"bolton" poems
the catholic nurse
all sensitive
caring noticing
everything
what can she think
of my hot/cold torment
always near blowing it
living in the fast lane
so friendly kind
the girls
dewy eyed
wanda abandoned me
bolton is in my hands
and yet my coldness
hurts
the more emotional
they stay
trying to find a reason
for my ice-like suspicion
fish eyes
coldly indifferent eyes
suspect everything that moves
socialising just to be loud
compensate for cold
lack of essential trust
warmth
i love them
despite myself
my desire to love
is unconscious and gigantesque
i never know
when i'm going to miss someone
strange coldness perplexing
i've got to work to get devotion
but once i get it
i really get people on my side
there are my people
who can survive
my shark-like coldness
and there are those
who want something
more personal
i can be very devoted to those
who can stay the course
my soul is aching
for an impartial love of people
i'm at war with myself.
Aug 20, 2015
Aug 20, 2015 at 4:21 AM UTC
They found her sprawled back there in the alley.
Dead. Asleep in the Lily of the Valley.
She was obscene and cold, flat on her back,
All for a **** hit of five dollar crack.
Beneath the grime and the blood and the gore,
The innocence, before she was a *****
Could not be seen for she met her maker,
A one hundred percent street-wise faker.
Dead blue eyes, peroxide hair, a wild vine,
Earrings in her nose, tongue; defiant sign
To the world that she is a wild child,
Who many years ago learned not to smile.
There was one thing which stood out about her,
Where everything thing else was an ****** blur.
A gold cross on a chain under her throat.
It looked out of place, as a sable coat.
A gold cross, from her unknown, murky past?
A present from someone she held onto fast?
A detective, hardened to scenes such as this,
He shuddered, covered her with a low hiss.
Blue strobe lights lit up the night near the dump,
Police milled around the unmoving lump,
Keeping the official face was a test,
Sheet covered her body, outlined her breast.
Each man, woman, working the dreadful scene,
Spoke terse, if at all, about the *** queen.
Many times they'd been called out in the night
To look at and ponder similar sights.
How much can one take before giving in
To the horror and suppress it with gin?
The one, lying still, sculptured by a fiend,
Wicked hand carving out her end, not clean.
She came to this end living the life she did,
But she was much than a ***** on the skids.
God, a detective screamed at the slaughter
Please don't let this happen to my daughter.
©August 4, 2003 / Jerry Pat Bolton
Jan 2, 2012
Jan 2, 2012 at 10:13 AM UTC
Ah yes the evening has an ending like a Barbara Cartland novel
His eyes burned into hers like sapphires
Glazed with the amount of special brew he had necked watching Bolton wanderers.
They had won, so he fought with fans instead of the Mrs
In the pub after the game he saw his quarry
She was a prize
His strong arms unfolded, her softly yielding body helpless as she was being swept away on a tsunami of passion
Well dragged outside with a bottle of Auzzie white.
The black eyes from his earlier exploits reflected on his away team polyester shirt in the fluorescent lights of the pubs smoking area.
Then he dropped his pants revealing a porridge gun capable of crop spraying.
Moments later she was awash with a spermiferois goatie after almost choking herself on a double portion of spangle after it fired both chambers
It was love!
Then the bell for last orders sounded and he was lost as to walking the Bourneville boulevard with her or grabbing a last pint with his mates.
It had been a hard day
But a true hero he did the Captain Oates and left with her The promise of captain's pie and a scotch was on the cards back at her place
But her night of passion was not assured
If Dibnah **** didn't strike as his alcohol to blood ratio was in the wrong place.
On Monday he would be but a memory
Next week it's an away game
She will miss him
Jul 27, 2013
Jul 27, 2013 at 10:33 AM UTC
The National Security Advisor
In all his frumpery and trumpery
Waves his combat moustache menacingly
Backed up by each nuclear incisor
He threatens Iran with his “hell to pay”
Word missiles through his bristles - “We will come after you!”
Omitting to say (through his ****** hairdo)
His child will not go, but yours will – hooray!
For his own combat record is no joke:
He bravely fought the Cong around Fort Polk
Sep 26, 2018
Sep 26, 2018 at 8:46 AM UTC
It's not just the piano notes
It's not's its sharps or should I say it's flats
It's not the music sheet
It's obviously not my E major voice
Neither is it how well our voices blend
When the concertmaster says start to
Lady Antebellum - Need You Now
It's not just the Violins
G3, D4, A4, and E5 soothing notes
That keep us playing even when the rest stop
It's not our audiation that keeps as late
Into the night writing,meditating,singing
Laughing at each others crazy lines.
Or your masculine tattooed arms, Strumming the guitar
Neither is it your ability to manipulate your voice to both
Tenor and a Countertenor,so that when the concertmaster says start
To Michael Bolton - When a Man Loves a Woman
It feels like heaven has just opened its doors.
It's not how high I can hit the yala leyo notes
Neither is it my ability manipulate my emotions
So that when the concertmaster says to me Start To
Loren Allred - Never Enough
I give the crowd both my voice and my emotion
It's the memories the two of us make
That lead up to this moment
When the concertmaster says Start
The memories trickle in
The laughs,the anxieties,the fun,the fights
Even the shared pizzas and movie nights
That are all joined with the one thing that we share
Our passion for music,it's culture and giving it life
It's beauty and how freeing and liberating it's words can be
Things we both want to say but really can't
So we use the most basic language we both get
Music
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 1:00 PM UTC
Astilleros De Veracruz
Independence street.
~~~~~~~
The summer sun went down on our love long ago
But in my heart I feel the same old after glow
A love so beautiful in every way
we let it slip away
I was too young to understand to ever know and comprehend.
You my Adam and me your Eve
owned our treasure,
buried in paradise by a stream;
all lost upon a hillside stump.
where the road bent in.
There I've read between the lines
your love was written not
in any shifting sand but in heart.
The Earth's sand doons account
for the measure of my sorrow
for our loss.
Recovering that memory chip saved
my life averting neverending
pain an upside down cross.
A love so beautiful a love so free
A love for you and me
And when I think of you I fall in love still again as every good man is taken.
A love so beautiful in every way.
Your love now transfers to my new love finding me adrift in that dream.
A love so beautiful it is written
In poem, and in song.
Seen in movies, operas
and lullaby's to heal hearts strong.
Stripping the mind of misery
and pain as lost is found.
A love so beautiful it's read sparkling
as diamonds in shifting sands.
A love so beautiful kept secret
in our cave of wonders for lovers
writing daily to one another
where magic and true love abounds.
A kind of love to everlast.
~~~~~~
By: Karijinbba
Approved by Rdd and
Michael Bolton in Hollyeood.
Aug 19, 2021
Aug 19, 2021 at 9:09 PM UTC
names for no one
named by no one
poems about nothing
poems about everything
aren't they the same thing?
no function, no form
but now is the hour
it's how i get through
to the next one
two packs of cigarettes a day
it is getting expensive
old heartaches aren't forgotten
when nothing takes there place
and cigarettes don't pay the rent
freeform makes people stop listening
agoraphobics don't have much to write about
but need to say something
to someone
i wish i'de never met you.
all you did was hurt me in a way
that keeps on coming back, no matter how much times go by.
it was the way you looked at me,
like i was the ugliest thing that you had ever ******
and it made you feel good to let me know.
and it got worse from there, because you threw me away
and then would sporadically write to let me know
you were gone for good.
you were a total ramsay bolton type.
some days i have a memory and can't breathe or function.
i still have nightmares of you
trying to beat me to death, calling me to list off all the things that are wrong with me.
if i can't forget you, it would be great if someone would cut off your **** sometimes i fantasize about hiring someone to do that to you in your sleep. you could wake up dickless and i could be free of you. but back to the poem:
10 and a half years haven't gotten me anywhere
i've been too old for too long
Bob Dylan
Neil Young
Rolling Stones
Leonard Cohen
Paul Westerberg
everyone is too good for them now,
especially you,
i read that in vice
they made a list of the worst musicians of all time
and all those names were on it.
Johnny Cash was on the list too.
Jun 27, 2017
Jun 27, 2017 at 7:28 AM UTC
A cold and pitiless wind moves among us,
A current of current rising from epochs old.
Can we sleep serenely and without fear when
Amid stirrings of horse's hoofs he smiles?
Beneath primordial moons deviously does plot,
Time is of no value, eternity has evolved.
Without the ticking sound of the life's clock,
Snorting Arabian steed's anxious for the fight.
Poised on every shore, peering into windows,
O, so stealthy, when at last the moon has hid.
And the tide washes up, deposits combatants,
They come, by air, luxury liner, banana boat.
By the soles of their feet, souls of their God,
Like residue from a growing, fanatical storm.
What blood moves through these warriors,
Which provokes bloodlust as easily as a smile?
He is there, over there, here too, right here,
Where the children are at play with yesterday's
Values, yesterday's view, yesterday's excitement?
When the tongue and eyes of the ancient ones
Speak softly, gazing upon the long awaited prize.
The thundering of million's of hoofs let loose,
Neighing a battle cry to the dead, silent old ones.
And we, well we go about our business of sanity,
Thinking we are good, we are clean, we laugh.
Calmly we do leave the doors and the windows
Ajar for our visitors who are now neighbors,
To finish the ancient martyr's settling of scores.
©April 26, 2004 / Jerry Pat Bolton
Jan 2, 2012
Jan 2, 2012 at 9:34 AM UTC
*Sometimes I still think of her
She was in my mind all day and night
Did I ever even know her
Though for a while it seemed so right
Even the briefest of moments we had
No importance of time when we were together
She made me feel so alive once more
How I wished there and then had lasted forever
I opened my heart and let down my guard
Was she the one was she my destiny
I had no fear to show her how I felt
But in the end it wasn’t meant to be
Yet I have probably faded from her mind
She touched my life and so I won’t forget
In spite of this and If I end up alone
If I end up unhappy I’m happy we met*
© 2010 Paul Bolton
Jul 19, 2012
Jul 19, 2012 at 5:37 PM UTC
*Chances I’ve missed and dreams gone astray
Unspoken words when I’ve nothing to say
Paths that I’ve taken that have led me to here
All that i see always seems so unclear
Those that I've ran from and those that I’ve chased
Love's that I’ve lost and battles I’ve faced
Riddles I have in the depths of my mind
Answers i search for but failing to find*
© 2012 Paul Bolton
Jul 18, 2012
Jul 18, 2012 at 7:27 PM UTC
not content
to wander down to the park
with other old men
sit on the invariably gnarled benches
swap stories
from whatever past
they think they can remember
mostly all fabrications
and of course
they talk about me
shaking their heads and whisper
he thinks he’s a poet
they all have a subdued hearty laugh
because a real laugh
might cause some to choke up
it’s the emphysema
don’t you know
the thing is
old men’s gossip turns me off
while they think
I sit in The Hovel
and brood
I am constantly busy
writing
I have my poems
they help to sustain me
I just finished co-authoring a novel
"Magical"
I live in worlds they have
no notion of
true, they get to see more nature
than do I
but I get to see the world
through my dreams
I turn into the written word
©January 20, 2015 / Jerry Pat Bolton
Elin Saari has lived with terror no woman should ever have to endure. Devlin Grimm, the man she fell hard for turned out to be so cruel to her she began to silently call him Satan. The years spent with Satan were so severe she truly felt she had no mind of her own. Still, something inside of her made her make the break and she filed for divorce. Satan upped the ante and she had to run to get away from him. Wherever she went he would find her and harass her. She was at her wits end when something profound happened. Through the magic of a strange necklace she began to receive messages, until desperately she tried to summon whoever was trying to contact her. Touch Starlin' walked into her life and explained who he was and how closely connected they were. Touch took charge of trying to rid Satan – the name she had started calling him was closer to the truth that she could have ever known. Satan follows them wherever they go and Elin begins to doubt Touch's Powers.
PASTE INTO YOUR BROWSER . . .
http://www.lulu.com/shop/jerry-bolton/magical/paperback/product-21981708.html
Jan 31, 2015
Jan 31, 2015 at 7:25 AM UTC
*The Night is dark and dark it stays
Until an even darker day
The darkest room, the door is locked
The key is lost or thrown away
The windows shut and sealed so tight
To face another dark, dark night
With crowded thoughts I stand alone
In darkened rooms there is no light
To see to touch to feel to hear
This darkened room is what I fear
To find the light this room should have
To search this room, how near, how far?*
© 1998 Paul Bolton
Jul 19, 2012
Jul 19, 2012 at 5:40 PM UTC
*As the wind blows a thousand wishes in the air
Promises and worries get ignored or disappear
Wars end, begin and carry on
Answers gained today, some right, some wrong
Words said with meaning, or without
Lingering whispers all about
Peaceful thoughts getting lost in a maze
Distraught confusion leaving all in a daze
Empty rooms getting dusty in vain
Starving flowers having daydreams of rain*
© 2010 Paul Bolton
Jul 19, 2012
Jul 19, 2012 at 5:34 PM UTC
*Lost in the present where all my yesterdays fill my mind.
Hoping for better things and what tomorrow's i may find.
Belief and dreams are gone for now.
But hope remains one day i'll shine.*
©2012 Paul Bolton
Jul 18, 2012
Jul 18, 2012 at 7:00 PM UTC
I swear the clock struck 13
Horses frolicking happily in the paddock.
Drove up past Bolton's bench
In the forest old, but renowned as new.
On the crest of the hill a herd of wild ones stood.
Grazing in freedomas they stood in the open air.
Grey and grubby they were.
Maybe they needed a shower.
They got one anyway.
The sky exploded.
All hail the ponies.
Standing still as the raindrops fell.
The forest village swam by with people of all persuasions, in boy scout gear and boys brigade with bugles and banners,
Marching past, saluting the soldiers as they passed.
Young and old amassed.
All in the name of the crown.
(C) Livvi
Nov 9, 2014
Nov 9, 2014 at 9:49 AM UTC
I've lost my father more than a year ago
It should be enough time to mourn, no?
I loved him with all my heart
And just like that he was taken out of
The only realities I've ever known
Yes, death is indeed inevitable
But is it fair to make us love something so ever dearly
To just rip it out of our grasp
In such short notice and in such swift torment
I loved him with all my heart
And my eyes will never shed enough tears
For a man that created a spectacle of all the other men
that had, has and will ever enter my life
And I'm unable to show my mother
This pain I feel
She's sitting in her room listening to the old
Warmth and lovingness in Michael Bolton's voice
As she cries to her heart's content and
She reminisces all the glorious times they've had
Ignorant to how I'd feel hearing the agony in her throat
I loved him with all my heart
To be selfish and to be selfless at the same time
And I love her with all my heart
To let her see the strongest and the most resilient
Version of her daughter
-fir.m
Dec 26, 2019
Dec 26, 2019 at 9:30 PM UTC
Its 1965
Sonny and Cher crooned
"I Got You Babe"
*They say we're young and we don't know
We won't find out until we grow
Well I don't know if all that's true
'Cause you got me, and baby I got you
"I Got You Babe"*
I met her for the first time
oh she was lovely
her hair wild and free.
wow her figure
it drove me wild.
I called her my baby girl
She called me her wild man.
Its 1968
the Beatles sang
Hey Jude
*Hey Jude, don't make it bad
Take a sad song and make it better
Remember to let her into your heart
Then you can start to make it better*
we got married that year
we talked about Forevers.
changing the world
and children.
a boy and girl.
Wow I was happy.
Its 1975
Frankie Valli's falsetto voice sang
*My eyes adored ya
Though I never laid a hand on you
My eyes adored ya
Like a million miles away from me
you couldn't see how I adored ya
So close, so close and yet so far*
we had three kids
a house and a dog
I still could not wait
to get get home to you.
and your kisses
wow
I still miss that.
1990
Micheal Bolton's
soft voice wailed
*When I'm back on my feet again
Soon these tears will all be dryin'
Soon these eyes will see the sun
Might take time, might take time
But I'll see it
When I'm back on my feet again*
you left me six months ago
i m not doing too well love.
I miss you and the kids
been drinking too much
lost my job
lost you
and
lost me.
its 2005
Green Day Singing
Boulevard of broken dreams
*I walk this empty street
On the Boulevard of broken dreams
Where the city sleeps
And I'm the only one and I walk alone*
I hear you are married again
I can't believe it hurts so much
to know this.
I never found another you
out there darling.
I know I never will.
Its 2009
Sonny and Cher
are playing again
I got you babe.
*We meet by chance in the street.
I am old now as are you.
But I notice the flecks of grey
in your beautiful blue eyes.
The years melt and
I hold back tears.
And Say with a smile.
Hello love
nice to see you again.
Sit and have a cigarette with me.
let's chat about the old times.
you can gaze at the moon
I can gaze into your eyes.
Sit down darling
just for a bit
just for a little while.*
Mar 6, 2016
Mar 6, 2016 at 2:39 PM UTC
Carmen, Bolton, Lama, Sophie, Timothy,ScriptedSilence.
Amanda, Richard,Lily, Keith, Divine,Elle,Laura, Cne.
Sarah, Kim,Sobberingsoul, Frank,Jason, Traveler,Fran.
Moonlight,Jules, AB,Lovelyn,Beautifully Broken,Ranveer.
Fearless, Iz,BD,Neha,Selina,Shaina,Maddy, Mack,John.
Godson1,Joseph,Jay, Poetress,Claryt,Fecundeity,Abraham.
Loser,ymmiJ,Osiria,Tony,Erian,Hanna,Elena,Empire, Mellow.
Grace, Joyce, Deep, Sassy,Jen, Untold,Nikita, Word,Suzy.
There are many more but heres a few more Great poets too.
Sep 11, 2019
Sep 11, 2019 at 10:06 AM UTC