor - Backing 3-4 later - Mainly good - Becoming variable - Syclonic later - Increasing 6-7 mainly west - Swally showers for a time - Fair - Good.

Oh so good, each pure English comforting sounds heard over lapping waves of air.

The bushy wet nosed fox sulks and cowers away from the breaking sun, as the blackbird draws a dewdropped breath though golden nib and tapping gently, call a hidden choir into song just for me.

Reminding me of the things I'd for gotten I care about.

Sharp timed unwelcomed pips flood the ears to prise open sticky eyes from promised dreams and spoon-cuddles warm
As I set forth on wetted pavements, ready to decline into my charted day.  

Yet smiling as if blessed and no longer alone
            But filled with early morning salty thoughts of strangers
        
                  I
                     have
                                yet
                                       to
                                            meet
dan hinton Nov 2011
One thing I love to do
Is write letters to Grandpapa
Because
You never know where it’s going to take you:
Octogenarians are a real wildcard
And that makes life interesting.
For example, I was writing a letter
To Grandpapa and he likes to imagine things
Because he can’t get around much
So I give the cat meat to feed on.
I embellish a little my romantic situation
And I tell him about M; little M
How she reminds me of my little mama
And that boys tend to look
For someone who is like a mother figure
And we grow into this role
We become more dependent on the girlfriend
Til she becomes like a second mother
But it never starts out that way.
So I was telling him about little M;
And when I receive a letter back
I notice a rather odd sentence
That I cannot help but laugh at:
“Dan, you say M; is smaller than you
All the easier to back her into a corner”
And then it follows on with some
Incongruent sentence about ‘me driving a car’
Now I’m not sure if we got lost in
Translation
I don’t know whether Grandpapa is thinking
I’m going to run M; over (she’s not that small)
Or whether he’s suggesting I invest in a booster seat?
Or whether in fact, he has made an unwholesome
But wholey funny link
Between me staying up all night
And my young ****** prowess
(Which is the same thing I suppose)
But I’m not quite sure why I’d be backing her
Into a corner
That sounds like outright pressure
But I have to laugh
Ah Grandpapa
Maybe one day I’ll show M;
Or maybe not
She may develop an irrational fear
For tight spaces
Which is something
I will never have a problem with...

— The End —