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"crabs" poems
Your life is made of distant springs and falls, a straight route is not what you own for hurricanes and storms divert your path to new horizons. Will you find horseshoe ***** mussels, clams on the stopovers? Food awaits you if the shores are not ravaged by human greed, ignorance. Your resilience is written in B95's ordeals, a mosaic of adventures ingrained in his own cells. The threads of your trips assemble the places of Mother Earth connected in its roles; nothing is detached in the collective harmony of souls. Red knot shorebird, peaceful messenger, icon of strength without rage, your story is the universal flight of awareness waiting to be heard.
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Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 3:28 PM UTC
Moonbird
(Inspired by and dedicated to John Edward Smallshaw, and his "Spice") I am a summer-man, Because I'm blessed to sit by the sea. Let it and the other two Musketeers, boon companions to me, Sun and Wind, erase my discomposure as I reside in the Poet's Nookery. Let them have almost all that troubles, but not all. I am a summer-man. On the bay, on the beach, I see birth, I see death, osprey nests, carcasses of mussels and horseshoe ***** This, somehow reassuring, the cycles, this circularity, the tides and inevitability. I am a summer-man. Student of languages seasonal, Peaches, plums, cherries, poetry and loving Woman.^ This, the  summer alphabet-soup of my multiple tongues. I am a summer-man. Sancerre and Pinot Gris, super cold, Paul Simon, Nina Simone, with proper aging, getting  hotter, Salsa and Afrikaner hints, super louder, Even "Still Crazy After All These Years," that-who-wud-be-me, chills outer.^^ I am a summer-man. When ever this lad's writes appear, it proves once again, there is no truth that his   name was once Dr. Seuss In a prior life, even if each is signed by Ogdiddy Nash** I am a summer-man. **Disrespectful of the calendar, if I can, try to make summer season stretch-marks from May to October. I would add April, but the IRS is already ****** at me.^^^ Though the cherry blossoms of May now gone away, the lilies of June arrive, but but for a week or two, soon, like my mom, withered away. Acorns in August^^^^ have arrived too swiftly.** This summer, beloved, and love of summer, deep-rooted. Season of my Peter Pan Poetry Galore Festival. A love,  incapable, impossible, of ever growing old, ever growing cold, it cannot wither. It is summer heat reminders exposed, how it misses its man, that hide in the flames of the teasing, popping, reminding Winter fireplace's crackling popping***
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Aug 25, 2013
Aug 25, 2013 at 9:33 AM UTC
I am a Summer-Man
(Inspired by and dedicated to John Edward Smallshaw, and his "Spice") I am a summer-man, Because I'm blessed to sit by the sea. Let it and the other two Musketeers, boon companions to me, Sun and Wind, erase my discomposure as I reside in the Poet's Nookery. Let them have almost all that troubles, but not all. I am a summer-man. On the bay, on the beach, I see birth, I see death, osprey nests, carcasses of mussels and horseshoe ***** This, somehow reassuring, the cycles, this circularity, the tides and inevitability. I am a summer-man. Student of languages seasonal, Peaches, plums, cherries, poetry and loving Woman.^ This, the  summer alphabet-soup of my multiple tongues. I am a summer-man. Sancerre and Pinot Gris, super cold, Paul Simon, Nina Simone, with proper aging, getting  hotter, Salsa and Afrikaner hints, super louder, Even "Still Crazy After All These Years," that-who-wud-be-me, chills outer.^^ I am a summer-man. When ever this lad's writes appear, it proves once again, there is no truth that his   name was once Dr. Seuss In a prior life, even if each is signed by Ogdiddy Nash** I am a summer-man. **Disrespectful of the calendar, if I can, try to make summer season stretch-marks from May to October. I would add April, but the IRS is already ****** at me.^^^ Though the cherry blossoms of May now gone away, the lilies of June arrive, but but for a week or two, soon, like my mom, withered away. Acorns in August^^^^ have arrived too swiftly.** This summer, beloved, and love of summer, deep-rooted. Season of my Peter Pan Poetry Galore Festival. A love,  incapable, impossible, of ever growing old, ever growing cold, it cannot wither. It is summer heat reminders exposed, how it misses its man, that hide in the flames of the teasing, popping, reminding Winter fireplace's crackling popping***
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70
Grabbing ***** in the New Jersey sand demands quick hands. Creeping deep they dig down under away from the wind in their seldom seen shells, but my brother has a shovel and can ****** them even in the midst of sea foam from small waves climbing the shore. And at cousin Barb’s pond Our hands swipe swiftly, But stealthily enough In brisk Michigan winds to grasp and capture the frogs lingering near the edges. Hardest to catch though are cicadas in our back yard hiding in the trees calling out to play. My brother and I, ages 8 and 10 cast our fingers and clench only their wings enough to fill two milk jugs.
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Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 10:14 PM UTC
Biology
Willets cull the seawall snapper on the grill rock ***** swoon in shallow lagoons long boats pass under quiet palm shade Plovers dance and flutter handrails frayed and torn graffiti spots at lovers rock frigate-birds fall from a high noon sun Thatched roof on a mud wall fish flags settle score anchors arch in front line march pillar cracks form under rust brown scars Elegant tern and grebe watchmen fall in cue children play on crested waves whimbrels and notchers perch above Tentaciones Striped pelícanos the bandits of the sea! merchants grow in steady flow siblings jostle in a tide cooled sand Heerman gull and boobie durango smoke in yurt boiler shrimp and puffer blimp castle buckets and scrapers under a dusk light cheroot Six pulls on a lead line painted toes in sand shearwater run in a rainbow sun the portly mexicano flaunts his tacos and wares Rooster house for swordfish bamboo shoots and sails broken shells and ocean swells rise on the perfect La Ropa bay
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Apr 14, 2017
Apr 14, 2017 at 2:22 PM UTC
Sotavento
Royalty She dwells in the sea- green palace of her father The mermaid swam alone on blustery days The seed of the water god Neptune and a river nymph Her beauty blind the sun and his morning rays On days of boredom She swam with the white dolphins Riding high on heaving rolling waves Other times with Omura's whales dive deep Or play in a red coral reef bay Tickling blue ***** that walked on the sandy bottom Exploring the dark octopus caves Floating often with the deadly jellyfish Keeping her scaled tail very still Or wiggling through the raging currents of the ocean With the graceful ribbon eels The day passed passed She became weary Came time to rest her head Returned to the flowing green kelp palace And did sleep on a starfish bed All Rights Reserved @Tammy M Darby August 2013. All Material Stored in Author Base
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Aug 10, 2013
Aug 10, 2013 at 6:43 PM UTC
The Mermaid
If you want my ex girlfriend, she's up for grabs. But if you sleep with her, you will get the ***** It's possible that you may get ****** too. Sleeping with her is a stupid thing to do. I caught her in bed with my cousin and I thumped her. She sleeps with a lot of men, that's why I dumped her. I'm giving you valuable advice so you'd better listen to me. If you ****** my ex girlfriend, you are sure to get an STD.
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May 8, 2015
May 8, 2015 at 12:40 PM UTC
STD
Expectation And Submission: The kool-aid sat on the table for two days. I was forced to take a sip. My will to live was driven out by fear. I allowed true masters to abduct me. Modern day oppression welcome us all. Not one line will divide or add color. Perception is ugly like horseshoe *****
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Jul 5, 2014
Jul 5, 2014 at 2:32 PM UTC
Expectation And Submission
The first new star flashed waves of blue tonight , securing my belief in the afterlife A grove of ferns lit my imagination For I became a shipwrecked captain - that stumbled upon an island nation Exploring the deep jungle without machete , potable water nor compass Knee deep in mangrove forest Tropical winds whispered and moaned A lean-to of fronds became my maritime home In the presence of a million stars An army of sand ***** paraded before - their newfound master from near and afar Crashing waves lulled a poor sailor to rest The whispers of Poseidon A dream about a lookout in the crows nest Counting orbs in the tail of the Milky Way- with visions of mermaids , ghost ships and rogue waves
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Aug 1, 2018
Aug 1, 2018 at 9:05 PM UTC
Skipper for a Spell ....
Cranes accuse the sky As people swarm like ***** in A ******* jungle
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Jul 26, 2015
Jul 26, 2015 at 4:09 PM UTC
London haiku
Deep in da hart of da reggae junga da reggae king want lots a ***** he smoke da herb till his eyes cherry Not a care in da world he wont worry He probly should hes to loose wit tha women he always loose he got da clap, ***** and da *** it always hurt when he p So take a lesson from da ***** king his fans found out and they clipped his wing he has power no more and he better flee because he only da king of da ***
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Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 12:01 PM UTC
Ganga King
On a shore flooded in the tide. Now     on a         flitting            log: Rain,     trying     to fill up the ridges white, that,      I,             along with ***** snails and           tiny        starfish are ambling to escape from. The trees, they are       laughing wet. As are the            distant           waves, snapping on returns.
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Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 2:27 AM UTC
Escape, Refuge
(Interlude) My eyes in 1910 never saw the dead being buried, or the ashen festival of a man weeping at dawn, or the heart that trembles cornered like a sea horse. My eyes in 1910 saw the white wall where girls urinated, the bull's muzzle, the poisonous mushroom, and a meaningless moon in the corners that lit up pieces of dry lemon under the hard black of bottles. My eyes on the pony's neck, in the pierced breast of a sleeping Saint Rose, on the rooftops of love, with whipers and cool hands, in a garden where the cats ate frogs. Attic where old dust gathers statues and moss, boxes keeping the silence of devoured ***** in a place where sleep stumbled onto its reality. There my small eyes. Don't ask me anything. I've seen that things find their void when they search for direction. There is a sorrow of holes in the unpeopled air and in my eyes clothed creatures - undenuded!
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1910
As a young child and father search for ***** stare at cloud so beautiful it can't be real. I look out at the edge of the world like a lone wife waiting for her sailor to come home stinking of sweat and brine but feeling alright. My mind wanders carelessly away back to a place so enchanting I dare not stay too long. I should let my thoughts disappear to the end until all I feel is this expanse of clouds blue and gray and white.
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Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 12:39 AM UTC
Seagulls-
Parenthood tells me Eating ***** daily Deliciously hard work!
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Aug 18, 2014
Aug 18, 2014 at 11:09 PM UTC
Untitled
on the shore only this morning, as ***** yawned and wispy waves woke to sun’s call with a million speckled sparkles of light I was alone with my thoughts and your crisp footprints in the sand the scent of your hands still on me fading with each mist filled breath I took you were still there your seed crawling down my leg but tides change and your prints soon filled with salt and sand and the sun, our benediction only a dreamy minute ago melted into the craggy bluffs and I was left to walk alone without your shivering shaft filling me or your groping but grateful hands touching me alone, on my night walk alone, how I began and will end, my… night walk
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Nov 14, 2011
Nov 14, 2011 at 11:12 PM UTC
night walk
Drug Addict I drink beer, I drink liquor, doing shots makes it quicker. I smoke a bowl, I smoke a joint, is there a problem, get to the point. I take acid, I like trip, I love the trail of a moving whip. I like ****** sugar, I snort coke, no wonder, I'm so **** broke. I pop pills for stress, some for pain, you'll never hear me complain. I shoot ****** then I dose off, my life is just a total loss. I make and smoke **** hoping it takes my last breath. Special K is my favorite tranquilizer, I use it as a drug appetizer. I smoke crack, don't ask why, don't knock it, til you try. Ecstasy makes me feel so good, it always puts me in a special mood. I sniff gas, I sniff glue, then I ask, who are you. Sometimes I smoke hash, I live a life of white trash. Morphine can't be beat, my brain has suffered a defeat. I even take ****** and steroids, ***** big, ***** small and I'm paranoid. Been to counselling, been to rehab, last time I went, I ended up with ***** Now finally, I'm clean and sober, been that way since mid October. I admit drugs are more fun, but in the end, God finally won.
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Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 2:56 PM UTC
Drug Addict
THE BALLOONS hang on wires in the Marigold Gardens. They spot their yellow and gold, they juggle their blue and red, they float their faces on the face of the sky. Balloon face eaters sit by hundreds reading the eat cards, asking, "What shall we eat?"-and the waiters, "Have you ordered?" they are sixty ballon faces sifting white over the tuxedoes. Poets, lawyers, ad men, mason contractors, smartalecks discussing "educated ********* here they put ***** into their balloon faces. Here sit the heavy balloon face women lifting crimson lobsters into their crimson faces, lobsters out of Sargossa sea bottoms. Here sits a man cross-examining a woman, "Where were you last night? What do you do with all your money? Who's buying your shoes now, anyhow?" So they sit eating whitefish, two balloon faces swept on God's night wind. And all the time the balloon spots on the wires, a little mile of festoons, they play their own silence play of film yellow and film gold, bubble blue and bubble red. The wind crosses the town, the wind from the west side comes to the banks of marigolds boxed in the Marigold Gardens. Night moths fly and fix their feet in the leaves and eat and are seen by the eaters. The jazz outfit sweats and the drums and the saxophones reach for the ears of the eaters. The chorus brought from Broadway works at the fun and the slouch of their shoulders, the kick of their ankles, reach for the eyes of the eaters. These girls from Kokomo and Peoria, these hungry girls, since they are paid-for, let us look on and listen, let us get their number. Why do I go again to the balloons on the wires, something for nothing, kin women of the half-moon, dream women? And the half-moon swinging on the wind crossing the town-these two, the half-moon and the wind-this will be about all, this will be about all. Eaters, go to it; your mazuma pays for it all; it's a knockout, a classy knockout-and payday always comes. The moths in the marigolds will do for me, the half-moon, the wishing wind and the little mile of balloon spots on wires-this will be about all, this will be about all.
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Balloon Faces
THE BALLOONS hang on wires in the Marigold Gardens. They spot their yellow and gold, they juggle their blue and red, they float their faces on the face of the sky. Balloon face eaters sit by hundreds reading the eat cards, asking, "What shall we eat?"-and the waiters, "Have you ordered?" they are sixty ballon faces sifting white over the tuxedoes. Poets, lawyers, ad men, mason contractors, smartalecks discussing "educated ********* here they put ***** into their balloon faces. Here sit the heavy balloon face women lifting crimson lobsters into their crimson faces, lobsters out of Sargossa sea bottoms. Here sits a man cross-examining a woman, "Where were you last night? What do you do with all your money? Who's buying your shoes now, anyhow?" So they sit eating whitefish, two balloon faces swept on God's night wind. And all the time the balloon spots on the wires, a little mile of festoons, they play their own silence play of film yellow and film gold, bubble blue and bubble red. The wind crosses the town, the wind from the west side comes to the banks of marigolds boxed in the Marigold Gardens. Night moths fly and fix their feet in the leaves and eat and are seen by the eaters. The jazz outfit sweats and the drums and the saxophones reach for the ears of the eaters. The chorus brought from Broadway works at the fun and the slouch of their shoulders, the kick of their ankles, reach for the eyes of the eaters. These girls from Kokomo and Peoria, these hungry girls, since they are paid-for, let us look on and listen, let us get their number. Why do I go again to the balloons on the wires, something for nothing, kin women of the half-moon, dream women? And the half-moon swinging on the wind crossing the town-these two, the half-moon and the wind-this will be about all, this will be about all. Eaters, go to it; your mazuma pays for it all; it's a knockout, a classy knockout-and payday always comes. The moths in the marigolds will do for me, the half-moon, the wishing wind and the little mile of balloon spots on wires-this will be about all, this will be about all.
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19
Something awful happened late last night, And here I lie awake at six AM Upon the sand of Santa Monica. The cars drive by, but I don’t notice them. I used up all my gas to get away From the ****** pond on my bathroom rug. It’s more than bleach can handle and I’m scared That I’ve found a more seductive drug. Fish intestines line the pier and I Feel no misery for gutless souls. The rocks are caked in birdshit, kelp and shells And, as if in mourning, the cormorant calls. Upon the rusty handrails, seagulls gossip Just like feathered girls with brains, persisting To trumpet my depravity in savage squawks, And to harass the rest of us for existing. The white-wimpled, cruel, sadistic nuns Choose an injured sea lion as their prey. Cowardly, they flee at his sharp barks– It’s guts that will decide who wins today. ***** creep over the brown-furred body. Fighting for its life, it bites the shell And kills its fellow lifeform.  When given The chance, I’ll defend myself as well.
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Aug 24, 2012
Aug 24, 2012 at 1:50 AM UTC
Feather and Fang: A Study in Humanity
The Cornish shore … Where golden sand lies next To dappled grey granite rock, Where the sea breeze sweeps And the mussels flock, Where the rock pools gather And the small ***** patrol, Where the white foam curls And the breakers roll, Where the sea birds call And the salt spray stings, Where the seaweed sunbathes And the limpet clings, Where a stream’s course meanders, And reflects the azure sky, Where a starfish gazes skywards And white clouds go scudding by. By all means take treasured memories, But please take nothing more, And leave nothing but your footprints On this sacred Cornish shore …
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May 8, 2021
May 8, 2021 at 1:08 AM UTC
Cornish Shore
I I stole my brother’s car and drove to Phoenix in the dark. The blue-green glow of dashboard gauges, the biting scent of roadkill and desert marigolds. Tap. Tap. Tap. Insects slapping the windshield, incipient rain. Keep driving. Drive until the sun blooms. II Some days were more dire than others. CCTV footage confirms I pawned a shotgun, a Gibson guitar, and my wife’s engagement ring at the pawnshop next to Fatty’s Tattoo parlor on MLK Boulevard. The typographically accurate Declaration of Independence inscribed on my back also confirms this. III I ran the tilt-a-whirl at the Ashtabula county fair, fattening up on fried Oreos and elephant ears, twisting behind tent ***** with a one-armed contortionist with strawberry-blonde hair. IV I derailed in a dive bar. V I disappeared in a city lit by lavender streetlights, where buildings blotted out the stars and the traffic signals kept perfect time. I picked through trash bins. I paid for love with drugstore wine. VI I closed my eyes on a mountain road. The sheriff extracted me from a ****** snowbank. VII I holed up for weeks in an oceanfront motel, dazed by the roar of the breakers. Each morning I drew back the curtains and lost myself in the crisscrossing patterns of whitecaps, the synchronous flight of sanderlings above the dunes. I dreamed of dead horseshoe ***** rolling in with the tide. VIII The moon over my shoulder tightened into focus like a spotlight. One night the barking dogs undid me. I caved in to the candor of a naked mattress. I grew my beard, an insomniac in a jail cell, clinging to bars the color of a morning dove. IX I coveted the house keys of strangers. X I opened and closed many doors. I sang into the mouths of storm drains. I stepped out of many rooms only to find myself in the room I just left. Despite all my leaving, I remained.
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Sep 21, 2018
Sep 21, 2018 at 1:45 PM UTC
Escape Artist Sketches
I I stole my brother’s car and drove to Phoenix in the dark. The blue-green glow of dashboard gauges, the biting scent of roadkill and desert marigolds. Tap. Tap. Tap. Insects slapping the windshield, incipient rain. Keep driving. Drive until the sun blooms. II Some days were more dire than others. CCTV footage confirms I pawned a shotgun, a Gibson guitar, and my wife’s engagement ring at the pawnshop next to Fatty’s Tattoo parlor on MLK Boulevard. The typographically accurate Declaration of Independence inscribed on my back also confirms this. III I ran the tilt-a-whirl at the Ashtabula county fair, fattening up on fried Oreos and elephant ears, twisting behind tent ***** with a one-armed contortionist with strawberry-blonde hair. IV I derailed in a dive bar. V I disappeared in a city lit by lavender streetlights, where buildings blotted out the stars and the traffic signals kept perfect time. I picked through trash bins. I paid for love with drugstore wine. VI I closed my eyes on a mountain road. The sheriff extracted me from a ****** snowbank. VII I holed up for weeks in an oceanfront motel, dazed by the roar of the breakers. Each morning I drew back the curtains and lost myself in the crisscrossing patterns of whitecaps, the synchronous flight of sanderlings above the dunes. I dreamed of dead horseshoe ***** rolling in with the tide. VIII The moon over my shoulder tightened into focus like a spotlight. One night the barking dogs undid me. I caved in to the candor of a naked mattress. I grew my beard, an insomniac in a jail cell, clinging to bars the color of a morning dove. IX I coveted the house keys of strangers. X I opened and closed many doors. I sang into the mouths of storm drains. I stepped out of many rooms only to find myself in the room I just left. Despite all my leaving, I remained.
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49
I got no more ***** on my arms, vaginal schemes and gospel psalms. Very private skinny tribes, lit up with oversized black lights. In the very end, everybody walks this way, they all move like idioms, they all wanna be lit up like stars. Some could be prevalent like cascading dreams, nauseous just like mesquite BBQ baby-back wings. Fly away little bird, fly away. But don't try to leave Or you won't get paid. I know very well, just what kinda caption your capsaicin Can be, lit up like honey blunts, golden stars on top of your christmas tree. Strawberry Swisher Sweets, Blueberry Dunhill flavors, poke your hand through the fence, make friendly on your neighbors. If you like Kimmel Live, Conan at Midnight too, recipes for the zombies, SS ****** Youth. Blow-up and be a party. Get off work and drink your check. Get down, get off- I'll show you. Just how Martin pays the rent.
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Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 4:21 AM UTC
Payin' the Rent
Starvation. First and foremost The plot thickens and the atmosphere is beyond any thunderstorm. The forecast was predicted before the growling began. Bellies ****** in not by choice. Now misconduct fills the void .          I'm starving          He's starving          She's starving The people are ready to run a mock     Have you ever witness ***** in a bucket, they fight relentlessly to get out until they tire. Have you ever witness a person eating mud patties to ease the hunger pains, I'm talking about the real hunger games. Shortcomings is starvation Starvation of: Attention Food Education Clothing Electronics Transportation *** Hugs Love Fathers Mothers Family Yet, politicians act like they don't know what I am talking about . And beanstalk will never grow if beans were handed out. Give the people jobs that match America's cost of living. I can hear bankers & corporation whispering blasphemy . What does it really mean to live among the living when you are the walking dead...... We want flesh.
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Aug 24, 2013
Aug 24, 2013 at 6:58 AM UTC
Starvation
Slimy sea feet. Sandy salt tongues. Gabby gulls and cautious ***** Boardwalk smiles and sticky ice cream fingers. Ripened hearts and eager tide eyes. Tears in my ears from the satisfied sun seeking silence. This is where I belong. This is where I know God. I don’t belong in a town that can offer me nothing. I don’t belong in a massive city that’ll swallow me up. I don’t belong at silly soirees or late night parties. I don’t belong at the top tier or down with the underdogs. I belong on the shores. I belong arm in arm with my confidantes, walking through downtown streets of some sweet town. I belong hand in hand with my true companion with our toes in the sand. I belong sipping soda with my sisters giggling endlessly as we watch some cheesy chick flick. I belong hugging my mama who I will never stop loving for an instant. I belong sitting with my father drinking tea in the purest, sweetest silence, for that is how we were made to be. I belong listening to my dad’s tall tales and my mothers soothing words. I belong holding my stomach with my face streaked with tear drops from some joke that is only funny if you were there. I belong forever in the future with that one, the one whom was made for me; the Tilney to my Catherine. I belong holding the gazes of my friends as we try to hold back our cackles, tears, and even our own words. I belong in the waves of the sea. I only belong in the happiest of salty tears. I can’t belong where I’m too afraid to face my fears. I won’t belong in broken gears. I’ll not for a moment belong in heartbroken wares.   I’ve never belonged in them, but they live inside me. They have and always will be My demons and my skeletons Yet you will always see them on my sleeves So everyone can see they do not devour me.
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Mar 15, 2013
Mar 15, 2013 at 12:09 AM UTC
Slimy Sea Feet
Slimy sea feet. Sandy salt tongues. Gabby gulls and cautious ***** Boardwalk smiles and sticky ice cream fingers. Ripened hearts and eager tide eyes. Tears in my ears from the satisfied sun seeking silence. This is where I belong. This is where I know God. I don’t belong in a town that can offer me nothing. I don’t belong in a massive city that’ll swallow me up. I don’t belong at silly soirees or late night parties. I don’t belong at the top tier or down with the underdogs. I belong on the shores. I belong arm in arm with my confidantes, walking through downtown streets of some sweet town. I belong hand in hand with my true companion with our toes in the sand. I belong sipping soda with my sisters giggling endlessly as we watch some cheesy chick flick. I belong hugging my mama who I will never stop loving for an instant. I belong sitting with my father drinking tea in the purest, sweetest silence, for that is how we were made to be. I belong listening to my dad’s tall tales and my mothers soothing words. I belong holding my stomach with my face streaked with tear drops from some joke that is only funny if you were there. I belong forever in the future with that one, the one whom was made for me; the Tilney to my Catherine. I belong holding the gazes of my friends as we try to hold back our cackles, tears, and even our own words. I belong in the waves of the sea. I only belong in the happiest of salty tears. I can’t belong where I’m too afraid to face my fears. I won’t belong in broken gears. I’ll not for a moment belong in heartbroken wares.   I’ve never belonged in them, but they live inside me. They have and always will be My demons and my skeletons Yet you will always see them on my sleeves So everyone can see they do not devour me.
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32
i held his hand as we sank into the shore. glass shards, ripping & stinging our feet. but i could not ask for more. i could not ask at all. the ocean loomed - a heavy shadow, too dark to be blue. it lapped at our wounds, like a hungry tomb and the wind was begging for me to fall. quicksand, almost. we were knee deep into the wrecked atlantis of the creatures who used to live on the beach. they once held hands too. they once had someone to call. the biggest of waves it was his home it was his place i could not save him from grace it swallowed him whole. and i, a carcass along the shore. i began to understand why hermit ***** said goodbye to their shells with a drawl.
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Aug 27, 2016
Aug 27, 2016 at 11:07 AM UTC
our first date
it's not the large things that send a man to the madhouse a woman, a tire that's flat, a disease, a desire: fears in front of you, fears that hold so still you can study them like pieces on a chessboard... it's not the large things that send a man to the madhouse. death he's ready for, or ****** ****** robbery, fire, flood... no, it's the continuing series of small tragedies that send a man to the madhouse... not the death of his love but a shoelace that snaps with no time left ... The dread of life is that swarm of trivialities that can **** quicker than cancer and which are always there - license plates or taxes or expired driver's license, or hiring or firing, doing it or having it done to you, or roaches or flies or a broken hook on a screen, or out of gas or too much gas, the sink's stopped-up, the landlord's drunk, the president doesn't care and the governor's crazy. light switch broken, mattress like a porcupine; $105 for a tune-up, carburetor and fuel pump at sears roebuck; and the phone bill's up and the, market's down and the toilet chain is broken, and the light has burned out - the hall light, the front light, the back light, the inner light; it's darker than hell and twice as expensive. then there's always ***** and ingrown toenails and people who insist they're your friends; there's always that and worse; leaky faucet, Christ and Christmas; blue salami, 9 day rains, 50 cent avocados and purple liverwurst. or making it as a waitress at norm's on the split shift, or as an emptier of bedpans, or as a car wash or a busboy or a stealer of old lady's purses leaving them screaming on the sidewalks with broken arms at the age of 80. suddenly 2 red lights in your rear view mirror and blood in your underwear; toothache, and $979 for a bridge $300 for a gold tooth, and China and Russia and America, and long hair and short hair and no hair, and beards and no faces, and plenty of zigzag but no *** except maybe one to **** in and the other one around your gut. with each broken shoelace out of one hundred broken shoelaces, one man, one woman, one thing enters a madhouse. so be careful when you bend over.
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Jun 25, 2015
Jun 25, 2015 at 3:48 PM UTC
the shoelace by Charles Bukowski
it's not the large things that send a man to the madhouse a woman, a tire that's flat, a disease, a desire: fears in front of you, fears that hold so still you can study them like pieces on a chessboard... it's not the large things that send a man to the madhouse. death he's ready for, or ****** ****** robbery, fire, flood... no, it's the continuing series of small tragedies that send a man to the madhouse... not the death of his love but a shoelace that snaps with no time left ... The dread of life is that swarm of trivialities that can **** quicker than cancer and which are always there - license plates or taxes or expired driver's license, or hiring or firing, doing it or having it done to you, or roaches or flies or a broken hook on a screen, or out of gas or too much gas, the sink's stopped-up, the landlord's drunk, the president doesn't care and the governor's crazy. light switch broken, mattress like a porcupine; $105 for a tune-up, carburetor and fuel pump at sears roebuck; and the phone bill's up and the, market's down and the toilet chain is broken, and the light has burned out - the hall light, the front light, the back light, the inner light; it's darker than hell and twice as expensive. then there's always ***** and ingrown toenails and people who insist they're your friends; there's always that and worse; leaky faucet, Christ and Christmas; blue salami, 9 day rains, 50 cent avocados and purple liverwurst. or making it as a waitress at norm's on the split shift, or as an emptier of bedpans, or as a car wash or a busboy or a stealer of old lady's purses leaving them screaming on the sidewalks with broken arms at the age of 80. suddenly 2 red lights in your rear view mirror and blood in your underwear; toothache, and $979 for a bridge $300 for a gold tooth, and China and Russia and America, and long hair and short hair and no hair, and beards and no faces, and plenty of zigzag but no *** except maybe one to **** in and the other one around your gut. with each broken shoelace out of one hundred broken shoelaces, one man, one woman, one thing enters a madhouse. so be careful when you bend over.
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