"bailed" poems
Call a doctor/ plumber/ priest*
My heart is broken/ leaking/ deceased*
My life is worthless/ so much better/ over*
I'm going to kill myself/ tell your wife/ Dover*
How could you leave me/ not know/ lie?*
I hope you return my stuff/ come back/ die*
I'll never forget you/ forgive you/ go away*
I need closure/ a DNA test/ to tell you I'm gay*
Your face/ crotch/ top of your back*
Is so beautiful/ lumpy/ unusually slack*
Your ex/ mother/ best friend from school*
Always made me great coffee/ feel inadequate/ drool*
I will miss you/ **** you/ stalk you forever*
That way we can be friends/ get away with it/ be together*
I'm sorry you did this/ I did this /we failed*
I promise to pay you/ dye it back/ get you bailed
Please don't leave me/ show the Polaroids/ write or call*
(*delete as appropriate, just delete it all.....)
Nov 23, 2009
Nov 23, 2009 at 8:13 AM UTC
PROLOGUE
The Flame, aflicker, licks and flays,
illuming evening’s negligees
With braided curls she swirls and sways,
and flits and floats in light ballets
APOLOGUE
A Flame, to conquer creeping fog,
flew dancing towards a random log
Her flight perplexed a leery frog
beside a silent somber bog
The Flame, a ripple, all alone
alit on leaves where birds had flown
The aching twigs began to moan
A rising breeze began to groan
The Flame arrayed an ancient oak
with torrid tongues and veils of smoke
A ****** bailed, the dam had broke
The leery frog soon ceased to croak
The Flame uncoiled and lashed midair,
consuming crowns with utmost care
A crazed coyote fled her lair,
left in the lurch bewildered bear
The Flame, unfurled, went wild and grew,
enkindled cats and caribou
Remaining... not a residue,
as reeking vapors bade adieu
The Flame revealed her strength unshackled
Flora, fauna crisped and crackled
Fire Witches clucked and cackled
One more forest stripped, then hackled
EPILOGUE
The arsonists were well aware
the Flame would travel everywhere
The weirs are gone, the land is bare,
and soon you’ll find a city there
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 5:15 AM UTC
Her eyes radiant and sensous,
she proudly wore them.
Her eyes allured praises,
and conquered the art of flirting.
She looked at him to flaunt her eyes.
Which, she knew will tantalize him.
She wanted to arouse his highs,
and have him fantasize about her.
She looked at his eyes,
assuming it's just another fling.
Powerful and authentic were his eyes,
but also strangely familiar and gently captivating.
Her eyes met his eyes.
For the first time,
her impish and sparky spirit
felt something alien.
His eyes were all that were focussed
for, the rest of the surrounding faded.
She didn't feel the air.
She didn't feel the ground.
She only felt the gaze.
Her always rambling mind
went thoughtless now.
Her burning desire to keep doing more
was suddenly extinguished.
She went quiet.
Neither into an uncomfortable silence,
nor a painful silence.
But a peaceful silence.
A satiated silence.
The haunting memories from the past,
the gripping fear of the future,
all dissolved and energised the ecstatic present.
She no longer wanted this to be a fling
for, she knew she was captivated.
This was the first her flirting failed.
And she knew she couldn't be bailed out
from what's to come.
May 15, 2021
May 15, 2021 at 1:18 AM UTC
As the warm days of summer give way to chill, and shadows grow longer as days shed their hours.
High winds and rain storms scrub the tired landscape down.
Colours are changing from rich green to gold, from yellow to red and orange to brown.
The grain has been gathered, wheat, barley and oats, cut and collected, sifted and sorted and put into store.
Grown by God, and by man with machine and by effort of hand.
Poppies and stalks now mark the spot, of the return for their labour. The wealth of the land.
Birds follow the tractor, rising and falling, swirling and soaring they move like a cloud.
The farmer is out and turning the stubble into the ground.
Rooks and crows, gulls and wood pigeons, starlings and magpies follow him round.
Hay long since mown is now bailed and in barns, or rolled up and bagged, ferments now in high silage towers.
The countryside has yielded reward for all Adam’s toil.
Work done in rhythm with the seasons, sowing, growing, reaping, ploughing and tilling the soil.
Gathering goodness, from garden, and greenhouse, carrots and courgettes, tomatoes in bunches.
Fresher than any you can get in the shops.
Picking the bounty gleaned from the hedgerow. Rosehips and cobnuts, damsons and hops.
Elder and sorrel, mushrooms and puffballs, sour green crab apples, and brambles in tangles.
Sloes that were missed by the late winter frost.
Not all are pleasant and some really can hurt you, pick only those that you know and trust.
Take full advantage of God’s generosity, share it with gladness, with thanks, there is plenty for all.
Sticky syrups and cider, wines, cordial and beer.
Pies, puddings, sorbets and ice creams, jam, jelly, and chutney and enough pickles to last into next year.
As the warm days of summer give way to chill, and shadows grow longer as days shed their hours.
High winds and rain storms scrub the tired landscape down.
Colours are changing from rich green to gold, from yellow to red and orange to brown.
Oct 23, 2011
Oct 23, 2011 at 3:16 PM UTC
(Inspired by article below)
I.
Continuity
your filibuster egg of sand
dazzled curiosity
with creaky shell of hints
heaped upon the tedium
of knowledge's unfurl undeterred
by encyclopedic impatience
Assurances of rip(Van Winkl)ed
economics shooed paper strings of
revelation like anarchy-powered
taxes summoning a foreword
to anachronistic campaigns
of environmental friendliness
II.
Meanwhile years
have been filed down to flashes of
chronology for continuity's organic rebus
However long it took
the economic karma to fall into the
abodes of hedonistic pharaohs
it was instant
Skin that ruled behind the constitution
of allergic breath
bailed on the bones against their most
sublime intentions
Limbo-treading landlords
huddled in their mummified freeze
after breadline bashers scolded them
with the spoils of a new brand
of pyramid scheming
Robbers of the coffin palaces
stole the intimations of identity
theft from today
Immortality and freedom
were compelled to share a meaning
like estranged siblings
or bound dynasties
I(a).
Abydos
how you coyly toyed with us
with a diversion bordering on monolithic
04 23 14
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 12:58 PM UTC
.*oh forget Disney H'america... technicolor H'america was the bomb... gentlemen prefer blondes... oh **** no... the seven year itch... the Rachmaninoff scene... bell, book & candle scene... whoever the genius was behind the technicolor project, outmatched the Disney in 1950s H'america... little town America... big little ******** worth of Europe... eddi reader...more like: keep the cats, a woman may desire luxury, but a man a freedom... keep the town, the summit, the fireplace... keep your luxury... just give me the shadow, the sun, the moon, and the road: perpetually greeting me.*
oh forget looking
for scapegoats
these days...
full blown schizophrenia,
happening,
all over the anglophone
world...
me?
i'm just looking
at the lampoons...
sorry...
lemmings...
and the English?
top the table in western
world...
they thought they'd be
bailed out by
the H'americans...
good luck rolling
that pin-ball...
not gonna happen...
they have their own ****
to deal with...
it could have...
but now it will never
work out, no anglophone
alliance bail-out plan...
it's a ******* farce...
it's a bogus in the bogie
in the ******* coalmine...
forget the canary...
**** i'm seriously flipping
the coin on phrases...
FDR contra DJT?
magic!
no... the politicians were always
going to place the card...
the joker... free-fall dance-loose
feet...
my bet is...
it'll fall flat on its face...
the eastern European Achilles
heel of the europhiles...
that's a supposition,
not a proposition...
or thereby, pre-....
but i do love being a spectator
of rare sport...
en masse schizophrenia...
a nation, divided...
what a load of ********
the English thought that their
anglophone alliances would
last, would encrust them in
a new globalization mechanism...
even the ******* Icelandic people
think they're European...
what did the English think?
just east of Las Vegas?!
an island surrounded
by a massive prehistorical lake
"facility"?!
no one is looking for scapegoats
these days,
there's no one to blame...
mea culpa, mea culpa...
these days?!
everyone is looking for the lampoon
brigade!
- and let me tell you...
mea culpa mea culpa...
no one is looking for a scapegoat
worth kristallnacht;
people are looking
for a lampoon...
or...
karmesinrotherznacht,
the night of... broken hearts;
broken, crimson hearts.
Oct 22, 2018
Oct 22, 2018 at 6:54 PM UTC
The thing about Narnia is
Narnia leaves
and the kids return back to the real world with
both reluctance
and vigour.
But what if Narnia didn't?
What if it hovered,
shadowed around the edge of their vision,
Aslan in the corner of their eye
the White Witch frosting across
bodies of water.
Would they go back to school?
Would they fall in love with someone who
just didn't get
the game
they used to play when they were kids?
"You bailed on us again, Peter"
"Susan, stop looking out the window!"
"But you've always loved sweets"
"Lucy, lions can't talk."
So yeah.
Start again,
*******
I mean,
you changed Narnia for the better,
Right?
Right?
Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 8:05 AM UTC
We divert rivers for desert fountains
Mine the very souls of mountains
yet we cannot spare the cash to feed the poor
Election hopefuls promise lies
while they look us in the eyes
then line their pockets like any other corporate *****
The treasury of this nation
thrives on fiscal ************
massaging figures til the money is all spent
And while we're all left to drown
some get bailed out to higher ground
as they stand upon the ninety nine percent
Why does the power of human greed
come before helping those in need
or is compassion blind, no longer can she see?
I pray to god I'm not alone
so if you appreciate my tone
come out and Occupy this planet Earth with me
Dec 1, 2011
Dec 1, 2011 at 4:06 PM UTC
The Stripper
When time is of the essence,
I await your overdue presence.
When you're not here, I'm so alone,
***** how could you lose your phone.
I hate not knowing where you are,
tonight I'm gonna make your ***** purr.
You borrow my car and I get scared,
I've already had it twice repaired.
Your beauty is unmatched,
no other couple is more attached.
When you moved in, I was nervous,
to any kind of pain, we are impervious.
All massages have a happy ending,
on Twitter, our love is now trending.
You love to cook, I love to clean,
I'm always nice, you're always mean.
You were a stripper when we first met,
I was very rich and you were in debt.
I bailed you out from your jam,
now I'm in trouble with Uncle Sam.
We are broke, but we have each other,
soon we'll be out from this cloud cover.
Maybe it's time to go back stripping,
even though my eyes will be dripping.
For a second job, I'll sell drugs,
I know plenty of **** and thugs.
Now our life is back on track,
we will always have each others back.
Now you got a new phone and a car,
then you ran off with an upcoming rock star.
That's the story of my life,
so I stabbed that ***** with my knife.
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 9:33 PM UTC
I never asked you
for anything.
But you use to give it
all to me.
I did use to have
expectations.
However,
those quickly faded
with age.
As I realized
most of my "friends"
had no idea how to be one.
Actually,
I never realized this.
I just started to believe
that this is what friendship is.
Distance,
Bailed plans,
Missed phone calls,
A Text once a week,
asking me how I'm doing.
For over a year now
this has been the game
between all of my friends.
And so,
I actually forgot
what having a real friend meant.
I forgot,
that I was allowed to have expectations
for people I care about,
And CLAIM
to care about me.
I forgot,
my feelings mattered.
I forgot,
I was allowed to care.
I stopped
asking you for anything at all
because I knew it would end up
in disappointment.
And I was right...
I realize now,
After making some new
genuine friends.
How valid my feelings
of resentment
and hurt
actually are.
Real friends
are there for you.
Not once a week
through a text.
Real friends
follow through on plans.
They make compromises.
They make an effort.
Real friends
will wipe away your tears.
Friendship
is about give and take.
All you did was take.
And now for you,
I have nothing left to give.
The parts of me
left to give
have been given
to my new friends.
My true friends.
I never asked you
for anything.
You were just suppose to be there...
But you're gone.
And I don't know
which one of us loses.
Maybe it's both of us.
But,
Either way,
I expect nothing from you
anymore.
I have learned,
My God have I ever learned...
Aug 20, 2018
Aug 20, 2018 at 11:43 PM UTC
Poppa,
You left me. I mean, you were always there, but in part.
You didn't leave the house. You left my heart.
You left my trust, shattered. You left me angry.
You left me confused.
You claim to love me. You claim you're proud.
But, when I open my mouth you just shut me down.
Am I not that important? Do you care?
If so, could you show it?
I know your 'bride' is important. I really do.
But don't forget, I am HALF of you.
Your DNA runs through me. You made me.
Well, physically.
Emotionally, you've destroyed me. Did you know?
I guess you couldn't. I'd die before I'd let it show.
You say I'm stubborn. Yeah, I guess I am.
You taught me that.
I'm just trying to make you proud. Sorry, I've failed.
But how would you be, if your father bailed?
Bailed emotionally, no support. Just physically there.
Yeah, it's made me tough.
Poppa, I miss you. I know things won't be the same.
But I'm really tired. I'm bruised from this game.
Poppa, I'll accept you back, I really will.
I still love you, Poppa.
{Jo(e)}
Apr 27, 2016
Apr 27, 2016 at 9:35 PM UTC
I know that isn't how my grandmother would want me to remember her. Hell, the last time you saw me, I was fifteen pounds heavier, unkempt, and I was wearing that awful, low cut v-neck that made my chest appear a bit too supple. Wish you didn't remember me that way. But you do. But I do. You can't redact the past. Believe me. I used up every black marker in Oklahoma County trying.
You're dating a chef. By your lovely description, I could see the tendrils of spiraling capellini. Smell the buttered ciabatta. Were there candles? Did you whisper over the wine glasses? I hope there were candles. Cinnamon candles.
I actually cooked last night. Cajun tilapia and wild rice. Easing back into it. I've been living off canned vegetables for two months. Peas and carrots mostly. I'm going to assume if you and I shared this conversation in person, at this juncture you would whisper over wine glass, what was the occasion?
Heather called last night. The dancer. She needed a place to sleep. I guess her Craigslist roommates, those two shifty-eyed boys from Nevada, bailed on the 30th of September and the rent came due on the first of October. She hadn't paid it. Evicted. For a night, my room was adorned in all manner of frilly things and five pairs of heels. She left everything else in her car. She explained the decorations as proof of employment.
Don't worry. I didn't go there. Though, she thought I would too. After staring over her head at the beige wall behind her for two hours with my *** hanging off my twin-sized bed -- her lying in the middle -- I tried to move her to the east. She took it as an advance. "I'm not on birth control and I don't want a relationship," she said. Are any soft women left?
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 1:49 AM UTC
I wish I caught chickenpox two months and two weeks ago.
Who would have imagined the painful discomfort,
to have a direct correlation with remodelling my rationality.
Even after a speedy recovery and two weeks later, the scars
on my otherwise genetically-blessed-clear-face, and all over
my rather well shaped body symbolises a deep story.
Life is not worth wasting on those who don't care enough.
As insomnia struck night after night, mixing thoughts with
nightmares and episodes of Vampire Diaries excessively
watched through out the day on a laptop balanced on my
torso as I laid on my sick bed, I had plenty of time to think.
I thought about how Mr. X only contacts me when he
needs comfort, solace, assurance, care, all on his terms.
Mr. Y, only to gloat how he just had *** or if he needed
an ego boost, and he stopped texting all together long ago.
Mr. Z, who I thought was going too well to be true bailed
after our first date got cancelled due to me catching the pox.
All in all at every stage in my life for the past decade,
I have wasted my time on a Mr. Wrong and it's pathetic.
Apart from having a date on Valantine's day, making out,
endless string of inspiration to write shallow poetry,
I have gained nothing but heart break and sad memories.
The one time my mother would quote Beyonce to say,
they all turned out to be the best thing I never had.
Nov 19, 2012
Nov 19, 2012 at 8:03 PM UTC
I started watching football when I was eight
At that moment I had everything to hate
The next day I went with the squad
I played with a poor morale
Than as the time passed by
People said Ronaldo in Madrid is *****
Than as the Manuel Neur got the fame
Messi got him chipped later in the game
In June they compared Andre Gomes with James
For real? Thats just lame
Merle said "Football players are like prostitutes"
They said "Giroud comes to show off his beard"
Footballers like Yahya dont even drink beer
While some footballers go to the club when they hit the big time
Tottenham striker said "He cant remember going to a club last time"
Bayern Munich bailed out Dortmund with a loan in the past
Oil money of PSG on Neymar gave me a flabbergast..
Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 12:56 PM UTC
Driving down the road
I experienced the glow
Of daytime's luxurious light
That was until it became night
Now that night has happened
A light follows me from the darkness
It pervades my rear view mirror
It's blinding magnitude magnifies upon reflection
The light intimidates me
Like the time
I didn't know what to say
And you had nothing to say
So we went our separate ways
Traveling alone
The light seems brighter
It's constant peering presence disturbs me
I feel this condemning nightlight is my jury
Like the time
The ****** I injected landed me in jail
I used it to sedate the voice that I failed
When you saw my love and bailed because I'm male
I drive lonely and high
There's an exasperated sigh
When the lights gets closer
I feel it may bring closure
Like the time
You entered my vehicle
To protect me from the light
I confused your compassion for love
I felt so stupid
When foolish fits me like a glove
I feel so putrid
The odds of someone being gay are slim
So why when my hopes are dashed
Must I crumble into idiotic ash?
My eyes grow larger
As death's sights grow smaller
And death's light grows taller
My mistakes create magnification
And I begin to drive erratically
When you are my love's activation
I continue to die sporadically
Sep 17, 2017
Sep 17, 2017 at 5:26 AM UTC
A weeping walking stick
Carved with love into a marionette
Brought to life with a magic wand
Kicked him and ran away
Had him thrown in jail
Swatted away the chirping insect
Fell asleep by the fire
Woke up with my feet scorched off
He freed
And fashioned me new feet and fed me a pear
Books for my first day
Traded for ticket for the show
Earned five golden coins
Hung upside down by a fox and a feline
The enchantress saved me and tells me not to lie
Robbed and thrown in prison
Bailed out by a chicken farmer
Watching out for weasels
And given my freedom
He’s not home, he made a boat to search for me
I must find him and throw myself into the sea
Hard work has brought me flesh
Now I’m on an island of careless fun
I begin to resemble an ***
He hawing off a cliff
Swallowed by a fish only to find him
We are safe but he is sick
The enchantress comes once more
He is well and I’m a real boy
Mar 22, 2014
Mar 22, 2014 at 6:32 AM UTC
Nothing will ever compare to my little Nightingale
Neither the prettiest lady nor the sexiest female.
For she bailed me out of my miserable tale
In a sea of pure pain and agony where I usually sail.
My little Nightingale is always busy
Caring for other people’s sickness, curing for other’s misery.
Helping weak people stand, making the babies a nursery,
Reaching for the poor people’s hand, and taking out my insanity.
But my little Nightingale knows nothing about this
For she loves to work in anonymity, and a place in peace.
But my beloved Nightingale knows nothing about this
For she captured my heart, this perfectly deity-like miss.
My little Nightingale knows not one single thing.
‘Tis the feeling I feel inside, ‘tis the desire I always hide.
That I want to see her dressed in full white, marching at the center of an aisle,
With the priest commanding me, “ You may now kiss your bride!”
Mar 30, 2019
Mar 30, 2019 at 12:20 PM UTC
This routine moon
Spells my doom
When it's a dragon's tail
Of a day that's failed
Like the rays that bailed
My time turned stale
When the moon kept appearing
Like the echoes I'm hearing
When I wake in the morning
To see the same plot forming
I try to escape back to sleep
For the repetition makes me weep
And curse the indifferent heavens
While waiting on my lucky sevens
To get me out of a life so mundane
I feel the constant need to switch lanes
But the routine moon haunts from above
When the routine life is missing all love
Jul 27, 2017
Jul 27, 2017 at 12:47 AM UTC
She is "The Monarch" of her own little world
Makeup applied and drowning in pearls
She walks down the halls of a house long abandoned
Regret stays beside her, her only companion
Memories play out like an opera before her
She went for the gold but ended up poorer
One foot is forced in front of the other
Each step an echo of lost sisters and brothers
To protect what matters a wall must be built
Brick upon brick, fear stacked with guilt
Exit the house, exit the dream
Enter a reality of conflicting schemes
Lucky for her she's loaded with downers
Schizophrenics grab both above and below counters
Trembling fingers clutch at the rim
Of a toilet containing this girl's ****** sin
She drowns her pain in colors of joy
Pinks, yellows, purples, to her mouth they deploy
These soldiers are saviors, without them she's dead
It's getting more common, the scream in her head
She tried to fight back but her will was too frail
The going got tough and everyone bailed
But what happens to the general that loses an army
"Perhaps ask the girl that's apparently self harming
For she is a veteran of wars never won
Invisible scars from invisible guns"
Call for a truce, wave the white flag
Nobody sees that the Queen's wearing rags
Somebody save her because God is long gone
She may not be breathing, flame extinguished come dawn
Her enemies draw near, they sense she's grown tired
Dragged not just through mud but also through briars
She can't ask for help with a lock on her lips
Ropes around ankles and chains around wrists
In a life filled with ultimatums, lies and distrust
Ashes are more than just ashes, dust more than just dust
The air becomes pain, each inhale near torture
Her Highness doesn't chase the things that can scorch her
So back into the dream, back into the house
Never the lion but always the mouse
Clean up the pearls and apply more concealer
Confirm the next order with the local drug dealer
A wilted rose with all its petals furled
I am "The Monarch," this is my world.
Dec 13, 2017
Dec 13, 2017 at 12:27 AM UTC
She denied me bail
I wish I would've known this before I thought it was cool to be in jail
Now the walls of the cell
Is like the flames of hell
Just because I advertised that life but I didn't even sell
I wish I can snitch my way out of this but only time could tell
Only if your honor would've known my parents raised me well
But I just failed
Officers locked the door after me and to my knees I fell
Praying to my God who I bailed from
Scared to read my children's mail
Frightened that I'm painting the worse picture to scale
Illustrating that the Afri-Can
Can't
Do nothing more than be held in restraint
Now it's too late to step on the base
They have me on tape
And the judge says she'll never rule me safe
I struck out
With only away games
Because they're sending me place to place
As if I have a barcode on me
Or a serial number on my face
Chaining us from ankle to ankle
I feel like I'm a part of the only population of people who are declared as equal
We all have the same attire and the same desire
My voice means nothing in between these walls
We can never come within the same harmony as the choir
So I remain quiet
I silence the perspectives my parents worked hard to acquire
Within me it all expired
All because I'm in denial
Wanting to be someone else
I realized that the guys who I idolized
Still have their life, because from the beginning it was their life
And I wasn't living mine
It's funny how now I get the picture
But until I die I will only be seen as a wallet size
Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 12:13 AM UTC
My heart aches to be loved
To be moved in many ways
But my feelings were always shoved
Into the dark, excruciating haze
I want to feel something
Anything in fact
But my heart is on a hinge
Feeling numb, my emotions going blank
It's cold in here
Filled with my salty tears
It starts to beat slower
Breaking into large shears
I barricade myself
Afraid of being loved, not being hurt
My feelings bailed
Saying I'm a curse
My feelings back stabbed me
I feel so paralyzed
Now I know, now I see
It's my own personal sign
I wasn't meant to be loved
No man can fix my agonized heart
It's never going to be enough
To fix what's been long broken and deserted.
Sep 2, 2015
Sep 2, 2015 at 5:27 AM UTC
It's funny how no matter where you go
everything is the same. No kidding.
I've been to San Fransisco and everyone is pretending to not be fake,
and I've been to New York and they're even bigger phonies.
I walked into town once, two miles from my house to the park.
I walked along the highway and stuck my thumb out the whole way.
No one stopped until this man on a motorcycle did.
He asked me where I was going and I said into town.
He asked where in town and I said the first thing that came to mind.
Charlies Cafe, I said. We rode to Charlies Cafe which was only a 20 minute walk from where we were but whatever.
He didn't have a helmet but that was fine.
He dropped me off. I never even went into Charlies.
I walked a half block to the gas station and went inside.
I grabbed an Arizona and walked up to the counter.
"Anything else for yah?"
"Yeah uh, a pack of Natural American Spirits."
I slapped a ten on the counter and the man asked to see identification.
I told him I didn't have any but I also wouldn't need change.
He sold me the cigarettes and the Arizona and didn't give me change. It's that kinda stuff that ****** me off.
And that's what I mean. You ask someone for something and they act like they're doing you a hell of a favor and then you waive some money under their noses and they're shining your ******* boots.
I got off the subway and to the venue.
There were people filing in and smoking flowing out.
I stood in line, bought my ticket and went in. Some ******** band a friend had told me about who was playing. I was meeting him there in 30 minutes but wanted to scope it out early. A girl wearing fishnet stockings was looking cute in a booth all by herself. I sat down in the booth next to her and ordered a drink. The waiter was nice enough to forget to ask about my non existent ID. I leaned over and asked the girl if I could refill her drink.
She looked at me disgusted and said "I will let you know, that I have a boyfriend."
Jesus, it's not like I asked to **** her or anything.
"Jesus it's not like I asked you to **** me or anything."
I returned my lean to my booth. I'm usually not so curt with women but this ****** me off.
My friend never showed up and I bailed during the opening act.
I walked all the way back to my apartment and smoked.
It started raining.
Cute girls, gas station clerks, weather, they can all be *******
Oct 30, 2012
Oct 30, 2012 at 2:10 AM UTC
I do not remember my father as a demonstrative man,
but, hobbled though he was by a pre-war psyche,
we never doubted the depth of his affection for us.
His love of nature shaped our own perceptions of life
and his love of sport showed us the path of true competition,
that the essence is not to better others but to better oneself.
He transfused the ocean into us so thoroughly
that we will go to our graves with salt on our lips.
At all the painful pinnacles of growing
my father was there like a crampon you know will not fail you.
A towering lighthouse in his hat and dark suit
as he led me through the convent gate on my first day
and gently cut me adrift in the cruel seas of education
where the nuns patrolled the playground like killer whales
in search of seals.
He went ahead to each new town to make things ready for us
when I started boarding school he let me go in confidence
he bailed me out of scrapes with the law,
he was as certain as the mountain of his beloved Taranaki
and as solid as the beams of a whare runanga.
When I returned from overseas
my father and I found a space in our lives
where we could really get to know each other.
Through a winter that sparkled
he led me on odysseys into his soul
through the walkways, forests, rivers and coastline
of the city of his birth
which will, one day, witness his death.
If I were allowed only one memory of my father
it would be this: seaweed expeditions.
The northeast winds blew a bounty for his garden
onto the reefs around Belt Road
and at low tide we descended with our gumboots and sacks
to gather the fleshy harvest with its nitrogen-rich pods.
He had a system.
We heaped the seaweed on a number of high, dry rocks
then bagged from first to Iast to allow time for the seawater
to drain and the burden to be lessened.
I watched him as he moved around and about as deliberately
as a crab,
gathering the morsels,
bending to scoop the necklaces from the sea,
the sun's purple fire in the white, white, white of his hair.
He had seaweed in plenty at home,
it was the experience he craved.
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 6:54 PM UTC
There has been darkness in my heart manifesting depression through my thoughts and its spreading like cancer to every part of me.
Transmitting shocks through my brain like my blood is the apex of an iceberg cutting out my joy.
For some reason I felt the need to pass out of earth.
The most dangerous thing about depression loneliness because you think no one understands you.
So then you suppress it. Burying under smiles that no one can detect it. Because you don’t want people to think you’re weak so you smile like a mime clown when you’re not really happy but your heart is playing the part of happiness when your heart is the ‘’dark night’’.
You cannot hide your true feelings trying to encourage broken people when your heart isn’t bailed for liberty.
You eat until you dry up the voices of weeping and mourning underneath your loneliness and you gain calories in your heart on the fact that you lack self-worth. Then it becomes so much easy to die then to live with your brokenness.
I know how it feels to feel like an outcast when the only option you have is playing chords with your fingers underneath your thighs.
I know how it feels to love genuinely but have in return a package of hatred.
I know how it feels to think about suicide more than to think about Jesus. Being scared to talk about your weakness because you’ll be tagged for backslidings.
I know how it feels to sing beyonce’s ‘’save the hero’’ to yourself even though it’s a secular song because you’re trying to re-boot your spirit telling yourself you’re a hero.
I know how it feels to feel hopeless that even life doesn’t smell good in your spirit.
I know it hurts to the bone!!
Jesus was flogged with whips, His flesh was ripped apart and exposed,the disgusting flames of people He was about to sacrifice His life for, was all over His wounded body just to take away this feeling of depression. This is why He said it is finished! If God made Jesus conquer death, what makes you think He can’t help you conquer life?!!
Therefore, I will boast in my weakness because His power is made perfect in my weakness.
I will play with my fingers the keys of my heart on the piano.
Eject the thoughts of negativity and press on the victory because the race is not to the swift but he that endures even in depression to the end.
Priscilla Adams(AraSoul)
Nov 9, 2013
Nov 9, 2013 at 1:17 AM UTC
I ran away today; and so I failed.
I couldn’t face my biggest fear; instead I bailed.
Suffocated from the inside out,
I was trapped and full of doubt.
Screaming on the inside, quiet on the outside;
within fear and anxiety is where I reside.
Apr 25, 2019
Apr 25, 2019 at 1:58 PM UTC