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L B Aug 2016
It was the time of my Auntie Bee summers
   I was small then
   She had a parakeet that landed on my head
   and a bathtub too
   with water so deep!
   and legs and claws!
   **** thing nearly chased me down the stairs!

She lived in slumbery Windsor Locks
   where bugs hung-out in the haze
   of teenage August
   I played in the tall weeds
   with a shoeless Italian boy
   who ate tomatoes like apples
   and cucumbers right off the vine!
   He was ***** free and foreign!
   We played— reckless, abandoned
   behind the gas pump, under the tractor, in the barn   
   and through the endless fields
   I didn’t know....
   His name was Tony
   I ate pizza with him—the first time

At Auntie Bee’s I had to go to bed at eight
   but I could watch night flowers
   bloom on wallpaper
   She came in to say good night
   slippered, shadowy, night dress slightly open
   and I peeped her *******!
   like Tony’s cucumbers!
   I had never seen my mother’s wonders....

Night spread its wings from the old fan—
   a bird of tireless exhaustion
   whipped, whipped, whipped to death in its cage
   tireless exhaustion
   tic-tocking in time to a wind-up clock
   stretched out on the whine
   of the overland trucks
   Route Five through the night of an open window

In the grape arbor below—
tremulous incessant
   crickets    crickets    crickets
tremulous incessant—insides of a child
   a summer child
   not yet ready for the fall of answers

Auntie Bee had a daughter—Maureen
   I followed her everywhere I could
   I was small then--    
   do anything for a stick of Juicy Fruit
I followed Maureen through my dreams
   of being sixteen
   and woke to Peggy’s “Fever”
   while she tied her sneakers
   against the mattress by my head

I followed Maureen (in my mind)
   tanned and bandanned
   to work in the fields of shade tobacco
   with all those Puerto Rican boys!
   She knew where she was going!

I was small then anything for a stick of  gum

“Mauney! Mauney! Mauney!”
   ...through the goldenrod of roadside
   through the smell of oil that damped the dust    
I followed Maureen’s white shorts
   and chestnut the corner store
I followed the way the boys smiled
   the way the screen door slammed
   on her bright behind
   the way her lips taunted and took
   the coke-bottle’s green
I followed Maureen

I swear, I tried for hours to get that right!

Must have been Peggy Lee’s “Fever”

Maureen ties her sneakers in my face
Flaunts her years above my head
She has that look—
“We kids don’t know nothin”
(Little turds” that we be)

…followin’ Maureen
through the goldenrod of roadside
tic-tockin’, beboppin’

“Fever— in the morning
Fever all through the night….”
Peggy Lee's Fever:
I was seven years old and did I ever get this!
Peggy Lee's stripped down performance is the epitome of ***.

Windsor Locks is in Connecticut.
L B Mar 2018
I hadn’t meant to spy
just an evening’s walk along the beach
knowing that things are sometimes strewn there after storms
between a gust of wind—a break in clouds

Coming upon moonlight
gleaming on wet teenage backs
by a leaning erosion fence
fondling the last discoveries of childhood
fumbling with the barriers of her bikini
behind the erosion fence
out of sight and forbidding

Breeding like sea grass by rhizomes
prowling that neck, those *******
Gasping! Warring!
for the land of white warmth below their tans
His hands grip, lift, position, insist
By such undertow
mouths and hips pinioned in disbelief...

where they cannot be seen
two half-rounds in rhythm – struggle in the surge of being

as the surf binds them in refrains
about the ankles
Needing the ocean again.
Walking down the promenade as dawn reared from behind us,
Dark clouds broke apart with a subtle hue of kindness.
Slow air chilled the beach-side fresh enough
to keep our heads cool after another night so venturous.

The hour so early no one was up,
The breeze so lazy it stayed soft.
All as turquoise waves lap it up,
Like stars' rays in a primordial teacup.

The perfection was fading, but right's right.
The half-light was aging, but what a sight.

Another bank of fleeting memories,
More reasons to smile unintentionally.
Morgan Mercury Jan 2014
You feel like you're a million miles away
far from me
at another place where I can't be.
I wish I could see you.
I wish I knew what your voice sounded like.
Let the ocean waves roll over
and let the sun set so the stars will appear,
and be my guide to you.

I just haven't met you yet,
but when I do
I'll never leave your arms
because you'll be my coming home.

In the dead of morning
you'll be there with two cups of tea.
There wouldn't be anything I didn't love about you.
I hope your eyes shine
when you look at the world.
You notice how there is so much to explore
and you'll be left craving more.
You'd suggest we adventure out
and I would already have your bags pack
and be halfway out the door.

I would never get mad at you.
Not even when you spill your coffee
all over my poetry.
I'll smile and kiss your frown away
telling you that it's okay.

There isn't anything I wouldn't tell you.
We'd bury our secrets together in our backyard garden.
We would sleep so close together at night,
fearing the edge of the bed.
We would everything and nothing.
We would never let our love for each other grow hungry.

The stars always shine brighter when I think about you.
Do you see how they shine?
That is all for you.
I know I'm still young but I can't wait to meet you one day.
I know you're out there
dreaming about the day you'll meet someone.
I hope that person you think about is me.
Even though you don't know me yet.
But that day will come and it'll go down in history books,
trust me.
Tammy M Darby Mar 2017
The lust for destruction of the souls
Gods hand refused to stay
While the Lucifers power ruled this earth
And black minds he would sway

The desire for mayhem and gold
Govern their embolden lies
God in his mercy allowed these living marked 666 to remain so
Not once
But twice.

The third time however
Azrael began to call
The earth shivered, the stars wept when it began
The last coming 
The judgment of us all.

The Parchment was unrolled to reveal,
The evil atrocities executed in the dark.
No pleading or cries for the deeds, against humanity
Bear seeds of atonement from those empty of heart.

So, one by one the dominion of angels
Swords of divine light
Did come,
The first through the seventh sang the holy notes
Until the last song was sung.

The names of that condemned will never again be spoken,
Nor ever found in the book of gold.
They exist now only in the bowels of the earth,
An ephemeral memory to be told.

All Rights Reserved @ Tammy M. Darby Mar. 17, 2017
haley Oct 2017
when she was eight years old
asked her mother
have you seen the girl with
lashes  like butterflies against sharp cheekbone branches
a dandelion sprouting from sludge covered gutters and streets
streets, where you feel that bitter bland nothingness in your stomach

it feels buttery to stare at her:
see how snow outstretches arms and twirls tippy toes, envies her grace
see how balloon sized raindrops pop, target the freckles on her arm
see how her forehead crinkles when she concentrates, nothing more than a beacon
(self proclaiming)
for she trickles with stars

when she was eight years old
her parent's violent protests slipped bruises under her skin like pennies in a coin slot.
but they could not contain the celestial girl tucked under her ribcage
she would still look at her like she was the breakfast sun on a saturday
whistling by the creak, catching glimpses of dresses from behind the legs of trees.
see how this is special love, sweet as strawberry fields under soft sun
they would never feel on their forked, sour tongues
King Panda Oct 2017
fall hoppers kick to grass
as I walk down
sun-bleach lane

the anhedonia I felt yesterday
is pelted by the wind
to the breeze beyond
trash-bin creek

I walk past
a meddled roadside lover
kissing her own bloodied hand

must have been
bitten by the white-thing
panting at her feet

the image comes
and passes
with the balanced
autumn sunshine

I touch the twist of barbed wire
that guards a
re-habitated pond

a drop of blood
wells and surfaces
a moon-blazed penny

the dulled copper sting
of flesh and money
merges in the glory
of shortened days

all is accorded to the fleeting
nature of my heartbeat

that which comes and passes
karin naude May 2013
what should be rejoice filled days
have become my most controversial and agony filled
to i comply with the charade,
do i withdrew from judgemental eyes,
since becoming an adult this decision has brought me more discomfort than poverty
i tried and could not find one compliment to give my dad
his parenting is overshadowed by mum's on every level
mean while the unseen battle continues for my soul
Jesus vs logic
love and forgiveness vs fruits from past actions

in my mind i will always be 25
that year my life rocked to a shattered stop
the anniversary of my arrival is no longer celebrated
my loss, agreed

what to do? oh what to do?
usually i put my head in the sand and pray the day to end
while wearing one of my best masks
that is the cowards way, i should behave like an adult, right
Matt Shaw Jun 2017
tendrils swirl from me and collapse
licks of flame lap, lazy at the ether
for now, i feel defeated
doused by the dream-killing waters of eden.

no law says my body will find its cove,
only its cure
i want to dock my vessel in your shore
the fine and smooth skin of your sands
feel the ecstasy of your thin blonde hair running over my face,
hold onto your hands.

******* in my sleek and emotional way
put pure desire in you, watch my fire in you
one weekend we'll have our earthly heaven
but for now,
i am a lonely boat.
Angel of Plymouth, your Winged Heart's inflame
Un-Grate this Laurel which merits your frown
At last you found her; Then enrich your name
So why wear the Shirt if it keeps you down?
Tarry me, please, to your Toried Reason
Which Pure Faith crippled to un-hook your Wings
Fill your Hour's Due; And renew your Season
Then know full well that her Telephone rings
And Live you considered to Sky's Content
Happily blessed by Hellen's Burning Brow
She caused your Curls; Which many Intent
Thus winning her Fortress Time did endow.
Remember this always with all Support
Those Frightened Moments need no more rapport.
Kevin J Taylor Jan 2017
My feet sing
My heart sings
My body sings along

     I’m already in love
     Just gotta find me a girl

This is what a guy feels like at a certain point in his life. Not sure if all guys do. Well, me anyway.

Not all poems survive. I've lost a few and let others go. My current collection of poems is available on Kindle. It is called "3201 e's" (that is approximately how many e's are in the manuscript which is a very unpoetic title but a reflection on the creation of poetry from common things.)
Never have I seen such an Avid Score
Then draw your Players back to your Credit
Once Clocks have wrung your Springs tight before
Now ring Best Conclusions to your Debit
So your Tendons ripe and joined Model Bro
Each with Burned Spectacles for Thigh's attract
And he taught you well; A Flame burning so
**** Timbers do kiss your Tongue's Good Act
The Green Elf was right. If you could agree
That Advanced Levels only stunt your Mane
But just Read the Play; And Scripts follow free
Your Lion-Born Instinct is one and the same.
Chelsea has Won. And wore Arsenal's Shirt
The Meaning of which, Tie's Variance still hurts.
Brother Jimmy Jan 2018
There was a man spent decades off to sea

Adrift in whorls and waves of augur flights

Something in his existence bid him flee

To avoid long and lonely fear-fraught nights

But now he is sharp’ning his iron will

And keeping his feet aground, firmly planted

He’s leaning on his gods with a secret thrill

For he’s learned to love all things enchanted

Awakenings cut through thickest fog

Like light beams pierce through darkest night

  Illumining all of Gog and Magog,

  Winning them back at the end of the fight

He chose to believe and claimed the change

That sprouted within his weary chest

  Went forth not knowing domain or range

  And put-off longer his final rest

A fond acquaintance said, “One suspects

No one really believes in God at their core...

  Else if they believed in the fiery effects,

  They’d be monsters not to proselytize more!”

So deep did it cut him, to hear this said,

That he cried as he held his acquaintance’s face,

And spoke, “Yes, and it’s I that should be dead,

If not for the glory and brilliance of grace”
Nellie 55 Mar 2015
I'll clean up my looks, change my acts. Do whatever it takes to keep my pride and will go through hell and back. I will keep walking on this street dark or not. By the time i go to bed i have the strength and tell myself this is not defeat because i fought. Just me coming clean baby :)

   Take the problems as a complement because you fighting through it and turning out okay will just give you experience and will make you stronger
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