Stephen E Yocum Aug 2016

His name was Bing,
one eye grey the other blue
an Australian Cattle Dog
the best I ever knew.
Cows or Sheep he was the man.
Nipping at their heels, heading
them where you bid them go.
Smart as a whip, quick as a bullet,
Work all day for a pat on the head.

One early day no Bing appeared,
Strange 'cause he was always the first
into the truck bed, first in the pasture,
first to work, the last to quit.

We called out his name many times,
began a search, buildings to barns, silo
to shed. In the center of a cut hay field,
I saw him, hunkered down not moving.
The boss and me approached and called
to him, yet still, he did not seem to hear.

At twenty feet he stood up quick,
turned to face us with a jerk,
his eyes burned with hell's fire,
his muzzle and jowls were awash in foam,
his deep-throated growl a caution warned.

Not much doubt he'd been skunk bit,
was beyond redemption touched in rabies fit.
I was sent on the run to fetch
the long gun from the truck.

We approached him careful like,
I was still panting from my run.
The boss cocked the lever,
chambering a round into the gun.

Bing's eyes looked to be pleading,
as if to ask that we end his pain.
In his crazed anguished state,
he could have reached us in a flash
spread the contagion to our flesh,
yet through instinct or love
old Bing held his place,
awaiting his inevitable fate.

I tried to swallow but had no spit,
and then the rifle thundered
and stung my ears,
One shot through the head
took old Bing's pain away.

The Boss, a hard-edged man of fifty
began to silently weep like a child of five,
the loss of his dog too much to abide.
I must admit my tears weren't far behind.

We bore him from the field
like an honored fallen warrior.
Buried him in the yard by the house,
He deserved that respect and more.

Over fifty years later and I still think fondly
of old Bing. His actual name was Bingo, but
we all called him Bing, either way, he did not
seem to have a preference, even a shrill whistle
of summoning pitch, would do to bring him near.
Unlike most dogs, he did not crave human attention,
he lived for his work, that was about all he needed.
Poetic T Oct 2014

The wheel spun, as the creaking
Of old rusted joints moved Upon
Its was with in the spinning
The voices sang
The wheel shall spin"
"Fates hand shall tell"
"For will the wheel move"
"Sights bell"
I awoke startled, hearing the
Wheels turn, old spokes
Sounding with each rotation,
I looked upon the old bike
A ringing in my ears,
No wheels to move,
"Just an empty shell"
What made the noises
"I touch my head"
I feel blood, like tears falls to the ground
I am conscious and the spokes
Upon a crumpled wheel,
"Each spoke still spinning"
By the movement of the car wheel,
Each one takes
My mind trying to shield me
From my fate, but the bell on the
Awoke me to my fate, a broken
Reflector shows what closed eyes
Did cloak, from me to see,
I scream,
As I lie crumpled a broken shell,
And this mirror
A front row image
Of my death in slow motion,
The wheel turns I hear the bell,
And with the final chime
The wheel turns but there is no one home,
To hear the bells ring and the wheel carries on..

Don't even ask where this came from??
DaRk IcE Apr 2015

Thoughts race within my mind at high speeds. Im dying, inside my own self from the debris galloping in the black filled air. As I raise my head my very last thought is you. Yet, with you I was always losing the race. Next to your lust for solitary things I failed to keep up the pace.  One perfection or another was never enough to have your love. Now, as I stand in the face of my own fatality I see you one last time and I utter the words (I love you). Then BOOM!!!!!!
                      I'M GONE

eliza bonnet May 2014

my hair soaked in vomit
doors were slamming
drawers breaking
people shouting
teenagers lying

i laid there silently
"third drawer on the right"
i muttered
i couldn't listen to it any longer

my head was pounding
i kept asking if there was a pill that could make the pain go away
something to make me feel normal again
but there was no response

i looked him right in the eye
without flinching, i said
"you did this"
and he knew it wasn't a lie, or an excuse
but a reason
a reason that his daughter was
binge drinking away her sadness

Summer nights in Binghamton never seem to end
We crash, we fall, cause after all the moon is not your friend
So stumble home or where you'll moan for at least half the night
Embrace your fears, keep me near, lets end in the right light

Olivia Kent Mar 2016

Don't wanna live in the city lights.
Wanna hideaway at night.
Want love to blind me.
Only truth to find me.
Love to bind me.

Knots of raffia
Make me a basket.
Red yellow and blue.
Fill it with your honest truth.

City lights hidden dreams.
Poor visibility screams.
You wear your bikini.
Just covers some bits
Like a songbird.
A lady with wit.

Knots of raffia
Create me a basket
Red yellow and blue to make a neat basket.
Load it with love and fill it with flowers.
Weaving, binding true love over hours.

Stitch me a quilt all of my own.
Darling, the comfort of laying alone.
Lost in a sandstorm.
With grit in my eyes.
True love is lonely.
It reaches the skies.
A lonely Skua appears, poaching my eggs.
Some where behind me lay both of my legs.
They were walking in circles perpetually.
Not sure what they're doing but they wanna be free.
Chains discarded on my bed.
Off I go.
Met the red queen
It's off with my head in an instant.
A game of bowls or croquet maybe.
Nods in her honour.
Well done Milady.
What a strange poem or maybe a song.
Love is vacant, bing bang bong.

There's a real case for Bing Crosby,
Commercialism in every store,
You'll accentuate the positive with glee,
Singing along to Bing Crosby,
Soon it'll be a bit like Christmas, or
Cant in every store,
Instead of religious awe,
We'll overspend cos it's Christmas, yah,
Then we'll stuff ourselves on the day,
Cos Jesus was born on Christmas Day,
There's a real case for Bing Crosby,
Cant in every store, see!
Then you'll beg me not to sing Bing Crosby!
Sing along with me!!!

Feedback welcome.

It may not be much
I may not be great or even pretty or such
But I love you
Do you love me too
Is this till the end
Or am I going to be hurt and bend
Tell me something
I just can't search this on bing

g clair Sep 2013

I understand just what was said
She said it how she meant it
"Whaduh bidnit idit a YOU who ma baby daddy id?"
Just typed it out and sent it.

I kinda do the same thing
and in the 8th grade spelling bee
Spelt it just the way it sounded
don't care 'cause YOU don't know ME!


I'm not bothered.

oo put dis paintin on me walls
me gona find out eider way
me gona drive to niagra falls
to find out who ruined me walls

rip bing bing pop, retard come in on line 1
no not extension 1, line 1, no wonder they call u

ey bitch me say to me wife
dis be yor stupid paintin,
no steve it aint (read double life)
fuck you dis be ugly anyways
sorry steve, shush bitch,
u no i turned reggae
me name aint steve anymor
call me steve one more time
and il shove a lawnmor up ur ass,
its reggae mon not steve  

rip bing bing pop, retard come in on line 1
no not extension 1, line 1, no wonder they call u

johny johny, "yes papa"?
did u put dis tin on me walls?
"no papa", telling alie?
"no papa", close your eyes
smack! dont put any tin
on me walls asshole!
sorry papa it wasn't me
shut up, smoke a splif asshole

rip bing bing pop, retard come in on line 1
no not extension 1, line 1, no wonder they call u

hoo could ave put dis ting on me walls?
maby is me smoke me a splif
me will remember if me did it or not
but me out of rolling papers
and me left me ganga in me rig

rip bing bing pop, retard come in on line 1
no not extension 1, line 1, no wonder they call u

me left me rig at me work
me boss dont no ow to twerk
me boss tink she no ow to twerk
no wan wants to break da news
me just a shy island boy
still confused bout de paintin

rip bing bing pop, retard come in on line 1
no not extension 1, line 1, no wonder they call u

love reggae
love ganga
love art
love poetry

reggae love ganga trucker family

We are our own universes
suspended weightlessly
through key holes
Whose doors we only
bothered to peep through
titans in our own right
smoke and dust turning
in the air
Blown from out of hands
in our slow motion
instincts blinding us
within a wings span
we are left in silence
What is here of us?

Find way through the fogs
ring true follow the sound
(          )

Instincts carrying us away

What comes. Surely goes just as abruptly. < this video inspired me

I've a song stuck in my head
No words, but it's still there
Trundling on with out a thought
It's something I should share

De da doodle la la de ding
boo bar fiddle riddle king
si saw be bop shhh shhh bing
do waddle dip don boom

There's no direction to where it goes
It's a melody of sorts
I've words a plenty, they don't fit
I've just this thing and all its warts

De da doodle la la de ding
boo bar fiddle riddle king
si saw be bop shhh shhh bing
do waddle dip don boom

I play nothing, but hear guitar
some drums there in behind
A backup singer singing loud
And a bass to keep in time

De da doodle la la de ding
boo bar fiddle riddle king
si saw be bop shhhh shhhhh bing
do waddle dip don boom


I plant a kiss that rolls of her lips,


I want to chug this drink of love, but she is only giving sips,


Sad eyes meet each other,


But a hicky staring at me is from another,


I plant one more,


Hoping to make her lips sore,


A rip in the real,


The dance on the dead,


She says she needs to walk away


Or at least thats what I thought she said,


I can't change the past,


Cant change anyway.


There is nothing either of us can say,


This is the end of my day.



She did end up driving away,Wrote when 20 (now 23), didn't like it too much back then but now I like the simplicity of it and the Bing from car door still haunts me.
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