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Lawrence Hall Nov 2018
The dead-bolts on the interior doors
Against the nephews most securely locked
(One is destructive; the other explores)
Ignored by their mother (usually crocked)

The brother-in-law babbles about his bowels
And surgeries over the festive spread
Ignoring his wife’s disapproving scowls
Detailing each grim therapy and med

The puppies are safely penned inside
Because of an incident with a crowbar
And a nephew who kicked and screamed and cried -
He wasn’t allowed to **** the dogs or bash the car

His mother comforted him in his tears
And glowered at me for telling him no
And comforted herself with a few more beers
Her special child is sensitive, you know

The brother-in-law’s colonoscopy
With lurid adjectives of graphic doom
Comes with the pie and more iced tea
His miseries circulate around the room

Then from the living room an expensive crash
“Not me!” “Not me!” More screams and denials and cries
An old family vase – it’s now just trash
“You shouldn’t have glass around,” their mother sighs

The brother-in-law offers to show his scars
He finds his shirt buttons, makes his move
We other men escape outside for cigars
Cigars!? The women uniformly disapprove

One nephew leaps upon a garden seat
And jumps and yells until it falls apart
Their mother says her boy is cute and sweet
“Are you all right, my dear little heart?”

The brother-in-law holds his tummy and groans
And tells us all about his flatulence
And just which foods lead to what moans
(Perhaps he should practice some abstinence)

The women come outside to cough and choke
With practiced puritan disapproval and sneers
About the satanic scent of tobacco smoke
The world’s best mother chugs a few more beers

The brother-in-law explains why he can’t drink
It’s about his digestion (be surprised)
And we shouldn’t smoke; if only we’d think
And we (got a match?) are properly chastised

Then at the end of this mandatory day
Of mandatory Hallmark merriment
All of them finally go the (space) away
And how did the mailbox get broken and bent?

But the brother-in-law pauses at the garden gate
“Say, did I tell you about my new pills…?”
And so dear solitude again must wait
While darkness slowly falls upon the hills
Phairy Aug 2014
"But he shall never know who I am!" Nicotine said in total desperation to her noxious best friend. "You don't understand, you never felt what I'm feeling!" Nicotine pulled away from her friend and ran downstairs
"You will get caught" Lela shouted trying to talk her sense out of it. "What if you got caught?"
"Then I shall be punished for this love but I refuse to regret trying to have it." She wore a jacket and a baseball cap and took off.


Nicotine wasn't a normal girl, she wasn't like Lela or girls in her age. In fact, she wasn't like anyone ever.
She was very brave and creative, dreamy but she makes it happen. She doesn't care what people might think and she doesn't like rules. She grow up with merother and both brothers, her dad died with surgery complex of  adjustable gastric band when she was 13; and he told her before he took the breath of his death "don't ever change, don't be like me. Change them without trying. Just be you, they'll follow! And never chase love, love will find you." And she never lived by any rules except for those.
She was the youngest among her brothers yet she was the strongest emotionally, physically and the brightest mentally. Nicotine never understood why the world decided to be a man's world when she is a woman and better than a lot of men!

Nicotine was a strange girl that wouldn't let anything stop her. And nothing stopped her indeed.
Until this one time...

She was 17 years old when she met a boy. Travis was his name, Travis has traveled from his school to hers and they met in English class. The only seat available was next to her so he sat there. For three seconds, there eyes met and Nicotine never been that much hooked. She was straight forward and hate the games. So by the end of the day she asked Travis out.
"Sorry, I don't tend to be rude but my sister died few months back and I don't feel like being around girls."
Nicotine flustered when this time, she didn't know how to get what she wants. She smiled and waved goodbye.
She wouldn't lose hope and she was determined to be Travis best friend! But Travis never showed on the second day of school or the third. Travis never showed up again as if he disappeared with fresh air up the mountains where people lose their way back in the forest.

Years went by but Nicotine never had forgot his details...

The way his long brown darkish hair flew unlike mainstream. Dark skin tone with black wide eyes. Even though Nicotine was 5,9 feet considered tall, Travis was almost 6,4 or something.
There have been nights when she dreamt of him hugging her tight telling her "wait, don't leave. I'm coming" or the times when she sees him everywhere and never been able to love anyone as half as the love she feels for Travis. Some nights she thought, maybe... Just maybe I love him too much because he is the one who left not the other way around! But most nights, she dreamt about way long French kiss.

One day she was walking down the streets on her way back from college. She is a senior now and a vergin.
Nicotine was in her usual bubble listening to her IPod music when she saw him again.
She wasn't sure at first. His hair was shorter and she didn't recognize the smile. But those eyes and the skin tone. **** it, she can't let him slip again.
"Yo, Trav" some whiteish guy across the road yelled to him.
Trav? Trav? He said Trav? What's the short name goes for????¿¿¿!!!¡
"For the million times dude, its Travis. Never call me Trav" Travis flicked the white guy forehead. "Whatever, u going to Delphic tonight?"
"Yep, best arcade ever!"
Nicotine stood still for awhile, losing her ability to control her lungs. Shortens in oxygen. Her mouth was all rusty and words too little. Suddenly she started running home as fast as she could. Called her best friend and told her about her plan.

That's when Lela started to be noxious.

"Okay okay, hold on" rising her hands up to shush me "you are going to the Delphic arcade across the city tonight to stalk a guy you have been in love with-one sided- for years faking that you are a guy?" She paused. "That's so normal, nothing weird about this." Laughed sarcastically
"You don't need to understand" said Nicotine.
It almost felt as it she's mourning "why are you doing this please I need to understand?"
Nicotine was racing the clock trying to get ready to be the coolest guy. Wig of short hair? Done. Thick eyebrows? Done. Guys shirt? Done. Jeans? Done. ******* corset? Done. She was very sure he is the one. "I don't know how to explain all the feelings I have for this guy. But one time I was a girl and he turned me down because his sister died months ago and then disappeared! Look at me, Lela! Do I look like a girl to say no to?"
"All this trouble for a revenge?"
"Of course not, its a give in to my heart"


Nicotine arrived at 9 pm sharp. She doesn't know is Travis here already or not but she doesn't waste time and she starts looking for him. By a pinball machine Travis stood next to his friends and the white guy she saw earlier. She knew no time should be anymore wasted.

"Excuse me?" Said nicotine in loud, stiff and sharp voice
All the guys turned around of the pinball looked at her. Except they weren't looking at a girl but a handsome guy.
"I've lost my phone and I think my friends left, can I use one of you cell phone?"
"Sure" Travis said first. Pulled his cell out of his ripped jeans pocket and handed to me.
"Thanks, won't take long"
Nicotine pulled herself aside and started pretending that she is talking on the phone by calling her cellphone voice mail. Next step, spend some quality time with Travis!!
"*******, *******!!!" Nicotine shouted through the phone and close the line dramatically groaning.
"U ok?" Travis grabbed nicotine by the shoulder.
"Yeah." Nicotine paused "I need a ride home"
"I can give you one if you like." Travis blushed. "Do you need to leave now?"
"No, I can stay for a while more.... I'm nicotine" we shook hands
"Travis... Don't ever call me Trav. Nicotine as THE NICOTINE?"
"my dad was big fan of the 70's rock bands, I happen to be a sin" Nicotine leaned closer while still grabbing his hand then she whispered "btw Trav, I never play by the rules"

Travis stood there, studying Nicotines face like a map dotting every detail as if he planning to get an A+ on geography. "You're... Different" Travis murmured.
Nicotine grinned.

They've spend days and days having fun going out for ice cream or movies. Concerts and jams. Late night phone calls and early breakfast making. They never talked a out girls which was odd to nicotine but she was relifed Travis didn't like any girls around.


They were on a hill laying down gazing at the stars in the middle of an afternoon sun. It was one the weird games they played that nobody understood.
"Listen" Travis said "I need to tell you something"
Nicotines heart pounded "listening but whisper"
Travis took a moment before he spoke again. "I'm gay." Travis sounded edgy. "I'm gay for you... Don't bail on me I love you,
nicotine. Kiss me"

In a matter of a second nicotine lost all hope for words all hope for love and all hope to forget this love that now has been so close to be reached. She got up and ran away. But this time not home. She ran to the cemetery where her dad laid...

She was caught up between telling him the truth or go get a transgender surgery. But she was afraid if she told the truth, he could never love her like he loved nicotine the guy. If she told the truth, he could not forgive her for the lie she told. She lived. Nicotine was torn in front of her dads grave and wanted for angel of death to come and take her soul. Just for a day or two. Just for a while, until Travis forgets. Until she forgets. Before this, ever have been done by her.

"Why are you crying?" A voice shifted nicotine's mind from lost to found. "What are you doing here? How did you find me" she said.
"You told me, that's where you go when things go wrong." Travis tenderly spoke, sat next to me. "Have they gone wrong?" He said.

Nicotine was trying to control her sobb "yes." Wiping her tears with her arm "I didn't mean to go so far"
Travis stared and stared and looked at nictone in a way she couldn't read his face. "There is something I should tell you" nicotine whispered frighteni for the first time in her life since her father died. "Speak" Travis whispered while his forehead clicked to mine.
Nicotine froze as soon as she felt his skin on hers. She closed her eyes not wanting to look at the disappointment in his eyes. The frown on his face. She couldn't focus when she had his breath on her face. She didn't know how to begin, she didn't know how to open her rusted mouth. "I..." Travis pulled nicotine closer placing both of his hands on the sides of her head and kissed her. Kissed her like he never seen lips before. "I know." Travis said.
"What?"
"I'm 25 years old, don't you think I'd know a girl when I see one? Specially a girl I wanted to kiss the day I met and thought I've lost for good"
Nicotine crocked a smile and rushed to his rough lips. Biting the lower lip as if she never kissed a guy before. It wasn't just lust or the need for ****** *******. It was craving to touch a skin you adored. It was listening to your favorite song alone in the dark. It was comfort that made love.
Travis slowly pulled her away "why did you fake to be a guy?"
"I was afraid to lose you again if I was a girl if you had a lover." Embarrassed nicotine spoke her words. "I'm sorry, I love you. Don't leave."
"You're nicotine... And I'm heavy smoker seeks death if it means to die by your love"

And that's how Romeo and Juliet died of lung cancer. Just kidding. They died with poison
Is not only ordinary in the most vile sense
It also lacks the creative imbalance
That which pulses through the blood of cryptic elders

Although being encaged in a box
has the comfort of rigidity
It destroys the fetus of all that pretends to be beautiful

Contemptuous moments ruined
Because we are weak enough to ask, why?
To pander For a something as feebly human as a definition

Why must everything  be placed
on the hand of the glockenspiel
When the world has clearly indicated
The presence of a divine anomaly

The trees are freezing
into crocked chapels
The blackened oasis
tearing slightly along the buttons

Through this all the celestial ambiance awaits
Its complexities weave
each stroke unparalleled

r
The urge is to destroy
That which makes our eyes sting
And our brains blast through the unseen hallows
Riding the coattails of a blastiod

This gusto is blanketed over in our simple minds
Forged into a hammer and sickle
Of absolute and definite terror

Destroy it all
All of which can chemically mix and produce
A new mystical pattern of deficiencies
Naked spayed on the cutting room floor

We must destroy it
By forcefully coding its gnome
Correcting what appears to be a hint of insurrection  

When we already no the what already know the why
but the current answers will make us their slave
They will bind us in hopeless ecstasy

So we form new words that don’t do it justice
Outlandish plans for this invention
Destroying its capability to be
simple
beautiful and
without purpose
Aaron Wallis Sep 2014
Burly bleak plumes roll out aloft corn
Where the dragon fell post spin and ditch
A wretched hulk of ruin splintered and worn
Amongst endless blanch green fields which

Arc with a gust and apart where he treads,
Dragging his silk cape afar from flame
Clueless and concussed to a near house he heads
With a tattered scarf that constricts yet ***** about his mane

Black fists of cloud had boomed around him as they soared
His beast spat metal fire whilst the pale sky turned dull
The zipping ballet of warfare smiled throughout as motors roared
Gnashing its teeth and making forgotten martyrs of them all

Shuddering not from demise rather conflict as a whole
He is as content with death as he is to survive
Just not burn the world and condemn his soul
A horror; men of rule seem keen to keep alive

An agrarian self-dines rancorous and crocked
Half sat, improperly perched from where he was shot
Monsters had come for him once before this day
They took his spouse and his daughter and then took them away

He can hear but does not hark to the battle aloft
It is now like the rain and the trees in a gust
But to the boom and the shake he stands with a cough
And as he cites the invader he sees he must do what he must

The grower limps out with a Chassepot in his arms
As the airman’s hands reach up and he falls to his knees
With beads on his brow the man pleads with met palms
The crofter sees naught but a Prussian blue monster disease

The pilot knows his death, ‘Ich bin nicht sicher, wo ich will gehen?”
The old Frenchman just sniggers as he thinks never again
With the rifle’s slug now spent and the horror sent back to his hell
The farmer mumbles to himself, ‘je dois me chercher une pelle,”
Wars happen. It is *******
Inn-Sum-Knee-Ah (“Insomnia”)



I throw words at the ceiling fan

to break them apart over

the bleeding sheep on the carpet.


One. Two. Three. Four.


Pepper it over the bodies

while the fur is still waving

to the wind of the artificial air.


Five Six Seven Eight


My back cracks more than the

tocking insanity of the creak-squeak-squawk

crocked blame of the spinning blades above me.

I still can’t breathe.


Nine ten eleven twelve


The purple spot on the wall wanders between the bitter

clouds and the rocking streetlamps that wink,

as if to welcome me with “We are not sleeping either.”

But we will watch.


Thirteenfourteen.


That might be a good thing if I didn’t have my eyes closed,

burning from the inside out.


Fifteen. Sixtheen. Seventh

Sleep.


...

Viktor Aurelius read four of my poems on Whispers in the Dark Radio, a horror poetry show.
md-writer Mar 2021
Up on Grandma's kitchen shelf,
a temptation crocked and lidded
tight:
her cookie jar, it beckons me,
well-worn, once-cracked, now-mended -
not with mud new-daubed,
but gold
in every crack

it gleams;

but that is not the treasure
that has seized my heart.

Nay. The treasure is inside.

One time only did I reach within,
one time many-scolded.

"Not for you," she muttered,
gummy, toothless, ancient hag;
"Not for you," she growled.

"Not for any fingers seeking just to
fill their ******* mouths."

And I wondered as she said it,
as I've wondered always since,
at the force and heart within her words,
for the cookie jar was spent.

Empty. Not a crumb inside
- I felt it all around -
empty, all the cookies gone,
to places I had never trod
- in waking hours at least.

Empty - not a crumb inside, but...
...something brushed by me.
Warm and soft and...
...gentle,
like an angel's kiss, or wing;
the golden glitter of a teardrop as it
hangs in sunlit dream.

That - that feeling
is what brushed against me
(wrist-deep and guilty) in my
Grandma's cookie jar.

She bound the jar with leather
and shelved it up much higher,
and scolded me from morning until night.
But heart aflame and
eye caught in wonder,
the magic had bound me up
tight.

I dared not take it down again,
I dared not wrest it's slumber
with another groping, clumsy
hand;
but my eye and heart were on it
and as years passed,
hunger grew.

+

When Grandma died - a miracle,
considering her spells -
at last I dared to keep the jar,
up on my own cook-shelf.
And slowly I unbound it,
leather strap by leather strap,
as the days turned into winter
and the star-symphony danced.

Three years it took to free that
crock
(her spells had hardened
by some brew brought on by
death),
and when it sat untarnished, free,
once more the gold
did glew.

Humble earthen vessel, uplifted
by destruction
and the searing introduction of a molten,
fiery grace:
a simple cookie jar it was,
(this I knew)
and empty as a floor too-swept and clean.

Yet still I longed to feel the
brush of life once more,
glimmering like a secret in
the depth of that fair jar.

So I dipped one little finger in,
crossed the plane marked by it's mouth,
and waited for the magic of
the past.

It came near by gradual nibbles, a skitter-fly
ashamed
to be acknowledged, so it seemed;
but gradually one finger became two,
two three,
and three a hand.

Skitter-fly no longer, the golden pulse
it surged,
stronger by a hundred-fold
than ever I felt before;
and coiled betwixt my fingers
like a honey-snake
and warm.

I knew it then, the cookie jar,
and the cookie jar knew me.

Desire birthed and twirling,
fostered long, but now set free.

I sighed and let the crocken lid
fall back down in its place,
plunged once more the jar in black, and
emptied now for me, it sat
up on my cook-*** stack,
and winked no more
- no more for me.

After that I set a rule up,
for small-kin in my home,
that the cookie jar was sacred,
as it was in Grandma's time.
And any hand that snatched from it,
would turn-about be smacked.

+

And then I sat and waited
for a grubby little hand,
to reach down into empty space
and spark again
the gloam.
I was born
here in a Capital place,
as in DC, or so I'm told
by the yellowed scrap of paper
embossed with a seal,
which Birthers might say is forged,
but it's not, and that's
a happy circumstance for me,
because I hear folks like me
are different, maybe even
exceptional,
and with that lone American
difference comes a boat load of perks,
including the right to say
I don't see any difference
when it comes to simple
appearances,
but I do feel different
than those who want to speak
in the name of the same
old stupid conceit
that some belong
and some don't,
all the while they search
for differences
and seize on the might
to drive wedges
between us,
and if they end up driving out
our differences with this crocked-up
lack of a due process
cloaked in the flag, well that would be
the real crime.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 License.
He rose out of the ashes of corruption
He pledged to protect our beautiful nation
Befriend by many leaders
Trump proved himself as those around him backstabbed
a bright person to bring light
upon a clash of crocked ideals
Never selecting a "paid" vocation.
He uses his heart and pride of country as payment
as he smiles as those who fear and run from the truth
their feet run on the pavement
As they try to save what little they have left
in a dark legacy
Say what you want
they can never replace a true and noble warrior
Who took the oath of leadership
Over the strongest Nation in the world
The flag waves high in pride
as he steps on the White House Lawn
In earned light and proud stride.
I support him.
Trump.
Our "Cheif of Nations In Command"
of honest power and dignity
I shower him with respect and praise
as he earns a rose, the regal flower.
As he makes a path, for all, a brighter day.
Gloom Says Jul 2016
Teary eyes, crocked lips
Broken faith complementing crooked hips
Factory of life they tell,
wounded souls, whispers to hell
Losing faith, into voids
Body aches yet to avoid
How this makes me stronger I ask
making it bitter for every task
my soul cries and pleads
body is something it needs
for if there is no strength in body to support
what is the meaning of these milestones that I report
I fear I’ll lose my existence
no one will remember this soul in any co-incidence
for again I plead for strength in this body
Will power doesn’t seem enough for a crippled body.
Mike Hauser May 2017
If I could ever count the cost
If ever I was at a Croc loss
Oh the inhumanity
If there were no Crocs upon my feet

No comfort for them to saddle in
No soft rubber sponge in which to grin
Whether Chinese made or Mexican
If you have not Crocked you have not lived

At the sight of Crocs it brings to mind
Who is the king of the foot line
When the rubber hits the hardened road
It is the Croc that's in the know

So take a ride and slip and slide
Inside the Croc you'll feel you died
And landed straight at heaven's gate
Where angels have Crocs on their feet

Do you still feel the need to ask
If Crocs are just a passing fad
You can ask my feet and my ten toes
They're the ones that are in the know

But their reply will be a muffled sound
As they're both inside my Crocs right now
Valsa George Apr 2016
The waterlogged lands have long gone dry
The soil is lying cracked and parched
The frogs that crocked in shallow pools,
Nowhere on land or water to be seen
The once full river has thinned and narrowed
Into a greasy smudge of faded stain
On the long yard of brown earth
The road is a burning stretch of black
Sure it can make the water steam and sizzle
Quicker than in an electric ***
The sun is seen a flaming ball in the sky
Darting down spears of smarting beams


Heat like a spiteful scorpion’s sting
Burns the flesh and the bared scalp
Watermelons or chilled buttermilk
Cannot douse the midday heat
The fiery tongue of humid summer
Licks up the last residue of green
The woods dread the fall of a spark
That can ignite an inferno, anytime

The cattle stay still with frothy foam
Dripping down from their drooping tongues
A thirsty crow beside a dried up pond
Looks around for a drop of water
(But alas, not as lucky as the parable crow
That finds a jar of half filled elixir)
A line of black ants carry a carcass
Clambering up the cracked stump of a tree

The brown grass sings
And the Etna seethes!
RICHARD IHUAENYI Oct 2014
I met a needy old fellow
Down a grisly thought-path he'd trod
Seekin' a need like he sought a god
His voice quivering Hi; I said hello
Son! My senses are raw, my word crocked
Quell my throbbing mind. This world
Please whatchu call it?

Love is lost in the woods
Lust her next-of-kin takes charge
Brings with her lies, deceit no dirge
She's no more than Hollywood
'tis autumn, are we leaves of a larch?
Fix me this puzzles, find a merge
Or tell me whatchu call it?

Daughters gone from their mothers
Sons becoming apparitions of shame
Flipping in life shadows like a game
All knocked like blind lovers
Gettin er'tin muddled like one who stutters
I see 'em in shapes and colours
Say a word, whatchu call it?

Fun feeds today, poisons tomorrow
They eat, sleep and forget to dream
Blurry vision like a nollywood film
will there be escape from sorrow?
Whilst the coins tossed, can they borrow?
Oh I see more than what will follow
I guess you see too. Whatchu call it?

Gliding in triangles and squares
Like rain down the mountain top
Praying amidst debauchery nonstop
Will a god reckon rather rain tears?
Will the heavens engulf your fears
Burn the incense, ask your seers
Let me know whatchu call it.
Poetic T Dec 2016
I never quite realized the juncture of its occurring,
but as I got older from seed to stalk to flower I
realised that some thing was off, only ever so slightly.
Nuances of memory were enveloped in my deliberation
of actions that were considered unworthy of what I was
saying or doing but I could never quite glimpse over
the horizon of what felt uneasy till that one day.

It wasn't what I had expected I was walking as I always
did in the woods near my home, I loved nature the aromas
of either summer when everything was vibrant and I would
just slumber under the shade of my favourite tree.
"I used to tell that tree my problems from an early age,
I always envisioned that when I told it of my woes that
when it became winter that each spoken word was a leaf and
when it feel then my mind was free of those burdens.

Ridiculous I know, now I just watch the leafs do there
dance of the falling as I like to call it. Some elegantly waltz
to there beckoning below while others just mosh-pit it
to the floor like bungee jumping with no cork. I wish I felt
that free to just let go of it all. But alas I am me and I cant
change the evolution of myself, I can only channel my energies
in to trying to be better than what my family think and expect
I will undoubtedly be, worthless in there expectations, never.

It occurred that day, I never understood why? but it changed
everything. I was diagnosed with ice-pick migraines if you
have never had them...

"Lets just say it like a full blown migraine in a cluster of seconds
or minutes and the pain is like being shot or my vision of the
pain that expels from my thought,

"Then as soon as it hits like a numbness expels itself on the
area and light headedness not the nicest of experiences specially
when like a earthquake I have aftershocks all day,


This one was intense I stumbled and eyes fastened to each
other and then I was up and about again. that numb feeling
has got a, "Like feeling I had lost some part of me, but after
a while I was back to myself. Entering through the backdoor
I hollered to my parent that I was back, and they came down
stairs smiling and I was uneasy at the show of affection?
"Why the smiles you evicting me or something?
They just laughed and said cant we just smile when we see you.

This was the start of it, every time I had that ****** pain
noticeably cracks were seen. I would be saying about something
and then they'd ask if I was ok, and after my university results
came I was despondent, Scoring a B+ when I needed an A+.
Beside myself I wallowed in negativity, I couldn't be a teacher
of science. Those days in the woods channelled my curiosity to the
makings of the world around me.

But then I had a lingering pain, locking my eyes as if they were
unattainable for my vision to peer through the cracks. But as
always panic wasn't justified and the numbness passed.
I walked into the sitting room slightly groggy of the passing
"Surprise, congratulations our teacher in training.
"What this is cruel, is this a joke,

A+ you were jumping up and down yesterday like you
were on a pogo stick, I thought for a moment lingering on
the subtle change of what had perspired. I'm sorry its been
a lot to take in the last few days.
"I think for Halloween ill  dress up like Einstein,
everyone laughs out loud E=mc2 player........

I cant quite grasp what else had changed, niggling
at me through out the years that past an uneasy
trepidation lingered. But at the back of my mind
it fell as I was with love in my heart, and I was honoured
to have not one but three children. all  luckily had her looks
not mine, I always gave them a kiss on the head goodnight.

But then I got a feeling within that I wasn't really thinking
straight, and I knew then. It was to late it was like a tsunami
cresting over my mind and I realized it was one of them.......
Before I could fight it, I know I couldn't stop it.
Then the pain faded I didn't see anything different and
sighed with relief maybe it was just a headache? no worries then.

I walked in the house I could smell her cooking, god I loved
her cooking, she was like a Picasso in the kitchen and my
mouth watered at what creativity had been created.
"Hi baby, Matthew, Sarah, where is your sister?
perplexed looks fell over their faces.

"Who Daddy!

"Maddie, your little sister,

Sarah spoke asking the obvious thought of who is Maddie,
I was getting agitated at the thought they would be playing
a game when I hadn't seen there sister.
"Baby where is Maddie, "is she a friend of the little ones,
I thought by her voice that she was humouring me, and as I
looked around every photo was vacant of her beautiful features.

My mind went it to overdrive, it couldn't, wouldn't be that
cruel... I had turned white and became dizzy, I don't feel so
g.......... I threw up in the kitchen bin as tears of realization
swept over my like a rock slide. I was vacant and untethered
at this point and voices were a blur. "Baby you ok, I heard
her through the haze of confusion. "Do you remember what
I told you about what used to happen to me?
confusion in
her eyes answered my fears that more than one thing had changed.

Hand were over my eyes as I didn't want the children to see me
like this. Were they even mine? of course they were, how could
I have even thought that for a moment.. "I'm sorry baby,
Then the inevitable conspired on me, and I felt my mind succumbing
to that crest of pain, I lost my balance as I was already leaning and
as I blinked I was the table edge greeting me then darkness enveloped
my conciseness. I heard voices in this sea of confusing moments.


Awakening in a hospital bed I blinked as if It felt that I was erratically
becoming conscious then being swept into the void of silence.
"Baby I love you please wake up,
Her voice was like a choir of classic music gracing my mind.
I awoke suddenly, her smile greeted me. My head that was a pretty
hard head you have, two days you been lazing in bed, she smiled
I think mostly because I had greeted her with a groggy smile.

Sarah was there holding, no more like squeezing the blood
from my hand, but I didn't mind even though the pins and
needles were not a delightful pain to wake up too.
Where is your brother? "Brother daddy, I knew that look
and my wife just nodded, in a panicked look. I was exhausted
even though knowing what had accrued and tears fell like
glass shards cutting on my features as I was dragged to slumber.

I awoke to see my wife, holding my hand gently, in panic I
asked where is Sarah? She is with my mother, why did you
ask about Matthew, you know he was still born, and the pain
this causes us both. I'm sorry my baby I was confused.
I uncontrollably cried, the dam of emotions had broken through
and in a matter of hours I had lost two of my children those
memories were still and forever chiselled in my thoughts...

After my release I went to see a therapist as I became solace
in my grief that my wife couldn't comprehend to her it had
happened years ago. But in my eyes I had lost there breath
on my face as they kissed me on the cheek goodnight.
Now I only have the most recent memories and not even
pictures of them to console my heart  with.

I had spoken in detail, of what had happened and
with vacant expressions he just looked and smiled.
I knew what was next either prescriptions to dull my
mind of these imagining that he perceived I has had
or the worst case I would be greeted with that inevitable
white coat and padded thoughts drugged to my eyes *****.

I left feeling lighter in myself even though he gave me enough
meds to sedate a horse, a really, really big horse. I walked home
thinking how would I cope knowing the memories that were
bleeding out of consciousness. I had to do everything to not
crack like a glass snowflake falling from the blue skies.
I smiled as I walked through the door seeing her run towards me.

My arms were open to have my only other reason for living
embrace me, I knew it would eventually happen, but not as
I had only grasped her in my momentary needing. Then it
took me, eyes were saturated in nothing and when I came
to my grasp was empty my palms only hugging the floor.
Nothing has ever changed this much and dread encompassed me.

My home or was it, neither a picture or flower graced the
surrounding of my once warm home, I walked into the
living room, I couldn't smell the perfume she wore.
"Baby, where are you? no answer maybe she was out..
Then i stared at the fire place a jar, then a smaller one sat
neatly next to it, a shudder cam over me like death whispered.

I walked over, but it was as if my feet were dredging through
tar. I couldn't look up, I wanted to but knew what would
greet me. I was shaking like a leaf in a hurricane, and then
all was silence. I read the wording, and tears streamed from
eyes like words screaming into vacant nothingness.
It was my wife's ashes and my 8 month old daughter,
so long had past since there passing but to me it was now.

I sat there just gazing blankly at these precious vessels
she didn't even, i didn't even have a chance to say goodbye
to then either of them. All of them gone, why me, I needed
surrender to the fact that I was no longer within a world
that cared. I held it in my hand it was cold, I knew what
had to be done, I couldn't do this crap anymore.

I wondered what would  hurt the most in the mouth or
to the temple? My frustration at life had climaxed to this
inevitable junction. I didn't know whether to cry or
laugh, I just thought of there images the love of my
life, my three little jumping beans. I smiled momentarily
then normality intruded and I pulled the trigger, then oblivion.

Can you comprehend the time of life and death, it eternal
yet finite. I felt the pain for a moment and all was nothing,
but I awoke in a unknown location. Confused and even more
perplexed at the thought of was I alive or dead? then I happened
upon a slim looking bloke,
"Hello this is going to be a funny question,
"Where am I? and what day is this?

"Are you high mate? "No just a little disoriented stag party,
The date was at least a week from my happening, I needed at
least twenty migraine tablets and a *****, but then again would
this just happen again. I wondered till my feet hurt, I slept at a
homeless shelter. Luckily they had pity on my sorry looking
****. In the morning I phoned to no answer discontinued it played.

It took a few days to get back to my house, and I looked through
the  window my outcry was instant and also more vocal than I
had anticipated. She say me and instead of joy there was horror in
here loving eyes and then she passed out but I was behind a window
and she feel with no arms to catch her she crumpled like paper that
bleed crimson then she was still. I kicked in the door s the children
were screaming.

"Its ok babies daddy is here,

"It cant be we buried you a week ago?
"Mummy said you had a seizure, that you had feel asleep
and never woke up again, now mummy isn't moving,


"I felt her pulse her blood soaking the surrounding areas, she
was already going cold,


Without warning that godforsaken pain eclipsed my eyes, and
then I was alone and where I saw her in life then death was
erased from the surrounding. My poor children had lost me
and her in a week. but I had shifted and they were probably
inconsolable at that point, I cried for hours till I couldn't weep
another tear and then I realized I had to look up myself for
if that was at that point I ended myself had I doomed my others.

I looked up my name, bless she hadn't changed the code,
if my thoughts were true I had caused a fluctuation that
extended beyond my misguided but needed actions.
I penned in my name and where I had just imagined
the thought of what if's. It was as I had feared I was dead
again this was a worrying turn of events.

My obituary was a before, I, he had suffered a aneurysm
on the date that I had ended my life, but it was just another
action of my grief. How many lives were concluded, but
my thought shifted to the noise at the front door. The key
was edging towards the door  opening. I didn't know
what to do as I knew the repercussions of seeing myself.

I just hid in the closet, I saw her face as she entered and I
had to keep my emotions in check. I was only thinking,
"Don't open the door don't open the door, she walked
up the stairs and I took to the front door, creaking as it
opened. I really need to oil this when this chaos doesn't
interrupt my existence anymore, "Who's there, echoes from
upstairs and I exit with my bank card. ill only use a bit.

The cashpoint was in front of me I had borrowed a hoodie
from a neighbours washing line, I didn't like them anyway
so no lose there then. I only took a few hundred to keep me
going in food, I was homeless for months as I couldn't really
get a home or a job as I was dead and buried. Visiting ones
own grave is a very peculiar feeling nice head stone though.

Thoughts flurried through out my waking days to what I
would do as this wasn't really what I had planned with my
life. The thought of wanting to move on seemed to fit
my predicament, as  neither a headache or migraine of
any sort.. Lucky me.. I was awoken by a voice, not one I
recognized and as stumbled to my feet dazed but awake.

"It is you?

I had no time for these games of twenty questions and told
then to politely "jog on, but they just stood there and I
thought I was incoherent. I put my glasses on and looked
again? my brother well his brother! "why did you run,
"From the grave bro, you were dead I saw you with my
own to eyes. I just looked as a tear escaped my ***** exterior
and a crocked line of cleanliness dripped off my face to the
floor below, and the only words I could muster was "I'm sorry,

You see I never had a brother, I was a lonely child, cradled under
that tree wishing my troubled days away always wishing that
when the leafs fell so would my troubles. Yet there he was, it
was nice to see I had a sibling. He was hugging me like I he
was holding me above water fearful to let me go encase I
drowned out into this nest of unkempt persons and he held on tightly.
I just stared and there was a momentary silence in-between the noise.

"How could you leave her like that she was your wife,
"She would have understood man.

I saw where this was going, thinking I had a break down, some
how faked my death. Laughable really I couldn't escape it but I
was really good at delivering it to myself in others ways...
Let me explain, "How the hell am I going to explain this rationally,
my thought speaking out in my mind, seconds seemed cemented
in place. "I will tell you, but not here, and as I began to walk away
I just thought of his face the moment I tell him, I so going to the
padded room when he hears my explanation.

But i didn't have time i was accosted by two rather large gentlemen,
"What the hell? let go off me, that was a far as I got as I felt that
flaming burning sensation in my neck. Darkness ensued then a blurry
light, everywhere was white, had it snowed? was that a dream?
No I was in a padded cell my wife and brother looking on, sadness
painted on eyes as if they were looking at some sick animal about to
be put out of its misery. "Its not me, I shouted to no avail as the eye piece closed and I was alone with my fluffy white clouds wow what
ever they had given me it was awesome..

So many years had past i hadn't told a soul of my misfortune, till
that moment when i felt my heart stutter like an engine... then the
pain came and i was neither here or there but freeze framed in two
instances, the now and the moment before i pulled the trigger...
my eyes were open in death but closed with the gun so I reached
out and took it, and I left a note, a brief scribbling,

To many leafs have fallen and the troubles they just became a
pile of problems building rotting upon the other, this isn't the
truth but a leaf that shall never fall....

"Whisper in her ear every night, for a whisper is louder than
and word.....


And with that I opened my eyes and I had shifted once again
and the gun luckily was in that other place.  I looked down at
the piece of crumpled paper and a
3350 words...
Anna Mic Oct 2017
Wow your pretty why would you ever call yourself ugly?
Ill finally tell you what I’ve been trying to scream for years.
Was I pretty when I had ******* glasses, braces to fix my crocked teeth?
Was I pretty when you made fun of my freckles or when you said my waist was too big and my four-head looked like a five head.
Well now my glasses are contacts, my teeth are straight, my four head is contoured to make it seem small, my freckles are unseen under my make-up and my waist is tinnier from working out every single day.
Does the makeup that smudges when I cry myself to sleep because no boy will find me good enough make me pretty?
Am I pretty now because my clothes are so tight they could fit a sixth grader.
Or are my legs still too big, my waist still not skinny enough no matter how many hours I work out or how many miles I run.
“Maybe if you worked out more you would be skinnier” they said.
Wear that short dress but be careful just because you are pretty now doesn’t mean you get to be a ****.
They even make fun of my name. A name my loving mother gave me
“What kind of name is Anna it’s the most average white girl name ever”
Nothing is ever good enough something about me is always wrong.
Maybe I liked it better when I was chubbier and had glasses and braces because the worst people would have called me is ugly and fat.
So am I pretty now that I have trouble writing a poem that I can call myself pretty. Because no matter what the hurtful words you once put in my head are glued to my eyelids every time I look in the mirror. The words swirling around in the mirror as I try to achieve your version of perfection. What is wrong with my version?
So now I’m pretty but I’m broken and no boy like a broken girl. No one likes a broken girl who they have to help pick you pick up the pieces.
So, what’s the point of wearing these jeans that make it hard it to breath but I must wear them to show of my figure. My **** must be big, my ***** pushed up to my ears and my waist shoved into my pants.
But it doesn’t matter if I cry when they still call me names, ****, ***, fake, and still no matter what I do to try and meet their expectations, ugly.
At least I have make up to cover up my mascara tears.
rosey Jul 2013
I sit here under this shady tree.
Looking as the world passes by me..
Alone in this world.. Crying alone..
Seeing the world all by my self..

I sit as the world passes by like a painting capturing each scene..
Setting in stone in my mind...
Alone.. In this world..

A shadow has join the circle..
What an odd boy..
His bright dazzling green eyes look at my eyes with such life..

Sketchily the odd stranger speaks
"would....-would you like to play.. with me..?"
My dull eyes raise from the ground... with a slow nod.. of a yes.

Two strangers...
Two odd creatures...
Clasp hands together...
Two worlds slowly clashing together.. Melting to create one..
Creating one being... one soul..

A deep breath taken by a gust of wind.
We are here, by the shady tree.
In hand and hand, Looking at the autumn leaves blow in the breeze around us..
Those summers... we laughed and played..
Love and grew..
Time has flown...
Since those lonely days..

A new beginning has painted over the world just for us..
Cracks of light gently shine in the gaping holes of the trees colorful leaves.
Beams of light mark the shadow of the tree..    

Tick. Tick... Time slowly washing away all of us...
We meet here again...
Stumbling on the hill where the grim tree lays.
So much life in such an old tree..
Those summers grow dim..
For I am to week to see the painted and sculpted world.

Our face has grown of wrinkles.
Smiling to each other..
Shaking in each other hand..
We walk under the dim blue skies...

The green leaves swirl around us as I take one last twirl...
One last step..
One last grasp of feeling..

A Weak smile grasp my lips..
I turn my head slowly.. only to see my caring husband by my side..
I whisper in a faint sweet, musk voice..
"Thank-you darling for seeing the world with me....breathe... I... I love you..."
A smile fades to a still lip..
A beat of a heart music stops..

I die... On the summer day
When our worlds intertwined..
And soon the world grows still...
Our initials carved in the crocked wood of the old shady tree..

The bless tree now old and dim..
Sits on the brown hill growing old..
Protecting our worlds..
The broken tree..
Still treasures the love we cherished all these years..
In the summer days...
Sally Kavourmas Sep 2011
I met a traveller on the road,                                                                                                                                                     Chin in hand............a heavy load........                                                                                                                                     He sat before me.........on a grave                                                                                                                                             A man in thoughtful......of the brave!                                                                                                                                                  And slowly passing, by his side                                                                                                                                               I felt him crying, for those who died                                                                                                                                       And looking down. I saw his name                                                                                                                                                   Him, my father, was his name                                                                                                                                                           Stepping on, a crocked stye.......                                                                                                                                                                                 I overlooked the bluest sky............                                                                                                                                         Auld men travel down the roads                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          Each burden him..............A heavy load.
Luna Moon Nov 2015
The moon reflects a crocked glance upon the house of God.
Pinnacle of the land,
spires are needles that point to the Lord himself.
They stab my heart straight through.

The immense door slammed shut,
she was reduced to a speck between skeletal interior.
An insignificant beating heart.

The Ghoul proved mightier than God;
corrupting the walls of his home,
it rose beyond the grace of God.
Ascend unto the highest. 
The girl, a mere human,
swallowed her courage in pain.
The war was declared between the anti-Christ and Gods creation. 

The stain glass windows rose above, and red light as was ****** over the concrete floor.
Violence erupted.
The ghoul spat flames decorating her with hot scars, 
thorns grew from above scratching little rose buds out from her skin. 
Nettles tore her throat till she was gasping for breath.

The ghoul dominant, 
****** an arm towards her.
Despite the figure she could see through,
the bones felt real. 
This figure of death, 
strung the cord of life, deformed.
Twisted into a noose and placed around her neck. 
Unable to move from this bodiless ghost,
the cord pulled tighter.
And finally,
all she felt,
was his,
kiss of death.
Elihu Barachel May 2016
The San Andres Fault, that crocked crack along the coast
Along with New Madrid, the other crack that's feared the most

Both are overdue, for a Richter Scale 10
Then Yellowstone will blow, and blow and blow again

Oh such cheery news! But not to worry not to fret
Skip along your merry way, all the warning signs forget

An Asteroid will get you!...Land right on your head!
So eat and drink be merry, very soon you will be dead
Karina Rose Feb 2014
I won’t keep lying to myself just to lie to everyone else
I always had doubts but my actions are all I had to lay out to see the truth

It was all right there just like times before I’m never the last to know I just don’t know myself that well

I’ve never been in front of the mirror when you come over to greet me so I never saw how bright my smile got
I didn’t know that when I got you naked it was only to get you as close to me as possible
I didn’t know when I txt you with nothing to say it was just to put me in your mind that day
turns out I don’t know ****
All I got from this was a memorization of the shape of your jaw
traced it with my finger just yesterday
the corners of your mouth
there’s no straight lines in this crocked romance
I trace the lines of you in my head
I pretend my hands are yours
You’re everywhere and no where
California is our home but you've been south for the winter since I realized the truth about the hold you’ve got on my heart that started with a hand full of blouse
Take me some where else so we can be alone
Take me before I lie to myself again
State lines don’t split us apart but your decisions do
California is our home..
woolgather Jun 2018
The irony of the doubt
Of the one that came out of my mouth

Is that this head won't make flowers out of words
Or gardens out of stanzas;

That when these hands write or type
None would be so quite the hype,

That words would be just words:
They are, yes, but the irony is that it still hurts;

When I said I can't make more out of a word,
My head sabotaged me, albeit absurd:

I made flowers out of words
But, out of nowhere, it'd hurt me:

For the thorns of the rose I plucked,
From the garden I thrashed, crocked,

To the truth that the one I plucked the rose for
Would do none but to abhor;

Now I cry, knowing,
What the irony of the doubt would sing;

How I'm bound to fool myself with words,
And hurt by them, soon after;

How this heart would endlessly flutter
Over love that is destined to falter.
I can't write right
Mary Wagner May 2013
It starts with drifting.  Having no time for one another.  Then it's a fight about how they didn't call or decided to go to their friends house instead of being with you.  Words are spoken that have been bottled up for months, just building up; truths are revealed and tears are spilled.  You go into a blind rage.  Breaking everything that comes to your hand, ripping every picture up with him in it.  You scream out into the empty abis about how you hate him and he was the worst.  You no longer feel that empty hole that has been eating up at you for days, the feeling of him not loving you.  It is only filled with hatred and fury.  Then it hits you.  You find your favorite sweater of his that you slept in every night to feel like he was holding you, the smell of his cologne that would cloud your mind, or the first love letter you wrote for him, but never gave because you were afraid that he didn't feel the same.  Everything comes back in floods and flashes.  How his hand fits perfectly in yours,  his crocked smile, the way his eyes shined in the sunlight, how he wiped away the tears when your whole wold was falling apart.  Then in that moment, your eyes blood red, tears soaking your face, you realize no one in the world could love you more than he ever did.
Poetic T Dec 2019
It was void less on the dead tree branch,
or what was once something reaching
for the heavens but now it is rootless.

Digging into the earth, like a tombstone
of remembrance entwined in razor wire
                                                            ­   woes.

It was cur once, now it is cut upon even in
death, every breath of life the world temps
                           it with just cuts deeper.

And the onyx crow, just perches on it.
             silent, it just gazes at the others
neatly put into shallow graves of despair.

They are naked for all to see, for all to gaze upon.
     stripped of decency. Shallow graves tease as though
they wish to flourish, roots are dismembered.


But where the branch fell, where the dismembered
remanence ****** of self horizontal.
           When a tree falls no one hears it...

When the now guillotined life falls,
        it fell upon its executioner..
   In the woods now one hears you fall..

They bleed into the wood, the egg that hadn't
hatched now cracked open, a chick will no longer
             fly high but sit on this deathly stripped void.

Every now and then, when I look out my window,
         I see the field, and a crow with gapping vision.
And a silhouette of someone....

There neck arched and a smile crocked,
                 as if to say this is a coffin above ground..
And there slowly rotting in the earth that took
                                       them all...

When a tree falls, when the leaves are stripped bare,
             only the bones show, and it like those before
are just images of what fell when they decendedly silenlty.
DC raw love Mar 2015
darkened eye's from when i cry...
--
pain and hurt that makes me sigh...
--
broke emotions oh wo is me...
--
delusional thoughts lives in me..
--
my crocked life can i let it be...
--
i always thinking of whats to be...
--
this hole i have how could it be...
--
my mind can't think from day to day...
--
i often wonder am i dead...
--
only reminded from my head...
--
these painful feelings that i hold...
--
this crippled life as i grow old...
Ayeshah Apr 2015
I miss You,

but there is no making you understand this,

you're parting at coffee shops,

  playing chess and into this new age internet dating

where them nasty easy girls will always win,


I've not made it easy for you

and we never really said good bye,

everyone says forget about me

and what we once were trying to be.

I wont argue or disagree, my faults are my own

and I'll never continue to allow them to consume me,

or allow the past to make belief our future couldn't have been bright.

We could of worked on us.

Dead babies borne by a misleading husband to wife.

We could of fought harder,

yet,  it was too easy for you to let go...

I've not mourned-  their loss or the loss of you,

I pretend  sad as it may be,  

that you weren't even real.

I've conjured you up in dreams long since past,

sitting looking out my window,

watching children play....

My soul cries out for what would of been ours,

a red-brown hair child looking like you and me

a girl playing with her optimistic twin  brother
as I day dream

I see your crocked smile & the eyes of what would of be our child.

I have to fake like I've never known your love,

as if your a ghost,

well seems to me it's come to this,

I hate how I still reach for you at night

and sometimes

my belly where they've used to be.

I'll hold on to the good we had

and allow myself to feel only the positive memories.

Maybe one day you'll look back fondly on us

and say its time to come home
and be my husband again.

This time we'll do things so completely different ....

reality is this is a fleeting wish a unrealistic dream.

MY UNANSWERED PRAYERS.

Always Me Ayeshah ™ ®
         K.A.C.L.N ©
     All right reserved ®
Copyright 1977 - Present
You're Free & I'm left longing for your arms to hold me.
Love is my worst enemy!
Oh, your memory
forever haunts my heart.
Wherever I go
you are with me.
Oh, you are the fire
within my heart
and in whatever may come
as life winds its crocked way
I know that in all the dark
eternity of space,
among the stars that shine like diamonds
in a black velvet sky
and in all the endlessness
of the eternity of time
as the Sun and moon
race across the sky
in their eternal flight
that my heart shall always
be a part of you.
Oh, love's fever
burns within my blood
and I am intoxicated by you
as with some ancient wine.
Oh, the leaves of the trees
as they sway in the soft summer wind
speak your name
and I am led astray
by the kisses of your lips
and your soft warm flesh
hot upon my skin.
And there is no power
in all the earth
or the infinite heights of heaven
or any infernal region
that can unbind my soul from you
for I am ever yours
into the far reaches of eternity
beyond all the Sun's rising
and all the Sun's setting.
Melissa Rose Feb 2017
I seek to finally uncover
The truth that’s deeply hidden
Still the shadows and the darkness
Leave me sick; I am disease-ridden

In a place of utter misfortune
My mind is not at ease
The past she leaves me burdened
Unable to truly grieve

Crocked are the pathways
Through this journey I do stumble
Over judgments and harsh labels
Wrapped in constant turmoil

They say adversity gives birth to wisdom
An open heart will set me free
Perhaps I lack in vulnerability
Or am just too blind to see
2/3/17
David W Clare Dec 2016
By: David W. Clare

Her bedroom was a mess, Girlie things strewn about...
Heels and pantyhose flying around as she got undressed...

I did the same, I didn't even know her name!

She told me her husband was out of town...

We both were half-crocked, her martini spilled on the rug...

We held each other and hugged!

****, then I awoke as the phone rang!

This ****** dream seemed more than real...
I had been celibate since about last May!

Wrong number; same crap different day...

The hotel operator was told to hold all my calls!

Tried to catch more sleep in hopes of capturing her *** in that dream...

Then, came a hard knock on my hotel room door.

A strange angry man, looking for his wife showed me her photograph...

I was stunned!

I told him about my dream, it seemed he thought it was in jest!

Punched me in the face...

Glad there were some band aids in the medicine chest...

Then, I realized I must lock-down the latch...

Making love to his wife; with no strings attached...


(C) In perpetuity all rights reserved
(P) FilmNoirWorks
Agitation is my wild imagination...old black and white movies I invent to vent is my high of choice...
kinhanyon May 2021
writing to many till ineffable
waiting to long and crocked
working out loud so insensible
and wishing in crowd then told,
i like to hear your touch
Thomas W Case May 2020
I hate the saying, "Baby's Mama."
It's so ******. As I drifted off to
sleep last night, crocked on a plethora of
pills, and the remnants of *****, I thought
to myself, She's a little bluebird that
burrowed in my heart.
I laughed and slobbered, and drifted
into the warm fuzzy black.

She's intuitive, she asked me to let
the nurse know that her and the kids were
coming so that there would be a smooth
transition with staff. Hospitals can be
peculiar when it comes to visitation with children.

So she asked me how I wanted to refer to her.
She's the Mother of my 2-year old
daughter, and she has a 10-year old boy
that I have been around for 6 years.
He's like my own son, but 'technically,  he's not.
I don't want to offend anyone. It's all so
******* complicated. I could say, "This is Bonnie,
I'm Clyde, and this is our gang." They probably
wouldn't laugh. I feel very comfortable saying,
"These are our kids, and this is their Mom"

If the kids weren't in ear-shot and I felt
like a rapscallion, I might say,"This is a woman
that I used to love and **** a lot! Finally we had
our daughter- WOW- AMAZING! ! !
The boy came along before I met her, but I love him
like my own son- always and forever."

Anyway, this is my daughter, and my son, and a woman that I used to
love and **** a lot, also, a fantastic Mother, and when
I'm twacked out d-toxing- drifting off to sleep, and
laughing about what to call her, I might just call her
my little bluebird, that burrows in my heart.
Yenson Mar 2019
Dripping in hemlock and arsenic they monstered out
dressed in designer bad intentions, garland in falsehood
singing lyrics obtuse crocked with triggers ridiculous
the faithful devotees of Baalite tales and the Third Eye
presented by thieves before the altar of the Envious Dins

Do we not know or see that time and tide waits for no one
or that years advance in body and soul as ages consume
we stand because we keep it real and honour and integrity
alien to some, still counts as much as the edifice of truthfulness
and a thousand gilded triggers by knaves, a thousand scorned

The blood drinkers can cut and sup my blood day and night
walls of Jericho be built to hold the soul of the golden eagle
and if honest sweat and endeavours denied, my brow won't lie
what have I to fear with this pair of untainted unsoiled hands
I've not cowered from the dense tongues of the dense malicious

Clarity is mine, my mind attuned because it harbors no ill wills
my memory perfect cause it absents lies and ploys to remember
my body in grace, fit and firm, no guilts or negativity to depress
my joys and spirit intact and flourishing for I drink in positivity
I hawken in gladness to all else like me for so rare is this 'beast'.
Yenson Jan 2021
Its the 21st Century
In a sparkling local Hospital room
so, why would a starched professional elderly nurse
suddenly become Gonzo, or is it Animal
anyway you know, that mad drummer from the Muppets
yet there she is, twisting and turning
clashing silver lids of those pristine medical trays and bowls
creating a cacophony of dins and jarring metallic sounds
like her life depends on it

Yeah, I'll tell you why
but the story started yesterday
yours truly is on an evening walk
when I tripped on the pavement, and stagger, stagger, splat
arms flailing, remedial action impossible, man slammed on pavement
the knees took the blunt of the impact
I am crocked
limped home, knees swollen, two pain-killers, what the hell

Now it gets interesting
some may remember I am the targeted man
the smart *** who stood up to local criminals
bravely calling them out and refusing to pay protection extortion
the criminals had declared in return, we will hound you to death
character assassination, public humiliation, harassment and more
I had laughed in their odious faces, yeah! I was a mug
I was later to learn what being connected means

OK so you're now thinking
what has this got to do with our Gonzo or Animal Nurse
well. good thinking, I'll tell you what
because next day after the splat on pavement and knees mishap
I am in accident and emergency swollen knees and all
finally after a lot of knowing looks and procedural whatsnot'
I was escorted to this treatment room
and our prospective drummer soon arrived to attend to me

She asked me to take a seat
and then almost immediately started banging
the pots and pans
I watched transfixed as this modern professional person
morphed into an unruly child playing drums with mum's pans
she was at it with full gusto, slamming various medical pans
against eachother, all with an evil smirk on her face
I watched speechlessly, unable to comprehend the scene
when was the last time you saw a nurse on hippy crack

Eventually she stopped
I expected the whole annexe to come flooding in
but nobody appeared,
like I was Chapman of beloved Lennon, she stuck on plasters
flashed ***** looks at me, could barely bring herself to speak to me
finally she handed me two tablets and literally heaved me outdoors
now in the corridor another Nurse walked by
Mister she said, try not to drink till you fall over again, she said
hope your hang-over hasn't worsen, she added
and there laid the explanation for the percussion interlude

She was gone before I could reply
I don't drink, I actually don't like the taste of almost all *****
my fall was a total accident
but as I walked away it all come home to me
but wouldn't I have been reeking of *****, eyes glazed
or dulled eyes and looking worse for wear
yet there I was, bright eyed, well kempt, functioning ably
but the net-work of misinformation and disinformation
has been at work again

it was showering slightly as I limped to the bus-stop
I had experienced so much drawbacks and throwbacks from
character assassinations to even begin to mention
it has stopped amazing me that people will believe
whatever they choose to want to believe,
even without the slightest proof or evidence
and act accordingly
we are gullible, we are denser.....
First in the Series...FROM INNOCENT EYES

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