"ballgame" poems
Put out a cigarette.
Lite a new one.
Take a shower.
Drink some coffee.
Quick brush of the teeth.
This is how John Carpenter starts his day.
Start the truck.
Lite a cigarette.
Drive.
Drive.
Lite a new cigarette.
Drive.
This is how John Carpenter goes to work.
Check in with the boss.
Sit down at typewriter.
Lite a cigarette.
Think.
Type.
Type.
Lite a cigarette.
Type.
Type.
Lite a cigarette.
Type.
Type.
Type.
Think.
Stretch.
Lite a cigarette.
Type.
This is how John Carpenter spend the first hour at work.
Repeat seven times.
Check out with boss.
Start the truck.
Lite a cigarette.
Drive.
Drive.
Lite another cigarette.
Drive.
This is how John Carpenter drives home.
Take off his coat.
Lite a cigarette.
Feed the dog.
Cook a steak.
Drink a beer.
Eat the steak.
Drink another beer.
Lite a cigarette.
Watch the ballgame.
Lite another cigarette.
Lite four or five more throughout the game.
Quick brush of the teeth.
Lite a cigarette.
Read.
Read.
Read.
Lite another.
Read.
Read.
Drink some brandy.
Fall asleep.
This is how John Carpenter spends his evening.
Repeat all of this 7,304 times.
This is how John Carpenter spends his life.
And when he has smoked enough cigarettes for a lifetime
and read enough for a life time
and eaten enough steak
and drank enough brandy and beer
and written enough novels
for a lifetime
he will die.
And only Mary Stein will miss him.
Sep 2, 2013
Sep 2, 2013 at 11:42 PM UTC
I woke up one day
And I rode far away
And when I came back
A few weeks late
i decided to shape
up
or else, its a long ride
down
How often do you walk home?
Or should I say struggle
Distances are more attainable
In mixed up situations
I am too deeply rooted in thought
on the topic of meditation
To help this patient
I am inhabiting
Enter: ************* bicycles
I used to find
Walking uphill
And walking downhill
Equally awful
The climb to the top
Is worth the fast ride down
The topic of how many hills
are around
And how often we choose to climb them
Will not play in this ballgame
Because cycling is a sport
blood doping is dope
breaking news:
Livestrong sponsors the pope
Without a helment
You would tell me I look ****
As I ride with no hands
Don’t worry darlin’
I knew my hair looked good too
Drinking whiskey at home you can make art
I made that without you
It all came out of my mouth
And nostrils
Without you
I will puke again
Without you
Its true
Rough mornings aren’t new
their usually rough
without you
Only because my will is strong
And if I didn’t livestrong
My will - still will included you
Only if I died on someone else’s terms
(spoiler no such thing)
In an alternate universe
You could be on my bike
And I’d be ****** cold sober
And when that bus hit me
My mom wanted to give you
what belonged to me - the one thing
That survived the accident
Ask a few old friends I survived a few
Whether you knew
Or not
were on it or off
Always on the bottom
Jake
Was a snake
Before I met him
That’s Kona bike history
Living on
Without me
As I age I am learning
To be loyal
To all sorts of objects
like bikes
And women
that own them.
Withholding
without me
I can't see what it would be
like without me -
But lets be honest
Its not so as much about the bikes
As it is about bliss
i've seen what its like without you
It true
If a bus ran over my *** tomorrow
The first thing it would break is my heart
You could start
The day I stopped
Riding my bike
Apr 27, 2013
Apr 27, 2013 at 3:35 AM UTC
I'm speechless
That's my approach as you approach me
And usually I'm too focused on finding the perfect words
To penetrate the simple space I provide
So when beautiful girls intentionally invade my atmosphere
My need for speech is satisfied
Your beauty speaks sufficiently for two
So while I'm struggling for oxygen, I hope you recognize
Your presence is all I've ever needed to breathe easily
I'm stuck
Between unexpressed elegance
And helplessness
My mouth is screaming out
But frozen completely shut
I'm worried my compliments
May be complications
That my suggestions
Might suppress my objective here
We typically rely on our words
To settle the score
As if you and I are in overtime
Of a tie ballgame
Looking for phrases to frame the scoreboard
With an absolute victor
But I was hoping that you'd be willing to join forces
To break through the proverbial force field
That prohibits rivals from overthrowing obstacles
Because I've always believed the input overpowers the outcome
What if it were possible
To eliminate our speech
So our ears could erase the need to draw conclusions
We don't etch our words in pencil
Our words are enunciated in permanent marker
Brutally beating through our eardrums
Rhythmically reminding us
That silence can be more sweet sounding than any set of syllables
All I know is I'm hell-bent on remaining a straight shooter
My arrows will always be designed for the bulls-eye
But lately I've been questioning my targets
They haven't been painted red and white for all the world to see
They've been camouflaged by constricted communication
Secretly searching for statements that haven't met the airwaves yet
So I'd much rather absorb your definite thoughts
Than accept your remarks as absolute
The truth is
I'm not sure
What needs to be said.
The syllables I've learned to form
Don't apply to situations where
Words remain inherently absent.
And too often we force our hand
To make phrases appear
Where they don't belong.
But something about
Silent speeches is appealing to me.
Because the power in your eyes reduce
The need for any type of sound.
And the shock waves your steps make
As you inch closer to mine
Create the sweetest melodies.
So all I will tell you is this:
Let's leave words out of this.
Dec 19, 2013
Dec 19, 2013 at 6:53 AM UTC
I hear the screeching sound,
Of the rioting crowd roaring like a lion,
When the weathered football is kicked,
Falling down like a missile,
Touching earth.
I see the opposing offence,
Passing for desperate yardage,
As our insane defense,
Forcefully sacks the quarterback,
In the backfield,
Providing our team with momentum.
I feel of the cold,
Icy wind as the ultimate play is about
To unfold,
As we play the fourth quarter.
The excruciating pain,
Of deliberately being bowled over,
By a linebacker with such vigorous
Power,
That your helmet is knocked off.
The relief of winning,
A difficult ballgame,
As we celebrate,
Another outstanding victory.
Dec 20, 2012
Dec 20, 2012 at 12:48 AM UTC
You never said it with your words
hugs weren’t what We came to do
you said "Mountain Girls don’t cry"
I held it in to make it true
Don't worry Daddy, I don't need em
I know "I love you's" just words
So many stories in your eyes
never needed a gift or an alibi
We always knew it through and through
the way my heart looked into you
funny really, the truth
to us “I love you” are just words
I knew it at my ballgame
when you appeared in the bleachers
made you proud to all my teachers
don’t worry Daddy, I don't need em
I know “they’re just words”
Was confused when my lovers wouldn’t say it.
Wen't for a long journey don't the path of "maybe I didn’t deserve it"
there and back again
Now I know the truth, I'm worth it
it all happened in the start
it’s me who thinks “they’re just words”
so it didn't bounce back reflected
Now we can have it all
It’s ok to say “I love you”
can be freeing if you want it to
paint a picture with the rainbow
let love guide you
Don't worry Daddy I'll never need it
and they'll never see me cry.
But watch me Daddy as I ride
the craziest bull of them all
having both Love, it's spoken word,
hugs and all.
Dec 2, 2020
Dec 2, 2020 at 7:29 PM UTC
You know the famous saying
All good things come to an end
This applies to weekends as well
Or in this case, Sundays
Because I was forced to work yesterday
Due to a massive project
Which will keep me occupied
For a good three weeks
Including two Saturdays
Hence, all the more reason
To positively dread the start of tomorrow
Ah yes, the infamous Monday
Something that terrifies me
More than climbing Mount Everest
Or entering a lion's den
Or earning the wrath of a cobra
I can go on and on
But I think I've made my point
Yes, Mondays are bad
Especially if you've enjoyed the weekend
As much as I did
Notwithstanding working on Saturday
So, do you want to know
What makes tomorrow twice as bad
As any other Monday?
Firstly, as mentioned earlier
I am working on a big project
Probably my biggest in the last three years
Secondly, while the going has been smooth so far
Things are going to get tricky
So far, all I have accomplished
Is pure research
But now, I'll have to start calling people
And these are not recruitment calls
Which are relatively straightforward
On the other hand
I am entering pure sales territory
Which may not be a big deal
For most "normal" people
But for someone who is autistic
It is a different ballgame altogether
In fact, it is like steering a ship
Through the Bermuda Triangle
And finally
The biggest roadblock
In my long and treacherous path
Is not the candidates
Not even the client
But my accursed laptop
Whose ability to perform under pressure
Is even less than that of South Africa
In a global cricket tournament
Feb 20, 2022
Feb 20, 2022 at 11:58 AM UTC
When I was little,
Like, between 8 or 11-
I used to wonder,
Standing with the fiery Iowa
Sun slowly blistering my shoulders;
Where does the time go
When it flies away?
And if time sometimed
Slowed, stopped, stood stock-
Still, why could I not
See its feet?
If...
(When)
I was 8, 8 years from Mom's
Belly, where was 9 for me?
Born: Thursday, May 9, 1963.
So, I can do the rudimentary
Addition: 5/9/71, I'm exactly...
8. 2 weeks from 3rd grade being
Over. Happy. Birthday. Presents.
Cake, ice cream, a baseball game
To hurry to, Teddy, we'll open
Your presents and have cake when
We get home from the ballgame.
Ugh. Baseball. All I'm going to be
Thinking obsessing about is what
Lies beneath colorful wrapping.
Time has a special
Bitter flavor when you hope and pray
The ball won't be hit to you, ever.
Baseball is full of confused time-
Time scurrying and rolling away from you
In the form of a stupid large white stitched
Ball that delightfully challenges you to be
Quicker than it - Time then languishing,
Elongating, becoming the torture of impatience
Trying to stand in line and wait with that
Virtuous virtue that time ever mocks.
So it's the next day, and I'm 1
Day past 8. I'm a clock, then?
I stored memories of 2, 3? Years
Ago? And I stored scars, dumb
Ideas materializing as real
Blood, pain, stitches, howling...
Did I store time inside my
Mind, heart, left knee, right
I didn't know. Life is often
Too big a concept to really
Grasp when you're eaten
By 8 mosquitoes.
And time slows down to
A scaly crawdad claw
That won't let go of your
Left pinky finger.
I thought, as I rode my bike
Down the middle of the street,
What about next year? 5/9/72?
Ninth birthday? Where did that
Day live? Was it millions and millions
Of miles Earth had to travel to line
Itself up clockwork-universe style
With the time that spun, tilted, and
Pushed the earth through space?
What if I died? Did the time
God gave me go back to Him?
Like I was a human library of congress
Book to spend a short amount of
()
And then be returned to my
Original Owner?
Nov 17, 2013
Nov 17, 2013 at 3:55 PM UTC
Take me out to the ballgame
Take me to be all I can
You can't find such a jolly group
Of secret malevolent madmen
So it's bombs, guns, tanks
For the home-team
If there's no one left, what a shame
Cause it's money, lives and victory
In the Old Ballgame
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 6:01 PM UTC
I thought I hummed a happy song,
but without a woman I was wrong.
A belief I was too blind to see.
Women are the best thing,
a man could ever have.
(she points this out to me).
She said that we,
collectively,
would open life's doors,
no less, no more, dance upon floors.
The joy we'll see.
(And while I'm out and about could I
run a few chores?).
She does wonderful things,
so I've been told.
At least I think so,
but this I know.
From the dawn of man,
through the times of sand.
Without a woman,
a man cannot stand!
(She wrote this on the back
Of my hand).
She lovingly wraps herself around
every aspect of my life,
my wife,
to the point I couldn't function
without her. Yes lovingly.
I wouldn't doubt her.
(She seems to have combined both our power).
She had the word TAKEN tattooed on
my arm,
I'm no longer living alone, so what's
the harm.
You can love them or **** them -
thy name is woman.
(when I'm wrong, I hide in the barn).
I try to squeeze her and please her,
kiss her and hold her,
and be mister charming.
She responds by whispering,
don't you have a ballgame to watch
Or something?
(She keeps me running).
I'm a mouse in my house,
who sometimes sleeps on the couch.
While wheeling and dealing with the
strife of married life.
She says it's for the best.
(I now pronounce you man and wife).
I wanted a strong woman that stands
on her own,
stimulates my growth.
Runs her life and runs our home.
A woman who's so much more.
(Be careful what you wish for).
She said you best be knowing,
that lawns need mowing,
kids need growing.
I countered,
can't I just be a snoring and boring,
simply enjoying dad?
She double-countered,
and said, "Women are the best thing a man could ever have".
(Who am I to argue).
I want a mate to share my plate,
one who has the grace,
to have smiles break-out all over
her face.
There's no way her smile could ever
flip upside down,
and become a frown.
(Could it?)
I reach for my back pocket wallet,
but her hand is already on it.
She says sharing is caring,
and it's a wonderful thing.
She states, "You want to be
wonderful too,
don't you"?
(So I guess sharing is the only way).
She says I'm teachable with a
smidgen of logic,
so I'm flexible, and her little project.
Change my stubbornness from bad to
good.
Says I'm hard headed.
(knock on wood).
So that's how it goes, I suppose.
To be a money provider,
a handyman, a chauffeur driver.
To be elated,
sort of appriciated,
to be a married man.
She keeps whispering in my ear,
for my brain again to hear,
and to make it perfectly clear.
"Dear", she says...
Women are the best thing
a man could ever have.
(So I've been told).
Oct 4, 2019
Oct 4, 2019 at 8:26 PM UTC
How do I look in this dress?
Walt’s wife asked him as she
Did a twirl in the bedroom.
Yeah, fine, Walt slowly replied.
But you’re not even looking at
Me, she said. Walt turned his
Head from the small TV screen
And gazed at her. Yeah, you look
Fine. It’s not too short is it? She
Asked. No, not too short, Walt
Said, his eyes looking at the TV
Screen once more as the ballgame
Hotted up. How about my ***
Does it look ok? Sure, said Walt.
Sure, what? She asked, my ***
Is too big in this? Is that what
You’re saying? Yeah, Walt replied,
His eyes focusing on the pass of
Ball. How can you be so insensitive.
Why you’re not even looking at me.
DOES MY *** LOOK BIG IN THIS?
She bellowed. Walt turned around
And at stared at his wife sticking out
Her *** No, no, he said, just right
Honey, the best *** I’ve seen today.
What other *** have you seen today,
Then? She said. Walt sighed, he’d
Missed a good hit. What do you
Want to know now? Walt asked.
Whose *** you seen today? She said.
I haven’t seen any *** Walt replied.
He studied his wife as she twirled
Again. That’s a bit short isn’t it, Walt
Said, and a bit tight. Makes your ***
Look like two piglets under canvas
Fighting to get out. A hairbrush flew
Across the room missing Walt’s head
As his wife stormed into the bathroom
And slammed the door. That’s ok Honey,
That’s what we ******* husband’s are for.
Jan 20, 2014
Jan 20, 2014 at 2:07 PM UTC
cheer
cheer
cheer
the crowd needs another beer
clack
clack
clack
the ball smacked off the bat
noise
noise
noise
the eyes are glued on those baseball boys
strike one
strike two
foul ball
ball
strike three
everyone is filled with glee
Except for the opposing team
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 9:26 PM UTC
If you cheated on your spouse
Do the right thing and tell the truth
Lies only make things worse
Running away only makes you look guilty
What proof do they have anyway ?
Are the photos a dead giveaway
Maybe it was the social media that caused a stir
Did your ex call you just to say hi?
Or are you still in love with your old flame
Your older now its a different game.
Wives seem more demanding than the old days
They have changed but I stay the same
Being hurt by adultery can ruin your life
Your old now... why not try a dating service
Match keeps telling me there are plenty of offers
A bunch of money I need to date Miss Hopper
Ever see a 60 year old on a dating site?
They seem out of place and expect a few winners
And its the man who pays for dinner and drinks
Its a new ballgame you must take time and think
You get lots of women who want a sugar daddy
They will say anything to get a free date.
But most of the time the others just shy away
Finding Waldo is the name of the game.
But this online dating is just plane strange
Its not really a great way to find a new lover
Most of the women you meet on chat
Have other issues like having no car
Do you really want to drive that far away?
For a coffee date that's miles away
I didn't even get in my car
What I wanted was just to far to drive
I had to call and cancel at the last hour
Everything is so out of place
And I hear the Aliens are coming from space
September 23rd has been mentioned a lot
Maybe they will abduct me instead
I don't really have any choice
It's just a pain to find a good lover
Women have it much easier if pretty
They can pick and choose without pressure
Because another man is always flirting
And I was the one who let her get stolen
Aug 17, 2017
Aug 17, 2017 at 8:16 PM UTC
Degree phase is an entirely different ballgame all together, the subjects are getting tougher and more thorough. Then uni came a-knocking, reality seeps in as parents constantly remind us to shackle down drop all but studies because it is imperative. And yeah you gotta play the game or you gonna lose. The time constraints are getting tougher, and expectations are rising exponentially. So I don’t really care.
Dec 23, 2014
Dec 23, 2014 at 8:05 AM UTC
I sit on the grass
of the playing field
at high school
hey Naaman
Ro says
who's the skirt?
he points over the field
at a girl
looking at me
searchingly
no idea
I say
why?
she's been gazing at you
for ages
he says
I look at her
standing there
dark hair
sad looking face
gazing back at me
I saw her in the playground
the other day
when it was beginning to rain
and I called out to her
I remember now
I say
Ro shrugs
so what?
she's just a piece of skirt
he says
how about a kick around
with a ball?
he asks
sure I’ll be there
in a minute
he goes off
with the ball
to join other boys
on the field
calling him
I watch him go
then look at the girl
she looks away
I walk over to her
hands in my pockets
put on my Elvis smile
she hesitates
as I approach
you ok?
I ask
she looks at me
her eyes are dark
as her hair
deep and warm
just looking at you
that's all
she says
nothing wrong
in looking is there?
no nothing wrong
I say
want to have a walk?
she looks at her feet
the shoes are well worn
the black faded
your fiends might not
like me with you
if you want to play
their ball game
she says
not looking at me
we can walk
no harm done
I say
she looks at me
her eyes are shy
don't know
she says
ok
I say
up to you
I begin
to walk off
wait
she says
I guess I could
walk with you
I wait for her
she comes beside me
and we walk away
from the boys
and their ballgame
and along the fence
towards the play area
with seats and benches
along the walls
I feel her nervousness
she seems tense
relax
I say
I won't bite
we walk by the wall
she says nothing
her eyes on the ground
you got any
sisters or brothers here?
she shakes her head
what's your name?
I ask
Shoshana
she replies
looking across
the playground
your is Naaman isn't it?
she says
yes
I say
how did you know?
I heard someone
call you the other day
she says
I want to touch her
feel her hand or arm
or maybe talk longer
but she seems out
of her comfort zone
and I hold back
best go now
she says
and walks off
back to the girls' area
and I watch her go
holding on
to the slight perfume
she had
I sniff it in it
breath in into me
it's not bad.
Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 2:43 PM UTC
The remote don’t work,
but my baby can dance,
the remote don’t work,
but she can prance, prance, prance
She slides to the left
Shimmies to the right
Makes me smile
That lasts all night
The remote don’t work,
but my baby can dance,
the remote don’t work,
but she can prance, prance, prance
I’m missing sports center
Netflix too
Having watched a ballgame
since 2002
The remote don’t work,
but my baby can dance,
the remote don’t work,
but she can prance, prance, prance
The remote don’t work
And I don’t care
The remote won’t work
And we don’t care
Copyright © 2019 by Zane Safrit. All rights reserved.
Jan 27, 2019
Jan 27, 2019 at 4:27 PM UTC
Lumps appear under my skin
wishing them away doesn’t work
some look like mulberries
There are ones with greenish hues
others blue-black, juicy and ripe
these are the ones I want to bite into
I remember that great mulberry tree of our youth
down by the creek
We climbed that tree and sat for hours
on hot July and August afternoons
devouring juicy dark purple fruit
Our mother’s called as the ballgame dispersed
and we pretended to be nowhere in sight
or within ear shot
We knew the way home
And as we stared at each other’s stained
magenta toothy snickers
faces, hands, tee shirts
even ears and grimy hair
We made a pact
to eat our way to the tippy-top
of that delicious, decadent arbor
I’m home, again
noticing that mulberry tree no longer exists
but I see you at times
and you kindly wave to me
upon passing
I know there’s no need to wait around
till July or August
as I don’t expect our summer dares
mulberry gushing ecstasy
will ever be again
O to be the fertile compost
down by that creek
where a mulberry tree might grow
Again
Apr 25, 2016
Apr 25, 2016 at 4:51 PM UTC
Recruitment is a difficult job
Surely, everyone knows that
It is like chasing a target of 350 in 50 overs
However, when you are hiring Investment Bankers
The target remains the same
But the pitch, which is a belter as of now
Suddenly acquires a greenish hue
And the ball starts swinging and seaming
One mistake, and you are back to the pavilion
Meanwhile, the asking rate keeps climbing
Thus, the pressure keeps building
Yes, that's how tricky Investment Bankers are
At least as far as India is concerned
However, European Investment Bankers are a different ballgame altogether
The target continues to be the same
As does the nature of the pitch
However, now you have to chase the target in 40 overs!!
Well, you decide to steel yourself
To bat out of your skins
And do manage to hit a few ***** out of the park
However, your joy is short-lived
As you go for one boundary too many
Only to get caught at deep square leg
More and more batsmen follow
And try their level best
To keep the required run rate under control
But the wickets keep tumbling
Meanwhile, your last hope, Hardik Pandya, arrives at the crease
And takes the game by the scruff of the neck
While at the other end, Virat Kohli stands strong
And the pair manage to build a partnership of 100
However, the European I-Bankers end up having the last laugh
As Virat gets run out
While going for a quick single
And Hardik goes for a maximum
Only to get caught
Just inside the boundary line
By now, you know, as do the European I-Bankers
That the game is well and truly up
Unless a miracle happens
Well, all you can say
Is "Better Luck next time"
Also, welcome to the world of hiring European Investment Bankers
Aug 1, 2023
Aug 1, 2023 at 2:43 AM UTC
If I could pen a poem from
all my regrets, I would fill up
ten dozen notebooks.
And
if I could take back all the
things I wished I hadn’t said,
I could start my own
branch of the U.S. public
library.
And if I could wrap it all
up with one big gift-bow
and present it to you,
I would speak of the fragmented
memories of all the times I
spent with
you.
Because…
Five years ago, in January,
Hours turned into
Minutes and
Minutes slowed into
Seconds. And then suddenly,
all the time elapsed between us without
warning. And your ticking
time-piece turned out to be
a homemade explosive you
marked as ‘flammable’.
And if I could have just one
more minute to
tell you that I love you,
Just one more moment,
to say that I’m sorry.
Just…just one last second
to say goodbye
and to make sure you knew for
sure what I always knew that you knew;
Before the hours turn into minutes
and trickle down into seconds
Before all the time elapses in-
between us…
I would use those moments to tell
you that I love you more than Mercury
loves the sun, and that I long to see you
once again just as Pluto longs to
make one full rotation.
And I would tell you I will always
“see you later, alligator” and that in my
dreams, you will always be my
"crocodile-lover."
And how I’ll always go back to Summers of
how your fuzzy mustache tickled my
innocence during our special eskimo
kisses.
And that I’ll forever remember how you
pushed me on the swings singing
‘Take Me Out to the Ballgame,"
And how you whispered to me sweet nothings
of how I always was your favorite.
And I’ll always remember that you loved
candied orange slices, gummy bears, sugar smacks
and your “top secret” chocolate stash
almost as much as you loved
your precious cigarettes,
almost as much as you
loved me.
And I’d tell you that I’m still
scared of lawnmowers,
Grandpa,
And that I’m scared that there’s
no man who will
love me like you did,
And that I’m scared that growing
up will make me forget.
Because it’s six years
and six million
tears later.
And I wish I could tell you
how many things have changed.
But the most important things
will always remain the same.
Because,
Everyday the hours turn into
Sixty Minutes and the
Sixty Minutes turn into
Sixty Seconds
and the time still
elapses between all of us as you
sing me softly to sleep
Even from below
Six feet.
Oct 13, 2015
Oct 13, 2015 at 5:02 PM UTC
She's a mystery
our little vase.
just sitting out there
in the cosmos
all alone
with her hour glass
figure. It's time
to wake up and don
the 'morrow...
oh, such a powerful
p
r
e
t
t
y
new dress!
Einstein visits my bathroom
walls spouting bright ideas
about (ILL)uminati nation,
and it's coffee drinking
friends.
I'm sorry sir, but I don't subscribe,
I sleep very well, thank you.
I've lost half a front tooth to winter
already, tripped over laundry
baskets and almost broke my neck doing
the limbo...and the makers of Beano can't
keep enough stocked on the shelf,
oh no,
not I.
It's crazy how clumsy
i'm becoming of late.
tumbling into shell,
little green pistachios
tender meat
fledgling tuition's
not this sweet thing,
I'm not buying what you
ladies and gents want to sell,
I'll keep my wings,
my hearts and flowers,
no disrespect,
Thank you just the same.
I was never into Halloween
or the things that bump
into the night, or cackle
like mad hens in my half wake.
I prefer love, not the half light,
not the lime stand where Mr. Todd and I
have had quite the conversation yesterday,
who does he think he's fooling?
Ill advised, I might say, to play with
such things, such as the sweetness of
the naive flock, let's just say I've
been properly introduced
and my eyes are open,
and leave it there
on the ***** step
with the musical instruments
and the rainbows, I prefer
to be colorless like the page.
No trade darlings, nice try,
but I love you...
and anytime you'd like
to take a ride into the outfield
and watch the ballgame,
from the sidelines of a
couple of overheated stars,
remember, beautiful rays am I,
in which you may trust,
an accidental supernova,
see how the star's tracks
are blinking, winking, and
tapping out love letters
in Morris code...all for you
baby, all for you,
I intend to blow this pop stand
walk off into the fog, whole,
in love, with or without you.
Mar 15, 2016
Mar 15, 2016 at 12:27 AM UTC
If I had been around in '41
I feel I would have mattered more
Made a handful less mistakes
And fought for lives on foreign shores
I would have championed for freedoms
For colors beyond my own skin
To speak and worship freely
To be free from the fears within
I would watch my innocence crumble
At Bette Davis and those starlit eyes
How Rita Hayworth would corrupt me
With legs made to victimize
The day I'd enlist to serve my country
How scared my mother would be
Sitting in her morning chair all evening
Pretending there were no tears to see
Maybe my father would actually notice
A young man that needed his time
A boy that needed a little shove
To dream bigger than the painted lines
I would have worked til' my fingers bled
To see Joltin' Joe hit safe in 56
To witness the magic of Beantown
And Teddy Ballgame getting in his licks
I can only imagine my heartbeat
Holding her hand in the freezing rain
Knowing tomorrow, I'd be off to Hell
Knowing I may never see her face again
I would've taken the A train with her
Just because Ella and Duke told us to
Danced her up and down Sugar Hill
Til' there was only one thing left to do
We would've driven a coupe by starlight
Til' we were running only on dreams
Break into a farm at the edge of town
And lay silent til' roosters screamed
I would have left my fedora in the backseat
Kissed her lips and swallowed my doubt
Waved from a train headed for Carolina
Feeling knots I'd only read about
Jul 9, 2016
Jul 9, 2016 at 8:06 AM UTC
Walkin in the rain
Sure
You can do what ever you want
••
Cut yourself
Starve yourself
It's okay
You'll be useless whatever you do
••
And who wants to be the only one sane?
It's so
Lonesome already
You know what I mean?
••
So pretend you had a lover who broke your heart
Everybody does it why not you!
Pretend you were
loyal
faithful
True
Pretend you are a human being
--
•
--
Forget that death is knocking at your door
Or invite him in for somethin to eat
Or spread your legs open and give him a treat
Whatever you do it's okay by me
••
Just do what you wanna as long as you can
And when you can't ?
Well sure
It's another thing
--
And when you can't?
Sure
It's another ballgame
••
Walkin in the rain
Sure
You can do what ever feels fine
Except to stop walkin
And to come inside
Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 9:22 PM UTC
FOGHAT
it's been a long slow ride
with the wind at my sails
the thick moisture of the night
the memory prevails
like a summer's ballgame
on another rainy day
I was born for the road
you were born to fly away
I pleaded for your silky touch
you quickly pulled my mind
no matter what words I used
I couldn't make you find
to remain here at my feet
any other reason
the months flew past my heart
season after season
and now you have returned
for just a while I know
I try not to cover up
afraid when you will go
Gomer LePoet...
Jan 9, 2015
Jan 9, 2015 at 9:29 AM UTC
I have always had a passion for helping people
I’ve always wanted to do something in my life that will benefit others in some way
Even if I help just one person
Even though I am just one person
I’ve wrestled with many career possibilities as I’ve stumbled down the path of uncertainty,
but despite the boulders standing in my way,
I will not be slowed down by them
I will not allow myself to fixate on them or become chained to those stones like Prometheus
In two years, I see myself going off to college and having a growth mindset since it will be a whole new playing field, in fact, it will be a whole new ballgame
In five years, I see myself with a career and a life that I am happy with
I have narrowed down my career choices to psychiatrist and detective
Two very opposite sides of a broad spectrum,
but those are passions of mine and additionally,
I would be helping people on a daily basis
Those that are living or those that are dead
I believe in a spirit world
Ghosts and such
I believe in a “purgatory” as Dante stated
and I believe that souls can linger until they find rest
I want to help everyone
I know there is so much to do and so little time and after all I can’t do it alone
But we all have to start somewhere
Why not here?
Why not start with our final years of high school and go into college with heads held high and willingness to adapt in our hearts
There is nothing more exciting to me than imagining a world in which people are genuine and help each other
What a beauty it would be to be able to give others as much as we can.
Mar 14, 2017
Mar 14, 2017 at 8:20 PM UTC
I dreamed
The death of my dream
And it
Provoked a loud scream
Deep from within me.
All because
Of how far we came as a team.
I dreamed
The death of my dream
Which meant
the outage of a light beam
That once illuminated hope,
Without which I can't cope.
In actuality
The death of my dream
Would Mean
For me a very new ballgame,
Which Signals a new beginning
For all the challenges looming.
Therefore this death of my dream
Is a just a fabricated lie
All because
Our dreams don't really die
Yes, they do at times get old,
But most often they just go cold.
#IvanBrooksPoetry©️
Jan 27, 2018
Jan 27, 2018 at 8:02 AM UTC