"barr" poems
My body is a temple
My bleeding is divine
My womanhood is spiritual
In ways that an intolerant devotee like you cannot understand
So when you barr me from entering Sabarimala
Remember that you can't stop a goddess
Saraswati is wise but her rage is wild and merciless
Lakshmi will create earthquakes that will devastate
Durga will pierce your heart with her spear
Parvathi will leave her abode and run into the streets
Kali will destroy you in unimaginable ways
They reside within us
We will cut our feet on your shattered glass
We will shout till our voices become hoarse
An army of neglected women will create a tsunami
Till you're on your back, crying
Till you give up your apparent 'religion-saving'
Helpless, wailing
And bleeding
Oct 19, 2018
Oct 19, 2018 at 1:33 AM UTC
I look forward to the re-enactments of historic moments in the pageant of The United States of America. [sic]
Gettysburg, Crossing the Delaware, The Moon Landing, Paul Revere's Ride, The March on Washington, The Storming of the Capital, The Clearing of Lafayette Plaza, The George Floyd ****** The Separation of Families, The Arizona Re-count, The Plot to Assassinate Democratic Governors, The Imprisonment of: Jared, Donny, Eric, Ivanka, Don, Carlson, Greene, Gaetz, Guilianni, Hannity, Conway, McVeigh, Barr [sic] (just to mention a few of the Founding Fuck-Ups.), the death of 650,000 people (the vast majority being innocent), The Pandemic of the Unvaxxed [sic]
After July 4, 2024, History may never be the same. See it now!
Jul 22, 2021
Jul 22, 2021 at 3:39 PM UTC
Philip Le Barr,
Was knock down by a car,
On the road to Mandalay.
He was knocked down again
By a dust cart in Spain
And again in Zanzibar.
So,
He travled at night
In the pale moon light
Away from the traffic growl
But terrible luck
He was hit by a duck
Driven by an owl.
3.3k
XVIII
Cyriack, whose Grandsire on the Royal Bench
Of Brittish Themis, with no mean applause
Pronounc’t and in his volumes taught our Lawes,
Which others at their Barr so often wrench:
To day deep thoughts resolve with me to drench
In mirth, that after no repenting drawes;
Let Euclid rest and Archimedes pause,
And what the Swede intend, and what the French.
To measure life, learn thou betimes, and know
Toward solid good what leads the nearest way;
For other things mild Heav’n a time ordains,
And disapproves that care, though wise in show,
That with superfluous burden loads the day,
And when God sends a cheerful hour, refrains.
2.8k
everything I do hurts you,
my happiness stresses you out
my energi smother yours,
highlights your loss of it
the same way the kind gestures show me
your weariness
I am well and you aren't
I would take it all
in a nano second but I can’t
I’ve tried but I can’t
I play tired and I play sick
I’ve tried to show that we’re the same
but i know
it doesn’t make you less sick
not a single bit
all I can do is to grow
and try to hold your hand
even if you’re left behind
and all this, all this
until death will tear us apart.
I can feel the normality
sending a friend request to death
I can feel time accepting it
I start to recognize the blended soft colors
and the feeling of life coming and going
just hoping it isn’t in my hand.
I am turning into someone else
I say I’m happy
because I know it matters
We have one thing in common here
we don’t complain because the nurses teach us that’s what kills us in the end
I try to stand up outside all of it
I try to feel like anything else matters
but it doesn’t
I’m scared my happiness somewhere else
takes away the happiness we have
until death tears us apart
I take the buss back home
I leave you behind
I fake my way up to sit at the top so that I can see
I have a photo of you on my phone to remember
just in case you would go away
It’s a new feeling a mix between everything
and nothing
I write it down
because I can’t loose these seconds
just in case you would go away
It makes life feel so important
It makes everything else feel stupid.
It makes you stronger
It makes everything heavy
and all you can is hope, hope that it’s not
until death tears us apart
There’s a pregnant woman who wants my seat
I let her have it
I go all the way back I pass one with a burn mark on his face
I wonder how many tears have happened the last ten minutes on this buss
I wonder how they take it
I don’t know how I take it
I know the barr is lower here
the scary part isn’t getting sick
here it’s dying
and in that case
I know I’m the lucky one
Until death happens to me
and I feel happiness knowing
I’m the lucky one
I can be light flying over a bridge while everybody else takes the buss
until your death will tear me apart.
Apr 28, 2016
Apr 28, 2016 at 10:15 AM UTC
Fond of love? Is it not?
With whom do I speak about?
Is it the heart?
A mere transaction between the heart and the love that it gives
Takes
Moves and listens to each
And every
Single
Day.
I feel…
Yet there is no presenter.
No one to share,
No one to give.
No supplier, provider. There is a house,
Yet it is no home. No place to reside.
What I feel is an experience worth the ride. I bought plane tickets this time.
A one way ticket to wherever it can take me.
Prescribe me the medication, the antidote.
Respond to my prayers with a challenge, rather than a definition.
Give me the reason I long for, simply
Because I ask for it.
Love.
Give it to me.
Feed it to me,
Make it melt in my mouth, at the tip of my tongue.
Let it linger,
Whisper my name,
Romance at the calm of my voice.
Feel my words against yours.
Trial my heart.
Adore.
Bestow upon her the
True
Meaning
Of
Love.
The distinction between a kiss,
And a hug.
The conceptual, intangible evidence that she is looking for.
Hurt?
Pain?
No more.
What I feel is the reaction to love.
There can only be pain
Where there is a heart.
This can go on for as long as it can be taken.
I have been beat up by love,
Yet I refuse for it to take advantage.
It will challenge me indefinitely, until I learn what it dares not bring forth at ease.
Afraid, withdrawn. Confused,
Wishing for a moment. My heart is weak.
Tired of the constant reciprocation of negative energy feeding at her.
Eating her alive. Heart.
Love,
Striking her.
Take it. Take it.
Not for an eternity, rather,
For a moment.
Stand up and fight for it.
A feeling deep inside waiting to let go. Please,
Take it.
I dare not wish to fight another day. She says. She says
She loves him.
She says that she wants to be with him.
Another heart to hold,
Another heart to handle.
Another heart to feel, and be loved by.
A heart scorned by the misinterpretation of the mind however. An emotion that remains,
Sitting
As if there was no other place.
Without love I do not seek to be found. With it,
I am everything. I am a journey with no end,
No signs telling me where to go, what to do, who to love and who to be without. Love.
Shut up and take it.
Barr up the doors! Continue to hide in safety. Create your own world,
Within the lies you constantly tell yourself. Day to day
You sit and embrace your own heart,
Your own hourglass.
In hope of one day someone else loving you the way that love does.
The word is simply a word.
The actions are actions,
And the pain is pain.
The feeling is feeling,
The emotion is emotion.
What is love is love,
What gives what receives are what we call motivation.
Fond of love I am.
It is not pain that I speak of. It is the heart.
Worthy of any and every transaction between itself and love and I live in it
Each
And
Every
Single
Day.
Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 4:58 PM UTC
Lord God that dost me save and keep,
All day to thee I cry;
And all night long, before thee weep
Before thee prostrate lie.
Into thy presence let my praier
With sighs devout ascend
And to my cries, that ceaseless are,
Thine ear with favour bend.
For cloy’d with woes and trouble store
Surcharg’d my Soul doth lie,
My life at death’s uncherful dore
Unto the grave draws nigh.
Reck’n'd I am with them that pass
Down to the dismal pit
I am a *man, but weak alas * Heb. A man without manly
And for that name unfit. strength.
From life discharg’d and parted quite
Among the dead to sleep
And like the slain in ****** fight
That in the grave lie deep.
Whom thou rememberest no more,
Dost never more regard,
Them from thy hand deliver’d o’re
Deaths hideous house hath barr’d.
Thou in the lowest pit profound’
Hast set me all forlorn,
Where thickest darkness hovers round,
In horrid deeps to mourn.
Thy wrath from which no shelter saves
Full sore doth press on me;
*Thou break’st upon me all thy waves, *The Heb.
*And all thy waves break me bears both.
Thou dost my friends from me estrange,
And mak’st me odious,
Me to them odious, for they change,
And I here pent up thus.
Through sorrow, and affliction great
Mine eye grows dim and dead,
Lord all the day I thee entreat,
My hands to thee I spread.
Wilt thou do wonders on the dead,
Shall the deceas’d arise
And praise thee from their loathsom bed
With pale and hollow eyes ?
Shall they thy loving kindness tell
On whom the grave hath hold,
Or they who in perdition dwell
Thy faithfulness unfold?
In darkness can thy mighty hand
Or wondrous acts be known,
Thy justice in the gloomy land
Of dark oblivion?
But I to thee O Lord do cry
E’re yet my life be spent,
And up to thee my praier doth hie
Each morn, and thee prevent.
Why wilt thou Lord my soul forsake,
And hide thy face from me,
That am already bruis’d, and *shake *Heb. Prae Concussione.
With terror sent from thee;
Bruz’d, and afflicted and so low
As ready to expire,
While I thy terrors undergo
Astonish’d with thine ire.
Thy fierce wrath over me doth flow
Thy threatnings cut me through.
All day they round about me go,
Like waves they me persue.
Lover and friend thou hast remov’d
And sever’d from me far.
They fly me now whom I have lov’d,
And as in darkness are.
1.9k
****** William Barr
Swamp creature par excellence
Shows us who he is.
Dec 6, 2020
Dec 6, 2020 at 4:24 PM UTC
I handed in my homework
Gave it with a nervous smile
the paper damp from sweaty palms,
the waiting was a trial.
Today I got my paper back
from the dreaded Mr Barr
he grinned at me and gave a wink....
along with an A*!
He said I made him chuckle
as he read my little rhyme,
he thought the rhyming clever
and the rhythm quite sublime
He asked me one last question
in the hallway where we met
with deep concern upon his brow
"Did you find your brother yet?"
Now I'm hiding in the bathroom
racing with the lesson bell
quickly writing this wee poem
to let you know my work did well.
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 4:18 AM UTC
Collared for white collar,
To society I'm paying my dues
The Trump appointee Club Fed blues.
The beds are pretty clean and soft,
At Club Fed, they hardly cost
Shootin' shuffleboard, takin' a snooze
Just forgettin' the Club Fed blues
The **** beach aint just ahead
Club Fed just aint the Club Med
At 3-pm, it's tea and cake
Every night supper-- it's Trump steak
The cash register rings, it's all his take.
They're adding on to the Club Fed thing,
A spanking new Congressional wing
Having latte with a Trumper con
He whines,"I'm no Don,
I was just a pawn."
On the ladies side, want to meet
Lori, the College Admission cheat
No black ink pen tattoos
Just plain old Club Fed blues
Bill Barr and Rudy sit at table
Remembering when they were on cable
Just spinning another Ukrainian fable
Missing my 5-pm yardarm *****
A stiff price to pay, the Club Fed blues
When I leave it's to the Caribbean
To a fat numbered account
And I'll finally lose the Club Fed blues.
Nov 4, 2020
Nov 4, 2020 at 6:56 AM UTC
Defrauding the public isn't hard
When you're one of the Trumps.
The president is especially good
At duping his loyal chumps.
So, after Trump fired James Comey,
He fired AG Sessions.
Those two firings were just a part
Of the president's indiscretions.
Next came Matthew Whitaker--
A Donald Trump lackey--
As acting AG, and whose background
Was--let's say--a bit tacky.
Now AG Barr is there
To willingly play his part
And show how he and Trump are both
Connected heart to heart.
Barr's recent appointment has
Very clearly shown
That the president has managed
To get his Roy Cohn.
Keeping Congress from seeing the full
Mueller report, Barr
Acts LESS like a fair AG
And MORE like a czar.
Flouting the rule of law, Trump
And Barr, political hacks,
Can end up doing a lot of damage
Behind Americans' backs.
Now Barr has mentioned the word
"Spying." It never fails
That Trump's appointees tend to go
Completely off the rails.
Making Trump a victim only
Satisfies his base.
Trump and Barr don't care whether
Their actions are a disgrace.
Now the tinfoil-hat group can say
"All the acrimony
Toward Trump is a nasty plot."
What a bunch of baloney!
Our leadership has never been
So chaotic. Never!
Elections, they say, have consequences.
Boy do they ever!
-by Bob B (4-11-19)
Apr 11, 2019
Apr 11, 2019 at 1:49 PM UTC
I wish I could fly.
If I could I would.
I'd come get you !
I'd soar towards the heavens
and come get you.
Distance wouldn't be an issue but a nuisance.
It'll never Barr us away .
For I'll come get you.
Steal all of you in the dark of the night like thieves,
And we'll fly high above the mountains.
High above the clouds.
And the let the winds carry us home.
You'd never be alone.
I'd come get you.
Whenever you felt so.
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 5:12 AM UTC
Answer us true
How old are you?
Are you boy or girl?
Close your eyes.
Do you see a fire or a whirl-
wind? How much have you sinned?
Given a choice pick
red or blue?
Given a choice pick none or new?
Picture yourself in the woods.
Do you see a horse or a mare?
A rabbit or a hare?
Is it a half empty or half full barr-
el? Have you ever thought to ****
Do your dreams end in flight
or fall?
Do you fight when held up
against a wall?
Do you stand up strong and tall?
Or hunch down,
make yourself small?
Do you like your peanuts sal-
ted? Do you like your coffee malted?
Do you fidget when you eat?
Tap to music with your feet?
Is your happiness fleet-
ing when your life has you beat?
Do you gaze directly at the sun?
Shade your love from
coming undone?
Do you largely have fun-
ctional relationships?
And last, not least, has come:
What do you think of your dear mum
and dad? Did they turn you good or bad?
Now we've collated your results.
You're [insert personality type here]
I hope now it's all so clear,
this box in which you fit best.
We've emailed you this score lest
you forget the results
of your Personality Test.
Feb 3, 2016
Feb 3, 2016 at 5:50 AM UTC
We used to walk this road together hand in hand
And make melody with rhythms that none could understand
We used to mark this pathway under this sunlight
And trust it's direction as we walk it through the night
Then came the winds
and swept away our sandy shores
Forcing trees to bend over windows
and barr all our doors
Tranquillity once lived with us but we didn’t know what for
Until one day, we woke up to chaos, and she was no more
Without warnings or announcement she just packed a left
From sunrise we searched until the sun had set
But all we ever found were memories she left behind
The memories of strength before the winds broke her spine
There used to be us before the coming of the rain
Before there ever was the sowing of a seed of grain
Tales of the bond we shared crossed the shores of everywhere
There used to be us before we vanished into thin air
Jan 6, 2016
Jan 6, 2016 at 1:03 AM UTC
I confront all that you have done
barr my teeth and hitch and scream
I want you to know you have not won
that I did not feel or hear
a word you spat
a hand you slapped
that I am a beast of the new world
glistening motives totally unfurled
marching on
living on
what a fantasy it is
the winning of the battle,
in truth
I am weak,
and burdened,
longing for sleep.
Dec 13, 2018
Dec 13, 2018 at 5:06 PM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
The devil does exist
He’s living in our midst
But William Barr insists
That he’s not a liar
While impressing those
Much higher
Beware to the buyer
The situation’s dire
The devil does exist
If you get my gist
And let me tell you this
That he’s not a joke
Look at how
He goes for broke
Smell the sulfur
From his smoke
The devil does exist
And those who can’t resist
Are on his naughty list
They gladly sell their souls
While assuming
Their various roles
That he’s assigned to them
They all bow down to him
The devil does exist
And so we should resist
He’s looking to enlist
Willing supplicants
To follow him
Like a colony of ants
Then they take a chance
By lowering their pants
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2019. All rights reserved.
May 1, 2019
May 1, 2019 at 7:07 PM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
From his 19-page
Audition memo, ya knew
That he would do the job
He was hired to do
Protect the President
Through and though
And stir up a caldron
Of ******* brew
Our Attorney General
Is William Barr
And he views the President
Much like a czar
Or better yet
He sees him on par
With every dictator
Near or far
My mission here
Is not to spoil it
But Barr’s reputation
Is now in the toilet
He’s clearly a waste
And we need to boil it
Or rise up in mass
To combat this ****
Just think about it
It makes perfect sense
That William Barr
Would mount a defense
For a tainted President
So therefore and hence
He’s as much of an ass-kiss
As Vice President Pence
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2019. All rights reserved.
May 2, 2019
May 2, 2019 at 1:07 AM UTC
To my followers ( though the numbers be few) I weep crocodile tears for you (dry as they may be) that you unfortunately didn't get to read my latest poem, "My Wife is a Sheep". It was barred. Censored. Monitored. Deleted. Not posted.
Oh the humanity!
Again I crossed some line. So I'll begrudgingly
acknowledge it, in a gun to my back sort of way, and apologize to the Hello poetry monitors. Why apologize?
I don't want the sensors, monitors - **** overlords, here at Hello Poetry to be angry and on a warpath out to get me. So I'm sending them each a box of happy chocolates telepathically to mentally stupify their minds and sooth them in their misunderstanding and assure them that my writings inflict no harm to them or to Hello Poetry. I'm a good buddy. I'm a friend... Love you!
Give us a little freedom of speech for heaven sake. After all, freedom of speech is an amendment guaranteed by law. Your not against laws, freedom, the Constitution, America are you?
I'm one of the world's last remaining shock poets and even I'm becoming extinct. You wouldn't want that to happen would you?
I'm an endangered species!
How can I reach full realization as a writer if I'm censured. How can I blossom and flower as a poet, and let my stamen dangle in the wind for the bees to land on and take away my gooey nectar (uh oh, could be a ****** reference -- Let's barr it, censor it, delete it, not post it).
Ultimately, how can I be the "go to guy" shock poet if I can't be shocking? When a reader wakes up and feels like a dose of shock poetry to start his day, and I'm not around, what will they do?
My advice to you Hello Poetry monitors is to go out and do something shocking! Feel it's rush. Roll around in its essence. Revel in its pump. Then you'll see. you'll be like me. Liberated. So free....now relax and repeat after me. I love shock poetry...shock poetry......shock poetry....
Sep 21, 2018
Sep 21, 2018 at 9:42 PM UTC
The following is not a paid advertisement. It is the truth. It is arguably plausible for me to state that I received the best secondary and higher education in the world.
I graduated from Phillips Academy (more commonly referred to as Andover now), the oldest boarding school in America founded in 1778, two years after our nation was founded. Andover and its sequel, Exeter, it seems, now take turns being voted the best high school in the United States.
Though I received an essentially unequalled secondary education at Andover, I paid an exorbitant social and emotional cost to receive it. The years I spent at Andover were the worst of my life.
I chose to matriculate to Columbia College, the tradional undergraduate liberal arts school of Columbia University, over Yale
for principally two main reasons: the Core Curriculum and New York City. More years at Yale would be like returning to Andover, anathema to me.
The Core Curriculum, now over 100 years old, is a rigorous, two-year course of studies that include philosophy, literature. art, music, language, frontiers of science, and writing. All College students, regardless of her or his majors, must take all the Core courses, which, in turn, make them learned for life. Columbia College is the only Ivy school to have anything like the Core. Living in and exploring New York City, the veritable capital of the world, for four years makes one a Citizen of the World for life, even if one decides to reside elsewhere after graduating, as I did. I now live in Boulder, CO. Columbia College's 2019 admit rate was 5.1%. Columbia College admitted a few over 2,000 applicants out of slightly over 42,000 applicants worldwide, making Columbia College the second most selective school in the Ivy League. 5.1 % admit rate: that's about 1 out of 20.
But even Columbia has its "bad apples:" Roy Cohn comes to mind readily. So does William Barr. But it also has Barach Obama. 84 students who studied or professors who taught there won the Nobel Prize.
So what to do with this piece CAN WE PROFIT OFF IT?
It sees to me that the maxim DO UNTO OTHERS...is rapidly being supplanted by CAN WE PROFIT OFF IT? Our political leaders, who have never been paragons of virtue, have for 3 1/2 years have become, in a word, corrupt. The Washington Post has authenticated more than 15,000 lies emanating from the Oval Office, not to mention the cheating, the racism, and the ******
CAN WE PROFIT OFF IT? is the new adage these days.
I say "Make America A Democracy Again!" should be.
May 19, 2020
May 19, 2020 at 12:19 AM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
I’m not trying to be
Obtrusive
But the Mueller Report
Was inconclusive
Exoneration wasn’t
Mutually exclusive
So his innocence
Remains deducive
And his old
Familiar song
Is he was right
All along
The prosecution
Had to be wrong
No collusion
Like Cheech and Chong
William Barr reached
His own conclusion
Based on the
Optical illusion
That in fact
There was no collision
By the President
For attribution
Wiliam Barr has
Thrown the first lob
NIow Congress must
Do it’s job
Mueller chose not to prosecute
That slob
So the American public
Was robbed
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2019. All rights reserved.
Mar 24, 2019
Mar 24, 2019 at 11:32 PM UTC
A little girl was born in a square mile a babylondoner, February child, who had many sheep disguises , born in the hour of the sheep, in a house on the street where the Shepherdess Walked, travelling on the underground, one would have to stop, at Angel. Her Father called her after him, by all accounts she was the prettiest child, his fourth, her father was very vain, on this subject, it was hard for him to be humble.
Her name also had sheep, her name meant sheep, her middle name a Ram on a King. Her Father worried about the violence, the football hooligans , the fights between mods and rockers, he decided to move back to the homecountry, the country of her Mother and Fathers birth, the Emerald Isle. This coincided with an eviction notice, their house was about to get knocked down.
She moved to the plain of the Yew in the Emerald isle when she was four years old, they built a house in the town of the Castle by the river Barr, on a height that was named Harmony, that place did not often live up to it's name. Her father came from another town that was much prettier, not far away, houses and land were as rare as hen's teeth, in that town, it was not cheap either. Her Mother had an idea she wanted distance from her Mother in law, Rachel Ramona and her mother clashed a lot on ideas, but they did love each other, and Rachel understood her Mother, better than her Mother gave her credit for.
To RRK, her Mother was never there for her, her Mother had an issue with her, that is a puzzle to this day, it will probally always remain a puzzle, her Mother never talks about stuff like emotions, feelings, or the inner landscape.
RRK found refuge in the world of men from the youngest age, she felt like she belonged in that camp, this idea got her into a lot of trouble, then, now and probally in her immediate future.
Oct 11, 2020
Oct 11, 2020 at 9:14 AM UTC
Five women transcend
the stag cinema of hoary
yore Shauna Grant, the first
glamorous **** bucket,
paved the way for Dorothy
Stratten, the first Playmate
superstar: Anastasia Blue's
Russian underground cult
of Gonzo; Julie Robbins
thriving fan base; Candy
Barr, mother to them et al,
first **** star & premier
stripper. Amber Rayne who
crossed over to mainstream
always the dream, following
legends in the field such as
Marilyn Chambers & Traci
Lords. If there were pageants
in hell, the one who would
take the crown would be Linda
Lovelace, whose effect upon
the culture is felt to this day.
Feb 20, 2019
Feb 20, 2019 at 8:37 PM UTC
"William Barr is my name,
But you can call me AG Barr.
Protecting Donald Trump must be
The highlight of my repertoire.
"I'll defy the rule of law,
And I don't give a **** if I'm--
Despite what others say or think--
A sly accomplice to his crime."
"Lindsey Graham is my name,
Call me Senator Graham, please.
Selling one's soul to the devil is
Where I have my expertise.
"I don't care if Trump's corrupt
Or stretches the truth all the time.
If he furthers my goals, I will
Be an accomplice to his crime."
"Devin Nunes is my name,
But you can just call me Devin.
Having Trump as president
Is a right-wing extremist's heaven.
"If you want to obstruct justice,
Follow the president's paradigm.
Give up your integrity AND
Be an accomplice to his crime."
"Sarah Sanders is my name.
I am THE press secretary.
Whenever I lie for President Trump,
I just say a quick Hail Mary.
"Working for this president
Is something that I'd call sublime.
No one really cares if he
Or she's an accomplice to his crime."
So many people willing to lie--
So many people willing to begrime
Their character and reputations
As accomplices to the president's crime.
-by Bob B (5-5-19)
May 5, 2019
May 5, 2019 at 4:25 PM UTC
Drawing 101
I wonder if I hung
onto that self-portrait from
my first college art class
peering into a mirror
contour line in pencil
student grade sketch bond.
Dave Barr
would have to be what
in his seventies by now?
my first acquaintance
with a practicing artist
one with a studio and ideas
that woke him up early.
The twist I recall was
to render one’s face
forty years on
warts and all
as they say.
As if by magic
I’ve arrived suddenly
at my destination
one I predicted
using only line to map
sagging jowls, face etched and a nose
grown to epic proportion.
At least that’s how
I remember it
a masterpiece of draftsmanship
that captured the soul
of its subject, a man rendered
in short hand, gaze
bewildered when I was going
for bemused detachment.
Oct 23, 2016
Oct 23, 2016 at 8:15 AM UTC
The wind begins
The temperature drops
Brace yourself
Go get the mops
Rain is almost here
I hear it coming close
Tape the window Barr the door
Turn off all electric
Normal.... rain is good
But when ur in a camper
Rain is the nemesis that never dies.
Aug 22, 2020
Aug 22, 2020 at 5:47 PM UTC