"beverly" poems
From the cultured hood of Beverly Hills
Young rich white kid rapping
Blonde hair perfectly combed and trimmed
Blue eyes shaded from California sun
Spitting ghetto slang about unfair pain,
Affirmative action, cultural injustices
Daddy’s allowance, racial profiling
Pimp[le] mobile and spinning rims
Gold plated teeth over pearly whites
Slinging 401k’s and time shares
Baggy pants sagging down past his ***
Tugging at his crotch
His hand permanently attached
To his little white flaccid ****
Trying to keep from tripping
While he’s running from the police
Wanted for questioning
On insider trading
And insurance scams
Apr 28, 2012
Apr 28, 2012 at 8:48 PM UTC
Chereè, Chereè...Her mommy cried and warned her to be careful, 3 months ago she left home for L.A in hopes for becoming a star. Five foot five, dark green eyes, skin complexion as a beige princess, at a pool party in the hills she met the producer to both whoms sparked interest. She had a voice of gold, a personality so bold, and he had the fill to her mold. So she thought, So she was told, Chereè was gullible a young 19 years old. She moved in with Jazzy, fell in love with him, and his savvy, way of making her feel so **** and strong. For three months he lead her on, head and *** every other night and she never recorded one song. Then he came to her and asking, "Baby do love me…Baby do you care." Thirty minutes after she finished her makeup and hair, they stared into each others eyes, he gave her a tender kiss as he caressed her thighs. "I love you girl, and I always will." As she strapped her heels, he uttered a comment about how love doesn't pay the bills. North Hollywood, for weeks the pay was good, until the night she climbed in the SUV. "What's your name sweetheart." "Whatever you want it to be." She hopped in the truck, and he had something tucked, he turned and flashed L.A.P.D. Just do me this one, and I'll let you go…and she prayed to just get back on the stroll. They went in the back seat, the ***** cop was a freak, he used his cuffs to tie up her hands and feet. She waited till he was weak, he came and then she beat, her elbows into his head and felt for the keys under the seat. He whipped out an 8 inch blade and slit her throat. He kept stabbing, and he ever choked her.....looked at the body, and rolled it over, took his cuffs and gave her a soft kiss on the shoulder, he wiped tears and blood from his face with her thong, because he told her……that'd he let her go. He dumped Chereè on the side of the road, and took off for his Beverly Hills home.………And her mother told her to be careful.
Oct 17, 2012
Oct 17, 2012 at 7:33 PM UTC
I would rather be hysterical than vulnerable
to what most people call love.
I would rather couple with strange women
on an Amsterdam getaway
than let one more man
try to own me.
I prefer to ignore my own psychodynamics
in favor of endless talking cure analysis
and occasional astrology cult ******
that promise to speed my eventual evolution
from wounded *** object to invulnverable starchild.
I don’t need a Beverly Hills shrink
to tell me my narcissism and depression and squeaky voice
are symbolic of never having the power
to set a boundary between me and my father
who doted over my puberty
with slobbering praise and veiled lust.
Everyone who knows me for more than a week
sees my father throwing me financial bones
instead of apologizing for what he did
and the more I take his money
the freer I feel
distanced by automobiles with dark-tinted windows,
a house with a skull and crossbones doormat,
a silver .45 under my pillow
and not one single ex-boyfriend
about whom I will ever say a kind word.
I have created emotional and psychological invulnerability;
all men are now my father
and all men pay the price
of never being loved by me
and I pay the price of never being able to let them love me.
Now I just play with partners
and when they inevitably start to use the “L” word
I start to run inside
and I bounce off the walls and mirrors
of my own emptiness
and I go on a photo safari to Africa
where I pretend to understand the meaning of life
and I put out restraining orders
against the men who insist that I explain
and I have come to rely on legal and monetary fences
to protect me from
the truth about my deep loneliness.
I’ve never had an ******
never said I love you twice to the same person
and I think
as long as the money’s there
I won’t have to.
Aug 18, 2012
Aug 18, 2012 at 11:33 AM UTC
Thailand ******
Can read my mind
See my desire
Feel my pain
Siam Halloween in nana klong toey
Thai delights even the ladyboys look good tonight they know how to **** over and survive using a cheap disguise
Hey forang you wanna **** me?
1000 baht short time curiosity.
I prefer real ladies with juicy butts
Flavored with beer and sangsom whiskey *****
Take me home beat me with your
**** asian Treats
Make me lick your ***** feets
Asian women are my lust filled desire
They sit on my face until I can't breath no more
Than make me pay for my ***** laundry
Soap me up and knock me down
Bangkok Thailand is my home town
I slither along the Sukhumvit soi 11, devoted to the ***** I'm in 7th heaven...
Her **** smells better than stupid blonde Suzy the airhead girl next door boring rubber doll
Asian toilet scrubbers turn me on the never heard of boring old vain Beverly hills ugly rodeo drive full of stuffy old hags high on ****** pills
Sad drag Beverly hills I lived in that phoney fake berg I love the ancient town Bangkok where my face gets slapped and hurt!
*** is a weapon.
****** are mans desire
Zeus fell in lust with a Greek goddess than expired?
Nasty ****** in Thailand make me hard
I become 18 again nothing else matters but fun with that wanna be ******
Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 9:36 PM UTC
Gorgeous blue skies
Disneyland magic
World of Color
Pacific cruisin'
Beverly Hills bravado
Venice Beach eccentrics
Celebrities' celestial abodes
California Screamin'
Yet it's for you I'm dreamin'
Jun 11, 2013
Jun 11, 2013 at 9:03 PM UTC
An ad in the LA Times
Pictured a jewelry store in Beverly Hills
Somewhere off Wilshire
A golden band modeled after an Egyptian original
Mother wanted it and so we went
We sat on tuffets of crushed velvet and
She bought it
replacing her wedding band
Which I never did find.
It was pretty but
what other significance this meant
regarding her husband she did not tell
She was struck walking on an off-ramp
on the 10.
Heading east?
How did she get there?
I asked her in the hospital
On the gurney she shook her head
And said she didn’t know.
That’s Alzheimer’s for you.
The ring is gone.
Father took his off well before she passed
and left it on the top of his dresser.
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 5:36 PM UTC
Asian toilet scrubber girl
I love her
She all brown tan and smelly
I will be happy to kiss on her belly
Nasty thing with hunger in her tummy
I will feed her all I have
She don't know where ugly Beverly hill is
Her ****** is my friend
Soft wet and wild
Child of Asia farm
What a charming doll
Scrubs toilet bowl for a bowl of rice
How nice
Jan 29, 2015
Jan 29, 2015 at 9:10 AM UTC
A plant grew in a forest
beginning as a sapling in a crowded opening
two inches tall
with no idea of what it was becoming
it rose slowly
but consistently
as others rose above it for light
it reaped the benefits of leftovers
this plant grew
not to be the tallest
not to be the prettiest
but it grew
It took in carbon dioxide
and released oxygen
it did its job
it was a good plant
eventually like most things this plant died
after being trampled by a young boy
this boy visited this forest everyday
its nature was his greatest toy
he knew the surroundings by heart
from the tallest tree to the smallest shrew
he saw all in his dreams
he knew all the plants save for a few
one of those few was our plant
although it stood tall, it was not tall enough
although it was pretty, it was not pretty enough
it died unremarkable
it was a good plant
it did its job
but it died without a trace
because it never risked to take another's place
and so the boy grew older
he left the forest for an office
in the hopes that one day
he’d be rich enough to return
so he climbed the ladder
and said all the right things
he was a good man
he did his job
until he met a girl
a girl so powerful
so unmistakably perfect
he had to rise above the others
he left his job because he hated it
he stood tall to reach the sun
he took risks not because he had to
but because he wanted to
this man died poor
he did not succeed
there was no beverly hills
no millionaire mansion down the street
this man never climbed that corporate ladder
never got lost in the rat race
never missed the birth of his son
never broke a promise to that boy
he took a risk he shouldn’t have
an unnecessary leap of faith
he looked back on his past
the trouble he left in his wake
he remembered that plant
the one he didn’t see
the reason he is who he is
the man who became a tree
take risks because you should
because one day you will die
buried under dirt
while your life has passed you by
life is too short
too precious
to be a good man
to just do your job
Jul 20, 2014
Jul 20, 2014 at 9:29 PM UTC
The glamour and the lights
No such thing as winter night
Celebrity sights?
Let me show you my contact lists
But there's so much untold
Open your eyes and behold
Listen on the train, to the babies fuss
Avoid the screaming man, he's ******
Beverly Hills misinterpretation
Really lived off 7th and metro station
The man sitting next to you coming down
Was once a successful businessman downtown
There is no American Dream
Everything is a money making scheme
The single mother with those twins
She was ***** walking from work in the heights
Everybody knows everybody
But nobody's are nothing's
Cheating husband, double life
He's got a boyfriend, don't tell his wife
The city of Angeles
Not everybody wins
Watch out for the forgotten demons
Not everyone lives under city lights
Yet we all have to figure out our way
Taking any opportunity we could
But I'm living just another day
In Hollywood
Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 4:06 PM UTC
I met a poor girl from the slums of manila
She was sweeter than a cone of ice cream her skin prettier than chocolate her kiss pure vanilla
Of her now I dream alone
She could make my heart sing a love verse
Prettier than the new miss universe
She has a young daughter
Some one else all ready got her
Why did he run away?
She lives ten thousand miles away
If only I had met her yesterday
Now I'm bummed I want that poor girl from the slums
She never ask for anything or can afford to pay no bills
Never heard of Beverly hills
Scrubs toilets for food in tattered old dress
Still I'd love to undress and caress
The poor girl from the slums...
D. Clare
Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 6:07 AM UTC
Gay
you ******* ******
FAGET!
blue boy blues
blue boy's eyes
here in my room
no, no,
i'm bisexual, you see
i'm a poet, you see
I'm Bret Easton Ellis
disguised in a fashion identity
twisted lovers between your ragged sheets
rrr-rr
call me, Beverly Hills 90-210-SIX-SIX-SIX
i eat more chicken than any man can meat
but i'm no more mean than you
here
with a sick pack of abs
drinking a can of beer
PABST! BLUE RIBBON!
Cold sirens sing for you
and me
SHOOT! SHOOT! SHOOT!
siren's ****
The protection for my love
come in my eyes and insecurity
no one dances in the ballroom
the bride legs' are opened wide
in my *****
in this dark fantasy
all night
touching my self
behind my mother's bed
******** my mind
there you're lying with me
with a spike in your arm
i'm troubled, you see
i'm messed up, you see
i'll eat your heart out, won't breathe,
won't bleed and scratch and crawl
i'll rip you
LIMB
BY
LIMB
she says: hold me, i'm fallin'
and then i saw your face
and then i saw your smile
dancing
to some Yeezy song on the stereo
there, all alone, put your make up on
and tie off my arm
and turn the T.V. on
and fire up these boys
and give me another blow job
- before i'm on the nod.
*Go ahead and smile, you ****
I've rotten and snorted,
sneezing other men's
***** in your room
- milked you like a cow
- loved you like my mom.
And i'm nothing but an
used ****** Love:
the kind of thing you clean
with a mop and bucket.
Oct 22, 2015
Oct 22, 2015 at 12:29 PM UTC
Jason had this penthouse apartment that was centrally located in Beverly Hills.
He was incredibly clean, but in an overwhelming kind of way.
The carpet and stuff were spotless, the cabinets were plastic, and the paint was not chipping. I felt like I was in a Doctor’s office waiting room.
He was snoring loudly, and just at the right moment he opened his eyes.
"Ha! You are dead! This is a dream, right?"
I felt a bit offended, as I was obviously the one snoring.
"No, no!" He pointed at the clock. "It's 4AM!" (Lucky number 8!).
"You're a zombie! You're dead and you're dreaming!”
“I’m a zombie, alright!" I yawned and started to hack up zombie gore.
"Watch out!" He screamed and jumped out of the bed.
"All right, you monster! I'm dead and I'm dreaming! I'm dead and I'm dreaming!"
He chased me around the room.
"You're not dead, you're a zombie! You're a zombie, that's just what you are, a zombie, so it's a dream!" He threw up his hands. "You can't win!"
“I can't win, yeah? That’s right, I can't win. That's my luck, ha-ha!”
I hope you like midnight horror flicks." His face crinkled with confusion; the zombies smile that I was always afraid of flashing on.
"Well I didn't say I was a horror movie person. Oh, that's right, but you said, I'm dead and I'm dreaming, so that's a horror movie, right?"
I thought about it.
"Okay, I guess it's more like...like if a zombie comes to my door..."
:: 09.24.2020 ::
Oct 3, 2020
Oct 3, 2020 at 2:49 PM UTC
Beauty queens on the Hollywood scene
Plastic surgery before the age of fifteen
Striving to look like somebody else
Not happy with life nor even themselves
Riding 'round Beverly hill with Porsches, and Mercedes too
Strutting their stuff with brand new Jimmy Choos
Tiny lap dogs wearing diamond studded collars
Designer clothes costing many a pretty dollar
Watching the sun set over Beverly Hills
As the man on the corner passes out ****** pills
Life is unreal on both sides of the ditch
No matter how much you have, life's still a *****
And as you inhale the intoxicating clean air
Think: your vault might empty, and quickly be bare
But you'll still have family and friends and old fashioned love
(Though to be honest, you're never as free as The Dove)
The dove that flew off so long ago
Leaving the filth of it all far down below
In search of brighter days and bluer skies
Leaving Hollywood to deal with their own web of lies
This dove we speak of, he was truly free
Flew away so he could find his own special tree
No more worries of blank eyed starlet's destruction
No more worries of the wicked red-eyed Hollywood corruption
May 29, 2013
May 29, 2013 at 11:08 AM UTC
Dedicated to Beverly & ?? [&c., &c., &c.]
[this poem contains multiple characters;
I didn't write any of it, but strangely, it's all true]
She was wearing black leather ankle boots
& torn fishnet stockings;
The top was black and sleeveless,
w/ fishnet covering her stomach
up to the frayed hem of the fabric of the shirt;
All around the room there was a buzz of voices,
all the people seeming a whirl of fishnet stockings,
bright makeup & colorful costumes;
Strutting across the stage removing fishnet stockings,
her long silky legs drawing all the attention;
She was wearing a black tank top,
red tartan mini-skirt w/ fishnet tights & black
leather, knee high boots; Her hair was long
& deep purple & her short skirt
revealed a shaved snooch & gorgeous legs clad in fishnet stockings;
The black fishnet top, and the tight t-shirt
with the skull on it were quite perfect for the occasion;
I opened my eyes and found myself staring up at the pair of legs
in knee high boots & red fishnet stockings
beneath a red and white schoolgirl skirt [the woman wearing them old
enough to be my grandmother]. PVC, fishnet,
rubber, Lycra, velvet & lace
were worked into corsets, coats & masks; Finally she settled on a black corset dress,
her skull necklace & black combat boots
that went up to her shin & black fishnet tights;
She stomped her way across the room,
grabbed me painfully by the arms
w/ her black fishnet sleeves
& ruffled collar shirt & planted a kiss on me;
she wore black fishnet stockings & stilettos
that wobbled underneath her feet as she stepped;
She then stepped into a long
black skirt, and w/out much effort,
managed to get into her black fishnet stockings;
I pulled out a black long dress,
black fishnet stockings & see-through undershirt;
but she was already dressed in a short denim skirt,
black fishnet stockings and high red sandals,
& she was wearing a blood red tank top,
black miniskirt & fishnet stockings;
She was fairly small, about 5 ft. even,
appearing only slightly tall in sling-back stilettos
& fishnet stockings w/ a red tube top
w/ black mesh on top of it;
I looked down at her short tartan skirt
& bare feet in fishnet stockings, her black nail polish
looking good, so was her ripped black tank top:
I gathered the long dress in one hand,
pulling the material up as far as her waist,
revealing the black fishnet stocking tops
Sep 2, 2018
Sep 2, 2018 at 1:33 AM UTC
you are everything
you are everyone
you are every cliche
you are the sun,
you are the stifling heat
that cannot be escaped
you are valentines cards
misdirected and misshaped,
you are hotmail,
you are myspace,
you are my face,
hungover and exhausted,
you are lost kids,
you are something that was fun,
you are not getting shotgun,
you are beer
that's been in the sun
too long,
you are a sad song,
that's not been made better,
you are the hole in my sweater,
or my pockets,
you are the chalky sugar that's
passed off as rockets,
you are the first drummer of the beatles,
you are evil,
and i don't mean that jokingly,
you are choking me,
like turtlenecks,
or high stake bets,
made on the wrong team,
you are what seems like
a good idea at the time,
you are past tense,
you are jeans caught in the fence
preventing teens from sneaking in,
you are cold wind on a dry winter's day,
you are Coldplay's last two albums,
you are too much talcum powder
you are convenience store flowers,
you are forced,
you are hoarse
voices in place of song,
you are wrong,
you are the weakest link,
you are outdated references,
you are beverages,
that have lost carbonation,
you are hesitation
that leads to regret,
you are the new york mets,
you are first impressions
that i make on the elderly,
you are Beverly Hills Chihuahua,
you are foie gras,
you are aqua
and their music in my head,
you are cold beds,
warm beer,
empty freezers,
old tears,
fake appeasers,
new fears,
you are the moments
when it feels like no one's near,
you are searching for Waldo for hours,
you are any buildings "bigger" than the cn tower,
you are fake,
you are first date awkward silence,
you are last date awkward silence,
you are violence,
you are hybrid suvs,
you are bees,
you are black flies,
you are forgetting an event is black tie,
you are something nice to forget,
you are socks that are wet,
you are the slow driver in the left lane,
you are fame,
you are fleeting seconds
never to be recaptured,
you are the man on the corner
screaming about rapture,
you are actors selling out,
you are stains on a couch,
you are lost remotes,
you are failed attempts to save face,
you are everything
that has ever graced
this time and space,
here and above,
you are everything,
you are love...
Jun 30, 2012
Jun 30, 2012 at 5:12 PM UTC
Chasing the dreams to touch the sky, shaking the roots of feminism;
Happy to shoot for the Vogue, Cosmopolitan and Gia's plagiarism-
All for her superstar Angel, she lived the attitude of lesbianism;
From Philadelphia to New York she sold, her fraternity and parental prism-
The ambitious gal, the ambition gal felt addicted to ******* and heroinism.
Climbing the hills in Beverly was not tough enough, shredding chastity for mean;
Hallowing for her Tomb Raider, she swallowed her city of sin-
All in her attempts she brewed her habits, she tattooed destiny for her queen;
From abortion to scandals; she breathed to see her prolific akin-
The injured gal, the pitted gal still nearly was not doomed to grin.
Succumbing like the serpentine in salt, still longing to meet her dream star;
One fine morning she was found half-dead down the alley, waging her life-war-
All the fever she had, yet not looking to get out of the foxfire;
From one hospital to another, she was taken and was declared a patient of cancer;
The lucky gal, the ******* gal was lame enough to meet her jester.
The tumor had eaten her bones, like the steroids that made her a body-
Donating a million dollars in charity, made a brief appearance by Angelina Jollie;
All in her graceful charm, she penetrated hope to fight the disease folly-
From a life directionless to the motive of her strife, she kissed her cheeks and regretted being silly-
The ambitious gal, the ambition gal had just a single day to cherish her so called glory.
Jul 13, 2010
Jul 13, 2010 at 4:15 AM UTC
Big bragging girl lives in Beverly hills
her daddy is rich so she became a rich ***** with an itch for shopping
Hopping around in her new fancy car goes out at night to the lesbian bar
Her dad got mad when he got the bills
Her brother went nuts from eating her doctors pills
The mom ran away left All the laundry on the line got sick of it all
Got drunk each day got upset cause her son was gay
Keeping up with the Jones' look at our TV Ours is bigger than yours
We love the New I HATE YOU show
We have a ten car garage
suburban mirage
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 7:44 AM UTC
Wake,
stretch,
give thanks,
stay blessed,
yoga is a daily meditation,
that always beats a head depression,
mix my asanas with vegetables,
but no pasta nah because I’m gluten free,
stay hydrated and celebrated because I made it,
out of the gutter and into the upper echelons of society,
now I practice Jiu-Jitsu,
with the Gracies in Beverly Hills,
now I’ve got beautiful guy friends,
and amazing lover girls,
see these hands and massage your tensions,
or they can choke you into submission,
I could plant a seed that gives birth to life,
or I could take a life away in 8 seconds,
we can give life and taketh away,
I’d say it’s all just a matter of intention,
and they say that necessity,
is the mother of all inventions,
shout out to Plato for coming up with that one,
as we mold our future like Play Doh,
see we literally made everything we have,
we are literally our own creators,
it’s incredible what we can manifest,
as cliche as that sounds,
see you are the Master of your own destiny,
you decide if you win or lose,
every morning is a new day and a new chance to choose,
don’t let Yesterday’s regrets,
hold you back from Tomorrow’s goals,
get rid of any addiction you might have,
if that addiction doesn’t serve the soul,
see maybe reincarnation is real,
or maybe it’s not,
either way you’re alive right now,
and right now this life is all you’ve got,
to live your life,
that’s why they call it living,
and give thanks before every meal,
as if every meal is Thanksgiving,
see I have a saying,
if you don’t thank God for your blessings,
then you’ll soon have no more blessings,
to thank God for,
so give thanks,
not only to God but to your friends,
and not only to your friends,
but also to your self,
stay focused,
be true,
and remember this is only advice,
ultimately it’s all up to you,
so what are you going to do,
what choices are you going to make,
are you going to be one of the Real Ones that shine,
or are you just going to be another fronting fake,
choose wisely,
and over all be good,
give thanks nightly,
remember to rest well,
get as much sleep as you need,
so you can awake refreshed,
pay attention to your dreams,
and let go of all regrets,
wake,
stretch,
give thanks,
stay blessed.
∆ LaLux ∆
New Book Is FREE To Read & Download Here: www.scribd.com/document/367036005
Apr 5, 2018
Apr 5, 2018 at 3:17 PM UTC
And for that second when your genes mashed up, that boy was blank
A clean canvas, a selfless portrait, a plane with no industry, who he was for eternity.
Revolutions from within me burst like a bipolar hormonal abomination
Of catastrophic cacophony and discorded anguish, sunlit by the good times
And slightly obscured through tired, teary eyes...
All to be swallowed back into the abysmal sinful cesspool of simple
Cyclical cynical shriveled up and seemingly plentiful
EMPTINESS, where I'm inevitably spit.
Dreaming? Floating in sarcasm, feigning a figure
Shivering with the bonechill that is the outside world
Can't quite remember the last time I woke up or why
Everything is a bit too bright for me to focus correctly...
A bit jittery, a bit sluggish, all suspicious, subtly vicious
Listless and without bliss and sunkissed and unmissed
****** off and ****** no goals, don't even have an interest
These troubling times are demonized, where's the exorcist?
Soft ripples in the air bless my ears with wet lips
The pulse setting hammers me into the ground in steaming silence
Some people go their whole lives without ever hearing the call
Hedonism and nihilism are more attractive to us all.
Dust devils spinning in an empty chest cavity
Throwing themselves over mountains in shame
Whisper in harmony to me to be nobody
Go through my life without playing the game...
Pick through these bones, you'll find grey hair and utility bills
Whether you live in South Central or Beverly Hills
You're beginning to see that we're all alone and desperate
Searching for that person we can stare in the eyes and say,
"I'm just like you. You are a part of me. I want to **** you. I want you to be me.
I love you, I need you, and if you dare go, I will bleed myself blue."
I want to shed every wall, I want to quit hiding behind words
Let the arrows rain and shadows lift to confine me in this verse.
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 12:10 AM UTC
She was an old Mid-western woman.
She was a distinct type.
A stock-staple character,
Sort of half Beverly Hillbillies Granny,
Throw in a skosh Betty White,
Mixed in with a lot of that old lady
In Driving Miss Daisy.
Southern Indiana:
The Confederacy’s best kept secret.
But I digress.
She was my neighbor in Buckeye, Arizona,
A quaint agrarian township, way out
At the west end of Maricopa County, which is
An hour from the Phoenix airport, the so-called
Sky Harbor International Airport,
Which surely must be near the list’s top:
All-time most pretentious,
Hyperbolic Chamber of Commerce,
Municipal Boosterisms.
Wikipedia English - The Free Encyclopedia
Boosterism: the act of "boosting" (or promoting) a town, city, or organization, with the goal of improving public perception of it. Boosting can be as simple as "talking up" the entity at a party or as elaborate as establishing a visitors' bureau. It has been somewhat associated with American small towns. Boosting is also done in political settings, especially in regard to disputed policies or controversial events.
So, without thinking,
Walking down the driveway
To pick up the morning paper,
I let it slip:
“How are you?”
She’s leaning over the hedge,
As I bend down,
Picking up the local Pravda.
35 minutes later she sums up:
“I had to go to the doctor last night.
Gave me some cream for my pud.”
A twinkle in her eye—
She, my lascivious,
Old lady neighbor
In Buckeye, Arizona.
She had that sweet Mid-western thing
Working for her, her regional mojo.
And I’m right there on her wavelength:
The apple not falling far from my tree,
Or something like that . . .
I am losing my train of thought, here.
Last poem of the day, I guess.
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 8:50 PM UTC
Back in 2011, I had stage 2 Cancer. In order for me to get well, God gave Principal William Beverly the answer.
He said he believe God can heal, but you need to go get checked out. With the sincerity upon his face; I obeyed him without doubt.
When I went to the Hospital, the surgery turned out just fine. Today, I am still healed, there is no doubt in my mind.
I will never forget Principal William Beverly; he holds a special place in my heart. He is going to soar high in life, because humility is there from the start.
By, Sandra Juanita Nailing
Feb 1, 2014
Feb 1, 2014 at 8:55 PM UTC