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Mark Jun 2020
COOL TENTS WITH HOT FOOD
From the 10th diary entry of Stewy Lemmon's childhood adventures.

Finally, the day Smoochy and I had been waiting for had arrived. It was Saturday the 7th of March. The day we were heading off to the, 89th Boy Scouts & Girl Guides, combined World Jamboree. The jamboree was held this year in the Nevada desert in Las Vegas, USA.

My dad Archie, was the local scout leader for the Shimmerleedimmerlee 1st scout group and my mum Flo, was second in charge of the Barefeet Mountain 3rd Girl Guide group. Mum's friend was the Barefeet girl guides leader and she was named, Miss Alice Springs. Dad was making the trip with other local scout leaders and 11 of us boys. Mum and Miss Alice Springs were taking 11 girls from the local Barefeet Mountain girl guide group, including my two much older identical twin sisters, Emma and Jemma. Also coming along was my much younger brother, Lemmy and of course my grouse pet mouse, Smoochy.

Dad has been in the local boy scout group since he was very young and his father, John Lemmon, my grandfather, was also in the same scout group when it first began, all of those years ago.

There were boy scout and girl guide groups from all over the world attending the big camping and adventure event. People from far away places like Norway, France, Egypt, Australia, Holland, England, Brazil, Thailand, Hong Kong, Italy and of course the host nation, the United States of America.

Every group, brought with them their home nations own colourful flags and individually designed tents, based on their countries culture or famous landmarks. It was like having all of the countries of the world, all in the one place at a time.

The boy scout and girl guide group from Thailand had a tent that looked like a Buddhist Temple and also had an outdoor kitchen where they would make, such great tasting, but ever so hot and spicy, food from.

The Egyptian guys and girls had a massive high tent, that resembled the world famous giant Pyramid of Giza. It must of taken them ages to make the angles so perfectly straight and with extreme precision.

Holland's tent was a large and fully operational, colourful windmill. It, even had it's very own water tank. The windmill tent was painted with colours and designs that even impressed my very artistic dad.

He said, 'He might even have to redecorate his unusually built, outrageously painted, outback, backyard shed and use some of the bright paint colours and fancy designs the boys and girls had done'.

The next tent was very big and long from the boy scout and girl guide groups of, Australia. It had been designed to look like the, Sydney harbour bridge. But it didn't have a roof to protect them from the weather, while they slept shoulder to shoulder, across the wooden bridge road. But, like most Aussies with relaxed and casual attitudes they said, 'She'll be right mate, Rain, Hail or Shine'.

The guys and gals from Italy, had a tent that was leaning over to the right, just like the, famous Leaning Tower of Pisa. They assured us all that it wouldn't fall over. 'Trust us, they said'.

Hong Kong had a very long tent that was based on the colourful, cultural inspired dragon. It had a lot of tent pegs on either side, to keep it's ever winding position in place. It was the most colourful and coolest tent of all. But at the same time, the most scariest tent of them all.

England's tent was based on the very historic, Tower of London. It even had two very serious looking guards on patrol out front, made out of paper mâché.

Norway's tent was in the shape of, a Vikings fighting helmet. It had, two large horns coming out from the left and right hand sides. It looked like a raging bull, in a bizarre sort of way.

Brazil came up with a giant yellow and green football, based on their national sport and colours of the country, for its design. All of us just hoped, 'It didn't get a sudden hole in it and start to knock over all of our tents, just like a giant pinball game'.

France went for a super, duper structure, that was wide at the bottom and became thinner towards the top. It was in the shape of the Eiffel Tower, of course. It was the tallest tent at the jamboree camping grounds and provided the best views from atop.

While the host nation the USA decided to honour the, Native American Indians. They, had a large tent resembling an original and colourful Indian Teepee, with a hole at the top. The scouts and girl guides from, the USA, sent out messages to everyone nearby, using the old, but still very effective, smoke signals way of communication. They said, 'Who needs the Internet, Facebook and Twitter, when you can send messages and cook a meal on a fire at the same time'?

After looking at all of the great tents made by all of the participating nations, we sat down to eat. Everybody had made a favourite dish from their home country. All the girl guides from Australia made the famous and delicious dessert cake called, Pavlova. But, it wasn't any ordinary Pavlova, for it was in the shape of the very large outback rock named Uluru. Which, by the way, is located in the middle of Australia, near a place called Alice Springs.

So my mum's friend has a very famous name indeed. The girl guides from Australia named this creation, 'The Alice Springs Rock'.

The Egyptians had made a dessert out of shortbread, that took them hours to make. Each piece of shortbread had to be skilfully cut, with exact precision or the creation just wouldn't stay in place. It was named, 'Pastry Plate of Pharaoh's Perfect Pyramid'.

The Italian Boy Scouts, prepared a series of huge leaning pizzas stacked on top of each other, on very acute angles, just like their tent. They named their creation, 'The Leaning Tower of Pizza'.

The host nation of the USA, made some yummy hotdogs with tomato ketchup, mustard and cheese. They made the hotdogs, pop up from each end of the roll and placed wooden sticks on either side to look like American Native Indians were rowing their canoes.

Norway had created a tasty snack made with salmon and biscuits which looked like little boats flowing down the Fjords. Also the impression of large rocks in the water that were in fact meatballs for all.

Thailand had served up several spicy dishes, including the famous Pad Thai dish with chicken and the hot soup named Hot and Sour with Prawns in Thai you pronounce it as Tom Yung Goong. It was so yummy in the tummy the dishes from Thailand.

In the Brazil kitchen they made us their nations famous Churrasco or BBQ. It uses a variety of meats like pork, beef and chicken which was cooked on large metal skewers stuck into the ground and roasted with the embers of the charcoal.

France baked up some crescent shaped flaky pastry named the Croissant. They added some great tasting almonds to a few, while some others had dried fruits such as sultanas, raisins and even apples.

Holland had an assortment of plates consisting of Gouda and Edam cheeses with mayonnaise and mustards and other plates had a rich variety of fruits, freshly cut meats and nuts placed upon them.

Hong Kong had very traditional Chinese meals prepared for all to enjoy. They had everything from fried rice, to Chinese noodles to my dads all time favourite Peking Duck, so when he saw the duck he said he was in luck. Also they had a plate full of Dim Sums and a Hong Kong favourite snack called egg tarts and another of my dads favourite drinks named milk tea.

Finally England had whipped up my Friday night special, which is Fish n Chips with tomato sauce. It was so good that a lot of the other nations said they would make it for their families, once they got home.

In the morning we had such great fun and adventure while trying every nations favourite sport or recreation. We started by having team races on the river in Native American Indian canoes, Norwegian Viking ships, Italian Gondolas, Egyptian river boats and Chinese dragon boat races in the nearby river. The winning order was Hong Kong 1st, Italy came in 2nd and third of all was Egypt.

We even had competitions to see who could do the best smoke signals and we even had fun rope climbing events to the top of the Eiffel Tower, the Leaning tower of Pisa, and walking and climbing events up the Pyramid of Giza and the Sydney Harbour Bridge tents.

Then some countries had a football game after lunch with teams from Brazil, England, Italy and France playing for the Boy Scouts and Girl Guides World Cup golden trophy. Brazil beat England in the final 3-1, to hold up the golden cup.

Some other nations had bike riding races, which Holland won with ease. Australia did really well in the boxing competition. Everybody laughed when Smoochy came out 1st, wearing a pair of boxing gloves, before they brought out a plastic blow up of their mascot wearing gloves "Big Red" the boxing kangaroo which was placed near the ring for good luck.

Thailand dominated the Judo and the USA couldn't be stopped in the 100m sprints and also the mixed basketball matches. So overall, everyone had such a great time and we all loved the tents, food and different sports to watch and perform in, from all of the world.

The week went so fast and it was sad to say goodbye to all of our new friends from all over the world, but we promised that we would stay in touch either by using smoke signals or the new generations way, which is either by Facebook or Twitter.
© Fetchitnow
20 October 2019.
This children’s fun adventure book series, is only for children from ages, 1-100. So please enjoy.
Note: Please read these in order, from diary entry 1-12, to get the vibe of all of the characters and the colourful sense of this crazy mess.
Joseph S C Pope Feb 2013
I want to see where nice words are used on young ladies.
                      ****** Rome of rude-bred heights from the balcony of the city of dynamite.  The villagers sacrifice their seven pounds of worry, and sleep like children in caves of textile reactors. Souls packed in coins and gasoline sin are sold hot at the bazaar on a University campus in America. What the **** do these lambs do in societal gardens? What the hell do pets know watching letters drizzle from the clouds? Parcel dreams scattered on foster children--I want to know where all our words for niceties went when we paid the women to be young.
                                                                      Devils make knees slick
                                                                   barbwire anacondas bless our country
                                                   write a laugh--write a song--and we will all work it out

                       We--used as a rapier to categorize the salt in vigorous blood flow--the bells, the bells of centuries worth of midnights. I--the edited cobble in roads that precipitation breaks in stride. Hearing the  rambles of lucky men in the next room, but I know young ladies don't kiss and tell to friends they find effeminate, they rupture and explode. And laugh. And laugh. And laugh. And laugh with squeaky voices as true as poetry. Now they mumble till they are paid.
                                       But you--are no *******, just an empty glass with chunks of broken accents skipping deadlines in life, for new deadlines in life. Abstract puzzle pieces resemble therapy that burns the interrupted wick in--you.  
   But as for--them--they--or others--delirium commercializes whispers aching the back of their tonsils till there is no relief, but coin to pay for more coin that will pay for more coin. Relief is in another language they refuse to learn because they are arrogant.

Cats scowl at one in the morning for attention, nails anchored in carpet, the rest of us are tired by the week of spending. They want more, more, more--till the gates in your eyes open.
Asphyxiophilia Oct 2013
It only takes one step to walk over the edge
And if your heart is as cracked as the canyon under your feet,
I suggest you back away from it
Because the split rocks scattered around you
Are not good indicators of
The split seconds it would take
For your hands to reach the heavens and
Your face to connect with the ground beneath
And although your only thought is
Whether you would finally be able to fly
And reach the other side
You are only a human
Standing with your barefeet pressed into sand
And your toes kissing a ledge
And although you can't fly right now
That doesn't mean you never will
But it only takes one step to walk over the edge.
Geno Cattouse Mar 2014
I remember from my first memories with all senses humming waking up on Sunday mornings to the squealing seagulls. The smell of briney sea air was sharper

On most sunny sunday
mornings I would awken and lay in bed wake..dreaming for what seemed like hours.
The smells of grandma's rose and flower garden mingled with the smell of sunny Sundays.
The BBC wafted in through kitchen and bedroom windows.Mozart and Sinatra tag teamed  against The Ink Spots and, Stan Getz.  The Swallows flew back to Capistrano on yearning wings.
Then up and out on walk and sprint to the Caribbean sea, a gem coated shimmering twinkling dancing blanket of rising sun meets amniotic blue churning as froth and mist drifted in a sunday sermon from the water's deep and shallow.

A bubbling embrace as sprint turns to
Swan dive into the Sunday morning sea.
Seven day ritual baptism in the Sunday morning sea...at one with and free.
Now.
A sprint to the bobbing fishing boats that never drew fish from their restfull retreats of the morning Sea.

Breakfast
The sounds of tinkling teacups another ritual as granny stirred brown sugar and condensed milk into a carmel swirling with Johnny Cakes and coconut oil fried eggs waiting and wafting out
To the Sunday morning sea.
My Puppy and me then down through the flower garden.
Of we scampered with cares falling away and secrets to share while throwing stones into
The Sunday morning sea
My puppy named Ranger,barefeet and knee pants the hot sting on my ankle from a chastising fire ant rudly stabs at my reverie
As far as the horizon will let.
My imagination flees and unfetters to shores unknown that kiss and caresses my Sunday morning sea.
david badgerow Dec 2011
i felt your flourescent heartbeat
on a ***** southern sidewalk
i was staring at my own barefeet
and i saw your eyes from a hole in the ground
you spoke like wind through the air
your words whirled above the garbage

i found a corpse under the floor last year
i keep my pages padlocked in the basement
my stomach is a pit of decaying pipes and retching waterbongs
you are a monster squid walking silent and sunk in thought

i have your eyeballs in my sheets
i have your memory in my bathroom mirror
i have your legs wrapped around my blue veins

i keep my secrets in a lump of tin
and we will scatter these ashes at dawn
we will fly forward on the western wind together

i am the mouth of the void
i can spurt unimaginable wit directly out of my skull
i contain jars full of indecipherable arrangements

you asked me where the rain came from
and i told you we'd be frozen this way
you left a message beside my pillow
i heard the music of your mind
Aanandha Jeeva Dec 2013
LOVE
resonates
perpetuates
proliferates
aura embodies
reign cloud shines

I'll offer you my hand
A humbling breeze
Earthquakes shake the land
expand beneath the sand
waves rolling, sunshine

raw pure and unclear
dissolving fear
pouring light
fruiting delight
tears of nectar
sweet perfection
ormus affection

candlelight reflection sprouting seeds of our intention
laughter infection- spreading heading towards my heart
tickles as it parts ----- fleeting dogma counterparts

I believe in the moment. what it shows to me
mama earth writing poems to me, streams trees thrones to me
barefeet crush dry leaves, as fear flees these trees
teach so lovingly----- so humbling

Love Vibrations
love lifts altruist
light guides
inspired minds
so shine

restruct time
align oscillating vibes
fractal benign
loveshine
/
everchanging notes for a raggae ***** tune in progress
Surbhi Dadhich May 2019
rolling back years and years
in that flimsy photograph
rolled from tethered corners
sparked memories sweet and sharp
barefeet were we as breeze blew
tugged solemnly,motionless
grievous grin, yet not so glum
sunshine blazed our freckles
a close look ,indicting
'' we could be a bit closer''
closer, at least for a span of a moment
span of years drifted us farther and further
your hiccoughs compelled me to lament..
Pen Lux May 2011
you're the same as I remembered you:
                                                            ­ eyes like daggers
                                               swim towards my barefeet
it's almost summer again: it's too hot to hold you, or
                                                              ­         anyone.
sighs about tomorrow: "you're just going to fall asleep again."
I avoid the mess and go straight for the spill: lips. eyes. brain.
you're the lipstick on my coffee cup, the smell of smoke after a house burns down.
she screams about the horses, the costumes, the memories:
                                                       ­                                         I tell her to be quiet.
"just shut your mouth! just shut your god ****** mouth!" and again,
                                                                ­                              "you're hideous" in a different way.
the anger moistened breath (shouting)
released her from the frenzy of being herself.  
                                                      ­                   standing in front of you, arms shaved and knees lotioned:
"thank you", from the voice of insanity,
signed on the back of a handmade book
with your name on it.                                                          exit­: left ear right ear left ear right ear left here.
Words like ghosts      they go straight     through her.
lack of empathy lack of mourning lack of desire lack of satisfaction
it all goes down the drain: in this house
                                          (clogged with hair [it doesn't matter who's, so don't ask]).
the boredom cries out (again) with freedom
                                                         ­            and instead we call it "relaxation".
(things we think
but we never think)                                  
to say: I lost the meaning of vacation counting license plates on the way to Texas.
(would bring back more than just the dead)
it would bring us                     back to dead,
and death would say
(something ringing in our ears) that we understand.
              that we understand the things we want to,
whatever they may be,
and then maybe:                   in death
                               we can find peace.
JL Mar 2012
My lungs are full of seaweed
Back upon the beach
Waves still reach up to lick
To my feet


Sunset spirals
Seashell seas
Salt crusted fingers
Crack in the heat
Lips bleeding thirst
A touch or kiss

Window latcher
Lightbulb catcher
Lover in a dream
Barefeet on hardwood floor
A warm bed
And
Above my head
Spiders build a thousand webs
david badgerow Nov 2016
there's a secret place i found to keep my fear
to hide my tenderness & be vulnerable --
it's next to the smallest bones in your inner ear
the fluid skin blanket of your swooping neckline
lily-soft & somehow stiff enough to break
open my seed-pod heart

the one i thought no one could pry apart
but with rosebud ******* -- lips --
the figure of biblical magdala takes me
away from a lone satsuma tree raising its
shriveled offering from the crippled earth
on sunday strolls through duckpond parks
kicking cobbled streets of augusta block
or scooping water at me smiling in cutoffs
on a hot hometown riverbank

you came to me on barefeet out of the smoke
& rain silence where i was invisibly sobbing
where heat-lightning waltzed
sneaky-pete over the prairie
& what are you if not a rain -- a zephyr
flowing through stone temple
just as the dry-mouth dog days of summer
brought hell's fire across the southern field

so i've abandoned the hermetic existence
& buried my old dead shell with a
harp song hail glory to the contortionist god
vaulting off the balance beam in the
back of my mind beneath the
rain soaked topsoil of dawn
among the mound palaces
of ants & mourning mud hornets
while the gray shadows of the magpie
dance & writhe on the mosaic faces of
the trespassed lupine forest

& the sun still comes up on time big
gold fluttering like a delusional cicada
over the empty pink street
i'm still fidgeting because
clouds with tails like jellyfish sting
with rooted memories of azaleas but
you kiss away my all my latent
restless gypsy fears & keep the harsh
light dimmed or wrapped in heat-foil
in your front dress pocket & you only
give it back to me in brief drips --
pinches -- wet tongue kisses --
we talk with our eyes as only animals
can our butts in the damp sand
beside the breathless sea where streaked
clouds seem free to finger the horizon
but are cut by the city skyline --
a switchblade
Lappel du vide Mar 2014
jerry's voice weaves a net
to catch my drunken skin,
sagging and dancing against
his cherry pie voice
warm and sweet in the dark of
the 7:17 dawn,
sun still sleeping behind a tall mountain range.

it makes me ache for open hearted
companions
barefeet wet from dew and black from distance
fearless,
unapologetic as they scream their throats out
raw splattering on the gasping earth from
the heaven high rooftops.

flowers poked through the pores
of ocean flavored skin,
peeling from laying too long
in the morning-faced
sun.

i wonder why people feel
so ancient, when their skin is still so young.
we've built this generation in the
imprisonment of fear,
the shrill avoidance of beauty,
we've forgotten what it feels to be living
free and loving
true,
and that's why you see so many young bones
crumble when their lives have just
begun.
Aleska Servian Apr 2014
The smoke covering your face
i feel like i've been back from outer space
and i don't even know the last numbers of your credit card
Feel the thrill of the chase
unpredictable like a horse race
i'm wearing your favorite shirt, barefeet in your yard
I didn't tell anyone that it spreads like cancer
and through the neon lights, i'm your favorite dancer
wild and beautiful like a black panther
Take me to hell baby
anywhere, amaze me
Vines growing inside my veins like a poison ivy
when you're around the taste in my tongue is spicy
and after some chapters i realize that i'm so tiny
compared to the strings that you use
to make me move against my own rules
Hush...
Be still...
Try to remain silent.

Listen very closely...
Her pleading may be heard
As it is carried through the wind.
Her emotional appeal
Sounds desperate -
It is unbearable to an epath.
Her pleads are ever so faint
And gentle, they are far from violent.

Hush...
Be still...
It is her soul's agony
Which is vibrating
A disturbing frequency,
At such a rate that it constitutes
A wave.

Cries, which nature, alone,
Can hear and feel...
Cries, which shake the leaves free
From the branches of all the
Majestic trees; neither her soul
Nor the trees, can you save.

Hush...
Be still...
Can you feel the faint tremble  
Under your barefeet?

Hush...
Be still...
Rest your cheek upon the earth,
Feel her spirit, which is trapped
Deep down inside.
Inhale her essence- it is buried below,
In the fragrant moist soil...
Taste the droplets, she is in the dew;
Even in pain she is a soul
So gently sweet...
~ She is tinged with sadness--
Bittersweet.

By Lady R.F (C)2017* ⚘
Sheila J Sadr Jun 2014
I tried running.
Pressed my feet against those hopes I’ve always wanted.
But slipped right onto the crackled pavement
I used to call my dreams.

One day, I bought some Nikes.
The store told me that their shoes could
grip onto you tighter. That I could sprint across
your tired body and not forget to clean you
with my footsteps. I adored you.

The funny thing I soon found out was
buy and try all I want -
there is no such rise and recovery
from blindly face-planting on your familiar path
splattering your body
like sunday morning jelly on toast.

All I wanted was to hold you. Follow your road
that refused to latch onto me like a dead leach.
Feed off of you like an infant on a mother’s breast.
Bloom like daffodils in your needed sunlight.

But there was no traction. My Nikes broke their promises
so I tore them off and tried walking
barefeet.
I stumbled.
Laid there.
Curling my fingers onto your fractured chest, I tried
holding on.
Sliding under my very fingertips, you refused me.

Or I refused you. Whatever it was
It doesn’t matter now.
There is just no traction.
So I let go. Maybe swimming is a safer bet.
No point in holding on anymore.

Thursday January 23, 2014  3:46 AM
brandon nagley Jan 2016
i.

Seraphim, betimes we shalt crack this inter-web bourn, awaiteth I, tis with tear's from these eye's, though the waiting wilt purify, ourn ventricles to an unfamiliar door.

ii.

None reason for Affright, mine soul doth leadeth the way, O' amour' Jane, thine hari's here to stay. Afresh to the new day, ourn canorous spirit's pave the serenade; something lost to olden flutes.

iii.

Barefeet- None sandals, the luggage we carrieth wilt be of God, almighty; supernatural. Powerful crystalline stone- lucid, god-hand castles.

iv.

It's not against flesh and blood love, that we do wrestle, but against spiritual wickedness in high and low places, we conquer demonic armies, and nephilim faces. An ambassage we sendeth to the human races, that they mayest love another, and forgive, and to forget their past disgraces. As tis Queen Jane; alms wilt be seen on the wall's, encased with ourn names. As I wilt catcheth thee, when through the cloud's thou doth fall...



©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley ( Filipino rose) dedicated
Betimes- means in good time.   archaic form.
Inter-web, having to do with technology, computer world..internet...
Bourn - archaic word for boundary.
Tis- means - it is. Archaic form...
Affright means - to frighten...
Hari means - ( king) in Filipino tongue...
Afresh means- again, or also anew. I mean again.
canorous means- melodious or resonant.
God-hand is a word I made up just now lol. Means made by gods hands .
Lucid- means bright or luminous.
nephilim- are the offspring talked about in genesis. The offspring that came from fallen angels ( demons) or known as the watchers coming down and sleeping with human women. Thus making nephilim.. Or giant beings... Which fun fact. The Smithsonian museum is now coming out to tell us they have over 1,000 plus skeletons "kind of human like" 18 feet tall. No joke look up and giant bones and bodies are all over the world... You think the old stories of giants were a myth from legends of Greece. Where mine ancestors are from. And around the whole world? I don't think so. Very much real friend . .and the government hides this from mainstream news. Media. Science so on. Lol the USA used to have articles on giants alot back in early nineteen hundreds though then they stopped putting huge giant bodies they found in paper.   Wanted to keep silent on it. Nope coming out as has more lately..  Sorry fun fact lol (:::
ambassage is - a message...
Alms- means Giving to the poor to help them, of charity.
Michael Chandler May 2013
I love it when you walk barefooted
its not the fairness of your skin
or the scarlet of your nails
I touch the ground you grace
I feel the flames on my face
Sometimes I think you are the devil
and how easy you tempt me like sin

And if you are the devil
your words are ideal persuasion
your kiss is addictive as ******
a snake slithering under my sheets
So I shall let nothing extinguish this heat
for its the love I have for your barefeet
Sarah Wilson Oct 2010
you know what i'm thinking about, now.
it was too hot outside to do much of anything,
and my car was on low fuel anyway.
[but i bet you didn't know that.]

and i hadn't slept the night before,
and i was ready to tell you that i...
i simply couldn't do this anymore.
but i knew how you felt about running away.

so i stayed, *******, i stayed.
and we ate ice cream with our fingertips,
and never spoke aloud what we felt as we did it.
has silence ever spoken so loud, bbluv?

and in fragments i remember our movie,
and the whole time i wanted to be closer.
so i sat on the floor, and you in your chair,
and wondered if you even noticed me there.

and then i remember hours and hours of night,
being irresponsible and [occasionally] flirty.
but we had to get up in the morning,
so we tried to stop our endless flow of words.

and i remember calling you after i wrecked my world,
and i paced around the house in my barefeet,
and whispered what happened, what i was afraid of.
i remember you mentioning my drunk texts, too.

and yes, i remember slurpees and wasting time inside.
not because it was hot ouside,
but because i just didn't want to leave.
i didn't get anything else done that day.

and i remember the feel of your bed, your pillow,
so different from the couch i had been sleeping on.
and i remember this look in your eyes, and i...
didn't know what it meant, at the time.

and, you know, i wish you weren't sorry.
for driving me away, i mean. that's okay.
but the way you did it tore me apart.
i'll be way too honest here and say it changed me.

i kept waiting for it to hit me,
day after day after ******* day.
you weren't coming back, not ever.
but still i waited, and still i wait.

and then, at the show, there was nothing.
i don't even know if you noticed me.
and that hurt me more than anything.
but i know i liked that your shirt was different.

and i also know i could understand.
because you said that last time,
and i got it, didn't i? i got it.
so don't tell me i won't. just don't.

tell me you miss our slurpees,
and you miss sweating by your pool,
just to delay my leaving a little bit.
even if it meant our legs got soaked.

and then you have to tell me this:
you don't want anything back, and
you don't want anymore late nights,
and you don't want anymore desperate phone calls.

and then i'll let it alone, and be okay.
and i can say this honestly.
because i know you, and i know...
it simply won't happen that way.

"but we both know this won't happen.
because i don't know goodbyes,
and i don't know severed ties."
i know you don't, so stop pretending you do.

you know, you're wrong about something.
you're excellent at leaving. you just **** at staying away.
but is that because, maybe,
you don't want to stay away from me?

so embrace october,
november, and december.
we'll exchange pumpkin pictures,
and costumes too.

we'll send pictures of thanksgiving,
and complain later we ate too much.
and we'll send anonymous presents,
and detail our new year's eve.

and then, what do you know?
we'll have come full circle.
and maybe, just maybe,
this will be yet another year of snow.
"a melody softly soaring through my atmosphere." 10-1-2010.

title and above line taken from "soul meets body" by death cab.
Some Will Probably not understand nor like this.  
Due to the content.  
Those that get it know what it is per say.
I hope you enjoy.


Emotions and Rage

Suddenly pushing up from the furs
barefeet hit the floor
a flash of pale ivory skin moves before

the bewildered eyes...small hands pick up furs
as she goes throwing them askelter
red tresses fly wildly
as the rage that burns within her wells out

turning in circles trapped in the chaos of emotions
the drums beat wildly so she thinks
but truly it is only the slave heart racing

fingers slide up the bare torso
feeling the chain
that accentuates her pleasure spots
to any waiting Master tugging on it

pulling roughly
until a scream escapes her lips
blood pounding through her head
the eyes watching look at the slave girl

movements become more irratic
more tortured hips sway back and forth
as she searches for an outlet

for the pain that demands
to be set free the rage boiling inside
clawing at her precious heart

the sadness clenching the muscle tightly
she can't breathe
as her arms reach up offering herself
to the sky
hands lowering pulling at crimson hair

hearing the voices
please me well lil one
you are very beautiful ****
over and over the voices cloud her senses

then hearing I guess you please girl
you are not displeasing mine
frustration mounting
fingers search for more to damage

feeling lost confused
soul tortured as she spins round and round
feeling out of control

It isconsuming and taking her away
from the sanity
feeling the edges enveloping the soul
with each word of disappointment

fingers moving to the collar
that surrounds her delicate neck
pulling at it feeling the tight metal
claiming and trapping

the drums furious now
the tears begin to fall
aching heart begins to break
the knowledge she is not worthy
sinks in twirling spinning

feeling Their eyes upon bare flesh
body used repeatedly for pleasure
over and over again but never pleasing enough
only adequate

tears stain her cheeks
heavily now as the lithe form sinks to bent knees
sliding small hands down curved sides

across the ample *******
pulling against the instruments
that bring her pleasure, pain, and need
hating them for their betrayal

anger as the desire begins to burn within
emerald eyes dull with sadness yet burn with rage
suddenly begin to sparkle with heat

arms extending high above the fiery tresses
first left then right
head falling back
the silk fire brushes against the floor
behind the lithe figure

as she reaches for something
no One knows what

howling heard through the hall

tears slide down across pert *******
as the rage begins to let loose
reaching searching feeling

the fires begin to burn
her slave belly exploding
needing to know
she is not useless
not worthless

but something
a source of pride
desire, or beauty

the tears fall

hips sway against sandy heels
head falls forward
face covered from the watchers

torso moving left then right
dragging the silks
ringlets back and forth
body moving wildly

the drums continue
the rage released
the desire still rampant

her eyes meet His
knowing He watches
pleadingly they beg for His touch
care,  love,,,,

as the drums begin to subside
green pools meet the One
knowing what she will find there
feeling it as she looks

seeing nothing

but contempt,
and disappointment

her body lays forward
breathing coming in short pants
sadness moves to take over once again...

the rage laying silent
until the time it is awakened again
consuming, controlling  and torturing ..
heart begins to slow as  body calms

breathing relaxes
she lays in wait
~~~ then end



Written By:  Niyahlove all rights reserved
R May 2013
I have this feeling in my tummy,
Reminds me of those summers,
When the heat of the sun lured me into a game of happiness,
Spending my time with my toes in the sand,
Looking up at the cloudless blue skies,
And feeling invincible,
The hot sun melting away all the worries,
Walking barefeet on the pavement,
Arching my feet,
Protecting my soles from the heat,
The scent of newly cut grass making making me feel at home and welcome,
Late nights with the windows letting in a slight breeze,
Watching an endless stream of movies,
And I have this feeling in my tummy,
Reminding me of those summers,
When I was happy.
Tyler Nicholas Nov 2012
We hit the prairie
with the windows rolled down.
As the sun started to set,
you took off your shoes-
your barefeet on the dash.
You lit a cigarette
and the glow as you inhaled
revealed marks of a very great adventure.

We let our hair grow long together
because it looked cool
when the wind
ruffled it a bit.

"I wish we could drive forever", you said.

I agreed:
We could have chased the sun for the rest of our numbered days,
because we knew it would be the only thing
we could hold on to.
Memories of Summer, 2008.
Axiana Jun 2013
Sienna water falling down mountain peaks of gold
The crescent moon and the sun I am told
Have moments in the sky where they like to scold
The stars for being so far away and so old

When the unicorn meets a mind that is logical
The trees whisper in their ears until their eyes become mystical
These legends will expand by being whimsical
Translated into words not fit for the analytical
I can't express just how much I love the mythical

Through forests painted in endless emerald shades
I run swiftly in barefeet as the grass cascades
Down into a rolling meadow where there is an everglade
I stop and stare, completely amazed how this resonates
This is where I was meant to be, this is how I was made
andrew juma Mar 2016
Ochre scrubbed ebony skin
Wooden jewelery here and there
Picture perfect beauty in simplicity
She walked in moral fortification -
fashioned in decency
Hardwork and wisdom was her charm

Barefeet and weighted with firewood on her head
Pots and baskets she juggled in hands
and through scorching heat she focussed ahead
the dessert sand burning her feet
Not once did she say it was a plight

She was proud to be a woman
The keeper of men and children
Through rain through sunshine
cooperating with her man's other woman

She worked for survival of all
Getting up in the first light of day
Submitting and respecting
Raising her children in acceptable ways

She was the unglorified worrior
A war hero could not fit her shoe

But she didnt have that shoe
So she smiled and made her man happy,
and her children
Kelly Roland May 2013
Even a master welder
could not feat these bars
that wind and twirl
encasing, interlacing
your thoughts with the world

for all may be what never was so
where a smile once beamed
a soft glow, now resides
torn from the out, inside
feeling weakened and tried

because you tried and you tried
but your fire was put out
by eager firemen
with hoses that spewed
and skewed, the world you once knew
for things you could not understand

but you learned to understand
grew up and found you can
live without starting a fire
and live to aspire
to be
important

but when the town falls asleep
my thoughts slowly creep
back into my conscience
ready or not Im
ready

and something so small as
barefeet or chopsticks
become the most important things
at all

red lipstick and straw hats
a smile and a wave at
someone Ive never met
how good it can get
when i havent heard yet
what I need to know

the need to go
and learn on my own
miles of road
on an endless mind
that only interprets
what goes unfiltered
This rolled growth of sweet Mother Earth,
now between my fingers I hold
her breath, bated, much like my worth.

Barefeet and barebones, renewed dearth
of repose, sanity consoled
by role - growths of sweet Mother Earth.

I’ve worked sweat from my brow, my girth
diminished. Love sits in green bold -
her breath, baited, much like my worth.

We consume each other. Rebirth
my sunken pulse from mellowgold,
this growth of mother. Rolled sweet earth,

up in smoke around Cheshire mirth.
With numbed senses, today I’ve sold
my bated breath, much like her worth.

And so we journal language, like Firth,
while The Sativa Saint extols
this rolled growth of sweet mother earth,
her breath, bated, much like my worth.
Megan Hoagland Jan 2014
Trees loom in the shadows.
Forbidding and threatening.
It reeks of 3am.
The animals hush their cooing.
The cars drive a little slower.
The rain is a bit colder.
It pierces the skin.
Each drop an ice dagger.
The sounds all around.
Enormous in weight.
The silent screams out.
The shadows come out to play.
Monsters and demons
make homes in the hearts
of the lonely still awake.
Of the poet
who feels 3am
as a kindred spirit.
Who knows lonliness in the pits
of his stomach.
He swallows sadness
and mashes his pillow
fighting the urge
to just cradle it to his chest.
It reminds him of
the eternal her
The girl who loved nighttime
who craved the cool dew
of the sleeping grass
under her barefeet
as she waltzed under the moonlight
with owls hooting
their sweet lullaby.
She swayed and danced
light as feathers
and she always danced
in his mind.
And she always danced
in his mind.
Carissa M Wyles Sep 2016
I was enchanted by the
Stars, burning so bright,
that I forgot the Earth beneath me,
the grass that cushions,
the roots that dig deep;
You are the touch of cool sand on barefeet.
A breeze blows softly on the coast
as I look up to the clouds my love
For the sky
Has not faded.
I look down to my feet
As waves wash up underneath,
And my love for the Earth that cradles me
Grows.
These two loves I hold simultaneously.
So deep, so separate,
But co-existing in Harmony.
I let the Earth carry me gently
The sky is for another lifetime.
This ground that holds me
Is home.
Let me know your thoughts. Feedback is appreciated :)
ethyreal Feb 2014
shattering glass in the midnight bonfires
flaring purple with the fumes of tin cans and bottle caps.
and with barefeet we were called to run
naked underneath the moon
and howl at the trees;
to walk in packs of hallucinating lunatics
and to reach peaks of mountains where my brothers and sisters
claimed to have found God.

we're the ones that swagger on the sidepath,
sleep in gutters with notebooks and easels
and charcoal. water colours. badly tuned guitars,
rusted tambourines and guttural voices charred by
a thousand cigarette butts,
loosely rolled joints
and handfuls of various powders;
some luxurious and some downright filthy.  

we sleep in forests or on drug dealers floors,
we love like feral animals,
and we dream like cats,
drink like fish,
fly like moths
and drown, drown, drown like sand.

but we refuse to wear a life-vest.
I felt the soft earth beneath my barefeet,
And overwhelmed I fell to my knees.
I clenched my fists
Digging my fingers deep into the ground.
Suddenly I began to weep profusely
For it had been an eternity since I had felt so happy
And longer still since I had felt so alive.
rivy Sep 2014
being warmed by empty coffee mugs at 3 in the morning
trying to decide whether to give up or go to sleep
the blood rushes throught my veins
as I silently pray for you to choose the second option

at 4 in the morning I'm wandering around the backyard
holding a coffee cup filled with red wine.
God only knows how much I curse the day I met you
I curse you hazel eyes and the way you danced barefeet in the moonlight.
I curse the lovers that went wrong and I hope they forever regret
not holding you closer while they owned your soul
and I'll take that curse as a bridge to curse myself for being one of them.

I could never ask for a second chance to look at you
but you deserve love in rawest kind of way
I could never give you anything compared to that
so may the scars your arms never serve as a keep your distance or
a danger sign
and may you find someone whose loving kisses will heal you better than time.

I don't want you to see this as an open letter or an apology
I still haven't found a way to apologize about things I couldn't control
without letting a poisonous lie burn my lips.

you were never one to read
I hope you just scan your eyes over this
but if you take your time to read  more than three words
I hope you understand that I never meant to hurt you
I hope you realise that I never asked for your love
because I would prefer to hear you whispering how much you hated me instead of reading pretty little words without meaning.

I don't wish you well
but I hope you don't think about me as much as I think about you
I would hate to have my name carved on every inch of your skin

I hope you don't remember my voice
playing old scratched records might make your ears bleed.

during some periods of the day you seem to still be here
and in those moments part of me is trying hard not to fall in love with the memory of a person I should forget


oh dear
may you never find yourself in the eyes of a stranger
may those cold September nights never carve another mark your thighs
may God allow you to urderstand that he made you whole.
may you never let ***** hands touch your heart or soul
may you find both roses and thorns
and may you learn that getting hurt is an important part of life.
may you laugh at the good times and forget about the nights you cried yourself to sleep

may you break
may you fall
may our paths cross
over and over again.
Axiana Mar 2014
I tend the garden of my galaxy
I plant the seeds of what I want to know
And I water these with dreams
Of where I wish to go

The experiences and mysteries from above
Grow from the soil beneath my barefeet
I nurtured these flowers with love
And so it's love I will receive

Gazing down upon our co-creations
I feel the sun embracing me
This irrational separation
From the food that we eat
Is not an activation
Of our spiritual destiny
wordvango Apr 2017
then on   the sand   walking together
barefeet  a step  whereever
we wanted to wander
hand in hand a shell
picked up
listened to
barely clothed
baked in the sun
quiet listening
to the waves crash
the shell echo
what a tender sweet summer
recall
you looked    then    at me
the sun behind you
my eyes glimpsed
eternity
as we walked
closer to the surf
hand
in hand
Awakened in darkness by a sound
Heart thunders like mustangs running free on the plains
The bed is empty beside me
Wondering where my mate is
The noise grows louder, closer

A whisper is heard my heart slows
It is Him of my dreams
The darkness is rich
I cannot see even and inch
Suddenly His hand touches my cheek
I almost unleash a scream
His hushed sounds calm me again
As I feel silk pressed to my eyes
Pressure to the back of my head
He ties the knot

He guides me from my safe bed
My chest tightens in anticipation and dread
I feel, hear and smell things all around
The floor is cold beneath barefeet
Noises seem louder
I can smell his cologne, his masculine body scent

It is a familiar smell though it seems mysterious
My ******* are taut
As His finger tips graze over my flesh
Continues to lead me into another space

I hear a door open, another, and stairs
He guides me expertly until we arrive where?
The entire walk he speaks softly
Things touch me unfamiliar
Suddenly he stops
Fairly soon I will surely need a towel

His lips press to mine scarcely at first
Deepening as his tongue claims mine
Our passion ignites
He says yield as my body says fight
My body craves his touch

My hands are bound and hung above my head
The darkness still shields me from what is around
My flesh is chilled as my gown is rent
Not for long as something snaps
Sending searing heat along my breast

Crying out the scene unfolds
Snaps and cracks as leather and flesh meet
His tongue licks the stripes
**** throbs from heat
Moisture flows like rain

His implements and body bring about
feelings of intense pleasure from pain
Senses are heightened as he works
my body becomes puddy
As hands sculpt and ply it in shape

My first release immediately followed by another
He drinks my essence
Starved for it he claims
He brings me to the edge
Pinnacle of delight

Pale flesh red as fire
All I can feel is raw intense desire
Untying me quickly
We fall to the floor
Our bodies joining as one
The pain and pleasure obscure
Our passion goes on forever it seems
til finally passion is slaked for now

He pulls the blindfold from my eyes
Muted light from the fire nearby is seen
My hands having felt every inch of Him
Heart races once more as emeralds meet seas of blue
He isn't a stranger ohhhh my no
It was my mate all along

He chuckles as His lips meet mine once more
The man I adore
Brought me through yet another door
On a path of mystery
Mystery of pleasure mixed with something a little different

Ahhh and lest I forget
His bites are the best
Nothing is forsaken
For his pearly whites
To clamp down and bite
All rights reserved written by Niyahlove
hkr Apr 2017
the summer we got together, we had nothing better to do.
in the autumn, the sun got low and so did i.
in the winter, you got cold and we froze.
in the spring, my inhibitions melted
and flooded the apartment
i took the trash out in my barefeet.

i came back inside with glass in my toes.
if you’re going to bleed, you said, bleed out the window.
i left ****** footprints all over the carpet.
you were so angry, you ****** on everything we had
i put it all in the washer, even our bodies.

when we were clean
you looked like a stranger
but i would still leave with you.
Michael Bauer Feb 2018
Hello, Earth
It's me, Michael
Earth to Michael
Michael to Earth

We have some problems that need fixing
Some issues to consider
We're chewing up this planet
Treating it like kitty litter

The Amazon rainforest is down to twenty percent
The oceans are decaying
I know I won't be here very long
But my children might be staying

This planet is really all we've got
Until God gives an answer
So plant your barefeet in the ground
Take one last look at that sweet dancer

Here we go round the prickly pear at
five o'clock in the morning
Inspect the leaves of that old orange tree
and prepare a bowl enduring

This is Michael
I'm just an awakened man
But while I still have time on Earth
I'll do just what I can

Deforestation has taken its toll on most ****** forests
Imagine all the lost medication that we'll never get to use
Is anyone listening to the hippies?
Or are we all just here to abuse?

Overfishing is bringing us to an age where there might not be fish
The dark continent is sick an dying - that's from where we all exist
If we wait too long there'll be nothing for new life to evolve from
Something only a meteor could fix
KM Ramsey Mar 2015
there was once a brick hearth
and my skinned kneed,
wild flaxen haired,
innocent self would sit there
to feel the fire’s warmth radiating through the stones.

there were ghost stories told
on picnic tables at state parks where
the calloused barefeet of my childhood
struck the dusty ground as i ran towards
not away
when i followed vitreous streams
with frigid soaked clothes clinging to my skin
all the way to the  river who now holds these memories
for me.

there was a sprawling old mimosa tree
whose diaphanous flowers would float
feathery petals
to decay on the ground.
How that tree must be a part of me somehow
from the scrapes my soft infantile skin
endured while trying to clamber up its branches
not for a moment tainting my insatiable appetite to explore.

there were steaming hot afternoon thunderstorms
a quotidian race home from the bowels
of the verdant green forest
dodging heavy raindrops
pregnant with the weight of coming years.

those years were the smell of fresh lighter wood
the acrid feel of smoke in the back of my throat
popsicles in the pool
and warm sun-kissed skin.

those times were blanket forts at sleep overs
the salt on sunflower seed shells
cracked in the dugout at softball games
they were the lilted drawl that curled comfortably
around eternal southern colloquialisms.
bike rides to get skittles and coke
at the gas station at the end of the street.
the wind in my hair as I careened down
what will always be known as
Thrill Hill

at some point my bike rusted
when was that?
the pool sat alone and unused
and evergreen forests became a passing image
in a dream
scraped knees turned to razor slices.
but my body will always carry the recollection.

— The End —