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David Ayres Apr 2013
Call me the greatest adventure of Indiana Jones.
Call me the Graeters of tasty ice cream cones.
Call me the Ed Rosenthal of relaxing stones.
Call me the Natasha Trethewey of meaningful poems.
Call me the Pauly Shore of Bio-Domes.
Call me the Jack Hannah of Columbus Zoos.
Call me the Martha Stewart of delicious stews.
Call me the Bob Ross of independent creations.
Call me the Dr. Phil of mending relations.
Call me the Albert Einstein of mathematical equations.
Call me the Captain Kirk of Space exploration.
Call me the William Shatner of monotone greatness.
Call me the Jim Morrison of open doors.
Call me the Mr. Clean of shiny floors.
Call me the Hugh Hefner of stupid ******.
Call me the Bob Dylan of traveling trains.
Call me the Samuel L. Jackson of snakes and planes.
Call me the Arm & Hammer of tough stains.
Call me the Blade of a vampire.
Call me the Froto Baggins of the Shire.
Call me the Firestone of a pumped tire.
Call me a Christ of ignited passion.
Call me a Lucifer of trendy fashion.
Call me a Shiva of shattered illusions.
Call me a Buddha of peaceful institutions.
Call me the Ron Jeremy of KY Jelly.
Call me the Emeril Legassi of food for the belly.
Call me the Tupac Shakur of spitting ****.
Call me the Eminem of full sentences.
Call me the Smoky the Bear of a campfire.
Call me the Jim Carry of Liar Liar.
Call me the That Guy of desire.
You can even call me an *******
wounded Feb 2014
call me in the empty of night
call me in the selective mutism of light
call me in the secrets of locked rooms
call me

call me in the candlelight of long soaks
call me in the freeze of your greatest scare
call me in the grace of your effortless achievement
call me

call me what you like, what you want to, need to
call me in the full stops of the dead ends that meet you
call me

call me in the eyes of a close friend
call me when you think you see the end
call me when you're ready to begin again
call me

call me in the woods of love's mystery
call me in the darkness of the wondering
call me from the cliff edge, blind to the sea
call me

call me in the eulogy of your youth
call me in the last words you're holding back; the truth
call me

call me in your favourite dress
call me unclothed
call me in the mirror
when the world looks over your shoulder
call me

call me in the photographs you left me
call me in the dream figures waiting to embrace
call me in the first line you wrote to me
call me

call me in the aching of the distance
call me in the bird short by starting pistols, raining feathers
call me in the ****** hands of trying
the frothing mouth of drowning
if you call me
i will listen
Sa Sa Ra Dec 2012
Sometimes in our lives
We all have pain
We all have sorrow

But if we are wise
We know that there's
Always tomorrow

Lean on me, when you're not strong
And I'll be your friend
I'll help you carry on

For it won't be long
Till I'm gonna need
Somebody to lean on

Please swallow your pride
If I have things
You need to borrow

For no one can fill
Those of your needs
That you won't let show

You just call on me brother
When you need a hand
We all need somebody to lean on

I just might have a problem
That you'll understand
We all need somebody to lean on

Lean on me, when you're not strong
And I'll be your friend
I'll help you carry on

For it won't be long
Till I'm gonna need
Somebody to lean on

You just call on me brother
When you need a hand
We all need somebody to lean on

I just might have a problem
That you'll understand
We all need somebody to lean on

If there is a load
You have to bear
That you can't carry

I'm right up the road
I'll share your load
If you just call me

Call me
If you need a friend
(Call me)
Call me
(Call me)
If you need a friend
(Call me)
If you ever need a friend
(Call me)

Call me
(Call me)
Call me
(Call me)
Call me
(Call me)
Call me
(Call me)

If you need a friend
(Call me)
Call me
(Call me)
Call me
(Call me)
Call me
(Call me)
Call me
(Call me)

Lean On Me (Live) From a 1973 Concert
s Jan 2016
Call me a ****
I'm a ******.
Call me a ****
I was *****.
Call me a ****
I want to have ***.
Call me a ****
I *******.

Call me a ****
I fell in love.
Call me a ****
I kissed a boy.
Call me a ****
I touch myself.
Call me a ****
there's things I enjoy.

Call me a ****
he hurt me.
Call me a ****
I said no.
Call me a ****
he did it anyway.
Call me a ****
I don't know.

Call me a ****
I can hear you.
Call me a ****
scream it loud.
Call me a ****
although I might cut.
Call me a ****
like you're proud.

Call me a ****
it will hurt me.
Call me a ****
This I swear.
Call me a ****
I know it's not true.
Call me a ****
it's not fair.
faithlessdrum Jan 2015
how to replicate a call option

$600 daily >>

Option Pricing Basics   NYU Stern
  stern nyu edu ~adamodar pdfiles eqnotes optionbasics pdf
There are two types of options   call options (right to buy) and put options      The objective in creating a replicating portfolio is to use a  bination of riskfree    
[PPT]Options     NYU Stern
pages stern nyu edu ~anashikk Teaching session%    amrut ppt
Call and put options; The law of one price; Put call parity; Binomial valuation  Options     This payoff can be replicated by a portfolio of stock and risk free bonds
Section        replicating a call option   Actuarial Outpost
  actuarialoutpost   ›     › SoA CAS Preliminary Exams › MFE
Dec              posts   ‎  authors
"Delta can be interpreted as the number of shares needed to synthetically replicate the option  A call option can be replicated by buying shares    
Replicating portfolio   Wikipedia  the free encyclopedia
en wikipedia org wiki Replicating
In mathematical finance  a replicating portfolio for a given asset or series of cash flows     For example  bonds and equities can be used to replicate a call option
replication   How to replicate a digital call option    
quant stackexchange   questions     how to replicate a digital call opt  
             Call Option S     K     Payoff   (option is not available) How can i replicate this (payoff) with calls and puts with strike prices with multiples    
Can we replicate a call option without borrowing and make it    
quant stackexchange       can we replicate a call option without borr  
Jan            I learned how to price a European call option using this video lecture  The considered case is very simple  The call option gives the right to buy    
[PDF]Option Pricing Hedging
  kellogg northwestern edu faculty     OptionPricingHedging pdf
What is the value of a call option with a strike price of $   ? (Assume r    %)     replicating portfolio must equal the price of the call option  ○ C   ΔSt B    
[PDF]Replicating portfolios • Buy a number of shares  ∆  and    
  uio no studier emner sv oekonomi ECON     v       lect     pdf
Mar            dS∆ + erB  S∆ + B  • Choose ∆ B so that portfolio replicates call       (The fact that call options have higher risk (both systematic and total) than the    
Replicating an Option in the Binomial Model   Ftsnet  
  ftsnet   public ftsmodhtm ftsBinTree replicatinganoption htm
Replicating a Call Option in the Binomial Model (Assuming Discrete  pounding)  

$600 daily >>
how to replicate a call option
Born Jul 2014
Call me a smoker
If you can read my poetry and get high on it
Call me the messenger
If you believe my poetry is talking to you
Call me a rapper
if you can create lyrics out of me
Call me a preacher
If you believe my Scriptures made you believe in God once more
Call me a taker
if you read my poetry a thousand times from different beings

Call me a pretender
If my poetry is just one of those many fictions you've read
call me a killer
if my poetry made you lose hope in love
call me a stranger
if you don't know me but we can still cling
call me a liar
if you just hate me and my poetry
call me a sister
if my poetry lived in one of your moments

Call me an executioner
if I told you that "bitter" truth you always knew but escaped
Call me a brother
if you know deep inside we are one
call me ?
If I showed you who Romeo is
Call me diary
if you read my poetry and remembered that you were here once upon a time

Call me a stalker
if my poetry is always talking about your ex
call me a friend
If my poetry told you that you love him/her very much and that's the scary part
call me a believer
if my poetry said something about judgment day
Call me a poet
if you believe am getting better at expressing myself,your world and the moment

If your reading this right now and you believe poetry is what brought us together.*call me Carter
being real
Vale Luna Jan 2018
Call me a monster
And I’ll be wicked
Call me a fool
And I’ll be stupid

Call me a freak
And I’ll live in the shadows
Call me a streaker
And I’ll lose all my clothes

Call me a beggar
And I’ll be down on my knees
Call me bedridden
And I’ll be diseased

Call me abusive
And I’ll punch black and blue
Call me a *****
And I’ll be ready to *****

Call me a tyrant
And I’ll take over mankind
Call me a thief
And I’ll rob you blind

Call me psychotic
And I’ll be deranged
Call me a danger
And I’ll be restrained

Call me replaceable
And I’ll get lost
Call me a cheapskate
And I won’t pay the cost

Call me a housewife
And I’ll cook dinner
Call me suicidal
And I’ll pull the trigger

Call me a cutter
And I’ll slit my wrist
Call me a no one
And I’ll cease to exist

Call me a black girl
And I’ll fit that design
But call me a ******?!
    You just crossed the line.
The end is what counts <3
They call me ugly
They call me fat
They call me pathetic
They call me a ***
They call me depressing
They call me a cutter
They call me useless
They call me a *******
They call me anti-social
They call me dumb
They call me weird
They call me numb
They call me stupid
They call me a ****
They call me a poser
They call me a nut
They call me a fake
They call me thick
They call me a follower
They call me a *****
They call me all of these names
Yet they don't even know me
but every name they call me
pushes me further to success.
WRITTEN BY: Mandie Michelle Sanders
WRITTEN ON: June. 29, 2009 Monday 6:03 A.M
You call it love
I call it desire
You call it conformity
I call it fire

Spreading around
Placating desire
Drowning and burning
In the fire

You call it hate
I call it control
You call it loneliness
I call it soul

What’s gone is gone
From your control
What’s hated is fine,
It’s eating your soul.

You call it music
I call it life
You call it truth
I call it the knife

That cuts the deepest
Not wrong or right,
It takes what’s darkest
And brings it to light.

You call it wise
I call it aware
You call it prizes
I call it sharing

What we value,
What we prove.
If we value objects,
We’ll never lose.

You call them things,
I call them nothing.
You call them wings
I call them suffering

Flying high
Above the rest,
Where is everyone?
Is this the test

You choose to pass
By looking down?

From start to finish,
We prowl the ground
Amongst ourselves
Safe and sound
Looking for love
Looking around
Shawn Apr 2012
(9-24-11 instrumental)

it takes 2 years to forget 6 years,
it takes 12 beers to forget your tears,
and it's those tears that flow so near,
this backyard that you hold so dear,
i held you here in better years,
i'd cheer you up, when i'd hear your fears,
the taste of beer and sky so clear
steer away now, it's in the rear,
view and that feels so cold,
i only see you through untagged photos,
youtubing high school talent shows,
or recitals, it's vital, that no one
actually knows, that i'm caught up
bought to get lost up,
another drink, another think,
i'm just a flawed ****,
but i play it cool and act strong,
those other fools won't last long.

another sad song, i make it better,
got a new chick that's wetter cause
she aint afraid of that weather,
umbrellas discarded, in the bleachers,
teachers, gawking from the sidelines,
it's all fine, it's our time,
no need to dodge landmines...
call me minesweeper,
call me mindreader,
call me timekeeper,
call me justin bieber,
call me baby, baby baby,
call me jay-z, call me kanye,
call me all day, call me homewrecker,
call me and say i can do better,
call me about your sweater,
that's still at my place,
call me ghostface, call me action bronson,
call me hot one, call me ******* loser,
call me a waste of your time,
call me and say that this rhyme's, too simple,
call me jimmy kimmel, sarah silver-man.
i'm a better man, i'm business-man, i'm a gentle-man
i'm stan, writing this down in a crazy letter
no ink, self-mutilation and a feather,
better yet, i'm saying this outloud in the booth,
kick this rap game in the tooth with these red wing boots.
Ston Poet Dec 2015
Uhh..,Young Ston, OFTR..
They say I'm crazy, They say I'm lazy,..they call me crazy, they call me lazy,..Ayee,Yeah..They say I'm crazy, Yeah they say I'm lazy, Uhh, they say I'm crazy..I'm amazing, They say I'm lazy, I'm amazing, They say I'm crazy, They call me lazy, They say I'm....
Crazy..(I'm amazing7)
They say I'm crazy..they call me lazy, They call me crazy..They say I'm lazy..They say I'm crazy, ***** I might  be..Uhh..Yeah..I'm (amazing
(so amazing2)..amazing

Uhh, No Kanye West **** tho dawg, Good Morning tho, Yeah the birds is chirping so loud in the Atown, but I ain't worrying or stunning them hos, no,no..,Ayo, I'm wit my big brothers we mobbing, & we rising up to the top without selling our souls, **** all of that Occult ****, forget about being a Freemason, I'm keeping it hundred, & they only keep it 33 percent, them ******* so scared to even ever show they faces true colors & rep they gang man while they out in public,.. Not me Imma stunt Yeah,..Imma stunt for OFTR *****,..Imma scream my gang so loud to the top of my lungs, Yeah ***** Imma shout..While I'm smoking on some crazy amazing bud mane, I'm  spitting facts from my spirit & soul man, ayo them ******* *** rappers ain't who they say that is noo, not (really
2)..homie, they only betraying us mane, Yeah they so fake man, they so gay Yeah freaking faggets, stay the **** outta my face & stay the **** away from me homie, before yo body be filled with maggots..

Aye, I builded my own corporation by just having hope man & praying Yeah..I'm motivating all of my young ****** to stop, following after these **** ******, they ain't keeping it true they rapping lies, & that's not the code. Ayo even the president & his whole committee stay lying to us too, we as the people need to do something together soon, so lets overthrow these false prophets & fake leaders as soon as possible dawg, Uhh..
**** the government, **** America, man I'm going in,.. noo OFTR we won't stop, Noo we can't stop,man.. We can't be stopped either my nig..Uhh, **** Society, **** the police, **** everybody that's hating, **** all the fakes too homie, Aye man **** a friend, **** having a ol lady too homie noo I don't need all of those distractions around me Aye..
Imma always stay true to myself mane..Yeah ***** (Yeah2)..Uhh I got my family, &  I will  ride on any ***** ***** who ever disrespect one them & shoot some **** up,Yeah , that's what my Daddy taught me my *****...Uhh,Yeah..I'm riding to the end for OFTR man, OFTR we all stars..we so amazing,..Yeah we (so amazing3)..

Aye man yeah these ****** stay hating, they hate me..Why because I'm amazing, so amazing.. Aye man, yo ***** wanna come over to my place get faded & get ******..Uhh Imma beat her up..I Chris Brown dat **, call her a Uber then send her *** home packing,.. ain't no sleep overs wit me *****  Noo , you should already know that OFTR noo we don't love these **'s, noo we don't trust em too..Uhh
I be too busy to be sexting & picking up my phone but ***** **** I do give out the best quickies tho **,Yeah..I'm on my grind for the whole day, Noo I can't sleep, Yeah I'm doing whatever I gotta do to feed my family & developing my business into a multi billion dollar industry, but I ain't bending over or ******* ****, forget that sweet Starship type ****.., Yeah **** all of dat , OFTR we got our own agenda man, keeping it real & funky, everyday, Yeah Uhh..I'm getting so stronger everyday..I'm smoking on that strong Hulk smash ****, please don't interfere wit me or else you will be MIA, Aye mane..,I'm so amazing..Uhh.
I'm on my sonic Flow, I'm going so fast, I'm rolling some more grass while I drive man, I been drinking too ****, my ***** I might even crash,..Yeah I'm crazy but you can't call me lazy mufucker, you just looking in from the outside man, who the ******* think you is..Uhh

Only my Heavenly Father can judge me mane,
(Nobody else , Noo2)..*****, Yeah Young Ston a King , Yeah..Uhh Young Ston a g, Yeah Uhh.., Young Ston the man **,..I keep going in, & I ain't pulling out, let's go..Uhh..Yeah
They say I'm crazy, they call me lazy, but they don't know that there is a weapon that's been inside of me, bout to get me so paid ***** paid Yeah..Yeah..(I'm about to get paid man
2)..(I'm about to get paid Yeah3)..
/Yeah..(so paid
2)/3..I ain't being (no slave2)

They say I'm crazy,...
They say I'm lazy, they call me crazy, they call me lazy, they say I'm lazy,..They call me crazy..Uhh..***** I'm amazing, Yeah..(I'm amazing2)..Yeah ***** (I'm amazing3)..Yeah ***** (I'm amazing3)..I'm so amazing, Yeah..

I'm amazing everybody when they doubted on me my *****, They  said I couldn't do nothing but just be a problem, well **** they was right about one thing, Yeah I didn't have a job for a long time  mane..young *****, I usta just sit around the house dream about my future & write hits all day long mane,..Aye but I always had a plan to go out to get what is mines homie..Aye this world so **** evil they gott a ***** like me set up for failure already but I will achieve, & smoke a J wit Farrakhan to discuss being invole  in the Future Revolution for my people..Aye Yeah man..

These demons won't block my vision, man they underneath me Yeah dawg, Yeah I like to roll up Yeah I like to drink alot my ***** , so what, I live my life so you should live yours..Uhh my ***** live it up..Uhh,Yeah Young Ston these busters said I would never ever make it too the big leagues but now they all following after my foot steps  mane.. dawg these succers all around me, & stay tweeting me asking for a **** handout bru, hell naw get the **** up outta my zone, Im not ever associating myself or ever  doing business with ***** *** fakes,..Yeah..Aye.. ***** ***** stay on yo route, don't hop in my lane dude..

You lames copying after each other in Atl mane & I'm doing my music my own way ****, I was the greatest already without nobody even knowing about me, Imma living legend, I prosper forever Yeah, Uhh..Young Ston I'm amazing , so amazing, Yeah ***** I'm amazing, so amazing.. So amazing, so what they can call me crazy dawg, I'm so far away from the haters mane, I'm so elevated, Yeah they can call me crazy all they want ,but no they can't call me lazy, because *****..I know what I am..

I'm amazing Yeah Cuhz.. (I'm amazing
3)...Yeah (I'm amazing3)..(Yeah I'm amazing3)..I'm (so amazing2)....
Ayee..Yeah they  say I'm lazy, They call me crazy, They call me lazy, they say I'm crazy,..
/*****.., Yeah (I'm amazing
Haaaa,(so amazing
3)..I'm (so amazing3)..
***** I'm amazing, Yeah ***** I'm crazy,but I ain't even 5 steps close to being lazy..Uhh I'm amazing.. (So amazing
4)..Young Ston
Bunhead17 Nov 2013
Wait 'til you're announced
We've not yet lost all our graces
The hounds will stay in chains
Look upon Your Greatness and she'll send the call out
Send the call out
Send the call out
Send the call out
Send the call out
Send the call out
Send the call out
Send the call out
Send the call out
Send the call out
Send the call out
Send the call out
Send the call out
Send the call out
Send the call out
Send the call out

Call all the ladies out
They're in their finery
A hundred jewels on throats
A hundred jewels between teeth
Now bring my boys in
Their skin in craters like the moon
The moon we love like a brother
While he glows through the room

Dancing around the lies we tell
Dancing around big eyes as well, ah
Even the comatose
They don't dance and tell

We live in cities you'll never see on screen
Not very pretty, but we sure know how to run things
Living in ruins of the palace within my dreams
And you know we're on each other's team

I'm kind of over getting told to throw my hands up in the air
So there

So all the cups got broke
Shards beneath our feet
But it wasn't my fault
And everyone's competing
For a love they won't receive
'Cause what this palace wants is release

We live in cities you'll never see on screen
Not very pretty, but we sure know how to run things
Living in ruins of the palace within my dreams
And you know we're on each other's team

I'm kind of over getting told to throw my hands up in the air
So there
I'm kind of older than I was when I reveled without a care
So there

We live in cities you'll never see on screen
Not very pretty, but we sure know how to run things
Living in ruins of the palace within my dreams
And you know we're on each other's team

We're on each other's team
And you know we're on each other's team
We're on each other's team
And you know and you know and you know
I love this song..."Team" by Lorde #Pure Heroine
Dawn of Lighten Jan 2014
Ilion Gray:
my personal call sign, Kronos/Cronus
Obviously the Titan among the writers of the Hello Poetry,
He has probably the highest viewership, and most commented amongst the poets.
It becomes very evident after reading his work why he is the Titan of poets,
And reading his poem is like historical masters revisited among mortals.

Harlon Rivers:
my personal call sign, Poseidon
Poseidon was very fitting with Harlon River,
due to the symbolic nature of the water in their names.
I have only read few of this gentleman's work,
But I can assure you his work is very much a gift to the audience,
And like Poseidon that gift is fire to humanity.

K Balachandran:
my personal call sign, Zues
After thinking and pondering,
K Balachandran is the Zues of hello poetry.
His work is always top notch,
And it has so much layer of meaning in his ink.
I admire his compassion in his work,
And his generous response.

Nat Lipstadt:
my personal call sign, Apollo
Nat is this exciting charismatic youthful writer like Apollo,
And his vigor is unmatched with his writing.  
His writing is passionate,
And has such strength.
It is so hard not to notice his work,
But when you do read his work,
You will know why I had him as Apollo of Hello Poetry.

Soul in Torment:
my personal call sign, Hermes
His work is like a trickery,
When you think you got it,
You see another layer in his work.
To read his 10w poem,
As simple as it may seem,
You will do double take to see more meaning  in 10w.

my personal call sign, Dionysus
Probably the most festive,
and warm poems you will ever read.
Timothy not only write awesome poems,
But also gives lot of positive feed back to many.
More I thought about Timothy's work,
It just made sense to have him as Dionysus.

my personal call sign, Gaia
Another Titan among the Hello Poetry,
And like Gaia, KMae is like the Mother Earth of poets.
Her wisdom and knowledge is vast,
And her writings are warm and very expressive.

my personal call sign, Athena
Her 10w is so amazing,
I became Dumbfounded by her work,
Because it's so thought provoking.
She has vast repertoire of her style,
and it is unmatched by many I have read.
I can only wonder now a days how she is doing,
Since she has been Mia for awhile now.

Olivia Kent:
my personal call sign, Hestia
Very down to earth,
And calm resting of poets.
If you want a ink with purity,
Check her work out!

Sally A Bryan:
my personal call sign, Hera
Her work has so much strength,
And love with thoughtfulness,
It felt only right to align her with Hera.
Highly recommend to those who seek love and warmth,
And very hospitable response as well.

CA Guilfoyle :
my personal call sign, Artemis
Just like Artemis,
And her work is untamed beauty.
Graceful and amazing to read,
Her work is innocent,
But very strong.
Try to catch her work,
But beware, her newer inks are harder to come.

my personal call sign, Aphrodite
Her work is elegant,
And quite beautiful.
Has a perfect feminine quality about her writing,
And gives lovely expression that empowers love!

my personal call sign, Hade
Always great with darkness,
And convey disparity like no other,
Hade perfectly convey Noose's work.
If you ever want to read decay at it fullest glory,
Noose has this covered for you.

Atul 'Drona' Kaushal
My personal call sign, Cupid
Probably one with most profound love poetry I've read
And his work is dedicated love poems.
His work are marvel to gaze upon,
And strong display of Eros.
Highly recommend for those who like to read love poems,
If not, check his best poem of all "Angel?"

Pradip Chattopadhyay
My personal call sign, Helios
In my eyes poet Pradip seem to be the sun of the poets,
Always filled with bright energy.
Very mystical in this poet's ink of ray.
If you want a poem that will brighten your day,
I recommend Pradip's poems!
Please don't take it too personally to my call signs, just wanted to add dimension to my writings with individual characters, and by adding a layers to convey the best description with gods and goddesses metaphor.  Some were really hard to distinguish with the characters, and some were already taken by others.   With limited 12 gods, it wasn't perfect, while some were dead on!

This is to recognize some of the best poets I have met and read, and while everyone is good in their own rights, these few people really stood out for me as the pantheons of Hello Poetry.

This may change after 2014 review in 2015, and make a completely different list when the time comes.  Who knows, I might just stop after this one!

This isn't completely finished, but for now this will do.  If I want to add more stuff I maybe inclined to do so, but with limited times as of late due to work we shall see where my attention spanned will take me.
Gynna Manel May 2015
You can call me your teacher,
who taught you things you've never known

You can call me your travel buddy,
who takes you to places you've never been

You can call me your dream weaver,
who help you build your dreams

You can call me your chef,
who feeds you with delicious food

You can call me your preacher,
the one who caddies you to the house of God

You can call me your singer,
who sings to you melodies you've never heard

You can call me your book,
whom you read page by page but with no ending

You can call me your psychologist,
the one who analizes your character deeply

You can call me your mirror,
for you bare everything to me that no one will ever know

You can call me your match,
that lights up fast when you need a fire

You can call me your pillow,
the one you hug at night to hide in it's fluffiness

You can call me your blanket,
the one who gives you warmth inside and out

You can call me your home,
for I am your shelter when you are lost

You can call me...
The one who stays behind your back

The one who holds you invisibly
The only one who speaks your language
or your soul mate

But I want you to call me...
The one who never left, just like the way you want me to...
Eternally! ✨
Hayzzzzz... sad!
Hilda Nov 2012
You must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear;
To-morrow 'ill be the happiest time of all the glad New-year;
Of all the glad New-year, mother, the maddest merriest day;
For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

There's many a black, black eye, they say, but none so bright as mine;
There's Margaret and Mary, there's Kate and Caroline:
But none so fair as little Alice in all the land they say,
So I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

I sleep so sound all night, mother, that I shall never wake,
If you do not call me loud when the day begins to break:
But I must gather knots of flowers, and buds and garlands gay,
For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

As I came up the valley whom think ye should I see,
But Robin leaning on the bridge beneath the hazel-tree?
He thought of that sharp look, mother, I gave him yesterday,--
But I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

He thought I was a ghost, mother, for I was all in white,
And I ran by him without speaking, like a flash of light.
They call me cruel-hearted, but I care not what they say,
For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

They say he's dying all for love, but that can never be:
They say his heart is breaking, mother--what is that to me?
There's many a bolder lad 'ill woo me any summer day,
And I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

Little Effie shall go with me to-morrow to the green,
And you'll be there, too, mother, to see me made the Queen;
For the shepherd lads on every side 'ill come from far away,
And I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

The honeysuckle round the porch has wov'n its wavy bowers,
And by the meadow-trenches blow the faint sweet cuckoo-flowers;
And the wild marsh-marigold shines like fire in swamps and hollows gray,
And I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

The night-winds come and go, mother, upon the meadow-grass,
And the happy stars above them seem to brighten as they pass;
There will not be a drop of rain the whole of the live-long day,
And I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

All the valley, mother, 'ill be fresh and green and still,
And the cowslip and the crowfoot are over all the hill,
And the rivulet in the flowery dale 'ill merrily glance and play,
For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

So you must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear,
To-morrow 'ill be the happiest time of all the glad New-year:
To-morrow 'ill be of all the year the maddest merriest day,
For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May.

New Year's Eve

If you're waking, call me early, call me early, mother dear,
For I would see the sun rise upon the glad new-year.
It is the last new-year that I shall ever see,—
Then you may lay me low i' the mold, and think no more of me.

To-night I saw the sun set,—he set and left behind
The good old year, the dear old time, and all my peace of mind;
And the new-year's coming, mother; but I shall never see
The blossom on the blackthorn, the leaf upon the tree.

Last May we made a crown of flowers; we had a merry day,—
Beneath the hawthorn on the green they made me Queen of May;
And we danced about the May-pole and in the hazel copse,
Till Charles's Wain came out above the tall white chimney-tops.

There's not a flower on all the hills,—the frost is on the pane;
I only wish to live till the snowdrops come again.
I wish wish the snow would melt and the sun come out on high,—
I long to see a flower so before the day I die.

The building-rook'll caw from the windy tall elm-tree,
And the tufted plover pipe along the fallow lea,
And the swallow'll come back again with summer o'er wave,
But I shall lie alone, mother, within the mouldering grave.

Upon the chancel casement, and upon that grave of mine,
In the early morning the summer sun'll shine,
Before the red **** crows from the farm upon the hill,—
When you are warm-asleep, mother, and all the world is still.

When the flowers come again, mother, beneath the waning light
You'll never see me more in the long grey fields at night;
When from the dry dark wold the summer airs blow cool
On the oat-grass and the sword-grass, and the bullrush in the pool.

You'll bury me, my mother, just beneath the hawthorn shade,
And you'll come sometimes and see me where I am lowly laid.
I shall not forget you, mother; I shall hear you when you pass,
With your feet above my head in the long and pleasant grass.

I have been wild and wayward, but you'll forgive me now;
You'll kiss me, my own mother, upon my cheek and brow;
Nay, nay, you must no weep, nor let your grief be wild;
You should not fret for me, mother—you have another child.

If I can, I'll come again, mother, from out my resting-place;
Though you'll not see me, mother, I shall look upon your face;
Though I cannot speak a word, I shall harken what you say,
And be often, often with you when you think I'm far away.

Good night! good night! when I have said good night forevermore,
And you see me carried out from the threshold of the door,
Don't let Effie come to see me till my grave be growing green,—
She'll be a better child to you then ever I have been.

She'll find my garden tools upon the granary floor.
Let her take 'em—they are hers; I shall never garden more.
But tell her, when I'm gone, to train the rosebush that I set
About the parlour window and box of mignonette.

Good night, sweet-mother! Call me before the day is born.
All night I lie awake, but I fall asleep at morn;
But I would see the sun rise upon the glad new-year,—
So, if you're waking, call me, call me early, mother dear.


I thought to pass away before, and yet alive I am;
And in the fields all around I hear the bleating of the lamb.
How sadly, I remember, rose the morning of the year!
To die before the snowdrop came, and now the violet's here.

O, sweet is the new violet, that comes beneath the skies;
And sweeter is the young lamb's voice to me that cannot rise;
And sweet is all the land about, and all the flowers that blow;
And sweeter far is death than life, to me that long to go.

I seemed so hard at first, mother, to leave the blessed sun,
And now it seems as hard to stay; and yet, His will be done!
But still I think it can't be long before I find release;
And that good man, the clergyman, has told me words of peace.

O, blessings on his kindly voice, and on his silver hair,
And blessings on his whole life long, until he meet me there!
O, blessings on his kindly heart and on his silver head!
A thousand times I blest him, as he knelt beside my bed.

He taught me all the mercy for he showed me all the sin;
Now, though my lamp was lighted late, there's One will let me in.
Nor would I now be well, mother, again, if that could be;
For my desire is but to pass to Him that died for me.

I did not hear the dog howl, mother, or the death-watch beat,—
There came a sweeter token when the night and morning meet;
But sit beside my bed, mother, and put your hand in mine,
And Effie on the other side, and I will tell the sign.

All in the wild March-morning I heard the angels call,—
It was when the moon was setting, and the dark was over all;
The trees began to whisper, and the wind began to roll,
And in the wild March-morning I heard them call my soul.

For, lying broad awake, I thought of you and Effie dear;
I saw you sitting in the house, and I no longer here;
With all my strength I prayed for both—and so I felt resigned,
And up the valley came a swell of music on the wind.

I thought that is was fancy, and I listened in my bed;
And then did something speak to me,—I know not what was said;
For great delight and shuddering took hold of all my mind,
And up the valley came again the music on the wind.

But you were sleeping; and I said, "It's not for them,—it's mine;"
And if it comes three times, I thought, I take it for a sign.
And once again it came, and close beside the window-bars;
Then seemed to go right up to heaven and die among the stars.

So now I think my time is near; I trust it is. I know
The blessèd music went that way my soul will have to go.
And for myself, indeed, I care not if I go to-day;
But Effie, you must comfort her when I am past away.

And say to Robin a kind word, and tell him not to fret;
There's many a worthier than I, would make him happy yet.
If I had lived—I cannot tell—I might have been his wife;
But all these things have ceased to be, with my desire of life.

O, look! the sun begins to rise! the heavens are in a glow;
He shines upon a hundred fields, and all of them I know.
And there I move no longer now, and there his light may shine,—
Wild flowers in the valley for other hands than mine.

O, sweet and strange it seems to me, that ere this day is done
The voice that now is speaking may be beyond the sun,—
Forever and forever with those just souls and true,—
And what is life, that we should moan? why make we such ado?

Forever and forever, all in a blessèd home,—
And there to wait a little while till you and Effie come,—
To lie within light of God, as I lie upon your breast,—
And the wicked cease from troubling, and weary are at rest.

**~By Alfred Lord Tennyson 1809—1892~
Matthew Hundley Jul 2014
Call number one
I was going to tell you
How much of a ***** you were
For making me feel like this
But I hung up

Call number two
I was going to tell you
That everything was your fault
And you were the reason
We would never work out
But I hung up

Call number three
I was going to remind you
Of all the things you said
To me the last time I saw you
But I hung up

Call number four
I was going to scream
Scream until my lungs exploded
And the world went black
But I hung up

Call number five
I contemplated driving
To your house
In the pouring rain
And tell you everything in person
But I hung up

Call number six
I remembered how your smile
Used to make life
A little more bearable
But I hung up

Call number seven
I remembered how your eyes
Light up the sky
Because the stars were jealous
But I hung up

Call number eight
I gave up all hope
Of trying to make myself
Not want you
But I hung up

Call number nine
I decided that I would say
Everything I could
To get you back
But I hung up

Call number ten
I started to cry
My hands were violently shaking
As I tried to hold the phone
But I hung up

And then came call number eleven
I heard your favorite song
And I looked down

Call number eleven
You told me
That you were sorry
And then you hung up
Cedric McClester Apr 2015
By: Cedric McClester

Your call was recorded
And it can be retrieved
The level of technology
Is not to be believed
Forget about your privacy
Cos it does not exist
The names of every one of us
Is somewhere on a list

Your call was recorded
Someone’s listenin in
Now you can choose to ignore this fact
And hope that it will end

You live in America
And you think that you’re free
While that may once have been the case
That’s ancient history
Those days are long gone
They have disappeared
Now each of us are suspect
Until we become cleared

Your call was recorded
Someone’s listenin in
Now you can choose to ignore this fact
And hope that it will end

Your call was recorded
But it wasn’t tapped
It’s somewhere on a satellite
Where they have it trapped
And it can be retrieved
Anytime they choose
You call this a revelation
But I call it old news

Your call was recorded
Someone’s listenin in
Now you can choose to ignore this fact
And hope that it will end

Your call was recorded
It also has been logged
You can file your complaint
On any liberal blog
The calls have been dissected
And also analyzed
It’s high time you stop sleepin
And open up your eyes

Your call was recorded
Someone’s listenin in
Now you can choose to ignore this fact
And hope that it will end

Your call was recorded
But it wasn’t tapped
It’s somewhere on a satellite
Where they have it trapped
And it can be retrieved
Anytime they choose
You call this a revelation
But I call it old news

Your call was recorded
Someone’s listenin in
Now you can choose to ignore this fact
And hope that it will end

(c) Copyright 2015, Cedric McClester.  All rights reserved.
My pick-up truck, trailer home, ...the good book by-my-bedside,
Lost a family, lost my home, ...a terrible twist, twist of fate.
Here I can't escape, that feeling, that I want-to-die,
Found a bottle, quit my job, ...stopped responding to-my-Facebook.


All I had, gone with the past, a new dark road I took...
Woke up one morning on my floor with the good book on my chest.
Flipped it open, turned it around, and with him, found I'm blessed.

..........and now times stood the test.

I needed to walk, ...with the Son,
Get right back-on-track,
All I needed, was to talk with the Son...

And now they call me the Lucky One,
Now they call me the Lucky One,
They call me the Lucky One,
They call me the Lucky One,
And they call me the Lucky One.

Family's gone but I have the Son,

Now they call me the Lucky One,
They call me the Lucky One,
They call me the Lucky One,
And they call me the Lucky One.

Suddenly I figured out,
All those things I couldn't-ever figure out...

*And now they call me the Lucky One,
Now they call me the Lucky One,
They call me the Lucky One,
Call me the Lucky One,
And they call me the Lucky One.
JordanP Dec 2014
Call me a double-edged sword. Get on my bad side and I'll hurt you now, but get on my other side and I'll hurt you eventually. Call me a weapon of mass destruction aimed at myself. I never know if I'm going to hit and destroy myself or miss and destroy one f those around me. Call me a waste of space, it's not my fault, it's just the way I am. Call me anything you desire. It doesn't matter to me if you think I'm the best or the worst. Tell me what you think about me, not to my back while I'm around the corner just out of earshot but to my face while we're face-to-face words-to-words. Rocks and bats may cause me pain but your words bounce of me like a fly trapped just on the other side of a two way mirror people call a window trying to break through and back into the past. How does one move on from the past when we must always remember the past to learn from it? Look forward to the future but live for now. There are so many directions we are supposed to look and go and they wonder why we get confused over whether x should be equal to 42, pi, or y over z times the square root of World War 2. Wait that can't be right but the lines between right and wrong have never been so blurred. Call me smart. Just because I finish my test a little quicker than most. Call me a cheater, I just know enough to know there is a loophole in ever rule or contract. Call me your best friend. I have Monster and some gum that seems to be all it takes to be a "best friend" now a days. Call me something that will get a laugh and I will laugh right along side you and everyone else. I know who I am and I know what I've done. Whether they have been mistakes or the smartest thing I have ever did. They are my actions and I will stand up for them because at the time they seemed right. Who are you to judge who I am and what I've done? Are you perfect because of you are please don't try training me to be. I have no interest in being what some one may call perfection. Perfection is a cool brisk night in the middle of the fall watching the dancing colors and sparks popping from the pit with the one you have fallen for tucked into the spot only they fit precisely into. To me that is perfection so how can a person be a scenario? It's simple they can't. So don't try to be perfect because perfect because not even perfect is perfect. Just try to be the best that you can be. Call me an inspiration. I'm not afraid to speak my mind and make how I feel about you and this world we're living in known to everyone. Call me a **** in the best way possible. Just because I know how to send you on a trip with my words that looks like it's going to drop you off a cliff when in  reality it drop kicks you straight over the moon. Call me whatever you want to, people who like me show me who is always going to be there and people who don't show me who I never want to be.
Rodney Mendoza May 2014
I'm that used ****** under the bed that your girlfriend found.         I'm that last breath you take before you drown. I'm that raised manhole cover that give you blowouts. I'm that pothole in the hood that the City knows about.   THEY CALL ME DRAMA.                                              I'm the safety on that nine that determines life or death.                           I'm that asthma attack you had when you couldn't catch your breath. I'm that last surviving egg about to go head on with that *****.         I'm that ***** next door that gave your wife that ****** up perm. THEY CALL DRAMA. I'm that wooden baton when you get your *** beat by the cop. I'm that MPV the kids jumped out of when they robbed the **** spot. I'm that sweat tricklin' down your cheek like someone shot ya. I'm that quarter pound of **** under your seat when the cops stop ya. THEY CALL ME DRAMA.         I'm that Breathalyzer test that test alcoholics.  I'm that ******* that comes back after you flush the toilet. I'm that **** you took before you realized you ran out of tissue.  I'm that *** stain left on blouses by government officials. THEY CALL DRAMA.        I'm that cold turkey when you got dope dependency.                       I'm that bottle of pills when you got suicidal tendencies.            I'm that bet your ******* made when you knew you didn't have no money.                                                           ­                                I'm that roach crawlin' cross your T.V. every time you got company. THEY CALL ME DRAMA. I'm that hole in your socks when you try on new sneakers. I'm that ****** up sound that comes out when you got busted speakers.                                                        ­                                               I'm that slippery lane when girls think they're to cute to bowl. I'm that telephone pole when young car thieves lose control.       THEY CALL ME DRAMA. I was that dingy *** collar infested with Jeri curl juice. I was that crack addiction you had when you noticed your pants were to loose.                                                           ­                                                  I was that closet your friend came out of when he said that he was gay. I was that red spot on those blue jeans when your little girl forgot it was the 28th day. THEY CALL ME DRAMA. I'm that **** you take after the 3rd day of being burnt. I'm those dingy thongs when women wear those short *** skirts. I'm that government cheese that didn't melt in your baked macaroni. I'm that 10year bid you did all because you didn't rat on your *****. I'm that long Island ice tea that got you that DWI charge.                                                          ­                                               I'm that slippin' transmission in bank robbers getaway cars.    THEY CALL ME DRAMA.  I'm that seven you rolled every time you played craps. I'm that burnin' sensation your girl gave you. **** it. Just call me the clap.                                                            ­                                                  I'm that 300lb. Freak talkin' about "let me get on top boo'.                                                            ­                                                  I was that DNA the cops found that pointed straight to you. I was that broken crack pipe when you had just brought an 8ball of crack.   I was that ******* coke you brought that wouldn't come back. I was that peanut butter and jelly sandwich after school when there wasn't **** else to eat.                                                             ­                                                   I was that smell between your toes when you had stink feet.                                                            ­                                                   I was those socks on your hands when you couldn't afford gloves. I'm those bubbles that float up your back every time you **** in the tub. THEY CALL ME DRAMA.  c. R. Mendoza
Javier Garza Apr 2015
Call me queer, call me *******
But is my ****** life really that important to you?
I don't call you ****-cuffin, ***** eater, nor hetero freak
So why must I be insulted for my *** life while you remain unscathed?

Call me ****** all you want,
But let's be honest, my life isn't easy
But I'm still here
My heart still beats
I'm still strong

Call me fairy to your little heart's content
But answer me this, could your heart bare the abuse of every kind  for almost a decade?
Could your "holy" self withstand standing alone in the dark without so much as a friend?
I'm a "sinner" and I've withstood all those horrors and still came out strong

Call me a disgrace, an abomination, a freak
But answer this you pretentious *******,
Who's the one cursing people, condemning, hating, discriminating them for being nothing more than who they are?
That's right, you, not me
So think again, who's your god going to punish?
People who have done nothing wrong but be themselves?
Or the ignorant fools who think they are God and condemn others?

Call me ******, call me queer
I know who I am, and it's someone strong

Call me *******, call me fairy
I'm the one who will survive
Call me all you want,
It won't change who I am
michelle reicks Oct 2011
I sit at this desk
silent room
                    12:25 a.m
the world; asleep-ing

And I stare and pray
that you call me
I need you to call me
call me call me call
me please
           As I write the
words, I hope you hear
them, the pen scratching
like an alarm that
wakes you from your
hot sweaty slumber

It's so *******
anger-making, frustrating
that I can't call you
it's like some sick
game we play

And right now we
are both losing
I could call

But then I would win

And I can't bear

to make you the


M Mar 2014
Do not call me teacher.
Do not call me light.
I am merely a reflecting glass-
showing a broken truth, not exactly right.

Do not call me preacher.
Do not call me uptight.
I'm only a Christian,
saying gently, "Come closer, it'll be alright."

Do not call me deeper.
Do not call me inspiring.
I'm just a poor lonely girl,
this gets kind of tiring- so

Do call me loving,
Do call me trying,
call me not enough, fine, that's true
but I'm reaching towards the sky-

I really do care for You,
I gasp for You every day
but I'm limited by my ego and lack of servitude,
my God, show me Your way.

Do not call me teacher-
that's the big guy, up there
He's the magnificent beautiful creature
with magnificent beautiful hair

Who unites with the world in harmony
and knows exactly how to love
my heart aches for having forgotten Him
but He saved me with His holy dove

My world is falling in place around me
My God is tracing the path
they've tried and failed to drown me
while I was sleeping- in my own bath.

Do not call me teacher,
I might speak His words, or try
but I **** up every day.
I'm dangling to this basic, dissenting concept of 'I'.

So I'm broken and lonely
and hurting, just like y'all.
Please don't call me teacher.
That's not who I am. I'm not worthy at all.
GhostlyLiving Dec 2014
Don't call me cute.
Don't call me beautiful.
Don't call me adorable.
Don't call me gorgeous.
Don't call me ****.
Don't call me your girl.
Don't call me baby.
Don't call me babe.
Don't call me hon.
Don't call me what I'm not.

Do call me your friend.
That's all you've made me to be.
AFR Jan 2018
Don't call me a ***** because I stood up for myself
Call me a ***** because I am so much more than that
Call me a ***** because I am an unapologetic feminist
Call me a ***** because I am stronger than you will ever be
Call me a ***** because I trusted you
Don't call me immature because you can't take what you dish out
Call me immature because I believed our friendship was real
Call me immature because I thought you cared
Call me immature because I do not let you walk all over me
Call me immature because I want my first kiss to mean something
But please
Do not ever call me your friend again
Solitaire Archer Jan 2010
These I Call

I reach, my feet toes digging into
the soft damp earth
this is the power of Body,
clay and sand and rock
this is the Grounding Point
This is the point of Calm of Rest
I Call North
I entreat the Earth
I acknowledge the Power of My Body
I throw my hands high reaching, yearning
the wind wends my skirt round my staff in Freedom
This is the point of Reason
This is Zephyr and Breeze and Gale
I call East
I entreat The Air
I acknowledge the Power of My Mind
Now I pull my Power
from deep in my core
call and play until it dances over my fingers
This is the point of healing Fire
This is the Power of My Actions
The crack of lightning and the snap of Fire
I call South
I Entreat Fire
I Acknowledge the Power of My Actions
Now I flow in not out
engulfed, enfolded warm and safe
as the day before breath
This is the point of Feeling of
comfort both given and received
I call West
I entreat Water
I Acknowledge the Power of My Feelings
Upward pulled with Luna Joined
With Sky and Moon I am rapt in a star filled bowl
This is the place of Consciousness
I Call a Sacred Place
This is Galaxy, Moon, and Stars
I call Up
I Entreat The Cosmos
I acknowledge The Power of my Consciousness
Through my mind and my core
Through that which makes me Witch
Through legs into Earth
Through crust and deeper yet
Slower it steadies and my heartbeat slows ,
and matches that which sustains us
I Call Down
I entreat The Core , This Sacred Place
I Acknowledge The Greater Life and Web of all Being
Mother Earth
From within now come Soul Spirit
Essence of Life
This is where My Lady waits
Goddess , Ancestors , Guides and Companions

I Call The Center
I Entreat The Spirit
I Acknowledge the inner ways and song and dance
Visions Quests and Dream Times
and Shadoewalkers

These I Entreat and Invite
These I Honor and would learn from
These are gifts to me
from My Sweet Lady
Among these I will wait
In this Sacred Place

- From And The Circle Cast
The three stood listening to a fresh access
Of wind that caught against the house a moment,
Gulped snow, and then blew free again—the Coles
Dressed, but dishevelled from some hours of sleep,
Meserve belittled in the great skin coat he wore.

Meserve was first to speak. He pointed backward
Over his shoulder with his pipe-stem, saying,
“You can just see it glancing off the roof
Making a great scroll upward toward the sky,
Long enough for recording all our names on.—
I think I’ll just call up my wife and tell her
I’m here—so far—and starting on again.
I’ll call her softly so that if she’s wise
And gone to sleep, she needn’t wake to answer.”
Three times he barely stirred the bell, then listened.
“Why, Lett, still up? Lett, I’m at Cole’s. I’m late.
I called you up to say Good-night from here
Before I went to say Good-morning there.—
I thought I would.— I know, but, Lett—I know—
I could, but what’s the sense? The rest won’t be
So bad.— Give me an hour for it.— **, **,
Three hours to here! But that was all up hill;
The rest is down.— Why no, no, not a wallow:
They kept their heads and took their time to it
Like darlings, both of them. They’re in the barn.—
My dear, I’m coming just the same. I didn’t
Call you to ask you to invite me home.—”
He lingered for some word she wouldn’t say,
Said it at last himself, “Good-night,” and then,
Getting no answer, closed the telephone.
The three stood in the lamplight round the table
With lowered eyes a moment till he said,
“I’ll just see how the horses are.”

“Yes, do,”
Both the Coles said together. Mrs. Cole
Added: “You can judge better after seeing.—
I want you here with me, Fred. Leave him here,
Brother Meserve. You know to find your way
Out through the shed.”

“I guess I know my way,
I guess I know where I can find my name
Carved in the shed to tell me who I am
If it don’t tell me where I am. I used
To play—”

“You tend your horses and come back.
Fred Cole, you’re going to let him!”

“Well, aren’t you?
How can you help yourself?”

“I called him Brother.
Why did I call him that?”

“It’s right enough.
That’s all you ever heard him called round here.
He seems to have lost off his Christian name.”

“Christian enough I should call that myself.
He took no notice, did he? Well, at least
I didn’t use it out of love of him,
The dear knows. I detest the thought of him
With his ten children under ten years old.
I hate his wretched little Racker Sect,
All’s ever I heard of it, which isn’t much.
But that’s not saying—Look, Fred Cole, it’s twelve,
Isn’t it, now? He’s been here half an hour.
He says he left the village store at nine.
Three hours to do four miles—a mile an hour
Or not much better. Why, it doesn’t seem
As if a man could move that slow and move.
Try to think what he did with all that time.
And three miles more to go!”
“Don’t let him go.
Stick to him, Helen. Make him answer you.
That sort of man talks straight on all his life
From the last thing he said himself, stone deaf
To anything anyone else may say.
I should have thought, though, you could make him hear you.”

“What is he doing out a night like this?
Why can’t he stay at home?”

“He had to preach.”

“It’s no night to be out.”

“He may be small,
He may be good, but one thing’s sure, he’s tough.”

“And strong of stale tobacco.”

“He’ll pull through.’
“You only say so. Not another house
Or shelter to put into from this place
To theirs. I’m going to call his wife again.”

“Wait and he may. Let’s see what he will do.
Let’s see if he will think of her again.
But then I doubt he’s thinking of himself
He doesn’t look on it as anything.”

“He shan’t go—there!”

“It is a night, my dear.”

“One thing: he didn’t drag God into it.”

“He don’t consider it a case for God.”

“You think so, do you? You don’t know the kind.
He’s getting up a miracle this minute.
Privately—to himself, right now, he’s thinking
He’ll make a case of it if he succeeds,
But keep still if he fails.”

“Keep still all over.
He’ll be dead—dead and buried.”

“Such a trouble!
Not but I’ve every reason not to care
What happens to him if it only takes
Some of the sanctimonious conceit
Out of one of those pious scalawags.”

“Nonsense to that! You want to see him safe.”

“You like the runt.”

“Don’t you a little?”

I don’t like what he’s doing, which is what
You like, and like him for.”

“Oh, yes you do.
You like your fun as well as anyone;
Only you women have to put these airs on
To impress men. You’ve got us so ashamed
Of being men we can’t look at a good fight
Between two boys and not feel bound to stop it.
Let the man freeze an ear or two, I say.—
He’s here. I leave him all to you. Go in
And save his life.— All right, come in, Meserve.
Sit down, sit down. How did you find the horses?”

“Fine, fine.”

“And ready for some more? My wife here
Says it won’t do. You’ve got to give it up.”

“Won’t you to please me? Please! If I say please?
Mr. Meserve, I’ll leave it to your wife.
What did your wife say on the telephone?”

Meserve seemed to heed nothing but the lamp
Or something not far from it on the table.
By straightening out and lifting a forefinger,
He pointed with his hand from where it lay
Like a white crumpled spider on his knee:
“That leaf there in your open book! It moved
Just then, I thought. It’s stood ***** like that,
There on the table, ever since I came,
Trying to turn itself backward or forward,
I’ve had my eye on it to make out which;
If forward, then it’s with a friend’s impatience—
You see I know—to get you on to things
It wants to see how you will take, if backward
It’s from regret for something you have passed
And failed to see the good of. Never mind,
Things must expect to come in front of us
A many times—I don’t say just how many—
That varies with the things—before we see them.
One of the lies would make it out that nothing
Ever presents itself before us twice.
Where would we be at last if that were so?
Our very life depends on everything’s
Recurring till we answer from within.
The thousandth time may prove the charm.— That leaf!
It can’t turn either way. It needs the wind’s help.
But the wind didn’t move it if it moved.
It moved itself. The wind’s at naught in here.
It couldn’t stir so sensitively poised
A thing as that. It couldn’t reach the lamp
To get a puff of black smoke from the flame,
Or blow a rumple in the collie’s coat.
You make a little foursquare block of air,
Quiet and light and warm, in spite of all
The illimitable dark and cold and storm,
And by so doing give these three, lamp, dog,
And book-leaf, that keep near you, their repose;
Though for all anyone can tell, repose
May be the thing you haven’t, yet you give it.
So false it is that what we haven’t we can’t give;
So false, that what we always say is true.
I’ll have to turn the leaf if no one else will.
It won’t lie down. Then let it stand. Who cares?”

“I shouldn’t want to hurry you, Meserve,
But if you’re going— Say you’ll stay, you know?
But let me raise this curtain on a scene,
And show you how it’s piling up against you.
You see the snow-white through the white of frost?
Ask Helen how far up the sash it’s climbed
Since last we read the gage.”

“It looks as if
Some pallid thing had squashed its features flat
And its eyes shut with overeagerness
To see what people found so interesting
In one another, and had gone to sleep
Of its own stupid lack of understanding,
Or broken its white neck of mushroom stuff
Short off, and died against the window-pane.”

“Brother Meserve, take care, you’ll scare yourself
More than you will us with such nightmare talk.
It’s you it matters to, because it’s you
Who have to go out into it alone.”

“Let him talk, Helen, and perhaps he’ll stay.”

“Before you drop the curtain—I’m reminded:
You recollect the boy who came out here
To breathe the air one winter—had a room
Down at the Averys’? Well, one sunny morning
After a downy storm, he passed our place
And found me banking up the house with snow.
And I was burrowing in deep for warmth,
Piling it well above the window-sills.
The snow against the window caught his eye.
‘Hey, that’s a pretty thought’—those were his words.
‘So you can think it’s six feet deep outside,
While you sit warm and read up balanced rations.
You can’t get too much winter in the winter.’
Those were his words. And he went home and all
But banked the daylight out of Avery’s windows.
Now you and I would go to no such length.
At the same time you can’t deny it makes
It not a mite worse, sitting here, we three,
Playing our fancy, to have the snowline run
So high across the pane outside. There where
There is a sort of tunnel in the frost
More like a tunnel than a hole—way down
At the far end of it you see a stir
And quiver like the frayed edge of the drift
Blown in the wind. I like that—I like that.
Well, now I leave you, people.”

“Come, Meserve,
We thought you were deciding not to go—
The ways you found to say the praise of comfort
And being where you are. You want to stay.”

“I’ll own it’s cold for such a fall of snow.
This house is frozen brittle, all except
This room you sit in. If you think the wind
Sounds further off, it’s not because it’s dying;
You’re further under in the snow—that’s all—
And feel it less. Hear the soft bombs of dust
It bursts against us at the chimney mouth,
And at the eaves. I like it from inside
More than I shall out in it. But the horses
Are rested and it’s time to say good-night,
And let you get to bed again. Good-night,
Sorry I had to break in on your sleep.”

“Lucky for you you did. Lucky for you
You had us for a half-way station
To stop at. If you were the kind of man
Paid heed to women, you’d take my advice
And for your family’s sake stay where you are.
But what good is my saying it over and over?
You’ve done more than you had a right to think
You could do—now. You know the risk you take
In going on.”

“Our snow-storms as a rule
Aren’t looked on as man-killers, and although
I’d rather be the beast that sleeps the sleep
Under it all, his door sealed up and lost,
Than the man fighting it to keep above it,
Yet think of the small birds at roost and not
In nests. Shall I be counted less than they are?
Their bulk in water would be frozen rock
In no time out to-night. And yet to-morrow
They will come budding boughs from tree to tree
Flirting their wings and saying Chickadee,
As if not knowing what you meant by the word storm.”

“But why when no one wants you to go on?
Your wife—she doesn’t want you to. We don’t,
And you yourself don’t want to. Who else is there?”

“Save us from being cornered by a woman.
Well, there’s”—She told Fred afterward that in
The pause right there, she thought the dreaded word
Was coming, “God.” But no, he only said
“Well, there’s—the storm. That says I must go on.
That wants me as a war might if it came.
Ask any man.”

He threw her that as something
To last her till he got outside the door.
He had Cole with him to the barn to see him off.
When Cole returned he found his wife still standing
Beside the table near the open book,
Not reading it.

“Well, what kind of a man
Do you call that?” she said.

“He had the gift
Of words, or is it tongues, I ought to say?”

“Was ever such a man for seeing likeness?”

“Or disregarding people’s civil questions—
What? We’ve found out in one hour more about him
Than we had seeing him pass by in the road
A thousand times. If that’s the way he preaches!
You didn’t think you’d keep him after all.
Oh, I’m not blaming you. He didn’t leave you
Much say in the matter, and I’m just as glad
We’re not in for a night of him. No sleep
If he had stayed. The least thing set him going.
It’s quiet as an empty church without him.”

“But how much better off are we as it is?
We’ll have to sit here till we know he’s safe.”

“Yes, I suppose you’ll want to, but I shouldn’t.
He knows what he can do, or he wouldn’t try.
Get into bed I say, and get some rest.
He won’t come back, and if he telephones,
It won’t be for an hour or two.”

“Well then.
We can’t be any help by sitting here
And living his fight through with him, I suppose.”


Cole had been telephoning in the dark.
Mrs. Cole’s voice came from an inner room:
“Did she call you or you call her?”

“She me.
You’d better dress: you won’t go back to bed.
We must have been asleep: it’s three and after.”

“Had she been ringing long? I’ll get my wrapper.
I want to speak to her.”

“All she said was,
He hadn’t come and had he really started.”

“She knew he had, poor thing, two hours ago.”

“He had the shovel. He’ll have made a fight.”

“Why did I ever let him leave this house!”

“Don’t begin that. You did the best you could
To keep him—though perhaps you didn’t quite
Conceal a wish to see him show the *****
To disobey you. Much his wife’ll thank you.”

“Fred, after all I said! You shan’t make out
That it was any way but what it was.
Did she let on by any word she said
She didn’t thank me?”

“When I told her ‘Gone,’
‘Well then,’ she said, and ‘Well then’—like a threat.
And then her voice came scraping slow: ‘Oh, you,
Why did you let him go’?”

“Asked why we let him?
You let me there. I’ll ask her why she let him.
She didn’t dare to speak when he was here.

Their number’s—twenty-one? The thing won’t work.
Someone’s receiver’s down. The handle stumbles.

The stubborn thing, the way it jars your arm!
It’s theirs. She’s dropped it from her hand and gone.”

“Try speaking. Say ‘Hello’!”

“Hello. Hello.”

“What do you hear?”

“I hear an empty room—
You know—it sounds that way. And yes, I hear—
I think I hear a clock—and windows rattling.
No step though. If she’s there she’s sitting down.”

“Shout, she may hear you.”

“Shouting is no good.”

“Keep speaking then.”

“Hello. Hello. Hello.
You don’t suppose—? She wouldn’t go out doors?”

“I’m half afraid that’s just what she might do.”

“And leave the children?”

“Wait and call again.
You can’t hear whether she has left the door
Wide open and the wind’s blown out the lamp
And the fire’s died and the room’s dark and cold?”

“One of two things, either she’s gone to bed
Or gone out doors.”

“In which case both are lost.
Do you know what she’s like? Have you ever met her?
It’s strange she doesn’t want to speak to us.”

“Fred, see if you can hear what I hear. Come.”

“A clock maybe.”

“Don’t you hear something else?”

“Not talking.”

“Why, yes, I hear—what is it?”

“What do you say it is?”

“A baby’s crying!
Frantic it sounds, though muffled and far off.”

“Its mother wouldn’t let it cry like that,
Not if she’s there.”

“What do you make of it?”

“There’s only one thing possible to make,
That is, assuming—that she has gone out.
Of course she hasn’t though.” They both sat down
Helpless. “There’s nothing we can do till morning.”

“Fred, I shan’t let you think of going out.”

“Hold on.” The double bell began to chirp.
They started up. Fred took the telephone.
“Hello, Meserve. You’re there, then!—And your wife?

Good! Why I asked—she didn’t seem to answer.
He says she went to let him in the barn.—
We’re glad. Oh, say no more about it, man.
Drop in and see us when you’re passing.”

She has him then, though what she wants him for
I don’t see.”
“Possibly not for herself.
Maybe she only wants him for the children.”

“The whole to-do seems to have been for nothing.
What spoiled our night was to him just his fun.
What did he come in for?—To talk and visit?
Thought he’d just call to tell us it was snowing.
If he thinks he is going to make our house
A halfway coffee house ‘twixt town and nowhere——”

“I thought you’d feel you’d been too much concerned.”

“You think you haven’t been concerned yourself.”

“If you mean he was inconsiderate
To rout us out to think for him at midnight
And then take our advice no more than nothing,
Why, I agree with you. But let’s forgive him.
We’ve had a share in one night of his life.
What’ll you bet he ever calls again?”
authentic Feb 2015
I want you to call me when you're drunk
When vision is blurred and words are slurred
When your mind is running and tripping over its own feet
Throwing misspoken sentences right out of your mouth
I want you to call me
I want you to tell me that you miss me, tell me that you haven't forgotten about me yet, tell me that this drunken conversation is one you have been rehearsing for months
I would never want you to tell me these things sober
I want you to call me when you're drunk
I only want you to call me because you are lonely and are craving any sort of attention, I do not want you to mean anything that you say
I want you to call me when you're drunk
Cascade this façade all over your barstool
Run your fingers through your hair in distress and lack of affection
Call me and tell me everything on your sweet mind that I once knew
Call me and remind me of it all
And I want you to do this when you are drunk because I do not have to worry about this fight dragging on, we will settle this tonight and you will not recall it
I will able to nod my head and smile and not miss you anymore
This is the brink of intoxicated exhaustion
Call me when you are drunk
And reveal the secrets you've hid away in your heart
But I want you to wake up the next morning wondering
What spilled off your tongue, and why my name appeared lit up on your phone
I want you to call me when you're drunk
And not remember any of it
Do not call me in the morning
**Do not call me ever again
mannley collins Nov 2014
But that's not his name.
He really doesn't have a name.
For starters no name could even hint at what he means to me.
No name could get anywhere near his sheer visceral naked beauty.
No name could delineate the slim ripple of his muscles.
His beautiful stiff ****--oh so suckable and lickable.
No name could hint at the smell of the dried **** on his *****.
No name could begin to describe the taste of his warm fresh ***.
No name would fit the feel of the shaft of his perfect stiff **** in my fingers.
No name could describe the shade of lavender of his exposed **** head.
The way his **** head fits in my mouth.
The feeling on my tongue as I slide it along the full length of the shaft of his stiff ****.
I call him Ben.
Weve travelled the world together for nigh on 29 years now.
Ive ****** his **** in ,my imagination on most continents,as ive laid in the same room tossing myself off imagining being ****** by him every night and during every day..
Ive licked his *** filled ***** in Bangkok and Delhi and London and Amsterdam and Barcelona and Deia and Kathmandu and Bodh Gaya and York and Paris and Dharamsala and Amravati and oh so many other places.
Ive swallowed litres of his warm fresh ***.
Ive rained typhoons of kisses on his upturned face.
Ive tossed him off to ******* too many times to count.
Ive loved him endlessly.
I call him Ben .
His diamond sharp intellect.
His smirky smile that lights up his face.
His oh so tasty tongue flickering in and out of my mouth.
Licking my lips--wrestling my tongue to a standstill.
The taste of his saliva --like the sharpest sweetest nectar.
His arms that wrap themselves around my nakedness.
His hands that never fail to connect to my *****
no matter how dark the room.
His fingers that tease and ****** my throbbing testicles.
My lovely boyman--my lovely lover.
I call him Ben.
His fingers wrapped around the shaft of my stiff ****
like ivy on an ancient wall.
they seem to grasp my ***** member so deeply
its as if they live below my skin.
I call him Ben.
When I kneel in submission to him and lick his *** filled *****
I am elevated into the land of adjectives and superlatives.
When I cringe servilely at his feet licking the full length
of the shaft of his oh so stiff and perfectly shaped *****
I become just a tongue tasting his dried ****.
I call him Ben.
Oh I so love and adore the taste of his dried ****
coating the lavender helmet of his bell end.
When I slide the whole of the head of his hard *****
between my lips filling my mouth completely
I am turned into a human shaped jelly quivering
with the anticipation of swallowing the cream of his pre ***
flowing out of that divine slit.
I call him Ben
When his naked hips ****** his stiff **** down my throat
I feel divinely graced with unconditional love
and I realise he owns me.
I am his ****.
I am his Slave.
I await the whip.
I long for the sharp sting of the lash.
I need the tender chastisement that only Ben can give me.
I call him Ben and he is  my Master.
He tells me stand with my hands on my head
and I immediately comply with his order for I am his Slave.
His very own *******.
There to give him the pleasure he gets from whipping me.
There to offer all parts of my nakedness to the whip in his hand.
Why is Sado-Masochistic love with Ben so lovely?
Why is the pain of his whipping so soft and gentle and tender and stinging?
Why do I stand with stiff **** jutting out and ***** dangling
begging him--beseeching him to take advantage and whip it as he does?
Each stroke of his whip making my **** **** and bounce and sway
turning it red and so mildly painfull?.
I call him Ben and I love him.
Ive loved him for 29 years.
But alas he does not love me unconditionally..
When we are together he humiliates me and I love him more--for his weakness in being the Slave of the Mind and Conditioned Identity.
I love feeling inadequate when I am near to him.
I want him to humiliate me.
To be humiliated is to be humble.
I do not care what people say.
I love him.
I call him Ben.
But oh how I wish wish wish that he were like me.
Mindless and Conditioned Identityless.
He could be such a nice guy if he weren't such an *******.
Lía Sep 2014
They call me Ghetto.
They call me
gunfights and drive-bys,
pregnant teens.
They call me Poverty,
and concrete winter walls
splashed with blood-red
They call me
junior-high druggies
and gang-banging muchachos.
They call me Mexico
like it’s a ***** word.
They call me Ghetto.

But haven’t they seen through
the white-washed walls
of the
“American Dream”?
Don’t they know hurt
and suffering,
and neglect,
as well?

So call me Mexico;
call me Poverty;
call me Ghetto.

I am
run-down yards
filled with laughing brown children,
small apartments
bursting with the scent
of tamales,
mingled with joy and the chatter of relatives.
I am home-made tortillas
at Thanksgiving
and wrinkled hands pounding masa
at Christmas.
I am friendly smiles
and shouted jokes
followed by roaring
I am the lilting syllables
of a beautiful
I am comfort.

They call me Ghetto
and so I am.
jeffrey conyers Mar 2014
They call it, heartbreaking.
They call it, joyful.
They call, it heartaching.
They call, it sickening.

It requires you to seek attention.
Which you try to keep secret without mentioning it.

They call it, blissful.
They call it, blessful.
They call it, trustful.

Once you locate that special someone to give your trust too.
The one, you'll forever wants to be connected too.

They call it, wonderful.
They say, it's beautiful.
They say, it last forever.

If you remain true and faithful.
But , of all the things , they call it.
They call it love.

To some it's peaceful.
To others, it's trouble.
Still, they call it love.
Gwen Johnson Mar 2014
I'll call you hidden
I can almost just see you as you are
As someone I might actually like
But you try to be someone who'll be liked
And I know what it feels like for society to push you to that
But that's not how you know me so I won't tell
So I'll call you hidden

I'll call you cookie
'Cause although your sweet
It's not long before you're gone
So I'll call you cookie

I'll call you hugs
You're kind and caring
You're warm
You're understanding
I miss you when you're gone
I'll call you hugs

I'll call you home
You bring me warmth
You're comfortable to be around
And somehow everything leads back to you
I'll call you home

I'll call you music
You have many moods
But I love them all
You're inviting
And you make me feel worthwhile
I'll call you music

And you
You I'll call you beautiful
You know why?
Because you are

— The End —