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"cotten" poems
Spread out before me Is an undulating sea By it I walk When I want to feel free I stroll by the sea There, I reflect on things Mother earth she spins Mankind through their days With their ways. Spread out above me Is a vivid bleu sky With cotten wool clouds Passing me by On the sand I lie My senses embrace the day While in the distance children play... What a display! It's nature's medication for my ailing soul To walk on the beach on my own I wonder too, if God notices me Take respite from life's frequent storms And a world gone wrong. Spread out before me is a universe so vast Me on the shore with questions to ask But i' m going to relax... Feel the sea wash my feet Touch the burning stand Dwell a while in the serenity Of God's land.
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Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 1:44 PM UTC
Coastal Delight
De Glendy Burk is mighty fast boat, Wid a mighty fast captain too; He sits up dah on de hurricane roof And he keeps his eye on de crew. I can't stay here, for dey work too hard; I'm bound to leave dis town; I'll take my duds and tote 'em on my back When de Glendy Burk comes down. Chorus: ** for Lou'siana! I'm bound to leave dis town; I'll take my duds and tote 'em on my back When de Glendy Burk comes down. De Glendy Burk has a funny old crew And dey sing de boatman's song, Dey burn de pitch and de pine knot too, For to shove de boat along. De smoke goes up and de ingine roars And de wheel goes round and round, So fair you well! for I'll take a little ride When de Glendy Burk comes down. Chorus I'll work all night in de wind and storm, I'll work all day in de rain, 'Till I find myself on de levydock In New Orleans again. Dey make me mow in de hay field here And knock my head wid de flail, I'll go wha dey work wid de sugar and de cane And roll on de cotten bale. Chorus My lady love is as pretty as a pink, I'll meet her on de way I'll take her back to de sunny old south And day I'll make her stay So don't you fret my honey dear, Oh! don't you fret, Miss Brown I'll take you back 'fore de middle of de week When de Glendy Burk comes down. Chorus
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2.3k
The Glendy Burk
reflection grey scale eyes digital dead screen frames false faced friends contrast black Ink sits organic aged voice fade orange helios final breath echoes ring beyond visions grey digital cahce degrade cotten wrinkles with age
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Sep 10, 2012
Sep 10, 2012 at 3:18 PM UTC
written in the galaxy
I awoke with cold toes. The starch white cotten against my skin, as my leg lay stretched out to the side. Its so cold early in the morning but i always beg you to leave the window open .... The sound of you making love with me mixes perfectly with the songs the crickets hum for us.
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Jan 18, 2014
Jan 18, 2014 at 9:16 PM UTC
Lullaby
Among the days of December   A new member joins the fold. Born of love and melodies A song sung once and then retold. Hope wrapped close in silence, Cotten swathed defiance, Far from the tyrants of this world. For a moment there is peace, Time catches breath, Young prince lays sound asleep. Counting the bleats of passing sheep Your parents guard the door. For when you wake from slumber And satisfy your hunger, Opened eyes shall discover, That all this world is yours.
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Dec 19, 2016
Dec 19, 2016 at 12:24 PM UTC
For Ronnie
There are volumes and volumes on the subject of love As ancient as time are the poems and the books and the plays that have inspired us all to desire such love Some of it seems so lofty or unrealistic to be experienced That kind of love seems unobtainable, unreachable and truly false It only satisfies the heart like cotten candy, sweet to take in but not fulfilling On the other hand, some love tales are filled with heartache, with a desired love never achieved, or unfairly thwarted, but always hungered and thirsted after, like life-giving sustenance to feast upon, for love seems to be the needed remedy to prevent us just from existing   for the sake of existing    With so much that has been presented in all kinds of art forms on the subject of love, I often am saddened as to why there is such the lack of it in our world, in the real world, which is a place in which our fantasies collide Hollywood love is often our guide in our modern world and I have often fallen for it and could not get enough of it, like a drug that I craved But how much of it seems so selfish and hypocritical, such a mirage and a hoax? Is not love more than an emotion? Is not love more than what "I" can get out of it? Yes, this kind of love I find repulsive and cheap and hallow and cold What I am writing about may not inspire the heart to feel tingly, for we have all been taught that love is only this way, when all is good, and all is perfect as to two beautiful people entwined in love's rapture I now know differently There are those dying a slow death from a lack of love and they may not even know they are mortally wounded Others may know they need more love than what the world often brags about, yet live a life of quiet desperation They may feel unworthy of it They may hide from it and avoid it They may not be very enjoyable to be around to invite others to love them But they need it anyway just like everyone else Like one needs air basic water, food and shelter to live we all need love I am not just talking about others, although I've observed it, personally But I have suffered my share of droughts often suffered that disease myself I do not admit it proudly for it is a horrible feeling of shame that I wish never, ever to feel again How I often longed for something that did not seem obtainable Or how I felt that I was not worthy to take in such love I also have to admit my wrongdoing in reaching out How guilty I have been to not offer a smile, a kind word, or a sympathetic ear to someone in desperate need of it Too rapped up in my own problems So I challenge myself, for I know how it feels to wish to experience love in a more pure form from above Not what I can get out of it but how I can bless another If the whole world was to truly love the way God meant for us to do, we would all be saturated in its gift and the ugly disease from the lack of love would be no more
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Nov 4, 2010
Nov 4, 2010 at 9:38 AM UTC
The Subject of Love
There are volumes and volumes on the subject of love As ancient as time are the poems and the books and the plays that have inspired us all to desire such love Some of it seems so lofty or unrealistic to be experienced That kind of love seems unobtainable, unreachable and truly false It only satisfies the heart like cotten candy, sweet to take in but not fulfilling On the other hand, some love tales are filled with heartache, with a desired love never achieved, or unfairly thwarted, but always hungered and thirsted after, like life-giving sustenance to feast upon, for love seems to be the needed remedy to prevent us just from existing   for the sake of existing    With so much that has been presented in all kinds of art forms on the subject of love, I often am saddened as to why there is such the lack of it in our world, in the real world, which is a place in which our fantasies collide Hollywood love is often our guide in our modern world and I have often fallen for it and could not get enough of it, like a drug that I craved But how much of it seems so selfish and hypocritical, such a mirage and a hoax? Is not love more than an emotion? Is not love more than what "I" can get out of it? Yes, this kind of love I find repulsive and cheap and hallow and cold What I am writing about may not inspire the heart to feel tingly, for we have all been taught that love is only this way, when all is good, and all is perfect as to two beautiful people entwined in love's rapture I now know differently There are those dying a slow death from a lack of love and they may not even know they are mortally wounded Others may know they need more love than what the world often brags about, yet live a life of quiet desperation They may feel unworthy of it They may hide from it and avoid it They may not be very enjoyable to be around to invite others to love them But they need it anyway just like everyone else Like one needs air basic water, food and shelter to live we all need love I am not just talking about others, although I've observed it, personally But I have suffered my share of droughts often suffered that disease myself I do not admit it proudly for it is a horrible feeling of shame that I wish never, ever to feel again How I often longed for something that did not seem obtainable Or how I felt that I was not worthy to take in such love I also have to admit my wrongdoing in reaching out How guilty I have been to not offer a smile, a kind word, or a sympathetic ear to someone in desperate need of it Too rapped up in my own problems So I challenge myself, for I know how it feels to wish to experience love in a more pure form from above Not what I can get out of it but how I can bless another If the whole world was to truly love the way God meant for us to do, we would all be saturated in its gift and the ugly disease from the lack of love would be no more
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136
Ink stains, and wire frames. Shadows dance in my brain. Cotten cashes in my teeth, the demon breath still stinks within. A single drop for every sin. In the bile reflecting pool, made up of a broken mans drool. Is what is left of what I was before I took the demon buzz.
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Dec 5, 2015
Dec 5, 2015 at 3:14 AM UTC
a black mirror
today, is it sad you feel like yesterday and that tomorrow will be just like you I feel this stillness in the roots of my soul and the heart that lies within it, will you deliver me something new? will you shift plates so you can say you brought something new to the table, something different. if you do, please don't make the ground I walk on break, don't make me fall on my knees in such a way that my legs become a fabric softer than Cotten. won't you make sure to let me know before the storm strikes? Just this once, warn me.
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Nov 12, 2017
Nov 12, 2017 at 7:00 PM UTC
feel
I'm crying in my room at 2 AM. Again. Don't take frizzy hair and midnight cuddles for granted, they leave when you least expect. When I'm not thinking I get lost in your sweet cottin candy eyes. And I know it's not for me, those cottin candy eyes and midnight curls. Still I'll wish for starry kisses and porkipine nights. Still I'll miss the Cold soda filled drinking from the hose and laughing till Sunday. Im not the religion filled lightshow, that you said I was one day. I can't help but wish I could be me how you see me. You have a strawberry swirl sundae and I'm happy you can keep it. My mint chocolate chip still breaks my teeth every night I try to lick it off the floor I'm happy for you and him For him and you. So don't look back at my flickering lights just walk away with your strawberry banana sundae, I'll be okay.
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Mar 23, 2020
Mar 23, 2020 at 2:46 PM UTC
Midnight Curls And Cotten Candy Eyes
Standing here, watching clouds pass by, Looking for your face in eternal memories, Seeing an ocean blue sky, Cotten clouds moving in front of my eyes, Remembering your smile clearly, Stealing away my lonely nights, Treasured dreams, Carrying my heart, To a far away place, My heart swimming, In an ocean of memories, From sweet yesterdays... Copyright © 2018 Ronald J Chapman All Rights Reserved.
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Jul 3, 2018
Jul 3, 2018 at 4:38 PM UTC
Sweet Yesterdays
. you're at the front door                                     you're in through the front door   my door    without knocking face flushed with malice and ****** visions   "uh-huh" i say there's a cotten shopping bag                                               of who-fears-what   in one mitt and you throw yourself                                        on my sunken couch you unzip those mad pricy leather boots with flames down the sides and clutch your bag to your chest   with meaning and taunt         leaning toward                   a smile  crocodiles your face           your clock ; three forty seven your mind ; immersed in some midnight woo a witching verse and a fortune boastful and blue am i to be involved in your clockwork mockery ? (i have been your collaborator                                         and coal mine canary in the past)   do i even want to be invited ? i don't know any better   i am  as always  excited "alright, i'll bite .. what's in the bag ?" i say
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Oct 20, 2024
Oct 20, 2024 at 5:47 PM UTC
clear as a mockwork sporange
She was hoping for a little peace to warm her busy sharlet day but the grey city loomed heavy on her mind And though the black birds sang sweeter Today it seemed to annoy her Shades of green swayed outside her window Whilst white cotten clouds swam In a sea of tranquil blue But still All she saw was grey
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Feb 12, 2011
Feb 12, 2011 at 2:48 PM UTC
Grey
Cotton has a plantation, It’s home in central Texas. It might be your cremation. Don’t drive up in your Lexus. In the barn he persecutes. Devices of mad torture. Chainsaws, meat hook executes, Diced and spilt into quarters. The Bloodbath we fascinate, Victims face he has gotten. Oh my, he does dominate. ****** face here’s some Cotten.
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May 19, 2020
May 19, 2020 at 8:18 AM UTC
Texas Chainsaw
The temperature is dropping While the leave turn, Red like stop lights, Yellow like wilting daisies, Orange like when I close my eyes in the sun Everyday you wear hoodies from basic Sweaters made of grey cotten White puff of frozen air escape from Their mouths as they walk down streets Six thousand six hundred and sixty seven miles away It must be so beautiful To see it all happen before your very eyes Fall, autumn, summer to winter My leaves are still green But it’s cold knowing you’re nowhere near Halloween is approaching But you won’t see my costume You won’t hold my hand As we get lost in a corn maze You won’t wrap an arm around me As we ride through the pumpkin field You won’t get to hold me close enough Where I can hear your heart beat like drums When we watch Tim Burton films Not while you are over there and I am over here You are missing it all I am missing it all We are missing it all
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Jan 9, 2019
Jan 9, 2019 at 3:26 AM UTC
Fall (Emphasis on the F) (the F is silent)
Like the moon making waves in march. Like the communists of yore upon sheets. Red tide. stalin matches in blots of red in cotten fields as ruby waves roll upon sandy fabric beaches China shaped spot here, North Korea there, there is Cuba, look North Vitnam! Red tide. The communists of yore all fade away come laundry day.
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May 13, 2015
May 13, 2015 at 5:50 AM UTC
Red Tide
Upon to mushroom hill Where the floor is bouncy And anything you fancy Can be yours at will The clouds are cotten candy Relax and chill with Mandy When Lucy whispers in your ear "Its time for another brandy"
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Nov 5, 2018
Nov 5, 2018 at 11:55 AM UTC
A Place Far Far Away
Is it weird? Pink vison Eyes sparkle Wicked smile I don't just see it I feel it A pony of energy Hot mess mane Cotten candy stain Little miss evil Oh wait that's me Alter ego My Pinkie Pie See something deeper Down inside We see you always there searching waiting lurking To jump out Not hide © sd greene 10/7/17
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May 18, 2020
May 18, 2020 at 11:30 PM UTC
Pink Vision
Sometimes it hits me Like one to many shots of whiskey after a late night binge the taste of tequila and regret stuck to the back of the throat like some nasty film Vaguely reminiscent overly ripe peachs When the world goes dark and all you can do is hope to wake to something better The kind of sudden drag that seems to smack you so hard you drool Like the brain can't comprehend what it's thinking, feeling, or even what God **** planet it's on anymore Some sick lingering psychotic paranoia that can only be dreamt up from the bowels of  some deranged lunatic The kind of thoughts that would if spoken give you one straight ticket to crazy town Where the good ones fall into the sanctity of drugs and the wack jobs play in their bird cages tweeting insanity Those moments when the brain goes quiet like some old tv buzzing it's electric static Hmmmm hmmmm hmmmmmmm Rhythmically ringing the fuzzing sharp inhalation Cotten wrapping the ears, eyes at the tantamount and hands on auto The brain checks into where the person checks out and it takes control Those 80 mile hour thoughts where driving off the road and not stopping meets the white knuckle grip I could do it there is no stopping the lurching slow tilting wheel Nor is there anyone to breath me back into control To take the knife off the steady sturdy rhythm, to stop the ****** up intermingling of sickend morbidity It is unlike the calm and even character clicking past the blinking static Blipping from the slack jawed intensity like some victim of PTSD Still teeming in the aftermath like some sick puppy waiting on the ride to end It's terrible and equally ****** up this abstracting feeling is like never waking up Strung out on some mental drug causing the heart tripping hazard of frequency Like falling in a dream only to realize you had never slept
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Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 1:53 AM UTC
Sadistical Abstraction
Sometimes it hits me Like one to many shots of whiskey after a late night binge the taste of tequila and regret stuck to the back of the throat like some nasty film Vaguely reminiscent overly ripe peachs When the world goes dark and all you can do is hope to wake to something better The kind of sudden drag that seems to smack you so hard you drool Like the brain can't comprehend what it's thinking, feeling, or even what God **** planet it's on anymore Some sick lingering psychotic paranoia that can only be dreamt up from the bowels of  some deranged lunatic The kind of thoughts that would if spoken give you one straight ticket to crazy town Where the good ones fall into the sanctity of drugs and the wack jobs play in their bird cages tweeting insanity Those moments when the brain goes quiet like some old tv buzzing it's electric static Hmmmm hmmmm hmmmmmmm Rhythmically ringing the fuzzing sharp inhalation Cotten wrapping the ears, eyes at the tantamount and hands on auto The brain checks into where the person checks out and it takes control Those 80 mile hour thoughts where driving off the road and not stopping meets the white knuckle grip I could do it there is no stopping the lurching slow tilting wheel Nor is there anyone to breath me back into control To take the knife off the steady sturdy rhythm, to stop the ****** up intermingling of sickend morbidity It is unlike the calm and even character clicking past the blinking static Blipping from the slack jawed intensity like some victim of PTSD Still teeming in the aftermath like some sick puppy waiting on the ride to end It's terrible and equally ****** up this abstracting feeling is like never waking up Strung out on some mental drug causing the heart tripping hazard of frequency Like falling in a dream only to realize you had never slept
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When I look at my city I see Boarded windows and doors I see Broken glass I see Grafitti messages eternalized on old fences and buildings I see Protesters fighting to be heard in a sea of voices I see Cotten whisps floating and blown away and forgotten like the crimes against innocent people of color committed by white police I see Fear in tired eyes, afraid that their children might not come home alive I see The man running this country denying and reading someone else's words I see Injustice and refusal of the second amendment I see The place I call my home suddenly not safe anymore for people of color that America is built on
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Jun 9, 2020
Jun 9, 2020 at 9:37 AM UTC
What I see
I was in a vortex A very complex place A feeling that I just have to chase Take me there and make me safe Wrapped up in cotten wool For the the world no longer seems forever dull Keep me here forever And never let me go A bright light shining with an everlasting glow
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Nov 4, 2018
Nov 4, 2018 at 11:53 PM UTC
My Favorite Place
Why would I share you? So ya at the crosswalk Buy me a beer! Pluck the dogs you know what lol A some how Let me give it all something fine Scuff the gum Show all the steam from the cabs Waveing high heals in the stream of hot coffee lines Nobody cares really Another cotten puffing smoker Let it a bad desire Why would I share you on corners Even the desks No body needs to understand us Black jacket rain Nobody gets this- why should they? Why give em a reason.
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Mar 30, 2017
Mar 30, 2017 at 1:23 AM UTC
Why would I share you