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Caleb Eli Price Nov 2010
The dust of denial does finally settle,  
the sound of my heartbeat is metal on metal.
The river of sorrow runs dreadfully dry
the beat of my drum is a withered old sigh.

You breathe life to my body and love to my mind,
if god is in heaven this must be a sign.  
The more I take out, the more I will crumble
grab me when I fall, catch me when I stumble.

You smell just like roses, you ***** like one too,
when I look out the window all I see is you.
It’s real like the sun and it burns just as hot,
to hurt or to leave you, well, that I could not.

Love in the winter, spring, summer and fall,
your body and mind of you I want all.
There’s fish in the sea but I’m hook, line and sinker,
you get even cuter when your cheeks turn pinker.  

My body’s a letter the postage is love,
Dear Bette, I love you, won’t you be my dove.
P.S. you’re so pretty and wonderful too.
P.P.S. please know what I am saying is true.

In rain I’m your cover, in snow I’m your gloves,
if you’re cold then I want to warm you up with love.                                                            ­                                                              
I’­m here to protect you through the lonely night
‘cause you give me white wings so I can take flight.

You are so special you don’t understand,
I just want to stay here and hold on your hand.                                                            ­                                                                 ­                   
I’m down in the shafts, for love I’m a miner,
forever I’m stuck, 'cause it only gets finer.

I am here and I am strong,
my heart beats louder than a gong.                                                            ­                                                                 ­               
I want to hold you in my arms
and keep you from all the harm.

Bette, oh Bette I hope you can see,
your eyes and your body do hypnotise me.                                                              ­                                                                 ­           
You leave me so speechless, I can’t catch a breath,
when I am in your arms, I don’t fear death.

You make me so happy, it’s quite plain to see,
your lips are my drug they intoxicate me.                                                              ­                                                                 ­     
My life is a canvass for you to create,
how many ways can I tell you, you’re great.

You are my Bette for the world to see
you’re my hearts protector to watch over me.
My beautiful kitten if you purr for me,
I’ll give you my heart since you have the key.

Your name is Bette and now I can see
that life starts and ends with you and with me.                                                              ­                                                        
I want you forever, know I am here to stay,
if ever I lost you, I would lose my way.

I love you, I love you, I love you, I do
did I say that I love? Well you know it's true.                                                            ­                                                                 ­       
Worries and doubts of those I have none,
you are my moon, my stars and my sun.
© 2010 Caleb Elijah Price. Reproduction in whole or in part is strictly prohibited.
Robin Carretti Aug 2018
Our salvation taking
another high-life (Lip)
The middle-income lip
Our lips leaked
Being possessed the kiss
on empty

Humpty Dumpty sat
on her Lego lips
Singers the Talking Heads
Where are the feds to late
Those stolen lips
State of a wedding trips
Rainbow chalk the state was
on lip nightmare call
Being stalked (Lumber Jack)

The devil filler up poverty
The world being pulled
Push her lip up
                    > >

Arrowsmith bow and arrow
                    >>
  Losing elasticity lips go
UPSTATE gravity

"What an under(state)meant"
"The press (God Bless)
    the golden child
     lips filling in
       the gaps
What!! no comment"

 So sad we need the happy
Irish lad too many
    Sugar Dads
lip recession deadlines to meet
The curveball
Another sip we joined the
Navy but eyeshadow deep-over
the edge gray
The Seal had an unusual tail
Her lips fast food drive smashed
Her Meal

The peace lips blew far away
"Medieval Swords heart lips
            will pay"
Times come and go its excruciating
Lips went too far always mating
Imitating people takes a whole village
Of pain

But the spiritual blessing rain
In Woodstock concerts
What perks to gain
The acid trip music we can
sip each other's lips

    Now if this wasn't passion
What a state got smeared
Like a crime scene
of fashion
Her lips could rise
Like the Millenium

         Max
Playing the jazz sax
Still the income tax

But the state in a crisis
of sales tax
Star a stage minimum wage
All the states we travel her lips
The water stays refreshing where
On her body, he really sees it on
her lips nowhere else

How many states can you
count on your finger
Long lip Ranger

The Victoria Secrets
The Tra la the bra's on the
Five-star Hilton Hotel
hanger

Holding onto her guns
Going right or to the left
Powerful lips he went
off the cliff

Getting Burned and
the State tax
You earned
The Swearing
Her lip talk so caringly
Can we move her lips to
another state more cautiously
How her hips look like
they will inflate

I am not a painting by
your candlelight fate
I felt like a tax right off
Taxi yellow race her lips
on the meter money bluff
I ended up in the state of
*
Michigan
Tricks are ****
Like a lip magician

Kentucky home was barrels
of Bourbon
I never said I wanted a drink
my name is Robin

Going to Deleware
what hardware did anyone care
So humble like the bumblebee
She was way too soft as her software

Have gun we travel but have lips we rumble

We need courage this world of states
can be savage
Gold bonds of "Dynasty European"
top dollar vultures mean
funds that's a grand entrance

Now I see how these states
start to unravel
California here I come right
back where
my lips started from

Her upper society lip could use
Champagne and caviar
The star was getting fat a nice trim
Grumpy beard make it a
short tax cut with him
Text and tweets no lip sweets
Rocky Colorado mountain men

French lips played art
Like Van Gogh perfect 10
Scenic route crazed
So many states should
be sued overly sexed suites

In Alaska, she was on a freeze

All the money in the world she got New York Token

All I asked the waitress
for State fair pie
My lips could have
used *Sweet Peach * so
pucker up
Don't be a sucker
Alabama state trooper
in Kansas City

What a spell click of heels

Georgia is always on my mind
Is New York only a state of
Frank Sinatra singing mind
What a big foot in her mouth
Nancy Sinatra dark lips Goth
State boots softly made
for loving that's just
what lips do one of these
Days my lips are going to
gloss all over you
Who's the Boss
So fasten your lip belts
The spiritual state always does the cross

Bumpy ride (Bette Davis) Eyes
Taking a trip to the end of the
boot of Sicily vineyards
Whats mine Jailbirds
She cut her lip when she was
in (Connecticut Movie cut)
On the Mystic Seaport lips were
getting hot ****** fit

Like a state disease fire pit
State of a lip disaster
But the state couldn't
resist her
Ending up in Arizona
Something is swizzling
it's not Kevin Bacon

Make no mistake when you plan
a state trip you better have your
weapon ready
Mafia bullets Bonnie and Clyde
they rob *Banks money Lips
Stae of mind we are traveling again but our lips will be the walking the yellow pages old news Staes can rock up she has the Wizardly Oz shoes
DAVID Mar 2016
threw your eyes
y became human,
y breath, and let go  
anger and pain.

starting to feel
that i am not alone, that neruda
understood, in his poem
the queen.

theres more bigger than you there are
ther are prettier than you, there are
there more little than you, there are
but i named you mi queen, and no one
sees, your walking threw the air, no one sees
the red gold carpet that you walk on.

the loved one, queen of
mi empire of words, that no one
knows only her, every photo, breaking
our departed love, every smile in the distance
was my excuse to carry, each day.
and that she understand me.

but the secret is now semi public,
nights come with all the rush,
even then y can and must be cool,

loneliness is hard, the distance
it is the pain, remorse not,
only letting go is the chance,
be the beast, be the lion,

loving in secret, keeping the loved distance
that allowed me to love in secret,
even nigthmares are on your count,
nights and pain, making poems out
of life, and if not aloud me to do so,
pain killer nights to forget that
the light of mi eyes, is far away, and i need to touch
someone, so no lover.

but the need of your skin, the need
of my eyes, to see the objective goddess
that they love and desire, is like the need
for her smile, her strawberry jam smile.

its you, the lady that owns mi heart.
cest bonn, touche. being folish,
departed from the creeps in my brain,
the need for that most wanted, is poorly
tolerated, the fever is giant, and lonesome
of love is the poem, but always alone,  
after all, the beast must go on,

in tree years or so, would y be free,
after the lies and deicit, after the hurm,
after all, the love is everywhere, and the friend
is more loved then ever, and the rest of mi heart
it suffers as always, and more this tree years,

all the clues given in this, all the mugle talkers,
respect is a need of the offenders, to feel something
it all, all is clear, love hurts, the need is clearer then ever
respect is and should be a rigth, human and animal.

time is no longer their option, and the flux of words are
stucked, in the eyes of the mate, holding a little
piece of my heart, all is clear, and the need of
pain is no longer my addiction, after all the pain,
y grew up, and decide to love, and split myself,

one too big, one too small, im a pig,
that love them both, the mate and the love,
all is clear in mi movi bubble, even the
clear is clear now, about it all, the two
pieces of my heart, le amour,ahh,  le ami
adore, le belle chanson, la belle et la bette,
je sui la bette, cest tout la belle bette cheri,
mon petite bette adore.

all is ´past, never take the blame
for cowards, or say sorry for them,
never say sorry, for the hurm, you
never did, past is prologue, and love
can save the day after all.

je adore le pettite bette,
ladrona de corazones.
carlota the heart thief.
Dave Martsolf May 2015
let’s go back a
hundred-thousand years

to these ragged edges
torn rains
raw greens
biting seas

to the first sunrise,
now understood.
tears of calm joy –

a return.

we find ourselves
in this,
a kinship;
our brother is
our keeper,
and we
its’ guardian,
walk the edges
and the smooths;
our planet,
Earth’s children
CharlesC Mar 2013
and I am fine..
she speaks first
this her report
each Monday noon
when our group
Soup Salad Scripture
convenes to her
weekly de-light..
Visiting her home we
met precision and grace..
a white decor reflects
her sun-lightened hair..
in her elevated space
we imagined the Peak
closer than before..
her walls portray
her art fascination
a loving life partner
all in this Moment
times in Alaska
and the wide world..
with all this
she served us wine..
we know now
she is Bette
and she is fine...
A tribute to a ninety-one year young friend.....
Hayley Simpson Oct 2012
Dear Hot Straight Actresses,

Stop playing perfect lesbian characters on TV that cause me to become wet on lonely Thursday nights.

It’s the equivalent of waving double chocolate fudge cake in front of a menstruating woman who has just been diagnosed with type 2 diabetes.

To name a few,

Jennifer Beals as Bette Porter on The L Word.
Stop it!

Naya Rivera as the sassy Santana Lopez on Glee.
Stop it!

Angie Harmon as butch goddess Detective Jane Rizzoli on Rizzoli & Isles.
You may be in the closet but you are gay and stop!

And Sara Ramirez and Jessica Capshaw as the married ****** Dr. Cali Torrez and Dr. Arizona Robbins of Grey’s Anatomy.
You…you keep going. You two give me hope.

Hope that someday my insanely high expectations will be met when my hot art collecting, sassy mouthed Doctor with handcuffs in her back pocket jumps from the screen and onto my sweatpants covered lap.
In this crazy assumption that I’ll end up falling out of an apple tree letting gravity push me into the arms of a woman who fixes my broken sense of reality with a amazing great hair and a wedding proposal.

Missing out on the

Hot barista who gives me an extra large when I ask for a small

or the

Budding **** artist who invites me to her galleries only to realize her muse has oddly the same hips as me.

or the

Best friend who is still stuck in the shadows of my closet.

Nope…didn’t see any of those.
I’m too busy watching the **** tube to see what low cut tops they can get away with before they leave the set and back to their husband and 2.5 kids.

All I’m asking is…

…when is it coming out on DVD?
Performed at The Bowery Poetry Club (2012)

Author: Being a closet about my Grey's Anatomy addiction I wrote this because I LOVE Cali and Arizona. Probably one of the best couples (straight or gay) on TV right now. When I performed this at the Bowery in New York this sweet lesbian couple came up, hugged me, took some pictures, and then told me they felt the same. UNITY!!!!
Robin Carretti Jul 2018
Being cared for
Here's the  adored door

Inside playing he pours the hearts

So like him the ricochet
Deeply love so cultured
My pearl crochet

Deeply cared about I got you
under my skin
I win your love ticket

The spool of
wool hit the floor
To the extreme
The sensitive mind

  And his feeling like the escapee finding
the higher
religion keeping that in mind
The everlasting  to be cared for or
not to be never lasting like someone
lost its hunger fasting

Waking up deeply recharged or
reproducing to
her neverending fairytale

Much deeper than 69 eye love shades
Deeply cared for beyond his loving
It comes and fades
Like Monopoly  "Godly Sun-Seeker" keeps
passing us
The game of life charades
Like Persian babies their
button nose deeply cared for to cuddle
The warmest meows hug and save

Like flour to sparkle, it deepens
like our mix, a love needs
to be worked on 
 do you really
care to fix?

But sending all the details
the lines soften pale pink rose
I felt your red fire putting
out the coldness fire and ice
To be saved on time
Like the fire chief,  
Acted like a French chef what
a love roue of the hose

Like silk my millennium  milk,
He held my finger but not
to sulk he said buckle up
What firmness and tightness
arm to arm wrestler such
bulk

Never to swear but a little lie 
  Wouldnt hurt my delicate
pinky finger
In her loop with her fur
deeply
Stepped into her mink

He's the frontman
Fresh cut lemon
Yellow sunshine
happy medium

I was wearing my hair middle parted
The picture slide the made man
Tied back my hair was deeply
Smooth talker well conditioned
With what conditions all recollections
But three strikes when you care for
someone you  don't fall out of love

  This world loves to be pampered
Cared about not scouted
All hole marks in the road badly routed
 With tons of work with the question mark?
The sign stayed with her
Deeply care about?

Like a play date let's pretend
You're both a handful
Like beer malt lips
Engraved love in the barrels
To feel deeply loved  he acted
Like the riddler

The beach her eyes were waiting to be reached
Sunset playing the fool marionette overly preached

So I  Bette
Beneath her wings
In the middle of their wed to be isles
The Green Gables emerald rings

Miss spinster-Sara Lee cake
His jeep was all she could take
How it ended up
In Greenwich Village then shipped
To Mystic Seaport Connecticut
The movie cut Cape Cod Massachusetts
The four letters in his pocket
Deeply 1 care 2 about 3 love 4

Needed a jump kickstart
Her breakfast  start of the day
 deeply cared for his way
He stumped over her honey
bunches of oats lips

The website
Go, Daddy acting love silly
The hot fun in the
International city
The UK that's OK
Mr. Bo Jangles spoiled deeply
*** in the City single
Deeply getting hurt
The Sin City

Did he see her progress
All over Twitter
He was so suited but lost
his tie twinkle tweets
Do I really live my life to dare
or deeply care?
I am ****** British give me
my English breakfast teas
for keeps
The King ain't got that swing
She acts too much like the Queen

The Royalty of love sanity
The heaping fine grain sugar spoon

(Duke of Earl gray) Deeply love Thee
But always came way too soon
She is the domestic cat going frantic

Great discoveries, and that's that
  Internships tug-cash or the hogwash
our colleagues  
The deep end "Crazy Eights
On the tenth physio natural
phenomena convent

All the Kingman no swords holding her
wrench
and knight horses unfortunate events
One day creation camel ride for miles
Reaching higher levels of toxins
and morons
Or teaching MLM  you asked for it
"The millionaire lost minds"

Were human TLC tender loving care
Like some playdough to the rooftop
Of Mentors, did they care
Who we deeply care about family
But more concerned
about the rise of money inventors
Even if life really *****
Oh! Fiddlesticks

The Moaning of life
Bring the Idiots aboard
The ***** of the night

He kinda ducks by the end of
your ***-light
Flex-body deeply cared for
Rumors and all philosophies
The shower like you was slashed
Left you bone dry without the cash
The thrill is gone your lovesick

She-devil  coffin red nails split Twilight zone

  The stars were in your corner
He deeply cared for you he was
your health kit
The Botanical Gardens

Like a figment of your imagination
Se demure you needed a
Florence Nightingale flower cure
To lift your depression to smile
You thought someone cared but all
misinterpretations

All misconceptions and misdemeanors
She takes so long putting on her
French lip glide Chanel liner
What could be ever cared for finer
Deeply digging holes like a miner

The solar rhythmic pointed finger
to the stars

So systematically
making a wish
just like everyone else
To plan your game
the game makes the plan
You deeply cared for delivery
Was I the care package

You weren't someone
just anybody like
A city dump garbage

Deeply wanting and waiting
So merely or rarely was it coming

Deeply seeing the next generation
The spectacular sunrise
White wicker twin set swing
Your heart pulls back but it was
so close to swinging forward
Moving towards your
accomplishments
The mess was all ****

"You have the exceptional mind like the beautiful mind"

People, you came across friends
Also, contributors  not the enemies
The country and the continents
Deeply cared for landmarks
The monuments how you love
her birthmark taking her hand

The Godly land such will command
moonwalker deeply cared for
All watered deep soul of lovers
The world of hands and
words became
such an impact

You felt like the creature so extinct
Things we deeply care about or no one doesn't understand our feeling we move or fly in all directions just to get the right affection
JA Doetsch Feb 2012
HaHA, I've done it!  I've created a device
That can tap into my subconscious
and translate it for all to hear.

I will win the Nobel Prize!
I will be rich beyond my wildest dreams!
People will LIKE me!

So let's see here....I put on the cap, set the throttobombulator to 8.
Adjust for fuzzy dialation...set the circuit threshold to .79, make
sure the lucid translation synapses are firing...and yes.  The next
words you hear will surely be written in History books one day,
much like Thomas Edison's first phonograph recording, or the
first telephone call!

Neural connection is active.  Transmitting

TRANSGENDERED KANGAROOS FORNICATE IN THE
PURPLE SHADE OF BETTE MIDLER'S THIGHS.  PLEASE
PERFORM ******* AT THE BEHEST OF BUDDHIST
MONKS WITH LISPS.  COUNT TO TEN AND BECOME
A BUXOM BLONDE ***** WITH BOUNCY *******.  
WHEN THE CLOCK STRIKES TWELVE, CINDARELLA IS
ON HER KNEES AND ELBOWS BECAUSE IT'S ******
HARD TO GET LOW ENOUGH TO PLEASURE A DWARF


Oh dear.  This can't be right....now where's that 'off' switch?


JACK AND JILL WENT OFF THE PILL SO JACK COULD
BE A FATHER.  JACK WENT DOWN TO LONDON TOWN
AND PUNCHED THE DALAI LAMA.  EDIBLE *******
GIVE YOU INDIGESTION.  DO YOU KISS YOUR MOTHER
WITH THAT MOUTH, BECAUSE YOU SHOULD. (AND USE
SOME TONGUE THIS TIME)


Oh My...Ladies and Gentlemen, It's clear that my invention
is experiencing technical difficulties.  If you would please be patient---

SATIN BRAS DON'T CHAFE.  NONE OF THE SMURFS
HAD BLUE ***** THANKS TO SMURFETTE.  I WONDER
WHAT MARY MAGDELINE WAS LIKE IN THE SACK?  *

STUPID
SmashPieceSmashof GARBAGESMASH

DoNT LikE iT?  tucK iT bAcK!!


Connection Lost*


I...erm...clearly have some more work to do before it is ready
for the *****--er..public.  I have run into some...translation
errors...and need to re lubricate--CALIBRATE a few things.

Please don't tell my mother.
I'm aware this is quite lewd,  It was necessary to make the point.  Hopefully people find it as humorous as I intended.
love runs deep
and true like the Isar

flowing as an
amorous stream

immersing lovers
in the surge of
golden currents

its thrilling
buoyancy
lifting the
beloved

reaching sanctuaries
on soft grassy banks

finding solace
in trickling eddies

sustaining the
most hungry
of hearts

Isar springs
from a far off
continental
pinnacle

tipping from the
mystic peaks of
mythical Valhallan
tables

royally set to feast
the unabashed love
of Tristan and Isolde

she
pours
as an
ambrosial
libation
brewed
by master
Brewmeisters

coursing through
the veins of all
Bavarians
she sweeps across
lush Alpine meadows
anointing the water
with nectarous
edelweiss fragrance
and budding sprigs
of mountain laurel

generous streams
gently cascade
down the Alp’s,
sloping through
picturesque
valleys,
sustaining the
blue on white
Maypoles of
busy hamlets
crafting the
things of life

the glacial melt
of Spring swells
the flows of
a rising Isar

bringing new things
from far off places
heralding arrivals
revealing epiphanies
washing the
deepest stains
carrying away
the unholy flotsam
of loved
starved souls

proclaiming fidelity
tributaries are joined
in a holy union

once submerged
hidden doubts
yearnings and
unrequited
longings
are banished
in a mornings
lifting mist
charting new
courses for
companionship

summer reveals
sparkling waters
winding its way
through beds
of polished stones

during the
easy season
the river offers
respite from
pressing heat

clear waters
invite bathers
to dip a toe,
wade deep or
fully submerge
oneself in pools
of rejuvenation

British Gardens
offer spectacle
of self affirmed
nudists and
surfers tacking
atop waves,
while spectators
marvel from
protected alcoves
yearning to
peel off
extraneous
layers of cloths
to experience
the joy of naked
freedom

during gay times
carefree summer
lovers intoxicated by
the sweet scent of
blooming tulip trees
rendezvous in
hidden glades

breathlessly
relishing the
intimate reveries
of seclusion
embracing
renewed
discoveries of
fathomless desire

along canals
laborers find
the recompence
of a well earned
day of rest

families lay blankets
to define the space
where circles of trust
are assembled,
where identity
is sculpted
and family folklore
is handed down,
entrusted to the  
guardianship of
a new generation

the boughs of
broad leaf trees
seat heralds
of songbirds,
gracefully shading
the resting with
a welcomed lullaby
while shielding loungers
from the remorseless
hum of a busy city

water and
love unite
forming a base
compound element
nurturing companionship
gleaned on the gentle ebbs
of a green river calling  
its estuaries to rejoin
its fluxing host

in Autumn
the foliage of
the glorious season
paints a Monet
masterpiece
a life of love
has wrought

dazzling
watercolor portraits
are splayed onto the
glass surface of her
magnificent face

revealing
the depth
and dimension
of loves full
pallet of life's
seasons
beheld
in living
color for all
to behold

enthralled we
marvel at the
wondrous
portraiture
nature
composed
urging us to wade
into the golden pools
baptized by the grace
of reconciliations from
the dislocations of
expired seasons

as the hard times of winter arrives
serrated edges of ice floes creep
across the snow laced stones
reminding us how jagged
seasons may be

the gray steel water challenges
the warmest hearts of love

but elegant bridges
crowned with
statuesque keystones
arch across the water
joining the river walkways

the knowing statuary
of a city's mythic guardians
are ever watchful
assuring the Isar’s flow
remains unimpeded
and uncorrupted

the beloved of
Munchen sleep well
during the harshest
Bavarian nights
knowing the Angel of Hope
gleams through the darkness
her fluttering wings
sounding surety
to the faithful

her protective pinions
sprinkle gold upon the frozen river
planting the hopeful seeds of spring
whispering reassurances that
love will never be extinguished

Music Selection:
Bette Midler, The Rose

Composed for the marriage
of Maxine and Glendon McCallum
Munchen
7/4/14
Composed for the marriage
of Maxine and Glendon McCallum
Munchen
7/4/14
SøułSurvivør Jun 2015
~~~@

**a maze of tunnels
under blacktop
a poesy of lilies dark as dusk
a bette noir drawn on
charcoal paper
an  elephant's carcass
sans his tusk

the negative without a cipher
the poem written in the dark
the Good Book without a cover
the human blood that
draws the shark

as i sit here
twilight's falling
i'll sit here in the failing light
i'll sit here looking at black rainbows

til my heart bleeds its last goodnight
Very depressed right now.
There's gotta be a pony under here somewhere
Israel Ortiz Jr Jul 2013
Feeling the duanting cry - aloof.
Like a violin with its haunting strings.
I was in a coma-like state of sleep.
The knock at the door.

The dead swan on the butcher's block.
The brilliant faces and signed will.
Borrowed cigarette in the back seat of
the black Mercedes-Benz with Bette Davis.

I stunned in my black suit and silk tie.
I noticed her blank stare from behind
those huge sunglasses. I sighed deeply -
high tailing my heels out the door.

The dead swan on the butcher's block.
I lingered in dismay (I felt paralyzed),
stroked by the rapture of the male swan.
I prayed. Bette Davis is dead.
soul in torment Nov 2013
It took every ounce of self control
not
to kiss you...

not to take you in my arms

inhaling deep
the very scent of floral meadows
from your hair

not to hold your hands
with fingers trembling

nor to speak openly
my love...

my feelings

that I have
so often
held

here ...

close to my chest

muffling the very beating
of my heart

in such pained
poetic silence

Yet

but for one moment of weakness
I could have made known

my need

my pain

my longing to be touched

but no

for I would never risk
all we are ...

nor all we have

for one moment
of
madness.
An oldie revamped and tweeked
CharlesC Jan 2013
She expressed again
what others have known..
the ironing chore found
quietly calming
bringing sometimes
bliss to a day..
What is behind this
smoothing of wrinkles
which serves such
wellbeing and peace..?
Perhaps we find here
in striking resemblance
an old story..
night becomes day
martha becomes mary
as our wrinkles
are pressed..
With thanks to Bette
her example and sevice
and for this new
ironingboard parable...!
Chris Slade Apr 2019
Ladies of the Net… A warning to male adolescents everywhere…

“Hi Honey….I just got matched with your profile”… At least that’s what I think it said.
Brilliant I thought because I’m available and life round here is, well…it’s dead
“I’m looking for an experienced guy who’s good in bed…  been round the block, but not the clock…
One with plenty of experience and a huge…err…appetite…
for hooking up instead of these inexperienced boys…
They’re all excitable, probably all over too quick…
need someone with poise reserve and a twelve inch errr… Libido?… ego?
Click my pics kiddo and let’s get it on… you Stud!… Well I would!

*******! I’m overwhelmed but let’s not peak too soon…
There’s loads of stuff coming in as Spam that would probably make us all swoon.
So check it out…without fail, “eeeh!”  They’re all there - these ladies of the net - they crop up daily -
Sheila Blige… Tanya Hide… Mandy May,  Bette Sheedus, Lovinia ****…
I’m not sure if these are their real names... But - Phew -
with things like this going on round here we could all get *******!

She says she’s just round the corner, you know like Sompting, Steyning, LA (that must be Littlehampton)… Southwick…Little Haven Halt, Portslade.
We could meet in a lay-by and we’ll get laid… just an innocent little escapade.
It won’t be my fault if you miss this chance…
Just try it - I’ll handcuff you to the bed and lap dance.
Click on my pix, big boy, they all beckon.
Take a closer look at these sonny boy - now what do you reckon?

Well, you’d have to say they do look very alluring in the taster…
so why not just click...
to the next page… see the site… don’t waste-ya time…CLICK!
*******! The screen’s gone blank…
now I won’t even be able to have a __
Knock, Knock, Knock!

"Kevin!!!?"..."Mum?" "Is that you?" "Yes Mum!… Everything’s OK!… I’m just turning out the light… G’night!"
These days the temptations of the internet are many and varied... no longer restricted to top shelf magazines...It's all free and it's coming to gettya - Check out those parental controls!!
Robin Carretti Dec 2016
Lamppost of crystal's
shadow light
It's me against me
shadow-fight
Looking out my window
I see the field
I am sitting with
my napkin fold.

Words moved__
unbelievably**

Looking at my ring hot steam
Exploded so conceivable
Did I imagine?
So intricate and fine
But invisible, in the tile cracks.
I can see a shadow face.
Please get him out of my South
Hampton house.
He's so out of place.
I never want to see his shadow face.
So swiftly shopping fighting the crowd
hunk's of  *** all over the City

I'm sold congratulations, I win me
Harry Winston diamond.
Jarod was fighting, with my jewel's.
On the titanic vessel
Something shadowing your Pupils

Exploring love at any cost
picking up the artist
historical love fossil?
He  gave her a necklace from
the shadow of his smile
exquisitely detailed tasseled

My lover tilt's me forward.
I go toward the  light Shadow fight
Hansel sometimes loves brutal
So gone Girl Gretel.
Someone is following me,
in my shadow

I was holding, Twin set croissant's
I see his sun-shadow, in the meadow
Hello, it's Me
and my shadow
The cafe black-catsuit,
he's jumping over my latte
So suited like a checkerboard
cake pursuit
So lucky me shadow kiss fairies
and elves.
Something moved me going through
my Carbanet shelf's 

Surprisingly angry. Oh! My
He's hungry
Beastly
Feastly
Shocked Ghostly
The Dutchess of Windsor

All I will be is this shadow
hanging with
  his ***** laundry

Model shoot fighting dart
Victoria secret *******
The best  silken qualities
Breaking into my house.
Was my spouse?
shadowed by too many boxers
GQ models "Guilty "Quarantine"
I'm dreaming White no shadows
of Christmas
Like an oracle of the ornament's
his shadow lip's
looking behind a cup
My mind boiled coffee grind
  every  second, broken record
I am the singer I  say hello shadow
hit my vocal chords made
the record

Robin red breast bird frantic
Sometimes life is cruel desperately
seeking  housewives  of New Jersey
Such high taxes
Getting hooked on Prozac- cheater faxes
The Christmas tree so ******* towers

Too many Jack shining, all writer's
winning April showers
Penpals writers and fighters

 African violets artist booming with
  lover's kisses seem's ingenious
But I'm not listening

His shadow follow's me I fight back
Somehow like I am pacing toward the
    Gotham city bat eye winged the
train track. The speed of heart attack
       "Crystal's Powers Comeback"
  So transparent batman flying so defiant.
Fairies with lucidity his shadow hot crime.
Right  at the same time
How I wished I was overlooking the water,
with my  Key -lime pie.
Please don't  shadow me
Or lie to me
To rob me again.
What's to gain, your invisible men
Met my virginity key.
Looking out my window

Face touched my back
monster vision,
not exactly love infusion.
I felt like I was having a
blood transfusion.

Sun-catcher caught my eye's dreamy
mad-hatter meadow
Mobster Gotti. Shadow proof

what about the book proof.
So vividly,
shooting, at windows,
cherry tree lost its shadow.
Ancestor's sign's leaves fight family
from the distance broken heart.
But Bette Midler sing's, knock's out all the,
shadow's of the earth distance.
One shadow across my opened heart window,
snow blizzard  blew apart ice my shadow fight
I paid the price started sticking
hearing music satanically

Andy Anderson window call's me?
Flicker's at me, it touched a part of me,
how it trembled me,
the familiar beat
I stumbled got down to my feet
looking out my window
Immortal sunlight powerful never
left my sight
Brent Kincaid Dec 2015
You may see a vacant lot
Where a building has burned down
But I see a garden spot
With flowers growing all around.
And maybe a bench to sit
A take a while to appreciate
What can be done by people
With loving energy to dedicate.

You may see an empty field
Overrun by neglect and weeds.
But, I see a garden here,
And care is really all it needs.
Maybe some cutting back
And of course, a lot of water.
But time and compassion
Is what will ultimately matter.

Realtors may calculate
The money to make from this land
But, I see a garden
That needs some helping hands.
Maybe some cows can graze
Or a pretty little babbling brook.
A place of nature’s bounty
Like out of a wonderful storybook.

Do we need one more store,
Or one more fast food restaurant?
Maybe some serenity is
What people of the world really want.
Some may see a patch of dirt
And not much more than fallow earth.
As for me, I see a garden.
A bit of paradise right here on earth.

(This was written for and about Bette Midler.)
brandychanning Dec 2023
Retro Morn: Re-Reading Jenny (1.) and Her Purple Hat, (2.), Listening to Vonda Shepard

I am a beautiful woman, and reliably informed so,
by handsome. men, lustful fools, and one too many
sideward glances

in a difference place, musical needs call me out to retro smooth me
away from the waves of nausea of news repeats ingested, the lesser
qualities of human beings basic basest nature, I inhale subdued

Jenny’s defiance of life’s expectations and Vonda’s voice
smooth my discordant emotive candles that won’t stay lit,
add in a touch of melting Joni & Divine Ms. Bette,
gets me slow kickstarting

and I have not reached
the lofty plateau of
twenty five years of age

but my mom, the  Queen Regent, reminds me royalty possesses
very old souls, which Is why I’m caught out listening, dancing
awake to the music of
her youth* and hear her discreetly humming the tunes, even though the phone connection broken minutes earlier

she signed off with a practised Elizabethan airy disturbance royal wave of her hand, instructing this raining (no, not reigning)
Queen to  “darling go write a poem…”

don’t we all listen to our mothers?


my name is brandychanning

*music inhale subdued kickstarting a poem
We never talked of pleasure.
  It was always buried treasure.
  Marriage was a woman pure
  as a ****** bride to endure.
  Bette on Charleston Island
  she finally made her stand.
  Took her kids and left behind
  ashes they'll never find.
At The Mall:
__

A lot of push pull
mixed messages...
I love it says Carrie.
(The Jewish neurotic head).


In The Synagogue:
____

Excited about D.N.A.
Developing plans to draft Goyim.


Charlotte's Predicament:
_____

Gave up Christ for you,
now living of the flesh.
Just what New York needs--another single Jewish girl.
Christ no longer the comforter, she wants the god of fertility to bless her
and her house: Mary the mother of child rearing bless the womb and its fruit. He's not all that perhaps she'll come back...


At The Breakfast Table:
_____

She states she is no fair weather Jew,
as Bette Midler-esque (Carrie) plastic surgery head listens.
This new found religion she's not giving it up.


The Walk:
__

Welfare martini,
religious mourning,
and Freudian synopsis.


Peter ******* Interruption:
______

Quit job, hoping for a breakthrough;
perhaps questioning Goyim's worth.


Bed Time:
_

Money issues.


At The Bar:
__

At a loss despite her Jewish brilliance; and
Freudian synopsis.


At Theater:
___

Male ****-****** companion and Charlotte's progressivism.  

© S. Wesley Mcgranor
http://youtu.be/mUZmxLSZBLI
Juddin Peterson Jan 2014
I'm afraid of the future
I'm afraid my parents wont live long
enough to see my kids
I'm scared my girls will get pregnant
at not the exact time we want
I'm scared I'll never each my potential
I'm afraid she's still in love with that dude
I'm afraid people hate who I really am
I'm afraid I hate who I really am
I'm scared people will find out what I ******* too
I'm afraid I'm here for nothing
I'm afraid people think I hate my race
I'm afraid people think I hate women
I hate how people can say anything
I hate caring what people think
I'm afraid theres someone bette for you or me
I'm afraid this is all an accident
I'm afraid I'll regret this
I'm afraid this doesn't matter at all
Joe Thompson Oct 2017
My mother dearly wanted  
to be Dorothy Parker.
She yearned for a taste of the power that comes
from a truly witty response.

She craved to deliver
A statement so powerful
and sardonic that it would terminate
all argument or discussion.

My proximity made me an easy target to practice on
as each of our arguments ended with a bon mot
delivered with the all the acerbic flourish of Bette Davis.

As I listened to her footsteps receding down the hallway
I had only to take one more breath
before the footsteps reversed direction
and - standing at the doorway to my room -
She would deliver another culminating witticism
turn, leave and repeat.

In the fifties and sixties an intelligent woman –
a single mother of three
with no high school diploma,
but a surfeit of imagination –
Savoured what little power she could find
even if it was a fiction, a delusion
or just a punchline sharp enough to draw blood.
Miss Clofullia Feb 2017
Not being able to decide between
Audrey
and
Katharine
is not a real problem, my friend!

The hardness of life begins
when you meet
Bette
and
Grace.

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PAO8vlvPS88]

PS:
have you seen
Lauren
and
Greta?
They might have changed their phone number.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PAO8vlvPS88
Mio Seanachaidh Feb 2017
I know it's a mask
I know it's a game

You're a liar
We are all liars

You pretend in front of the world
I know the real you

We're bitter rivals even until the end
We laugh and smile at the world masquerading our feud as trivial matter
However, behind closed doors it's an all out war!

The two halves of you are deliberately parted
If the world knew who you truly are and what you do
All memory of you would be instantly shamed and your good name would be tarnished - forever ruined

I know you; a girl with a humble start
You came from nothing
​You've clawed, lied, cheated, and schemed
You've broken hearts and did damage

It's ok; we've all done it at some point in our lives
We are all despicable and wretched souls

You are Joan
I'm Bette

Our feud is so bitter, toxic, and complicated that its intangible yet pure palpable

I don't know how it all will end, all I know is this:

Golden rule of life: never underestimate your rivals.
It was the most notorious cat fight in Hollywood history. In the blue corner, the formidable Bette Davis, and in the red, equally feisty Joan Crawford. Both magnificent actresses on top of their game, both festering with barely concealed hatred for one another. But what could have caused this? Was it mere professional jealousy or something deeper?

A little investigation shows that these two cinematic giants were reduced to duking it out over, what else, a man. Namely, the slightly less legendary, Franchot Tone.

Their claws continued to be out for one another for the remainder of their days, until Joan was the first to pass away from a heart attack. The tragedy did nothing to diminish Davis’ acid tongue; “You should never say bad things about the dead, only good…Joan Crawford is dead. Good.”

Hard to believe their mutual loathing could endure for so long, whether it was love rivalry, or mutual insecurity in such a precarious profession?

The only two who know the answer are Joan Crawford and Bette Davis!
Donall Dempsey Jan 2019
"..I'LL HAVE A LARGE ORDER OF PROGNOSIS NEGATIVE!"

A week or so before
it was that ****** geezer's birthday.

It was my Joan's too!
The Germans were celebrating.

We was too!
Me and her went to see Bette

in Dark Victory hear her drawl:
"What do you do there in between yawns? "

We was up for it
night before the Cup.

And yeah we was struggling
in the relegation zone and

the Wolves they was
flying high but

boys oh boys
we beat 'em so we did

only 4
****** 1.

Pete and John and
Cliff got two.

Tinn said we'd win
'cos he wear his lucky spats.

The only team to hold the Cup
for the longest time.

The War kinda intervened.
Never thought I'd be a soldier.

Old Tinn hid the Cup
( so he said )underneath his bed

but it was kept quiet
in Lovedean.

The Bird in the Bush
I often drank there.

Lost Joan
only last year

can still hear her say
in that Bette Davis way

her voice
all smoke

"Nothing can hurt us now.
What we have can't be destroyed.

That's our victory - our victory over the dark.
It is a victory because we're not afraid."
Lucanna Sep 2014
I bathe myself in preparation
Suds of lavender & honey
lathered over my smooth summer skin
I even shave
just for you
Moroccan oil pours over my scalp
exfoliating extra well behind the ears
ah the ears
my favorite spot
Gently dry off
Making sure not to miss any spots
above the knee
where usually a stubble island lingers
make sure the *******
are like starfruit
ready for your suckling
Lather cocoa butter
on elbows and around neckline
sensual, a paradise for you
My argan oil tresses, your palm trees
drown lashes in bat black
curl them upward towards cloudy head
I pinch already flushed cheeks
nice and baby doll pink, just the way you like it
All the while staining lips vamp scarlet
so that you may think their sole purpose
on my face is for
circling around your ****
I tweeze brows into crescent moons
over a Bette Davis eye sky
And I won't dare forget to bleach each pearly tooth
picket fence white
So when I flash my counterfeit grin
a twinkle may appear
and blur the emptiness
lurking between both corners
Now for the *****, bra pairing
of course midnight lace and twin
You, my dear get to unwrap this body of mine
How will you choose what to unravel first?
******* or ****?
Decisions. Decisions.
All of it for your
heartbreaking ***** machismo

I arrive,
just as those perfect hands
of your clock
strike the moment you wanted them to
You dine
licking your fingers after each dish
You breathe cigarette breathe
Your pungent odor wreaks over my body
as yours climbs aboard
Hair, greasy hamburger follicles
Skin, porous with choking chemicals
And there is nothing to unwrap
nothing for me to find
Except an empty chest
The gold had been in my pockets the whole time
I must bathe you off.
NiTSUDD Sep 2016
They're selling postcards of the hanging
They're painting the passports brown
The beauty parlor is filled with sailors
The circus is in town
Here comes the blind commissioner
They've got him in a trance
One hand is tied to the tight-rope walker
The other is in his pants
And the riot squad they're restless
They need somewhere to go
As Lady and I look out tonight
From Desolation Row.

Cinderella, she seems so easy
"It takes one to know one," she smiles
And puts her hands in her back pockets
Bette Davis style
And in comes Romeo, he's moaning,
"You belong to Me I Believe."
And someone says, "You're in the wrong place, my friend
You'd better leave."
And the only sound that's left
After the ambulances go
Is Cinderella sweeping up
On Desolation Row.

Ophelia, she's 'neath the window
For her I feel so afraid
On her twenty-second birthday
She already is an old maid
To her, death is quite romantic
She wears an iron vest
Her profession's her religion
Her sin is her lifelessness
And though her eyes are fixed upon
Noah's great rainbow
She spends her time peeking
Into Desolation Row.
My favorite verses from the classic Bob Dylan song
Bette Mann doesn't exist.
The world's a lesser place
without her fierce resist.
We will never replace.
Vernon Waring Jul 2015
I like a classic movie
One with Bogie and Bacall
Kate Hepburn in her heyday
Or Errol Flynn in a brawl

A Cary Grant comedy
Irene Dunne at his side
Bette Davis raising hell
Or Frankenstein's scary bride

I think of Ingrid Bergman's smile
The sweetest nun appearing onscreen
And Mae West's sassy manner
As she lit up every scene

Spencer Tracy wowed us
Charlie Chaplin made us roar
Great stars, great stories, great times
The movies I adore
Bob B Nov 2019
(If you don’t know the song from GYPSY, "Everything's Coming Up Roses,” by Jule Styne and Stephen Sondheim, listen to Bette Midler’s version on YouTube. Then try singing this poem to the melody.)

We can all see…
The truth is so clear, people.
It's not just a smear, people.
It's what we should fear. Oh, people,

Like two peas
In a pod
Such a friendship might seem rather odd.
As for us,
We can see,
People, all roads lead clearly to Putin.

Business deals
Or *** tapes?
Microphones hidden in drapes?
So bizarre…
We can see,
People, all roads lead clearly to Putin.

They're going strong now.
What could be their desire?
Putin knows how
He'll make the president kowtow.

Will Trump lift
Sanctions soon?
Will both keep on singing in tune?
Just you wait
And you’ll see
Who is whose
Devotee.
It's strange to watch the two talk crook to crook.
People, all roads lead clearly to Putin wherever we look.

They contrive this
Situation at hand.
We'll survive this;
Maybe we'd better archive this.

Putin wants
In Ukraine
To make it part of Russia's domain.
Where this goes,
Who can tell?
Doesn't this
Ring a bell?
'Cause they know every trick that's in the book.
People, all roads will lead us to true Russian meddling;
All roads will lead to the White House’s cover-ups;
All roads lead Trump to just one place without a doubt;
ALL ROADS LEAD CLEARLY TO PUTIN WHEREVER WE LOOK!

-by Bob B (11-19-19)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cm6Vi7WdK-k
love is like a rose
it is sharp,
it is dangerous.
it can hurt
or
it can heal.

*inspired by Bette Midler's the rose
Jonathan Moya Feb 2020
In the cancer museum
I imagine where mine
would rest in peace and ease.

My eyes scan rows of organs:
Disney’s lungs on top of
Newman’s own **** pair;

Ingrid Bergman’s left breast
bump Bette Davis’ right—
indiscreet voyagers;

Audrey Hepburn’s colon
nesting Farrah Fawcett’s
like Tiffany Angels.

I saw my spot next to…
but the doctor called me
back to look at the scans.

He pointed out my growths
grouped in a triangle,
told me of their plan/cure-

called them clouds but they seemed
caterpillars vegging
out on my intestines.

I imagined them cocooning,
metamorphosing to
surgical butterflies

or staying just rounders,
yellow earrings just for
Audrey’s and Farrah’s lobes.

Then the doctor turned it
and the picture became
more terrible things:

rats, sharks, wasps all vying
for valuable shelf space
in the small gallery.

Tourists and soldiers from
the plane crash/war museum
wander in wondering

why there are no jet planes
reassembling in slow
motion horror, dog tags

melted into the seats,
flesh in the torn engines,
no screams of real terror,

just the crowd bumping and
marching into me in silence,
sometimes taking pictures

while **** yellow chemo
solution runs down my
leg in pupae slime lines.  

The last one opens me,
looking for spikes of grief
or fury.  Finding none,

not even a cold tomb,
just a rip, tear, dim sounds
as the crowd echoes down

and surges out the door
for all the Holocaust
store souvenirs next door.

I hear my heart rustle
in the computer bytes,
the breath of trees

and swallows in my files,
a dusty cross inside
releasing butterflies

to the sky as I step
back and watch all
****** into the blue.

“Do you think I got it
all in?” the doctor says,
snapping my last picture

— The End —