"coached" poems
Puppet Master
You crept in like a mischievious thief.
Intrigued, decieved and retrieved my son.
Influencing and destroying his beautiful life.
Diminished his hopes, his dreams and his self-esteem.
Convincing him he had no future,
No love, no value was to his life.
Your wicked silk spun web of deadly lies,
Mislead him to believe,
That happiness and love cease to exist.
This is your fuel,
This your fire.
Your one and only desire.
You will not quit until they all expire.
****** black, H or tar,
You are a seductive liar.
Your needle point claws buried deep his arm,
Dripping with your poisonous conceit.
Now you are his puppet master.
Dominating his mind, his thoughts and his words.
Your malicious acts preformed through him,
Make him look wild, insane and disturbed.
Each day in your tight intense grip,
My son dwindled and shriveled away.
Becoming your molded and trained apprentice.
Coached to perfection in your twisted ways.
You are as bad as a ******
A murderer and even more.
I hate you ******
You started a war.
I will not let you win!
Let go of my loved and cherished son.
Let him live a full and beautiful life.
I surrender to you myself.
Volunteer my own life.
Take me instead,
Be my puppet master,
Enslave me,
And let my baby live.
L. Mack
9/20/18
Sep 21, 2018
Sep 21, 2018 at 12:41 AM UTC
Quincy Valero
Everybody’s best friend
Jet black hair
Shiny brown eyes
A boyish smirk
Standing six foot something
Coming out of catholic school agnostic
Attending state college
Every word that came out of his mouth was a riot
A funny story of a bad situation he was in that he can laugh at now
An awkward moment with a girl he tried to get in bed
God awful train rides with a clueless conductor
Quincy Valero
A wanna-be Casanova
The irish-italian self-proclaimed “Don Juan of Dumont”
Roaring down the suburb streets in his bright yellow mustang
From Bergen county to Trenton
Edgewater to Ewing
Bumping R&B; from the 90's
A main girl
A side chick
And a few back pocket broads
Leading them on
To where?
I’m not even sure he knows
Quincy Valero
My best friend since I’ve been here in Purgatory
My lifelong cellmate
My hetero life mate
My brother of second thought
Our token white boy
He’s had his ups
Wild ragers until day break
A four way with me and two girls in my four door sedan
He’s had is downs
Falsely charged with domestic abuse
Community service, endless court room hearings, suspensions and a whole bunch of nonsense
Quincy Valero
The quintessential example of the modern day male
Stays up all night
Sleeps all day
Opportunistic
Egotistical
Miserly
*****
And hungry
Always aching to put in his two cents
And leaving everyone in a howl of laughter
An Adderall popping
Seasoned drinker
A professional *** smoker, coached by yours truly
Fast talking baritone voice
With a half serious tone
Yes, Quincy Valero
The tight plain white t-shirt wearing
Chino sporting
Nostalgic, slightly racist, sexist, anti-semitic
Bust usually honest, friendly and apologetic
Good hearted dude we all love to hate
And hate to love
Bed-headed
Pajama bottom ***
Talking about his Svedka regrets
And we laugh and laugh and the stupidest things
Then remember events that seem so long ago
And then make plans for tomorrow
Yeah, one of my best friends
My oldest friend
That’s Mr. Quincy Valero
Mar 12, 2014
Mar 12, 2014 at 11:56 AM UTC
when i think back to the first punch
the nail and sting and two-week bruise
i don't think about the pain
or the sound of your fist against my ribs
i think of your face as you swung your arm
twisted and red but that was only layer one
layer two was remembering when you coached me in softball
layer three was my nine-year-old embrace
layer four was whispering, "she's your little girl."
layer five was your confusion as i grew up and became quiet
layer six hated yourself in that moment
as well as layers seven and eight
layer nine was your anger again, which caused you to hit
but layer ten was your apology
i forgave you one thousand and sixty eight times
will you ever forgive yourself?
(a.m.c.)
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 12:15 PM UTC
"Why do you box?"
I asked one of the gang bangers I coached at the gym one day.
"To stay out of trouble, I guess," he replied.
And all of a sudden I got kinda mushy over this kid and realized he really was in a
Hard
Place, trying to make the best of a
Bad
Situation.
And I said,
"Listen to me. Don't ever stop boxing.
School, whatever,
Work, whatever,
But whatever you do,
Keep boxing."
He looked at me kind of funny and
He said "why do you box?"
And I said,
"I've been doing this a while now.
Boxing's fixed me up through some
Serious ****
So above everything else, above women and money,
Whatever you do,
Do not
Stop
Boxing."
I'll probably never know if boxing
saves him
like it
saved me.
But I do hope it keeps him out of trouble.
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 4:13 PM UTC
Alone
Away from home
I stand upon a vessel
Guided by the rivers of romance and light
To seek the histories of distant lands
And the fates that made me
Merge to a new destiny
I watch the waters
Guide the vessel through the historic sights
A sight meant for all foreign eyes to partake
Yet I find myself alone
The famed tower of France spins its light
It sparkles brighter than I remember
As the spotlight seeks a divine host
That appears from its beam
And soars upon wings of white
To land in front of me
The wings carry a familiar friend
One I felt I needed to see closer
Before my latest voyage
Dawned in a bright blue dress
With a white pearl necklace helping frame her gorgeous eyes
Within the locks of sparking brown hair
That light the sky above and sea below
Danced with every little glimmer of light
In a sight I cannot shake
Through in the moments that followed
My eyes fogged with tears of admiration
In the sight of a figure of both strength and beauty
As our arms reached for each other
And embraced our heartbeats
As they coached our feet to the rhyme
Of a phantom song that played
To still the spinning world
To freeze that moment in time
Forever in the dreams from Paris
And forever locked upon my eye
When I see the being in reality without her wings
She doesn't realize are there
Apr 8, 2016
Apr 8, 2016 at 10:20 PM UTC
Someone gave me reason, not to go too far
A friend that seems to me, from another star
In a not so ordinary world, where paper and quill speak
Where best hug ever are not true, but we can feel it so deep
I've been busy lately, trying so hard
Pushing myself, to get an ace on the card
"Think of the reason why you are writing, Is it to impress or to express?" she said
A word that humbled me and knocked some nerves in my head
Truly with her, I think i can share my secrets
Everything about me, my happiness and regrets
I've learned a lot from her, on how to survive in this fairyland
Coached me how to engraved perfect footprints in the sand
She was the hardest riddle that I've met
Gives a lot of clue about her, keeps you thinking but you'll never get
She was someone so close yet so very far
But for me she will always be... my friend from another star...
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 4:59 AM UTC
I remember the exact moment we met,
You told me my blue eyes matched my dress
And with blood taking hostage of my cheeks,
I made fun of your German name.
Yes, I can remember
the first time I snuck home to our bed, guiltily
lifting the feather comforter we spent hours picking out
in Bed Bath and Beyond.
A blanket that now weighed as much as a semi truck
crushed around your sleeping body.
Lying beside you, no dreams came
to relieve me from my reprehensible thoughts.
But it became easier. So easy, that one night
I didn’t feel a thing when I slid under those weightless covers,
Kissing you goodnight, mumbling something
about ******** coming in late.
I remember the exact moment we met.
His black rimmed glasses and off balance smile
As he handed me a cup of jungle juice in a dim, packed house.
His compliments felt all wrong,
Like they should have been coming out of your mouth
But I drank them in
faster than the jungle juice in my ***** plastic cup.
Your face
the day you walked into our room,
that’s what I remember, and wish I could forget, most of all.
I’d coached myself for this moment a so many times
I guess I never thought it would actually come.
I don’t know what was worse, the lies
falling from my mouth, or you believing them
because you believed so much in me.
Oct 1, 2012
Oct 1, 2012 at 1:56 PM UTC
He was a normal man
With a normal life
Two kids, one dog
And a loving wife
He had a normal job
Drove a normal car
Coached little league
Went to normal bars
All that ended when she arrived
It's amazing that normal man survived
With short, short skirts
And deep blue eyes
Just saying try me for on size
He did what he should
Avoided her at first
But she taunted him
And he quenched his thirst
He was white bread only
She was not
He was cold baloney
She was hot
He knew he shouldn't do it
Lost that thought
Till that fateful night
When he got caught
He was a normal man
With a normal life
Two kids, a dog
And now a new ex-wife
He had a house in town
Where he didn't live
And half of his pay
He was forced to give
His vows got broken
He couldn't turn away
She just taunted him
And he had to play
Was it worth the loss
With what he had to pay
He was a normal man
What could he say?
His wife found out
It wasn't tough
She could smell her scent
That's when things got rough
His wife was blonde
The girl was red
He even brought her
home to bed
There wasn't much
For him to say
She had him dead to rights
Now, he had to pay
He was a normal man
With a normal life
Two kids, a dog
And a new ex-wife
It wasn't long before
The affair did end
He life was broke
Too bad to mend
He was a normal man
With a normal life
He'd lost it all
Was it worth the strife?
Apr 7, 2013
Apr 7, 2013 at 9:48 PM UTC
Glasses with frames now used to see
Lines on faces not far away, beyond me
And my capability, under fluorescent,
Lights.
These glasses gather spots of rain, doctor
Doctor, there are spots before my sockets
Containing real steel slate blue eyes, go ahead
Whistle if you must.
I will get used to it.
Six foot five in a five foot nine inch frame,
Coached volleyball well without any shame,
Calm demeanor was not required, I was
Tame, not the chair kicking kind.
Did not need glasses then, when oh when is this
Going to end, when either you or the referee,
Whistles.
Mar 29, 2015
Mar 29, 2015 at 12:05 AM UTC
Glory came early as did fame,
to Gary Speed there on the pitch.
Cheers he heard from adoring crowds
among the elite he found his niche.
With time’s passage he lost a step
even if he felt the same
but as he ran he thought he saw
an old man’s shadow
in a young man’s game.
He coached to stay around the game.
After the cheers for him had faded
A friendly face, a familiar name
but as he coached he thought he saw
an old man’s shadow
in a young man’s game.
For many, Gary was an icon,
a living legend of the game.
They failed to see the mortal man
with silence weighting on his frame
As he tied the rope he thought he saw
an old man’s shadow
in a young man’s gam
Dec 16, 2011
Dec 16, 2011 at 7:32 AM UTC
In conscious hours the mask I wear,
Of indifference to cares,
Becomes more than a mere facade.
I too don't know it's there.
But in the night when darkness takes
The mask from off my face
I close my eyes and my dreams start.
Like torches to my heart.
I made my choice, I had to say
I didn't have a care.
But when the eve had ended day,
My mind's eye saw you there.
Your smile your lips your hair your eyes.
I played my humble part.
And while I lived my life of lies
Another took your heart.
At first it was all just a game
To watch the drama fly.
The ups and downs and go-arounds.
I really rolled my eyes.
When did it change? I couldn't say,
Cause I don't really know.
When did the cynic in me die?
When did my love start growth?
And here I am, trapped in myself.
My true feelings to hide.
As love evolved between you both
Myself I do despise.
You'll never know the pain I felt
To watch you two converse.
You smile at him, he smiles at you,
I feel my heartstrings burst.
I dealt with it the best I could,
The cruel punishment.
To be the third wheel of it all
When you two came or went.
I think the hardest part for me
Was when he asked advice.
He'd ask of me "What would you do?"
I tried to steer him right.
I helped him word his letters,
Advised him what to say.
I coached him as he talked to you
And silently I prayed:
"Oh Lord when will my time here end?
I can't take it anymore.
Emotionally beaten.
Inside my heart is torn."
Now here am I, defenseless.
My mask in shatters lies.
I can no more deceive myself,
As tears spring to my eyes.
I won't lie, I tried and tried
To lock away my heart.
But in the end I stood no chance
Against your beauty's charms.
As you now prepare to leave
Your family and your home
A part of me will go with you.
I'll feel very alone.
I'll miss the stars within your eyes,
The sunshine in your smile.
The way you laughed and talked with me.
The way you dressed with style.
I wish you both the best of luck.
You'll both be leaving me.
I hope you have fun in the States
While I'm across the sea.
To me you're the most beautiful
Girl that I've seen
While I've lived my time on earth,
And wherever else I've been.
I know that you and him
Really have a thing.
I won't get between you two,
Just let the love birds sing.
But if he ever breaks your heart,
Or if things don't work right,
You'll always have a friend in me
Through all the trials of life.
Thank you, Princess, for everything,
for letting us be friends.
I love you, and I bid farewell.
Until we meet again.
Sep 25, 2015
Sep 25, 2015 at 1:57 PM UTC
Glory came early as did fame.
to Gary Speed there on the pitch.
Cheers he heard from adoring crowds
among the elite he found his niche.
With time’s passage he lost a step
even if he felt the same
but as he ran he thought he saw
an old man’s shadow
in a young man’s game.
He coached to stay around the game.
After the cheers for him had faded
A friendly face, a familiar name
but as he coached he thought he saw
an old man’s shadow
in a young man’s game.
For many, Gary was an icon,
a living legend of the game.
They failed to see the mortal man
with silence weighting on his frame
As he tied the rope he thought he saw
an old man’s shadow
in a young man’s game
Dec 8, 2011
Dec 8, 2011 at 7:15 PM UTC
For regrets i have
And times i missed
I never thought
I could be so ******
War against any who approach
No method or trials
This is nothing that can be coached
Rage
Fallen friends ill avenge this yet
You thought i wouldnt **** wanna bet?
Youve taken all i knew
I now turn the crosshairs on you
Fueled by love
Compelled by hate
No man could reach a power this great
You try and try but will never overcome
I have the world under my thumb
I saw your hope crush
Felt your strikes
To me, but plush
Im calling you out
Here i am
Any resistance is futile by man
May 25, 2013
May 25, 2013 at 3:58 AM UTC
Sitting Shiva in a Yarmulke
is not, for me, routine.
Still it was right that I should
grieve
for a man I’d never seen.
A man who loved his children
and was devoted to his wife.
A man who worked long hours
and was happy in his life.
A man active in his temple,
One who coached the little league.
A man like any other-
If you pricked him he would bleed.
He wore his nation’s uniform
when called in time of war.
And when the guns were set aside
He ran his little store.
There may be some million like him
Yet not so many as before
Men who truly loved this country
and were respecting of its laws.
A strong and vibrant middle class
is what our country needs
Not Parks filled with rootless losers
and boardrooms manned by thieves.
Dec 21, 2011
Dec 21, 2011 at 8:31 PM UTC
I wonder what he thought of me
When I was 9 years old.
My two sisters and I running around
Excited to meet someone Mom brought home
I wonder if he knew then
What he would take from my family,
From me.
I wonder if he knew then
The wedges he would place when he tried
To make we.
I wonder how long it took him
to choose.
My older sister never liked him.
My younger sister was 4.
I guess it could have been worse.
It could've been her he had coerced.
When he coached my volleyball team
And insisted it was indecent
For underage girls to wear
spandex uniforms I thought
"how nice it is for him to care."
I wonder, was he concerned for me
Or protecting my delicious modesty?
When he followed me up to my room
After my showers
Was he waiting outside the door
Like he said,
or was he waiting
for the day he would waltz right in?
When he stayed up
Talking to me at night
We weren't good friends,
Best friends.
We were predator and prey.
He was trying to make me see
That him and me would be okay.
That my mother didn't care.
That my sisters weren't worthy.
That my friends could never understand.
He wanted me to know
that I was alone,
And he understood.
We were the same.
In the same breath
He would call me his kid
Then tell me how grown I'd gotten.
How smart, beautiful, honest.
My mother apparently forgotten.
Then there were hands.
And cameras.
Then silence.
Feb 6, 2018
Feb 6, 2018 at 11:25 AM UTC
It's not the painless choice
that I've coached myself to believe it is
But why not, you idiot cynic?
Because I only find happiness
in moments of ignorance
And?
And in those moments of ignorance
I find minutes of shame
And?
And in those minutes of shame
I find hours of sadness
And?!
And in those hours of sadness
I find endless defeat
...that's why I sleep life away
Why, you fool?
Because in a lifetime of slumber
one finds nothing at all
Jun 12, 2013
Jun 12, 2013 at 12:28 AM UTC
It takes time to make a home out of your body.
To be able to sit inside your mind and wash away
Any form of negativity
To be simply happy with your complexion.
To be so comfortable that you have no doubts.
The world is a harsh place to build a home for yourself,
They will doubt you
Break you down
Tell you how it's not done.
Your perception of ‘beauty’ is extremely corrupted
Stop blaming yourself.
Its not your thoughts,
;your acne
;your stomach
;your slim legs
It’s merely the idea you hold of beauty.
Imagine the world without standards?
Imagine never worrying about others thoughts on you?
-About a number on social media?
Imagine we were coached to prioritize social media & beauty
-second?
We would have a world of intelligent
Confident
Fearless people.
Maybe with that power we would be too dangerous;
maybe unstoppable.
Thats why we keep people
at their lowest.
The power confidence gives is
intoxicating.
Nov 12, 2018
Nov 12, 2018 at 12:03 PM UTC
Love tis not a thing,
bound by time or space.
You cannot send it away,
nor invite it in.
It is not coached,
nor guided by a map.
It can grip the soul,
with fear or hope.
Sleepless nights,
full of anguish and tears,
are its furthest friends,
and closest enemies.
Yet dreams of "could be",
spur it onward.
It conquers that which,
none other can.
Death, Time, Pain,
Love is the healer of all.
JCM 2009
Nov 13, 2010
Nov 13, 2010 at 5:15 PM UTC
Matt,
I still see you as an obnoxious, 6'2, fifteen year old goofball.
Is that weird?
To hold that image of you in my head?
I was eight years old when you were fifteen.
One time, you pretended to eat my cat and I cried.
"MATT, WHY WOULD YOU EAT ANGEL?!"
"Leigh, I didn't really! Look, he's right here!"
My earliest memory of you.
A fond one at that.
You and my brother were close.
Roughhoused together...
Played every-kind-of-ball together...
Grew up together.
Our fathers have always been close, so naturally their sons would be.
Your dad still calls mine
"my dearest friend".
They coached alongside each other for years.
And who did they coach?
You.
My brother.
Kids who needed a guiding hand.
You stood out.
(Of course you did, you were six feet tall by freshman year!)
You controlled the basketball court like no one else.
Rebounds, ball handling, 3-pointers;
You could do it all.
There was no stopping you...
Oh yeah, you made the team what it was.
How many career points?
Over 3,000?
Something like that.
You were a star off of the court, too.
Everyone looked towards you for a quick joke.
You were funny, man.
Your laugh was infectious, your smile was luminescent.
You'd fuckin' light up New York City.
No, you weren't the brightest guy...
And your dad never let you forget it.
But you tried.
I wish you could see your family now.
I hadn't seen your parents and brothers in ages.
Parker's no longer that chubby, quiet kid, huh?
Rob is as thin as ever, quiet as well.
Your mom is as beautiful as I remember her to be.
Your dad hasn't changed a bit.
No, I take that back...
He was crying.
All 6'8 of him pulled my 5'2 father into a hug.
"Come here, my dearest friend."
My father cried.
I haven't seen that man cry in years.
And now both of them are crying over you.
Over how beautiful, remarkable, and loved you were.
There were a ton of people there, also crying for the same reasons.
You were so valued.
I wish you would've known that.
So long, Matt.
Until we meet again...
-Leigh
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 11:45 PM UTC
For Forty years he’d played and coached
and referred the game.
Now Alzheimer’s stolen
nearly all except his name.
With his past now dis-remembered
and all hope of a future gone
what else was there left to him
except to just play on.
The pickup game he’d played for years
Became his sole relief
He played with men he once knew well
before he met time’s thief.
You see him running on the pitch
with purpose, or with none.
And if he goes off sides at times
his friends say no harm done.
Like a child, he chases *****
His scoring touch is gone.
Yet, in the moment, he finds joy
And so he just plays on.
Nov 10, 2013
Nov 10, 2013 at 10:22 AM UTC
Why do we reach for satisfaction when we inevitably fail?
Why do we question what we're supposed to hail?
Why don't we know what comes after our bitter end?
Why are we coached to smile and pretend?
From the time we are born to the time we die
We question if the life we're living is a lie
Is there more to it than money and greed?
Shouldn't answers be something we need?
Life is a game and we are controlled
Controlled by a higher power that has yet to be told
A voice stays in our minds, forever spewing nonsense
Reminding us of the time we have left and the time we've spent
We've read all the books, we've practiced all the faith
Yet no true answers are revealed about our fate
So we continue to reach, and inevitably fall
And wonder if there is something to catch us at all
Aug 19, 2011
Aug 19, 2011 at 10:33 PM UTC
Young Johannes keeps his theory
dressed up with petty pink
flourishes and tucked inside her
wicker basket. She's plopped fat
on a spangled, off-center perch
while surrounded by tangles of
circular mirrors, each reflecting
his fragmented eye. “The fluid
mechanics of my camera’s
lens imbues its gaping human
subject with a soul,” this caged bird
sings, just as he’s coached her.
She doesn’t require very much
care -- a few scattered meat-filled
husks and white space for flapping
her clipped-tones -- but reluctantly
Johannes must set Prolly free
to wing it openly upon
the waves of patterned noise
his vacuous glass can’t see.
Jul 10, 2010
Jul 10, 2010 at 1:25 PM UTC
(actually, now at present time juiced
well nigh high noon same day)
On this January nineteenth
tooth thousand and nineteen
dogged by an earlier notion
searching soul to glean,
(while at Collegeville Diner)
above place previously wrought
poem hammered from this peon
expounded possibly seen,
asper belated birthday
outing now I mean
to expound upon nagging , yet keen
existential question, sans what purpose
validates yours truly within skien
of terrestrial webbed wide world,
no...no...no not
simply pocketing green
backs (banknotes, legal,
tender, money, et cetera), but now bean
older, and displeasing lee not so lean
when just a slip (pre) youth decades ago
yea, that would be
when I hapt tubby a teen
with nary a concern,
nope not even to preen
myself much to the dismay
of my late mother, nay
no idea why lackadaisical, illogical,
and antithetical bee hay
vee yore prevailed, but more to the point
rarely when young and naive did stray
thoughts besiege my mind,
that LX vintage sketchy,
shady, and seedy gray
area bothered concerning,
hounding, pestering and fill lay
mignon noggin ready toboggan
any price you say
for this staged coached blarney
finding this mortal questioning... ray
zing meaning, purpose,
and underlying importance, gestalt, design...
of life more so today
meaning since recent past
also taking stock of
accomplishments from way
back, and feeling stymied okay
at a loss to delineate
any rhyme or reason
to shout hip...hip hooray
quite the contrary, which following
admission might appear cray zee,
but aye decry barely
living capped off with oy vey!
Jan 19, 2019
Jan 19, 2019 at 11:55 AM UTC
Well, its been a hell of a week or two
and I dont know how I got through
there were victories and triumphs
I had validation from my friends and my bosses
but there were also many great losses.
other things happened too but I wont share them with you
I got cut by love and other matters this i'll confess,
I bought a tub of yogurt and honey and drowned my cares in creamy sweet mess,
I chucked the physio rules out the window
i was bad but It did some good though
I posted a pic with #nomakeupselfie to raise some dough
I ate nutella with a spoon, and bananas dipped with coconut sugar crowns
then I trained hard for blood ssweat and fears till my body went down.
I ran 100 kms and and went into high gears
I coached an under 9 soccer team for the first time in two years,
it felt great but I felt so unwelcome there though I saved my tears
I thought I killed that beast ages ago but apparently no.
Then the killer love that broke my spirits,
redeemed my soul , it all went missing and i felt at home.
the performances despite a lack of time went well
the raising of scripture in it against bullying was great as well
I ve been to hell and back and now its time to take a breath
write some soul scripts and send them out as well,
in Christ my word for agapi we can do all things
let the light of the world seep into all things!
have a blessed day and remember
everything changes and theres good reason its that way,
because nothing good and bad is here to stay
we just cant maintain those amplified feelings everyday.
we wouldnt be able to appreaciate what each will teach us today
life is interesting to say the least but so much better when challenging yourself
a wo/man against an unknown beast!
hugss SS
Mar 21, 2014
Mar 21, 2014 at 8:33 PM UTC