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"bailing" poems
Summer days and heatwaves Sweat pouring down our skin Working hard no time to rest From the time the day begins. Bailing hay without a shade Not a single cloud insight Gathering all the barely corn We work until the night. we have a little hideaway A place down in the vale Its where we drink some scrumpy Along with beer and ale. We while away  an hour or more Depending on how we feel We rest and take it easy No sound from the tractors wheel. Now tomorrow is another day Our work load it will keep We may be striming hedge grows Or we may be shearing sheep. But we really are not bothered We've been farmers far too long We carry out our dutys And sometimes with a song. Our lives are hard but simple We are living the country life Away from the city and the fumes From cars and such alike. You see we have this hideaway A little place down in the vale So come along and join us At the end of a farmers day
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Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 9:13 AM UTC
A farmers day.
****** Up** Just a ****** up girl with a ****** up life Not seen not heard not wanted But that's just life isnt it? People not caring Just a ****** up girl with a ****** up life Alone abused abandoned Friends aren't there Parents don't care Just a ****** up girl with a ****** up life Dejected deserted neglected Living a lie Begging to die Just a ****** up girl with a ****** up life Shattered crushed broken Vitals failing Everyone's bailing Just a ****** up girl with a ****** up life Exhausted ruined drained Hopelessness surrounds her Life is a blur Just a ****** up girl with a ****** up life Not seen not heard not wanted But that's what life is isnt it? People not caring
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Sep 18, 2013
Sep 18, 2013 at 11:10 PM UTC
****** Up
All I do is win, for I'm an Ace Painting a bulls-eye on everyone in the place In my plane I leave everyone else bailing out of the fight in disgrace If I was a horseman, I'd be War 'Cuz like the card game I win against Kings and Queens and take them out of the deck like the Joker on the sidelines, alone and bored. I don't need a Diamond to win you Heart, and I don't wanna join your Club, this was skill and not luck from the very start I am the Ace of Spades, and I'll use my ***** to dig out your graves I've been painted on the sides of planes cars and trains helicopters, submarines, and the munitions that deal out the pain I'm a trick shot Ace with the pool stick As a quarterback, I've yet to throw a pick As a pitcher, I make the other team sick The starter and the backup plan the Ultimate Ace in the Hole The best card in a poker hand lay me down and the money's in the bag I run solo, streaking across the land You only need to hold me in your hand and your enemies will become **** and I'll give 'em a taste of this whirling dervish's mace Leave them breathless upon the ground as I rob the air from out of this place you'll stand in awe of my greatness take a picture, make a statue Fill up every empty space with my name For I am an Ace!
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Oct 5, 2011
Oct 5, 2011 at 2:39 AM UTC
Ace of Spades
Sometimes i wonder, Wondering wonders of wonderful World,for i living in this awful World,spiral of life with terrific Surroundings. Unholy acts to the victims of Xenophobic attacks,violence Turns an everyday speech. Government revolts gathers. Towards poverty-stricken. Diseases classic collide,remittance Assassins rendered for intensely Militancy. Objection!!my lord, Shysters bailing out Evil-doers,juridical system Not pertained.Poverty-trap Pounding,chemical gases Filling lungs of little Ones. Somebody play nice to This,God play part to This,denote dualism of Good and evil. Yesterday they gang banged One of your children. Drugs co-operate infection of Young minds,youth gangsterism Uproar. Father herd your sheeps To the right path,we seek Guidance from above. Family horror-strucks unites, Matrimony rending day by Day,onto religion segregations Strickes by ??????. Keep holy to this life *Life Testimony* and paste Amen...
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Oct 12, 2015
Oct 12, 2015 at 4:32 AM UTC
Life Testimony
I take flight With all my might To be your kite Following you wherever you go To be part of your ebb and flow People think I ingested the wrong pill Because up here I can't see the roadkill And float over the pitch black oil spills From the end of your string I become king There is an approaching storm As you deviate from the norm And discontinue acting warm Your lightning strikes My metal pike Electricity tears through my thin fabric As I dream of a tranquil casket And you want to grant me my death wish I guess that's why they call me Icarish For flying to close to the rain Only to constantly feel pain To distract me from the shame From those with unknown names But familiar bigoted flames To me you both are the same Once I go against the grain You tell me to stay in my lane High above the gravelly ground Where you can't hear my sounds Of impaling wailing Because you're bailing Letting go of the string You become king I am a kite floating Spending night noting All my many mistakes That caused these breaks But despite trying my very best The wind provides a difficult test After I am battered into tatters My hopes couldn't be flatter So I start to feel it doesn't matter When my dreams came true then shattered The wind solemnly sings Of distant powerful kings But I cannot fly anymore In my broken kite form
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Nov 25, 2017
Nov 25, 2017 at 3:17 AM UTC
Kite
Here's a few legitimate refugees: political, poverty, drought, war, and religious. They're right in the top drawer zone, But who gives a flying Whoopi That Miley will claim assylum in Bali Bali; Or Rosie will fly over camps on her way to Switzerland. I hope Cher, Doesn't apply for residence on Cape Breton Island: We don't want you, Babe. These are the celebrity refugees, Bailing out on the touted Greatest Democracy on the planet. **** if you don't like what you elect, Look to history, Stove pipe hats, And the wonders to be achieved Before the end of this decade. They got enough cash for space, For Mars!
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Mar 14, 2016
Mar 14, 2016 at 11:05 AM UTC
Wannabe Refugees
All our country's taxpayers are becoming enraged Bailing out companies which have been mismanaged Countless millions have been forked out Dollar amounts which are exceptionally stout Ever the taxpayer is called upon to cough up Filling the always depleted company's cup Giving generously has got to cease pretty soon Helping them is a cost that's gone well beyond the moon Injecting our hard earned is too much Just let them stand on their own crutch Kick those CEO's into a reality check fashion Let them not receive anymore of our kind ration Money has been misspent by our former government Never ending the out flow it's time for some abatement Offer not another cent to those ailing companies Propping them stresses the taxpayer's arteries Questions must be asked about those per unit costs Regularly increasing and so high are their imposts Shores abroad can produce goods for lesser amounts They run a more efficient book of accounts Under a burgeoning payout us taxpayers are gripped Vast savings we'd make if they were nipped We've been supporting the big end of town for years X marks the spot where we've been left in arrears Yonder the companies can take their travails Zilch is what they'll be receiving from our taxpayer bails
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Feb 2, 2014
Feb 2, 2014 at 9:15 PM UTC
Taxpayer Bails (Abecedarian Poem)
There was a time when we were strangers; ships that passed in the cover of night. We sailed parallel those lonely waters not knowing that soon we'd be in sight. There was a time when we were friends; you wished only to reach the shore, but my compass was spinning, our journey just beginning and so I took you aboard. There was a time when we were lovers, but our ship soon started to leak. We battened the hatches, bailing her out, but hopes were battered and meek. An unspoken pact and a final kiss, letting you drift from my fingertips. I readied the very last lifeboat, but the captain goes down with the ship. Strangers become lovers and lovers become strangers through sailing the seas of time, but this mariners tragedy's worth the memories of when I called you mine.
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Jul 3, 2017
Jul 3, 2017 at 11:10 PM UTC
Shipwreck
This is a torturous test And I'm failing In a state of unrest So I'm flailing And wailing And bailing On living After constantly giving And receiving nothing in return Except extremely intense heartburn To which there is no end I learn So for peace my hopeless heart yearns I want to sleep In a streak Of a week For I'm meek So I sink Into drink And drugs Rolling on the rug Looking for a plug To stop my heart from leaking And my eyes from peeking At what I'm seeking Because there lies only pain That's a continuous rain Growing like grain Until I'm insane Death is near All my fears What will happen before I die? The question makes me cry Will life be one big sigh? I wonder why I even try The waiting Is grating Equating To deflating So I become the nice guy In the lonely night sky Avoiding brutal daylight For it's another day's fight The most unsightly sight Illuminated by the sun Shooting rays like a gun Until I see I'm the only one I realize if I'm blind I can run So I cut out my eyes To ignore all the lies And the carrion flies In this giant pig sty On an odyssey like Homer's My mouth starts to foam over Searching for a four-leaf clover But only finding allergies Which is this year's salary In this dismal shooting gallery Where I'll watch bullets fly Until the day I die
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Apr 4, 2018
Apr 4, 2018 at 2:13 PM UTC
Deflating
There are men in the yards Boys, really That teased me endlessly In school And now they are grown up Angular in their carhartts Corn fed Sun red From bailing too much hay A little extra money on a weekend They are clad in camo hats Soft denim Work clothes When I knew them they were farm boys Who were never looking for more Than a corn fed Country princess A pair of cowgirl boots To take to bed And now they’re driving fire trucks Tractors International harvesters Their princesses Have fattened up Wide hips are good for children Easy enough to let yourself go then Cute clothes are for the rich city ******* Who still fit into a 2 And their kids A new generation of Freeburgians Are drawing with chalk in the streets And the older ones Are riding bikes Long outgrown Scraping their knees Getting stung by bees Shoplifting from the motomart They will grow up normal Grow into their work clothes Keep that small town pride alive Keep the corn fields, keep the rye Keep the beans and wheat and barley Growing high And I keep running right on by I never knew these people Though I wear boots too And my hands are calloused From working with the soil In the distance I can see the steeple And my car Parked for a quick getaway Another day Avoiding this place
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Nov 30, 2012
Nov 30, 2012 at 3:50 PM UTC
Our Town
Selfish I tell you selfish I see you have a grand smile there Can I walk all over you if you don't mind? can I stab you in the back while your not looking while I'm at it I,ll be quick in and out your life you won't even know I was here.Thanks for being a looser and bailing me out please don't call me if you need help too this relationship only works one way.Being the nice guy ***** I'm sure that's what they say about me to themselves.The girls oooh their their worst.He bought me flowers and carried my bag and put me in a cab he didn't even try to take advantage of me his such a gentlemen his so sweet let me bang his best friend his I'm sure he,ll love that .No wonder there arnt much of us left with this kind of treatment who in their right mind would stick around not me certainly.
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Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 12:55 AM UTC
MR NICE GUY
Tile floors. Blood in the creases. Plywood boards. Arterial releases I nail you to the ground, This soul in you. Phantom ghost of specter. I will never leave you. I will eat what you **** And be your skin. Parasitic symbiote of prosthetics, Entangled by bailing wire to every bone, Our union refines combine tarsals. I am you like the liquor, Like Jesus' nails. We rob stores, Skip stones, In the alley. Mirror eyes mark your stretch marks. Deep scratches of size. Your iris is mine. Becoming you is my charge. In your innards I gorge. Metastasize. I want to feast on your skin. Eat your flesh till your thin. In the raw. Exploit all your **** I want to haunt your house and lick your thighs when you sleep. Press through your skin. Bend it out with my lips. This last invasion will curse you for life. I'm a cancer forever. Hiding in your basement.
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Apr 15, 2013
Apr 15, 2013 at 12:04 PM UTC
The Worms to the Core
Another ****** up morning Gray light transforming The walls Arcing displays Of my never ending failures Souls connected And ripped apart like bailing twine Remains burned Put out with sacrilegious wine Trampled and ground into misery I eat the misery My daily bread Needs, wants, fated jaunts Blatant disregards Constant circling carrion birds Salivating over my stumbles I mumble, and cite The glorious night But I have failed yet again. A Joker laughs A Riddler giggles I stumble and fall into the pit At least there is no bottom.
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Aug 10, 2012
Aug 10, 2012 at 8:02 AM UTC
If You Aren't In Pain, You're Dead
T'is the season, pigeons fare on handouts, the homeless sell papers that no one reads, Mexicans wage a drug war around about Juarez, the Chinese run their factories on foreign waste, North Korean bunglers roar 'n reign, while South Koreans fawn and feign, the Russians fine tune their vanishing democracy, Europe is all a plunder, Greece, Ireland, Italy, Spain, Bailed out ***** bankers bailing bundles of bullock, they securities and sell, Retirement fund managers can't buy enough. The US is on overdrive, hot color alerts, underwear bombers everywhere lurk, every life is precious when it serves our needs, at the airports, *** tourists smile with glee, looking forward to having their packages ****** Oh, to be a Belizian, or maybe Swiss, and be able to say "cheese" to all of this.
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Dec 25, 2010
Dec 25, 2010 at 6:51 AM UTC
T'is the season
i'm tired of being everyone's punching bag learning to defend against the left jab can almost predict the back stab my tyrant boss so incompetent unable to lead peers who feel the need to boast of themselves voracious egos to feed as i receive a mere stipend for my efforts sweat and bleed i'm bailing from this race far from your lecherous reach i stashed away a nest egg built a fishing hut on the beach there with my marked comrades remain away from your weakness and condescension we will all have our day when you are called to account for your sins beyond mention
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Feb 12, 2016
Feb 12, 2016 at 10:11 AM UTC
scapegoat's beach
I drew pants out of my backpack like a well bucket brimming pennies. Legs upon legs tied together in a campfire circle and sitting on moss'd rocks, listening to rock music, drinking Rolling Rock, and nothing else. I pulled up on inseams to a single black pocket liner sixteen cents richer, but the fire. Oh, that fire, flames whipping weaker than slave drivers weaker than the wind bailing low-lying lake water to the faux Dover beach mound of sand by the mud shore like the crayfish were drowning. The sand was like trampled "welcome" mats worn-in by sidestepping horseshoe players setting down their tin cans by the mound. A pitching machine on the pitcher's mound. Machines have made the big leagues. I quit baseball when Coach Seth castrated my half-friends with a robot. Some took red stitches to the face, the lucky ones. But the fire—if you could consider a Bunsen burner-esque flame a fire—turned our burnt sienna bottles into burning-out beacons, tiki torches between pine trees, street lamps kicking off in four hours, a box of matches, and a lightning bug's ***
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Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 12:32 PM UTC
The Lucky Ones
In case you haven't noticed, I am dull, dull though tempting still to men who follow close behind their pointy bits Yes, I, glory and glamour, unattractive isolated child, great adventurer, efficient traveler, queen of my enameled laundry *** and tiny oar, fearless reader of uncomfortable old books about Africa and paperbacks, seer of mirrors for the first time, knower of a few obscure things, have been diminished, trapped in a cage of my own making hardly gilded $775 a month with torn floors and bruises, still a good deal, rent gradually rising I could strip my skin away to the milk inside or I could build a great, if dubious ship and float along the river of fate, unguided now, see how far I get, bailing myself out for as long as I can
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Jun 14, 2012
Jun 14, 2012 at 4:56 PM UTC
sunk me
she was a thief of my time, a thief of my stuff a thief of my mind. it was tough to see the truth back then in the dark days of the bent nights and trailing lights, driving at 3 in the morn bailing from death and laughing till dawn days where my eyes rolled in back of my head and the only sound i heard was my sun-shined soul bein' fed. she was there through it all, at the top on the bottom, inside the walls, in the halls next to me, behind me. then she was gone as quick as a wizard waves his wand and as quick as it takes a trail to follow behind a swan gone as quick as it takes the moon to shine and the stars to align and the universe didn't combine all of the right pieces together to create things like waterfalls and trees and people and peace for no reason. but she's becoming more and more of a tease and a ****** and the sea of our love has risen and over flowed, we float outta the brim we try to survive but we don't know how to swim our limbs are broken and hearts are numb i think i'm dumb. what used to be "you and me" turned into a scene of scattered dusty debris i try to listen to my mentors that sing "let it be" yet i can't let this venom outta my head ya see. for there was a time where had energy to believe and wanted to actually live and even felt free but it was all taken away, taken by a thief
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Oct 19, 2011
Oct 19, 2011 at 3:24 PM UTC
she was a thief
The Wild Man is calling and I've seen the Wild Man signs I thought time had been stalling But now I see the truth forced through I had bee free falling in time Watching days and weeks go by Now I see that I'm going to have to do this bailing With my own two hands one bucket at a time But what on this Earth is worth easy Let me tell you that nothing comes free So let's get to this bailing And in time we will see this pond empty Leaving me standing ankle deep in muck and happy Side by side with my Iron John Because I know that he has been calling And all of the signs and signals have been clear But I believe the problem has been I haven't been looking Or maybe I just haven't been ready I flipped that first page and believe me something changed My time is now for my Wild Man journey Because he has been calling He has been shouting out my name And in the time it's taken me to grab my bucket I have been stalling But now time has come And these waters remain empty As Iron John has been seized and caged Over years of time I gradually realize the loss of my golden ball The one so long ago stolen But now I stand alone in front of his cage Feet squared firm as I hold the key I can see the hungry look in his eyes For all the years he has desired to be freed Let us take these steps together he says And join this world alive Not lacking in energy and passion as some But well and truly alive as can be To be thriving and swelling and breathing so deep To free Iron John of his iron bar skies And for us to begin our journeys To leave all of this world behind Perhaps to return one day As all will have seen the boy that left A man returning, his head held high
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Aug 17, 2011
Aug 17, 2011 at 12:24 AM UTC
Waking the Wild Man
The Wild Man is calling and I've seen the Wild Man signs I thought time had been stalling But now I see the truth forced through I had bee free falling in time Watching days and weeks go by Now I see that I'm going to have to do this bailing With my own two hands one bucket at a time But what on this Earth is worth easy Let me tell you that nothing comes free So let's get to this bailing And in time we will see this pond empty Leaving me standing ankle deep in muck and happy Side by side with my Iron John Because I know that he has been calling And all of the signs and signals have been clear But I believe the problem has been I haven't been looking Or maybe I just haven't been ready I flipped that first page and believe me something changed My time is now for my Wild Man journey Because he has been calling He has been shouting out my name And in the time it's taken me to grab my bucket I have been stalling But now time has come And these waters remain empty As Iron John has been seized and caged Over years of time I gradually realize the loss of my golden ball The one so long ago stolen But now I stand alone in front of his cage Feet squared firm as I hold the key I can see the hungry look in his eyes For all the years he has desired to be freed Let us take these steps together he says And join this world alive Not lacking in energy and passion as some But well and truly alive as can be To be thriving and swelling and breathing so deep To free Iron John of his iron bar skies And for us to begin our journeys To leave all of this world behind Perhaps to return one day As all will have seen the boy that left A man returning, his head held high
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43
Knot in my stomach, black hole as a heart, My mind only searches for a way out. Out of my mind, out of this dream, Out of this life that's way worse than it seems. My body is nothing but an empty shell, Every day is a tedious visit to hell. My hands shake, my body pulls tight, I've acquired such weakness, I can't put up a fight. You're the only thing that keeps me alive, Bailing out the water in which I have dived. Drop by drop, I am desperate and drowning, As I lose all hope, my death you keep doubting. You tell me everything will be okay, I refuse to believe a single word that you say. You tell me I am beautiful, I simply ignore you, I know I am worthless and I don't deserve you.
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Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 5:37 PM UTC
Torture
Its loud in here and my mind is failing No matter the cheer, my body is bailing I can't stand the noise, and i can't stand the crowd It wasn't my choice and i am not proud I'm wishing for peace and solitude too But i’ll only receive loud noises from you
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Apr 11, 2015
Apr 11, 2015 at 5:04 PM UTC
Noise v.s. Solitude
Shards of glass are twisting in my heart Shrapnel I didn't know could already be there. Funny how I know, how I knew, My worst fears would tumble out of your mouth Into my ear, down through a phone chord to my heart. A chord with your name on it That's played only victrola music for you Ever since my lonely eyes met you. You checked yourself in Now you're bailing yourself out, You say to keep the hurt and my heart apart... Well, it's too late, you already played that part. The shape of your hands, the roll of your pen, My soul was just beginning to memorize. My mind sings don'tleavemedon'tleavemedon'tleaveme But my eyes are looking straight ahead. Because I, I see you And this poem is far from being finished yet.
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May 4, 2012
May 4, 2012 at 4:24 AM UTC
Drying Roses