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BRIANO ALLIANO PERFORMS AT JUPITER MOON


hi dudes and welcome to jupiter moon where i will chuck a methane smoothie all over dad

so he can stop treating me like him at home, you see last night dad used the old young dudes

tp say i am not like my mate pat anymore, no, don’t want to be a cool kid to my dad, but i can

clean my house to what i like, and nothing more, buddy, so if you treat me like dad, you must

except i want to be a poor man, because dads way will never work, he should work on betty campbell

here is cruising round with red bull


I see some sorry old soul walking around the town, with a leather jacket on and a red bull in his hand, you see he looks kind if ***** and ****** up in the head he also looks so droopy, too, he should be home in bed, he'll go into JB hifi, if they'll let him in, that is and then he'll notice his red bull can is empty, he didn't know what to do, and everyone is staring at him, he yells out really loud WHAT ARE YA LOOKIN' AT YA ******, and nearly gets into a fight, and he was going completely crazy, yes he was weird, so ran through the mall, saying, I have to get my red bull, I have to get my red bull, I have to get my red bull, it's a f..n matter of life and death, if I don't get a red bull now, I swear I'll **** someone, waddaya think of that, everyone was saying as he passed thinking this man is cool, I think he's a loser cruising around with his red bull
When he got his second can open it up and it squirted everywhere, and unknown to him that half the can was lost in that squirt, so he cruised around with his can saying howdy to the chicks and saying hi dudes to the chaps, and, man he felt so cool, as he went over to JB hifi, yes his red bull can was empty again, and he yelled out ****, this time he was really ****** violent, he knocked over an old lady going to the bank and punched a yeah mate yeah kid,  (nerd) in the gut, and he was like that all the way to the red bull shop, when he got their the red bull was sold out and the store clerk said we have red eye, mother or V, and he said I don't want those, they are woosey drinks, I only drink red bull, because about 1 hour the man was taken by the police, as he was cruising it gives me wings, as I left he saw a kid who bought the last red bull, and he offered him $50 for it, and the kid said, money comes and money goes, but this red bull stays with me forever, and he got violent threatening to **** him as such and the kid said, ok dude, keep ya shirt on, give me $50 for this can and I will give it to you, they exchanged what they had and the kid went to the police station to fill in a statement saying he was threatened by a crazy red bull ******, and in around with the kids red bull, the police took him away the kid identified him as the guy, whi would convert to violence, to be cruising around, oh yeah, yes, man cruising around with his red bull, what a loser

and now here is my next song, called go to bed little shy boy, because i feel like a hooligan with my itchy feet, and i feel like i am getting kidnapped on earth because i am a tad messy, cause dad will never help me, when i do work, i feel like a lady, well, ****** oath i am a
lady to a tease, but i don’t want to get teased though, so i am a man
You see, you are still a little shy boy, and we are still teasing you
So, now you are working, man, come, leave us
And let us muck around, we want to smoke our bongs
As well as drink our bourbons, and drink 100 beers
Yeah we all feel cool, and don't wake up little shy boy
We want the adults to not bother us, cause we are having so much
Fun, we don't want to be adults,and don't want you to worry about us either
You see, all the men, are sitting there, trying to muck with them
Saying tease him, if you want to tease, just teaee him
But at the end of the day, man, we aren't really teasing
We are sitting up all night, being bums and young bludgers
And it's because you are such a ******
We might be making it seemed you are getting teased
But, we really want to leave you alone,,if you leave us alone
Cause, we are drug addicts,,and we want you to respect the fact
That we don't want to work, as long as you think that you aren't a young bludger
Everything will be already, but young bludgers go to bed for work
So mate, just enjoy yourself, and smoke your bongs
And have a good time, doing it
You see, I want to enjoy ourselves doing this
You are now leaving us all on our lonesome
See ya dudes
yeah, i don’t wanna be a cool kid to tease so i say to you, shut up cockbreath, here is my next song


I am a man and other men are teasing me with the kids
This is driving me crazy, I told them that I am a man
And I don't stand for this kind of juvenile behaviour
You see the kids didn't listen to that, they just laughed
And for a while each man kept on trying to be mature adults
Which we all know they're not, said for the kids to leave me alone
And then said, he isn't a target for teasing
But then after 3 days, the men said, what the flaming ****
We are going to tease this ****** yuppie
Yes, we'll tease them with the kids
The kids would teaee and when you go to the men
The men will teaee them too. They will act like all other Australians
And tease you as well, yes and they will ****** find it ****** fun
You are suffering cause you haven't got many friends

And the kids are laughing, while the ******* men say
You are a fucken big old softie,and you are now with no friends
Then you get a knife and try to stab him
And after that you punch him in the back
And then you draw out your knife and threaten to slit his throat
If he doesn't stop fucken teasing him
But they go, I am teasing you, and that's the only way I am being



You see when I go out of my bedroom after having a night of ***
The kids ate teasing me, left right and centre
And I try to handle it, but it's so ****** hard for me to do
Because they are saying things like, I am going to bash you up
And giving me a pineapple drink which was ****** wee
close to you
So if the kiddies are teasing you, and you turn to me, to get me to muck with you
I will say, I ain't mucking with you, mate, neh
I am just teas---ase---ing you with the kiddies, you aren't like us, cause when we tease you
Mate, you can't handle it, and then you say, you are spastic, and dumb as well. And I will punch you with this metal part of my leather glove, to show you who can't fucken handle teasing, you **** of the earth, fucken man
Then you go to your room, and they don't talk to you anymore
Because they are treating you like a target to tease
And that drives me crazy. And i yelled out
I AM SICK AND TIRED OF BEING THE MAN WHO IS GETTI NG TEASED BY MEN AND THE KIDS,  LEAVE ME THE **** ALONE
And they did, I am now a free spirit, no one can successfully taste me, never


yeah, i don’t wanna get teased by the men and kids, so i will be a hooligan oops, i am a cool person

you see, i am a polite man, hey, what did you say, you are protecting me with your hey, so i want dad to fly off, ok

have found a polite way to

I have found a polite way to say I love you even if I don't really mean it
I have found a polite way to tell you to ******* when you constantly bug me at my place of work, and that is treat him like an employee and then sack him, that'll work
I have found a polite way to tell someone that their weird without making them get upset
I have found a polite way to say to a right wing party that their policies stink by saying, you guys are a bunch of total perfectionists, who care nothing for the little guys
I have found a polite way to tell someone that they aren't the right sort of friend for me by saying, please mate, I need to broaden my horizons, so can you leave my perfect world buddy
I have found a polite way to tell my boss that I am resigning and that is I really don't want this place of employment, it's not really my cup of tea
I have found a polite way tell someone in a bar to stop bugging me by asking them nicely to please leave me alone and if that doesn't work then leave the bar saying if people aren't going to be nice to me here, I ain't going to come here
I have found a polite way to call someone a young bludger by telling them that they are as lazy as you were when you were their age
I find polite ways to say anything because I value my
Life too much to be hurt people's feelings, I am really cool, man

ya see i hear voices of people saying i have no real problems, but i wanna be famous, and i want to move to adelaide, but i don’t get positive feedback

so i feel like getting drunk and vomiting like this song

You see I love to have a few beers, or chocolate, and chips, oh yeah
This was what I really enjoy when I go to a pub at night
You see I live next door to this nightclub, called the hungry ****** horse
And I ain't cursing because I want to, man, that s what it's called
I met a man named Roger Killbert, who I had *** with and having a few
But the beers weren't doing good for Roger, they made him really sick
You see he was getting drunk and vomiting, yes, he was really sick
I don't share children with him, so why did I stay with him
You see he lost his family in the recent fires, and this is the first time he went out
And Roger was getting a sickly taste in his mouth, oh yeah
And it made him *****, he was sick,
You see it was just vomiting, so I didn't bother to take him to hospital
But I changed my mind, when te blood came out, it was really bad
So I took him to the hospital, and the hospital said he fine
But I know in my fucken ****** heart, that he was sick
Then he vomited blood, and the nurse said
To Roger to go to the waiting room
Because this isn't too important, but we do know that it was
And I said, why don't you get your *** in gear
And help my fucken friend, and from that moment
They labelled me a stubborn girl, yes I hated that a lot
And I said, yes, I'm stubborn, but I care for him, and have you got
Someone you care about, you hear about doctors like you
And I am more than just a stubborn woman
If you don't look after my friend, or at least try
I will soo your pants right off
He fucken had the nerve to say on what grounds
I am trying, to be my job, follow work protocol
Yes, I am doing fine, I earn a lot of money
And I deserve every cent, then I said you deserve squat
But I don't really care, when we left, yes I sooed his pants off
And since that ****** day, this doctor never learnt his lesson
We were moved to another hospital
You see he is getting drunk and vomiting, and he was very sick
And we are enjoying spending his money we got out of the doctor
Yes I feel ****** good

you can get your earth bodies to look at aaron clayton or aaa youtube TV, to hear everything performed by me

here is my next song


now, i will tell you where my cool kid is, at the mall mucking around
you see I go to the mall, being with young people
And I have so much fun, making young people mistakes
Like drinking all night and passing by McDonald's
For a McFeast and fries and coke
I will look like a junk food hooligan
And yes I will look so cool to the young
But I wish it was as simple as that
I want to have some fun
So I saw my two friends Eddie and Daniel
And we mucked around having fun
But it wasn't really what I wanted, man
So I told them both to *******
For 3 years after they purposely ran into me
And call me Woosey, and um, they will put the smoke in their ear
And eat McDonalds while I will try to be an adult
And every adult decision I make, they said Woosey, Woosey, Woosey
And then I got up and said you kids make me sick
But I couldn't say that, and they called me Woosey, because I was
Too Woosey to be a man, that opens up to his problems
But I felt like trying my hand trying to intimidate them
And make them leave me alone, it drives me crazy
All I want to be is a normal young dude, you know
Playing around making mistakes as well as being cool
But I have **** like you two teasing me as if your friendship is a fucken lie
You look like greedy pigs when you eat your McDonald's
And you are a ******* when you bang your head against the tapes
Yeah, dude, you look like a Woosey to me, mate
I am just doing the kind of things that Patrick did
Because what he likes to do, is similar to what I like to do
I like hard rock music, but I ain't a little young dude
Who is to scared to escape the tease
You guys are two little Wooseys, and I will say you are Wooseys
Mainly because you eat little young food like maccas
And you stick the cigarette in your hair, like a ******
I am a cool young dude, cool young dudes do art, and don't look lost
I'm not lost, I am so radical dudes, let's party
I am now on the healing process, because Daniel is the only Woosey
And that's the truth, you see


you see, how many of you guys have been called a woosey, you see i believe in loving life and here is my next song

i still wanna be young, what is wrong with that
Yes, mate, I am happy and I feel cool
I feel my body is getting younger and I want to break the adult rule
Mind you, there is nothing wrong with growing up, and being wise, so to speak
But really that's too formal, man, doing that will just send you weak
You need to do things that are exciting
Like go on an aero plane, like to Thailand or Vietnam, or even the mighty USA
You should go on long rail journeys too, yes that's a bit of a buzz
You can either choose having a sleeper, living the lap of luxury
Or roughing it up on the single ride seat
You can also grab a hot meal on the train
And you can eat it in the dining car
And you can eat it up, real fast, so you aren't away from the seat too long
I also like a bus trip, like to Batemans bay or beyond
And a trip to Sydney. Melbourne, Brisbane, Hervey bay, gold coast, and fantastic Adelaide
I go into a club and if I hear music I will either tap my foot or dance to it
Depending on the mood of the place
I also like to stay in a Hotel, and watch a bit of ****** Rupertvision
Some shows are good, and thouroughly entertained me so much
But not enough to make me give to that rich *****
I sometimes like a good trip in the country, where I climb mountains
Or just look at the views from lookouts and even the wild life
And mind you, you can have a ball in the country, cause you have no main worries
No worries at all, sonny Jim
Then you can spend the weekend in Sydney for the Carols in the domain
Where you get in early, pick a great spot, and take in the Christmas spirit
Mind you, you have to wait in line at the toilets, but it's all in good fun
And mate, if you happen to lose, dad, or even your mum
Just go to the stage, and tell them that you are a lost boy
With no directional skills, and how do I find mummy again
Of course they will help find them, but you really just wanted to get on the idiot box
And mate, just wait for the hiding you get off mum or dad
For wasting important television viewing time
There are so many things you can do, but, mate
You need to get a job, oh yeah, don't make your mum and dad pay
That can make you uncool
You see, I am a 43 year old young dude, yeah
And I will be there, till the day I join the afterlife, oh yeah
i hear voices of people saying, i ain’t going to help you little cool ki, ****** oath i am cool kid



Hi little kid, you can't find your mummy, you are a baby
Cause this is a family event, and it's quite ****** safe
Just ask a fellow kid, sure you are safe little kid
But then another kid will come, and trick me into
Looking like a phedaphile, and I won't be able to get out of it
So little kid, keep looking around for your mummy
And, yes you will see her, and I ain't helping you
Cause I am not the kids teasing Buddy
You see I want kids to let me be a true grown up
Who wants to be cool, and have a lot of fun
With other grown ups, and if kids can think of Judy being with each other
The city will look after their needs a lot better
You see, I dressed up as Santa, but I ain't helping you kid
So *******, or I will put you in the toilet
Do you want that, I don't fucken think so
I can tell you, I ain't no kid, I am an adult
Who wants to have fun and enjoy life
I don't want you kids to come up to me
And ask me to do something inappripiate
Even if it looks innocent, it ain't, I aren't that type of guy
You kids are a pack of fucken losers
And just keep yourselfs in your family groups
Cause that will suit me just fine, because
I ain't gonna he
Amitav Radiance Feb 2015
Cruising along the
Rushing river
Flowing with
Rapid urgency
Time’s never still
Left the anchor
To sail ahead
Finally, to be swept away
By undercurrents
Transported to
A distant shore
of a resting place
Jim Davis Apr 2017
In the last
three decades,
after we became one,
I touched
amazingly beautiful things,
horribly ugly things,  
unbelievably wondrous things

I touched nature's majesty;
hued walls of the Grand Canyon,              
crusty bark of the
Redwoods and Sequoias,
live corals of the
Great Barrier Reef,
dreamlike sandstone of the Wave

I touched magical and strange;
platypus, koalas and
kangaroos Down Under,
underwater alkali flies and
lacustrine tufa at Mono Lake,
astral glowing worms
in the Kawiti caves

I touched holy places;
Christianity's oldest churches,
the Pope's home in the Vatican,
Hindu and Sikh temples and
Moslem mosques in India,
Anasazi's kivas of Chaco canyon,
Aboriginal rocks of Uluru and Kata Tjuta

I touched glimmers of civilization;
uncovered roads of Pompeii,
fighting arenas of Rome,
terra cotta armies of Xian,
sharp stone points of the Apache,
pottery shards from the Navajo,
petroglyphs by the Jornada Mogollon

I touched fantastical things;
winds blowing on the
steppes of Patagonia,,
playas and craters of Death Valley,  
high peaks of the Continental Divide,
blazing white sands of the  
Land of Enchantment

I touched icons of liberty
and freedom;
the defended Alamo,
a fissured Liberty Bell,
an embracing Statue of Liberty,
the harbor of Checkpoints
Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie

I touched glorious things
made by man;
the monstrous Hoover Dam,
an exquisite Eiffel tower,
a soaring St Louis Arch,
an Art deco Empire State Building,
the sublime Golden Gate Bridge

I touched sparks from history;
the running path of an
Olympic flame just off Bourbon,
the last steps of Mohandas Ghandi
at Birla House before Godse,
******'s Eagle's nest and the
grounds over Der Führerbunker

I touched walls of power;
enclosed rings of the Pentagon,
steep steps of the
Great Wall of China,
untried bastions of
Peter and Paul's fortress,
fitted boulders of Machu Picchu

I touched strong hands;
of those conquering
Rommel's and ******'s hordes,
of cold warriors of
Chosin Reservoir,  
of forgotten soldiers of Vietnam,
of terrorist killers of today

I touched memories of war;
the somber Vietnam memorial,
the glorious Iwo Jima statue,
the cold slabs at Arlington,
the buried tomb of USS Arizonians,
Volgograd's Mother Russia  

I touched ugly things;
shreds of light in
Port Arthur's prison,
horrible smelly dust
in the streets from 9/11,
ash impregnated dirt
in the pits at Auschwitz

I touched oppressed freedom;
open ****** plazas
of Tiananmen Square,
smooth pipe and concrete
of the Berlin Wall,  
tall red brick walls
of the Moscow Kremlin

I touched constrained freedom;
heavy ankle and
wrist slave chains
in the South,
little windows
in Berlin's Stasi prison,
haunted cells in Alcatraz  

I touched remnants of madness;
wire and ovens of Auschwitz,
stacked chimneys and
wooden bunks of Birkenau,        
Ravensbruck, and Dachau,
the tomb of Lenin,
toppled Stalins

I touched hands of survivors;
of Leningrad's siege,
of German POWs and
of Russian fighters
of Stalingrad's battle,
of Cancer's scourges  

I touched grand things;
deep waters of the Pacific and Atlantic,
blue hills of Appalachia,
towering peaks of the Rockies,
high falls of Yosemite Valley,
bursting geysers of Yellowstone,
crashing glaciers of Antarctica and Alaska    

I touched times of adventure;
abseiling and zipping in Costa Rica,
packing Pecos wilds and Padre isles,
flying nap of earth Hueys to Meridian,
breaking arms in JRTC's box,
fighting Abu Sayyaf, and Jemaah
Islami in Zamboanga City

I touched through you;
wet sand beaches of  Mexico and Jamaica,
mysterious energy of the monoliths of Stonehenge,
rarefied air in front of the
Louvre's Mona Lisa,
ancient wonders of Giza,
Egypt's tombs and pyramids

We shared soft touches;
drifting in Bora Bora's
surreal waters,
joining hands camel trekking the
Outback's dry sands,
strolling along Tasmania's
eucalyptus forest trails

basking in swinging hammocks
under Fiji's bright sun,
scrambling in
Las Vegas' glittering and
red rock canyons,
kissing under the
Taj Mahal's symphony of arches

We shared touching deep waters;
propelled in gondolas
through the city of canals,
Drifting atop Uru cat boats on Lake Titticaca,
Swooping in jet boats
up a wild river in Talkeetna

Racing in speed boats
around Sydney's great harbour,
skimming in pangas in Puerto Ayora,
paddling the Kennebec for
East's best petroglyphs,
cruising Salzbergwerk's underwater lake

We touched scrumptious things;
Beignets and chicory coffee at DuMonde's in the Big Easy,
Hot *** with sesame sauce
in the walled city of Xian,
Peking duck, dimsum, scorpions,
snake and starfish on Wangfujing Snack Street

We touched delicious things
Crawfish heads and tails at JuJu's shack
and ten years at Jeanette's,
Langoustine at Poinciana's, Fjöruborðinus and Galapagos,
Cream cheese and loch bagels
at Ess-a' s in the Big Apple

I touched your hand riding;
hang loose waves of Waikiki,
a big green bus in Denali's awesomeness,
clip clopping carriages of Vienna, Paris,
Prague, New Orleans, Krakow,
Quebec City, and Zakopane,
the acapella sugar train of St Kitts

We shared touching on paths;
the highway 1 of Big Sur,
the Road of the Great Ocean,
the bahn to Buda and Pest,
the path to the North of Maine,
the trail of the Hoh rainforest,
and time after time, the way home

Yet,
I could spend
the next three decades,
in simple bliss,
having need for
touching nothing,
other than you!

©  2016 Jim Davis
A poem I wrote last year for my wife!  Posted now since it matches the HP' theme for today - "Places"
Jeff Gaines Aug 2018
Mark A. Williams
                            SEPTEMBER 14, 1962 – JULY 23, 2018

___________________­

Wow Mark,

Was so, so saddened to hear this news. I haven't seen you in over ten years, but as kids, we had some amazing adventures, didn't we? Partying, camping and swimming at the Hudson lime pits. Mowing down on Pizza and pitchers of Pepsi (and as we grew up, BEER!) at Pizza Hut. (We knew the numbers to ALL the songs on that jukebox by heart!) Hanging out and looking at the stars through Budvido's telescope, listening to Doctor Demento. Laughing hysterically as we ran through Monty Python skits as everyone looked on in total puzzlement because THEY wouldn't discover them until YEARS later!

Building underground forts in the North Woods. You, Budvido, Zeke and I playing pinball at 7-11 for hours and hours. Watching Bands, chasing girls and playing Foosball or Pool at the Touch of Class Teen Club. You gave me my first Imported beer . . . a Lowenbrau. I will always owe my passion for those German beers to you and it was fitting that Budvido bestowed you with that moniker.

All through Jr. High, sharing a seat on the school bus. You, Matt, Tom, Buddy and I cruising around late night on our bikes for hours. Hanging around in the Jasmine Lakes sign with hijacked beer or getting free bags of Burgers from Burger Queen when they closed at night! Jousting with shopping carts on our bikes in the Winn-Dixie parking lot. Sitting up all night in Jimi's room after climbing in through the window or going on endless space cruises with him and Raymond in the Toyota.

(RIP Jimi Carlsen)

Sneaking into the nudest Colony and skinny dipping! Always cracking up at the school lunch table. Swimming in my pool and terrorizing my sister and her friends. (Allegedly) Trashing that crook Fast Eddie's produce stand after he refused to pay us for a full day of picking watermelons!

Good times, indeed . . . Some of my most precious memories.

I can only pray that you know that I wouldn't trade my youth or you in it for anything in the world and you will be sadly missed, Lowenbrau, my old friend.

I hope that where you are, your beers are ice cold and that you and Jimi aren't having to glue the Hookah  back together.

Jeff Gaines
July 28, 2018
Such a sad task, to say goodbye to a friend with last words that may never had been spoken up until then. As it happens, this friend and I often relished in our youthful exploits, but still ... I'd not seen him in ten years. Because ... life happens. He had fallen on hard times and was bouncing place to place and I too was moving and living all over. We had spoken on the phone here and there and that would have to suffice.

I  haven't posted in weeks and I haven't read in almost 2 months. THANK YOU to those who have the patience with me to still read me, even though I can't reciprocate at the moment. I will, when time permits, come back and catch up on all of you. It will take me days and days!
欣快 Apr 2017
We're in the sun and I'm moving from your mouth
to your jeans, we're watching the stars and we're moving
We're going down the green boulevard and we're cruising
you speak Romanian, I speak you, we're going to far
and moving to the beat as one and the wind blows the hair
in my face and I got news for you, I can see you just clearly
as I could before, carefully, barely hanging on and catching movies

I can't keep away from your kiss, back and forth want to feel
the rest of you and all of you can't wait to catch you all alone
we're in the sun and I'm moving from your mouth
to the hole in your heart, tell me how you feel and who you are
you speak barely, your rhythmic breaths tell me all I need to know
waste the day and spend all the time in your pockets, all alone
floating around your head and hanging midair in your palms like
a red balloon
George Krokos Dec 2010
Aborigines and kangaroos
boomerangs and didjeridoos.
Leafy gum tree branch and koala bear
black stump in the middle of nowhere.
Jolly swagman camped by a billabong
in 'Waltzing Matilda' a favourite song.
The wild brumbies roaming free in the outback
a scruffy hobo living alone in a country shack.
Aboriginal myths called their dreamtime
the native Australians regard as sublime.
Ring-tailed possum and wombat
aussie bloke wearing akubra hat.
Alice Springs and Ayers Rock
outback stations and livestock.
Ned Kelly bushranger and his law brushes
the Eureka stockade during the gold rushes.
Laughing kookaburra and old man emu
platypus swimming in underwater view.
Banjo Patterson’s poem ‘The Man from Snowy River’
who went riding down mountain side without a quiver.
Surfers paradise and the Great Barrier reef
sixties rock ‘n roll legend: Johnny O’Keefe.
Anzac marches and the land of the Southern cross
old Cobb & Co. stagecoach used to travel across.
Glorious summer sunshine and winter rains
severe country drought and the desert plains.
Eucalyptus scent and Tea-tree oil
good health remedies from the soil.
Fresh water yabbies and the witchety grub
all make good tucker in the bush or scrub.
Crocodiles in the Kakadu national park
Burrumundi and the great white shark.
Sydney harbour bridge and the Opera House
Daintree rain forest and the kangaroo mouse.
Sheep wool farming and old shearing sheds
Melbourne Cup horse race for thoroughbreds.
Riverboat cruising up and down the Murray
passing border country towns not in a hurry.
Cradle mountain and the Tasmanian Devil
saying ‘fair dinkum’ means it’s on the level.
AFL rules football and big crowds at the MCG
playing one day cricket there is exciting to see.
The Fitzroy Gardens and Captain Cook’s cottage
are there for all to see as symbols of our heritage.
The Twelve Apostles standing along a rugged stretch of coast
a Ninety-Mile beach is something about which we can also boast.
The Glass House mountains are a sight to see and even to climb
by those who consider themselves fit enough and in their prime.
The great Australian Bight and the road on the Nullarbor plain
is a great feat to drive across and be able to come back again.
The local native wild dog known by name as the Dingo
has nothing to do with a game people play called Bingo.
There’s also a game called two-up that some people play
by which they gamble most of their weeks wages away.
Luna Park in St.Kilda and the annual Royal Melbourne Show
are places where you can take the kids to have fun people know.
There’s the local pub where you can go and have a drink with your mates
and is what many do all day long having a few too many in all the States.
This great southern land of Australia has so much to see and to offer
it would be a ****** shame if one didn’t give a **** or was a scoffer.
_________
Private Collection - written in 2002
Terry O'Leary Jul 2015
The dawn unfolds beyond my fractured windowpane
and breezes tease while drapes, like serpents, slip aside
exposing worlds that race and run aground, insane,
displaying scenes obscene that savants strive to mask and hide.

Outside, the streets are stark (last night they seemed so cruel
when demons danced as lanterns 'lumed the lynching tree -
its shadow shuddered, lurking in my vestibule -
within the night, I sense these things I sometimes cannot see).

Perdu in darkened doorways (those which watch the ones that weep)
men hide their shame in crevices in search of cloaked relief.
The ladies of the evening leave (their time to sleep!)
the alleyways, retaining bitter tastes of untold grief.

Soon drifters (distraught dregs that stray from street to street)
abandon benches, squat on curbstones some call home,
appeal to strangers for a coin or simple bite to eat -
refused… gaze down… left empty-handed in the morning gloam.

Observe with me, beyond my fractured windowpane,
the boy with crooked smile - the one who's seen the  beast -
with tears, he stoops and clasps the cross while wiping off the stain -
the abbey door along the lane conceals a pious priest.

While at the mall, Mike sees some cigs, and stealth'ly steals a pack;
the Man, observing, thinks ‘Hey Boy, this caper calls for blood’,
takes aim, then shoots the fated stripling eight times in the back.
Come, mourn for Mike and brother Justice, facedown in the mud.

Fatigued and bored, some kids harass the alley now -
to pass the time, Joe smokes a joint and Lizzy snorts a line;
computer games (which quake with doom) can help somehow,
so Eric plays with Dylan on the road to Columbine.

The shanty towns have hunkered down as if in mortal sport
while broken bodies' shattered bones repose supine,
and mamas (now bereft of child) in anguished pain contort,
their eyes drip drops of wrath which wither on a twisted vine.

Now Mr Baxter, private bankster (cruising down the road,
pursuing profit pushers, waving magic mushroom wands),
adores addiction to the bailout (coffers overflowed)
and jests with all the junkies, while he's dealing with the bonds.

Marauders man the marketplace (with billions guaranteed)  
while kids with swollen bellies beg neath hollow sunken eyes,
and (cut to naught) the down-and-out (like trodden beet roots) bleed.
Life's carousel invites us all, though few can ring the prize.

A washerwoman, timeworn, totters from the tram -
she shuffles to her hovel on a lonesome distant hill,
despondent, shuts the shutters, downs her final dram -
a magpie quickly picks at crumbs forsaken on the sill.

Jihadist and Crusader warders faithfully guard the gates,
behead impious infidels, else burn them at the stake
(yes, God incites each side for good, the other side He hates),
with saintly satisfaction gained provoking pagan ache.

The watchers pry behind our fractured windowpanes
inspect us all, tear down the walls of privacy
controlling every point of view opinion entertains,
forbidding thoughts one mustn't think, with which they don’t agree.

Come, cast a furtive glance… there's something in the far…
from towns to dunes in deserts dry, the welkin belches sudden death
by dint of soulless drones that stalk beneath a straying star
erasing life in random ways in freedom’s final breath.

But closer lies an island, where the keepers keep the wards.
No sense, no charges nor defense - a verdict? Yes! … grotesque -
the guiltless gush confessions, born and bred on waterboards.
Impartial trials? A travesty instead, indeed quite Kafkaesque.

Now dusk draws near beyond my fractured windowpane
while mankind drowns like burnt-out suns in fading lurid light;
and scarlet clots of grim deceit and ebon beads of bane
flow, deified, within the rotting corpse of human night.
Marshall Gass Apr 2014
The deepest understanding  between lovers
stands majestically above the deepest abyss
as if, unbreakable and pure in its unreachable,
unbreakable bond.

Whatever melts this emotion together
was forged in a hotter furnace than ever found
that only two people can understand.

Rising above the highest tide
soaring above tornadoes and typhoons
and cruising along points of paradise
available only to the two of them.

How serene it feels to know
that your own reflection mirrors
in the other person and their every nuance
is written into your own poems
adding the rhyme and rhythm
for your own journey together.

Author Notes
Feel like this at times?
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.
Like the wild, wild geese
Rising high over my head
In soaring chevrons
Loudly calling as they fly
I, love to cruise with my friends
Tanka
Behind this poem is my love of bicycle riding with my motley crew on my 1924 camel's back single speed. Yup, lots of hills where I live, but it is amazing how easy they can be on a well oiled single speed.
Tommy Randell Nov 2016
Safe in the wet nest's rocking
I listen, with a passion. to a conversation about passions
Rising muffled from the party's tossing to and fro, below, below,

While a world away, upstairs on a huge expanse of white cotton,
With one gesture becoming an origami whale
Breaching silently the smoked-glass horizons of dresser-mirrors

She and I, remembering some tricks for odd half hours spent alone
Travel tides not knowing what needs destroy our hearts.
The Party's ceiling, our bed's floor, hardly creaking with our pressing.

But just as the Ocean's creases can become too fine    
So cruising her body my hands have no future    
Await the tragedy of the ******* to fly true and strike home -    

So, at the moment of our coming, killing the whale    
Only I know the enormous guessing it takes
Striking the blow personally in a spiral stupor.
Does the whaler harpooner dream of his girl or does the young man with his girl imagine harpooning the whale? Ah well, who knows ...
Blake Aug 2018
When we fell asleep video chatting every night for a month
When I cried because you were the first person to make me feel like I wasn’t alone
When you excitedly told me about kissing a girl in a cemetery
When you sent me videos of your dirt bike
When we went cruising and listened to songs from our favourite band
When you tried to teach me how to game
When you told me everything you love about your girlfriend
When you talked about engines and cars with me even though I didn’t understand
When you saw I was feeling bad even at the one place I’m always happy
When you didn’t ask questions when I asked you to get rid of my razors, but instead told me how proud you were
When you held me as I cried, knowing I hate crying in front of people
When you let me fall asleep holding you even though I was cold and wet
When you held my hand when we woke up on the day when everyone had to leave
When you let me hug you a hundred times because you knew how much I’d miss you

When you gave me closeness and friendship and love unlike anything I’d ever known before

When we sat in my porch for 3 hours after fireworks were shot at people during a party, so you could make sure I was okay
When you let me cuddle you even though your friends would give you a hard time
When you told me you’d help me out if anyone ever hurt me
When you took a selfie with me
When you carried me everywhere *** I was tired
When you held my hand going down a steep trail because I couldn’t see and you knew I was scared
When you brought me extra food because you knew I skipped lunch
When you were protective over who I was friends with
When I came over to your house for the first time and we made pizza, gamed, and hung out with your family
When you had you first kiss with me

When you always showed you were protective of me and became the big brother I never had

When you told me you were bi on the first day we met
When you told me that only people you know well or that you like get to know you’re bi
When you cried and told me all your favourite facts and memories of a friend who had betrayed you
When you told me I had a cute nose
When you fell asleep holding my hand
When we hugged eachother after not seeing eachother for a year
When we kissed for the first time
When we kissed more
When you were my date
When you told me I was the only non-celebrity you’d go gay for
When we danced together
When we agreed to have an annual one week relationship

When you were the first girl I loved

When I met these people I never thought we’d get to the point were at now.
I doubt I’ve effected their lives as much as they’ve effected mine but it doesn’t even really matter because I have them and that’s all that matters to me
Andrew Rueter May 2017
You and I need to Tom Cruise together
Because I only know A Few Good Men
And you're the Top Gun
And I am a little self conscious about
how much I enjoy the first half of Cocktails
Because this kind of love can be Risky Business
When I'm with you I don't want to see the Edge of Tomorrow
Nor do I feel like I'm one of The Outsiders anymore
We should get really weird
and try some Eyes Wide Shut ****
But I'd settle for a Jack or a Reacher from you anytime
But how do I precipitate our connection, Rain Man?
It just seems like Mission: Impossible.
I stare vacantly into the Vanilla Sky
As these Days of Thunder last too long
Without you
The difference is Knight and Day
For in your Endless Love
I was merely Collateral
Now passively watch as I fall into Oblivion
Janet Li Aug 2010
Sipping iced coffee,
so creamy, so fresh.
Hair whipping out from its knot,
tangling in the wind;
she doesn't mind.
Driving around Manhattan
in her uncle’s ghetto, beat-up truck,
the sun beating down on her face,
she sighs—

ah,
this is the good life.
8.6.10
Cné Jun 2017
James
Trying to find a place to ***
I went behind a big o'l tree
She saw me there
Completely bare
Then we became a WEE!!

TF
Oh the deepest trouble, *****
Playing with girls, that sin
just ware these words
don't think her absurd
when she wondering says, "is it in?"

Cné
So glad for you, on getting some
while relieving yourself, on the run
Girls that sin
worderin'
bored, did she ask, "Did you ***?
Or are you done?"

Sorry boys, just having fun!

James
Hey, welcome aboard
if you're feelin' bored
just give it a rub
but not a snub
that's how we scored

TF
Y'all are so bad, yes it's true
just tell me when your through
pushing, pulling
tweaking, fulfilling
your hands now full, of goo

Cné
How could I be bored, with the likes of you two
in need of rubbing, please don't be blue
Make no mistake
I have what it takes
especially, for men well overdue

TF
Talented and beautiful too
always pulling it through
it must be fate
it's always so great
getting a tugging, from you

James
Walking the streets before dawn
you looked and her light was on
you saw her fare
but didn't care
and wonder where your money's all gone

James
Poor Bill, he never did learn
he saved all the money he could earn
to pay a sweet lady
at place that was shady
and wonders why his pecker still burns

TF
Bill never learned his lesson
the burn just grew, not lessened
he never went back
his pecker he lacks
no more ****** sessions

TF
The ladies of the evening
sights beyond believing
the things they do
while making you
penniless, and leaving

Cné
A working girl, works it
with Johns, turning tricks
*******
and f¥€king
can't blame her, for getting you sick

TF
The doctor told her to take a break
her body one day, might break
all that cavorting
and oral contorting
she just really loved, her tube steaks

James**
He told her to take a seat
when she really wanted a treat
she was feelin' dry
and wasn't shy
And so she went after his meat

James
Cruising the streets just chillin'
searchin' for a chick just millin'
She shook her ***
I couldn't pass
Oh, well, another shot of penicillin

TF
Something's wrong with Suzy
something oozing, from her coozie
she scratches at an itch
her john's just call her a *****
that's the sum of it, laying down, with floozies

Cné
Suzy was rode hard, put up wet
with men on the street corner she met
Wiggling her ***
for just a little cash
***** status. she earned, you bet

Disclaimer: It just gets sicker from here...

James
Went to the bathroom to sit on the ***
I like to **** while I'm on the clock
There wasn't any paper
I used a finger scraper
I might better had used my sock

TF
Now if there's one thing I know
being a clock, that's fast, and not slow
fingers be scraping
flecks are escaping
****, will under the fingernails, go

Cné to James
Please wash your hands before you eat
Be careful cruisin' down the street
or chillin'
with penicillin
I fear a terrible peril soon, you will meet!
Chrystos Minot Apr 2015
Hailstorms with big winds, trees writhing in breezes
Coyotes howling in moonlight, dogs when they sneezes
Alloys and carved toys, stone gargoyles with wings
These are a few of my favorite things.

Skunk smells carried gently on nocturnal breezes
Sly double entendres and tickley teases
Beautiful salmon colored sunsets that make my jaw drop
Smell of pine 'n cedar in my sauna and wood shop!

Dolphins and doggies and toddlers and mooses
Saunas and cold plunges and honking V-flying gooses
Small mutts and storytellers and Pixar cartoons
Crazy call of the Maine dark of night loons
These are some of my nurturing tunes!

Volcanoes with lava and magma all oozing
Cross country skiing just gliding and cruising
Receiving massages unwinding and unbruising
I love my collections of adhesives and strings
These are a few of my favorite things!

So when the wasps sting
When the bored people whine
Wen I'm feeling dispirited and sad
I just think of a few of my favorite things
And I don't feel…so…bad!
Written July-13-2013
Ovid Oct 2016
I'm broke and wondering where all my money went.
Questioning what was the last thing I bought and if it was money well spent.  
I had to work for what some of my friends already had for years.
Kind of a ****** reality but then again, who cares?

I'm watching all of my heroes become human.  
Free balling life while trying to take the next step, yeah, I'm cruising.
Working hard for what many had all along.  
If you think there's someone answering your prayers then you're all wrong.

Opportunity and equity are two very different things.
We all can grow but where we go can affect whether we're winning or losing.  
I'm so consumed by my desires sometimes it burns me.
Taking the next step is hard but we're all forever learning.

My life is just one big broken machine.
I need tools and parts to fix it and I'm still searching.
All that time I spent waiting and wishing for some to rescue me.  
The only person who can answer my prayers is me.
Got that green reverberatin'.
When to stop?
She comptinplatin' cause the train done left the station.
It's a indecation her imagination on incline.
It's the primetime in mankind she on a zipline.
The picture done popped out the frame.
She on a train called insane, that cant be tamed.
But she is still on her game.
She fly high with them aviators.
Cruising space with Darth Vader.
That green **** she saver
Meg B May 2014
Gazing down
on sleepy towns,
transparent sky,
high above

Down below are the workers,
the daughters,
the smokers,
the bank robbers

On I soar,
hearing the jet engine roar,
and thousands of feet beneath,
the partiers are still drowning in
deep sleep

Flying by
as lovers exchange a kiss,
a lonely man cries,
a doctor mending a broken wrist

Downward gazing,
burnouts blazing,
artists creating,
blooming vegetation,
streets full of
imagination, fascination,
devastation,  miscalculations,
faces, races, places, nations;

Peering down from the heavens;
the view is
amazing.
This harbour was made by art and force.
And called Kingstown and afterwards Dun Laoghaire.
And holds the sea behind its barrier
less than five miles from my house.

Lord be with us say the makers of a nation.
Lord look down say the builders of a harbour.
They came and cut a shape out of ocean
and left stone to close around their labour.

Officers and their wives promenaded
on this spot once and saw with their own eyes
the opulent horizon and obedient skies
which nine tenths of the law provided.

And frigates with thirty-six guns, cruising
the outer edges of influence, could idle
and enter here and catch the tide of
empire and arrogance and the Irish Sea rising

and rising through a century of storms
and cormorants and moonlight the whole length of this coast,
while an ocean forgot an empire and the armed
ships under it changed: to slime **** and cold salt and rust.

City of shadows and of the gradual
capitulations to the last invader
this is the final one: signed in water
and witnessed in granite and ugly bronze and gun-metal.

And by me. I am your citizen: composed of
your fictions, your compromise, I am
a part of your story and its outcome.
And ready to record its contradictions.
The Crash of the Waves ,
The Stillness of the Sand ,
Life at the Ocean is a Contrast Grand .
~~~~~~~~~~
The Depth of the Sea ,
The High and Low Tides
The Ocean gives Positive Vibes.
~~~~~~~~~~~
The School of Vibrant Fish
A distinct Wave Swish .
~~~~~~~~~
The Bright , shining Sun ,
The Cool Breeze over the Ocean .
~~~~~~~~~
The Vastness of the Aquamarine that Nestle,
The Diminutiveness of the Cruising Vessels .
~~~~~~~~~~
Small ,Thatched Hutments under the Tall Green Coconut Grooves,
In Tranquility here the Day Moves.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Smell the Sea , Feel the Sky
A PostCard Perfect Mixture  ,
The Beauty of the Ocean has a Winsome Contrast Picture !
~~~~~~~~~~~
© Mrunalini.D.Nimbalkar
Inspired to write when i scrolled through the picture gallery of our recent holiday to #The Seychelles#Happy memories #Beauty of the Ocean...23.04.2019
Samuel Dec 2011
There's something to be
said for a vision of water
endless soup and hey we
might as well be floating
for lack of depth.
Q Apr 2013
the boy
two seats over
is terrified of flying

holds hands
with his friends
neither say "no ****"

in hindsight,
makes sense-
they squeeze into the bathroom
3/31/13

ATL>>BUF
Brent Kincaid Jul 2015
Dinking too much whiskey,
Behaving sort of risky,
Telling lying stories,
Tall tales of former glories,
Laughing between the tokes,
At outrageously bad jokes;
We thought we were outlaws,
But were tamer than in-laws.

Out for a wild ride,
Living on the wild side
And howling at the moon.
The sun will be rising soon.

Honking horns at passing cars
Toking doobies under the stars,
Letting no cuties pass us by
Without whistling, my oh my.
We were certain we were cool
Too ****** to know we were fools.
Escapees from the workaday,
We ten-mile perimeter ruanways.

Out for a wild ride,
Living on the wild side
And howling at the moon.
The sun will be rising soon.

Out at night, no three-piece suits,
Sandals instead of fruit boots
Pegged jeans and rolled up sleeves
No fancy stuff with fancy weaves.
Prepared for whatever comes
Serenaded by engine hum
We told each other that we were hot.
Even though we knew we were not.

Out for a wild ride,
Living on the wild side
And howling at the moon.
The sun will be rising soon.
Pauline Morris Mar 2016
There we where just cruising along
But I could tell something was wrong

Your temperature was starting to rise
And off of you smoke started to rise

Then you just up and died
I looked to the sky

And I cry
Why

Why now, why you
Why Lord, now what do I do


I call a tow trunk to come to our aid
To pick up the mess that you made

He picks up your useless carcass
I just want to cuss
Never again we'll it be us
S S May 2016
Poor tip-ity tap-ity raindrops
Mapping out uncharted fields
Crystal buds take shape and flop
Cruising down my windshield

Mapping out uncharted fields
Drops stumble, slide, glide into place
Cruising down my windshield
Dance to their own song, own pace

Drops stumble, slide, glide into place
While shimmering red turns to green
Dance to their own song, own pace
Brash wipers erase this playful scene

While shimmering red turns to green
Crystal buds take shape and flop
Brash wipers erase this playful scene
Poor tip-ity tap-ity raindrops.
Waiting at the lights on a rainy day.

First attempt at a pantoum: lines 1234, 2546, 5768, 7381.
I wish you were here tonight,
the stars are peering through the clouds,
it just finished down pouring out,
you can smell the pavement.

I'm cruising down I-93,
there's a blazing red smoldering on the horizon,
probably just light pollution,
but it's burning up the sky,
burning it alive,
and it fades into the black night,
like the fire in your eyes,
only not as bright.
Copyright Barry Pietrantonio
Terry O'Leary Feb 2014
NOW

Well, GI Jack is welcome back, he left his legs in 'Nam.
He wakes at night in sweat and fright, then drinks another dram.
He doesn't know quite where to go, so seeks his uncle, Sam.


                           BEFORE

One can't ignore - his ma was poor, and seasons sometimes cruel,
yet Jack was brave and well behaved and surely no one's fool
so joined the ranks that man the tanks, as soon as he left school

He learned to **** our foes at will (ordained a sacred rite)
then packed his bag, unfurled his flag, when sent away to fight.
And yes, the tide was on our side (for, clearly, might makes right)

Through tangled days in jungles' maze, he sought the enemy
behind the trees where, ill at ease, he fought the Yellow sea -
upon the waves of gravelled graves he sailed a killing spree

The ****** dropped and cooked the crops, charred huts along the way
and tanks, with zest, erased the rest, their villages of clay.
(Yes, turret guns are loads of fun with roaring roundelay.)

While on the hunt with other grunts, he burned some babes alive
and wondered why frail things must die, while evil's phantoms thrive -
<When folly ends, he'll make amends if only he'll survive>

With ***** traps (sticks smeared with crap), yes, Charlie fought unfair.
He hid in holes with snakes and voles and snuck up everywhere
and like a mite within the night, caught Jackie unaware

At battle's end, Jack sought his friends - their souls were washed away
and only he and destiny were left in disarray -
with bed and pan, just half a man, the man of yesterday

When Jack awoke beyond the smoke, his frame no longer whole,
he found instead some suture thread neath wraps to hide the hole,
and realized a further prize: a chair on wheels to roll

His head felt light, as well it might, at Victory Day Parade
(across his chest, you've surely guessed, his medals shone, arrayed)
for when he rolled, while others strolled, his boots no longer weighed


                           AFTER

Well, Jack stayed home (no roads to Rome) to start his life anew
receiving dole which took its toll as largess went askew
for sure enough, when times got tough, his uncle, Sam, withdrew

To walk the streets with fine elites (or else some *** who begs)
or find a job (or even rob) requires both your legs.
And those who can't, are viewed askant like those we call the dregs.

For getting by he tried to ply and mine his medals' worth -
a wooden cup, a mangy pup, a smirk when miming mirth,
and best of all, at midnight’s call, beneath a bridge, a ‘berth’

He clutched a sign 'A dime to dine?', if anybody cared,
but soon he found, as time unwound, that victors seldom shared.
And Jackie's pride was slowly fried by vacant eyes that stared


                           ENLIGHTENMENT

He took to drink to break the link with thoughts of what he'd done
and threads of doubt began to flout the yarns Big Brother spun
of freedom's ring and other things, like what it was we'd won

His vague unease arrayed a breeze
with words that chilled the air
and like the fogs above the bogs, they floated through the square
where people sat at tea to chat, and shrieked 'How could he dare?'

Yes, freedom's price is never nice: like storms before the flood
the Daily Rag was on a jag, was looking out for blood,
deemed Jackie's thoughts untamed and fraught, then dragged him through the mud

By hacking clues, they plucked his views like grapes upon the vine.
Big Brother came, blamed Jackie's name for thinking out of line,
shut Jack away from light of day, eclipsing freedom’s shine

The Junto Brass, with eyes of glass, were robed in fine array
to hear the words (though slightly slurred) the witness gasped to say,
while Justice snored (the waterboard awash with Perrier)

Well, Jack was charged with laws enlarged in secret dossiers
within the guise of spreading lies and leading thoughts astray -
The Jury's out... the rabble shout “well someone's gotta pay”

The Judge (who fears the mind’s frontiers) inclined his head to yawn
while making haste through courtroom waste, though slightly pale and wan.
(A voodoo Loon withdraws as soon as Night condemns the Dawn.)


                           ETERNITY

While in his cell, the verdict fell - the sighs of Silence, rife
While in his cell, the verdict fell - the Reaper played a fife
While in his cell, the verdict fell - the price was Jackie's life


                           EPILOGUE

Well Jackie's ghost, unlike the most, still mused upon the praise
for misdeeds done in victories won when cruising in a craze,
and once again upon the sin of thinking, nowadays
where, cunningly, humanity’s served lies, and trust betrays.
Then, reconciled, it simply smiled at fortune's wanton ways.


                           EPITAPH

A mind was caught while thinking thoughts neath Sammy’s prying gaze
and forced to stop by concept cops, else join the castaways.
For now it's law to hold in awe the brave new world's malaise
and cerebrate with programmed pate, adorned with thorned bouquets,
then mimic mimes in troubled times - and no one disobeys.
With freedom’s death, truth holds its breath awaiting better days.
Nihl Jun 2013
“And as for you, River, there will be a day when you will flow with blood more than water. And dead bodies will be stacked higher than the dams. And he who is dead will not be mourned as much as he who is alive. Asclepius, why are you weeping? ”

CHAPTER I

The lake house was always a place of good memories. I couldn’t help but remember the countless summers just like this one, where I had spent days down by the lake, beside my father, catching rainbow trout with nothing but a line and a little bread or bait worm. The sound of crickets chirping in chorus at dusk, while just a slither of gold managed to peek over the mountain range that hung like curtains, draped across the horizon on every side. It was our paradise on earth, the Coulter families’ personal heaven. A humble log house nestled in the heavy shadow of the Rocky Mountains. Standing peacefully beside our private little lake, cradled within a thick pine forest. It was our pine forest.
-
We had arrived at the house two days ago, on a particularly overcast Friday afternoon. But the grey sky had parted, and left us with clear blue skies almost as soon as we arrived. Now nothing but the occasional broad, pearl-white, sky conquering clouds would dare to appear. This made the weather perfect for a swim in the lake, as well as an afternoon frying the day’s catch of trout in the fire pit just outside the cabin. I was inside the cabin, stuffing the weekend’s filthy clothes into my pack, in preparation for the long journey home tomorrow morning. Dad was gathering a load of firewood from our great proud pile of logs outside. I always liked adding to the pile the same way I found a mundane joy in saving money, I watched as we built it up into a neat pyramid, then imagined how long it would last us and how many cold nights they would ward off.
After packing my last well-worn flannel shirt into my now plump olive duffle bag the sun had disappeared behind the mountain; leaving a quickly dying amber streaked across the western sky.
I could hear my father’s footsteps as he entered the house, dropping a collection of heavy wood at his feet in front of the fireplace. Then quickly transporting the two best-looking ones straight into the warm mess of crackling flames that kept our cabin warm. I climbed under the covers of my bed and sat with my back against the wall, with a clear view into the living room.
I am Curtis, and George Coulter was my father, a broad man with dark brown hair, a short cropped haircut, bright blue eyes and dark stubble with traces of silver sneaking through. He was a weathered man with a tough 37 years over my easy 16, and always seemed to dress like a cliché lumberjack. Apart from the weathered appearance, sprouting grey hair and working class fashion sense, we were practically a splitting image. My mother would always say that looking at me was like stepping back in time and that every day I looked more like him.
-
“That should keep it going for a while.” George said, obviously exhausted from the events of the weekend and He slowly moved just inside the doorway and leaned against the frame, rubbing his eyes with his right hand before bringing it down to form a soft v shape on his chin.
“I’ve already loaded the truck, so we’ll be able to leave bright and early tomorrow.” He turned his head quickly as if to listen carefully for something else in the room. I found this to be a perfect opportunity to shoot a question I’d been wondering recently.
“Do you think there really is life after death?” I asked him abruptly and he looked straight at me with a quizzical expression and replied “Why do you ask, did someone say something?” I sat up straight on my bed pulled my hands into my lap.
“No, no one said anything. It’s just that I rode my bike by the cemetery last week, and there was a statue of an angel in the middle of all the gravestones, it just made me wonder, you know. Does all that stuff really exist?” I had a lump in my throat and swallowed hard to keep in down. My father sat down beside me at the foot of the bed.
“I think…” He started, still searching for the right words to say. “I like to think that there’s a place somewhere up there for us.” He turned his gaze towards the window and observed the last light in the sky before turning quickly back to me.
“Do you think mom will be up there?” I asked, and his face dropped a little.
“Your mother is up there waiting for us and the first thing she’ll do is tell us to take our shoes off so as not to get the cloud *****.” He said with a slight smile, I laughed at the idea as he continued. “But you don’t have to worry about that for a long time Curt.” He grinned, roughed up my hair, and then forced me into bed playfully. “I’ll do my best to make sure of that.” He rose from the bed and advanced towards the door. “Now get some sleep. I don’t want to have a conversation with myself on the ride back.” He disappeared into the main room and slumped into a lazy boy chair to gaze at the fireplace in the warmth of our now quiet cabin, as my room was filled with the soft lullaby of crackling fire. I turned towards the window and stared out towards the stars, my mind wandering as I closed my eyes. Tomorrow we would begin the long journey home.
-
Without any warning I was startled awake by a terrifying ripping sound. A great rip echoed throughout the house like a plastic bag violently flailing about in heavy wind. I immediately sat up on my bed, and blindly stared out into an ocean of black. A strange loud thumping sound rang from the living room in regular intervals. It had seemed like no time at all had passed since I had closed my eyes, my heart was thundering like the gears on a full-speed freight train and my eyes fed off the darkness in the room, starving for even the slightest idea of a source for the noise. But all I could see was darkness beyond my doorway. I struggled to pull myself back together from my state of screaming fear and cautiously got to my feet.
As far as I could tell the thumping was coming from outside, as I moved towards the doorway and peered into the living room. For some reason the fireplace that should still have been flickering with hungry flames was now dark and dead, as though it had gone cold days ago and the house completely vacated. The warmth that the fire had supplied moments ago had now been replaced with a cruel cold midnight breeze sailing in through the wide open swinging cabin door. The cabin door was clashing against the cabin wall outside in the wind I now knew was the source of the horrifying thumping that my imagination had played so helplessly with. My breath became shallow as I contemplated my situation, how long had I been asleep, and where was my father? I turned to the lazy boy in the living room and noticed it upturned and vacant. My heart started firing again like a machine gun and cold sweat now dawned on my brow. There was no sign of dad, not in the cabin at least. With my heartbeat slowing to the manageable speed of a cruising passenger train, I wondered where he could have gone while struggling to tame the rising feeling of dread as I hurried towards the front door and looked out over the hill and down towards the lake. There was no jagged black figure or human form in sight. A great deal of me was hoping to catch him investigating the same noise that startled me. But he was nowhere near, which made my blood run cold.  
-
The unforgiving night’s ice cold wind stung my ears and pinched my face, my breath trailing off in vapour. “Dad!” I called out, towards the southern wharf down by the water, nothing. Again I called, towards the vegetable patch on the eastern side of the house, nothing. I tapped my fingers anxiously on the door frame before proceeding down the few steps leading into the cabin, closing the cabin door behind me to stop the jarring thump. With that I was engulfed in the darkness and violent wind. Disoriented I called out once more towards the pine forests to the west, “Dad!” my voice cracked from desperation and bounced through the gale, ringing in the distance as if it had been carried by the wind and exploded skyward, amplified by the mountains surrounding the lake.
-
A light! A light darted between the tree line and danced in the darkness before disappearing just as quickly as it came. I stared in awe as the wind found its way through my clothes and now chilled me completely. My bare feet screamed from the cold grass that I tortured them with and I could hear the abhorrent ripping sound bellowing back at me from the distant forest. I stood still, confused and staring hopefully. I heard him, faint at first, but I was certain that I heard my father’s voice on the wind.
“Curt.”
I followed the voice out into the darkness, past the fire pit and towards the western tree line. I waved my arms in front of me pathetically probing the air for something to guide me. My eyes squinted hard to try and make out detail from nothing. “Curt.” Again it whispered from the distance. I stumbled across the field until I reached the outskirts of the woods and I could feel the first cluster great pine looming overhead. The wind and chill was slowly cut off by the wall of trees, as I followed the origin of my father’s voice.
The forest bed was thick with undergrowth and as familiar as this place was during the day, at night it was like another world, a world in which sight had to be thrown to the wind and I was forced to rely on my other senses for navigation. I could smell the heavy musk of the leaf litter, and hear the wind from the field. But I could see nothing more than the glare of the full moon hanging behind the thick clouds and the faint outline of the countless pine trees that shot skyward.

It was strange, I could smell him now. I could smell my father laced upon the air, boot-polish and old sweat. The same smell hanging among the trees as the red plaid shirt that he'd use to polish his boots and labour all weekend around the lake house. It was as if he was right beside me, this idea urged me to quickly turn side to side hoping that this was in fact, true. But all I found was more vague lines in darkness, freezing fingers and whipping wind songs from the distant clearing. The smell slowly disappeared, replaced with an eerily familiar, metallic, pooling scent…
My heart thundered at the realization, Blood. I could smell blood swimming in the air, as if someone painted the trees with buckets of human blood. I could taste it on the tip of my tongue the air was so filthy with the scent.
-
My eyes opened wide, panicking at the lack of visual aid as I stopped dead in my tracks. Something felt awkward, space felt strange, warped and twisted. It was like the world was turned on its side. It felt as though someone somewhere had invaded the space I now stood in. And I could feel its presence, I felt its eyes burning a hole in the back of my head, and the hair on my neck stood upright. My heart began racing faster and faster, thumping now like the cabin door, slamming against the wall in the wind. I could feel something out there, watching and waiting. I could feel it getting nearer, getting ever closer and growing. It was as if it was feeding on the shadows and becoming larger, filling the darkness with its horrid presence. I couldn't bare it anymore; I felt it creeping up on me and my skin was crawling. My head screaming for me to turn around but I couldn't move. I felt an impossible grip encompass my entire body and swallow me in darkness. Cold sweat like ice running down my cheeks and my clothes were now saturated.
-
My breath was pounding rapidly in short, sharp bursts as I watched it fog and pillar upwards through the cutting wind. I couldn't hear anything past the roaring noise in my head, raw panic like nails on a chalkboard. My thoughts were like a game of Ping-Pong, bouncing back and forth and I couldn't focus on anything. I felt it slithering at my heels now, like a python slowly constricting its prey, playing with it before a sudden death. A twisted cold breath falling onto my shoulders as every muscle in my body tensed to point where it felt I could explode at any time. I it leaned in closely beside me, with its face hanging inches away from my ear. I could hear its lungs gathering the icewind for speech, and its tongue slithering in between razor teeth, preparing for the first terrifying bite.
-
“It’s so close.” Hisses from its jaws in several thunderous voices spawning from the darkness in every direction, the trees dissolve, the sky falls apart and my entire world collapsed away into pitch black.

N.H.

CHAPTER II
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/possession-two/
I patrol in my backyard
Cruising im my pedal car
I can see the Joker
Well, it's really a toy clown
Locked safely away in the toy shed

I am looking for Two Face
A teddybear that my dog ripped
So my Mum sewed up his face
But now he is out there, free
I must track him down

I search for him in the kitchen
There I spot the Scarecrow
It is a puppet, long and thin
I must stop in my search now
So I can tackle with my foe

I put the Scarecrow behind bars
My search continues, relentless
I see Two Face hiding in the lounge
I now creep up, slowly behind him
I pounce, the battle is long, but I win

That scarred teddybear is put away
Where he won't harm anymore toys
My Batcave awaits, up in my bedroom
I am sleepy, my eyes are feeling tired
I am Batman, even I must sleep
copyright Chris Smith 2010
Like a speed limit,
Age 55 is a reminder,
A geriatric mnemonic,
Telling you to take it slowly.
Safe to say,
Most of us Baby-Boom geezers
Walk around half the time
Wondering how one gets laid,
“Hooks up”
As our grandchildren say--
Gets laid behind & inside this
Asylum sanctuary?
Manning the ramparts,
Those Wackenhut stiffs
Are there for a reason.
Overt, direct ****** overtures
Strictly verboten (ver•bo•ten).
Yet, the silver-haired sireens
Crave company,
As in “keeping company,”
An ancient idiom for
“Let’s Hide the Pepperoni!”
But you’ve got to take it slow at
Del Webb Over-55 America,
A multi-state lunatic asylum,
Where a preponderance of
Single silver-tress foxes,
Having “lost their husband,”
Somewhere, at some point,
Some recent but forgotten,
Alzheimer’s moment along the trail,
They comb the daily obits,
Hunting prey, newly widowed men,
Fresh casserole recipients &
Crypto-pepperoni buddies.
it was warm
for a winters eve
unusually warm
but damp very damp
birthing a persistent
midnight mist that
crawled over everything

avenging
halogen angels
flitted down from
streetlight perches
skidding through
bare limb bars
of broken trees
roped in by sagging
telephone wires

skulking
seraphs
joined
ebullient
neon auroras
laughingly
brake dancing,
jittering away on the
pock marked rims
of hip hop streets

the fine drizzle
descending from the
black urban heavens
splayed holy water
over the bodies
of anything
that moved; and
layered mounds
of transparent beads
on all inert things
chiding those yolked
to weighty burdens
to seek relief of
a much needed
breaking point

our
slouching city
mired in a cycle
of a prolonged
historical rut
beavers away
to lift the lid
on tomorrows
tipping point
in a desperate
labor to stop
tripping over
itself...

a dinged up
Sentra’s
flashing spinners
twisted round
our dark corner
nearly clipping
our troop

inside the
yakking low-riders
scuttled along,
their hidden ***** eyes
cruising the stoops
and cyclone alleys
scoping opportunities
for the next
jolly hustle
to feed
a growing
angry fix

tonight
Mother Nature was
running a *****
to the wall third shift,
manufacturing a
stationary low
of gagging precip
churning volumes
of Vulcan smoke
conjuring
convective spirits
from all the
dim places

emanations lit
the balmy January air
rising from
stubborn gray patches
of despoiled snow
and rancid ponds
organic gutter water
composting
in distilled pools
awaiting leakage
through flotsam
clogged sewage grids

Paterson’s
litter police
could close the
city’s budget deficit
if all infractions
were properly cited
and paid in this
neighborhood

this queer elixir of
rising vapors from
evaporating snow
escaping the cracks
lining the bowels of
mordant streets
joining descending
screens of billowing mists
blurs boundaries of light,
diffusing temporal time

people and things
lose precise definition
reducing sentient beings
to moving silhouettes of gray
photographic negatives
framed in dribbling palettes
of pastel hues

our
5th Ward mission
planted in the
hub of a neighborhood
still holding on...

Old WASP’s
of St. Paul’s
long ago
winged away
from this
princely
Episcopate
principality

the abandoned
conical nest, its
chambers filled with
the mud of 50 dead rectors
precariously clings
to its shivering
boulevard corner

its endowment depleted
its earthly treasure rusting
grandiose Tiffany windows
remain the last legacy of an
opulent faith now
shamefully rattling away
in moth eaten frames

once icons of
adulatory reverence
the final sparkling asset
of a distressed religion
begs to be monetized
by flummoxed vestrymen
yearning to extend
a stewardship
over a dissipating
ESL flock

distress in the hood
parades down Broadway
in all directions

a few blocks east
a shuttered
Barnert Hospital
transfigured into an
urban enterprise zone
for health-care privateers
working overtime to
extract federal
corporate welfare
rent subsidies
dutifully fulfilling
fine print obligations of
Obamacare legislation

Old Mayor Barnert’s
namesake synagogue
once hard by
City Hall
is long gone
its absent footprint
now centered by
a thriving
White Castle

near Broadway’s end
on the outskirts
of Eastside Park
Art Deco Emanuel Temple
the last anchor
for the city’s Judaism
lies vacant
awaiting a renewed
purpose

fraught with irony
a thriving Islamic Center
stands juxtaposed
across the street
from the old
Hebrew Temple

we wonder what
will emerge
from the
hallowed chrysalis
of decommissioned
Emanuel?

rumors of a
Great Falls Art Center
trickle like a leaking faucet
failure to secure a mortgage
in the post credit
bubble pop economy
dams the possibly
of a new centers
coming to fruition

will
the city’s
changing
demography of
reverent Muslim’s
genuflecting
across the street
take time away
from prayer to
patronize a venue
offering decadent
bourgeois jazz and
risqué reviews
of retro Borscht Belt
vaudeville?

when Constantinople
became Istanbul they
converted the Christian
churches into mosques

when the Inquisitioners
drove the Moors from
Granada they converted
the Grand Mosque to
the Cathedral of the
Incarnation

what incarnations
will this city’s
twilight bring?

As Byzantine
begets
Constantinople
begets
Istanbul
the links
in the Silk Road
spanned west
to the new world
of mechanized looms
powered by
Great Falls
raceway water
and a distribution
and procurement
chain anchored
by the Morris Canal

Capitalist
modernity
begets
our Silk City
it also bespeaks
its demise

in the courtyard
of St. Paul’s
a muffled chorus
trawls the thick air

a posse of pimps
done wrangling
their stables
of $5 ******
sing reveries to
the evening haul

midnight lullabies
of corner crooners
lift a Capella hosannas
from the dark armpit
of an alley behind
the Autozone

“i said
you say
what can make
me feel this way
my girl”

juiced pimps
cashin in
livin large on
a skanks
50 cent haul

the trade in flesh
of distressed
human capital
remains a
growth industry

Music Selection:  
Temptations, My Girl

jbm
3/1/13
Oakland
Part 1 of extended poem Silk City PIT.  PIT is an acronym for Point In Time.  PIT is an annual census American cities conduct to count the homeless population.  Paterson NJ is nick named The Silk City.
Mimi Jan 2012
I wonder how I got here, secluded in a grimy apartment filled with smoke. We drink gin and tonics with mint like it’s the ‘20s; we sit and talk pop culture because we know. Taj has somehow become the effective authority on all of these things, paid to social network and connected to Hollywood; he’s very skilled at playing to people’s wants. My Cadillac sits intent next to me markering in a recent drawing for his newest class. He’s already famous for his graffiti, one day I’ll bet you this extra credit project will be worth money. He drew me a fox for Christmas. Valentines day is coming up. He never tells me he loves me. Jack is watching me watch him out of the corner of his eye while putting on a new remix of an old song. He leans over and asks if I like it and I nod. I feel bubbled up with *** smoke, frozen in time and vaguely uncomfortable. I’d guess this is what it’s like to be “too high.” I want Caddy to notice, but it’s Jack that’s pushing my hair back and telling me to drink more water. It’s sweet. Despite his need to be seen as a womanizer, Jack respects Caddy too much to even try with me, he looks but he doesn’t put on any faces for me. Everyone thinks so hard about how they’re seen.
Jack says his New Year’s resolution is to do less *******, even though no one asked. Everyone hears but no one reacts. I try to keep moving my toes and stop shivering. Across from me Ky and Nate are reading the encyclopedia in open-mouthed awe. In a room full of intellectual up and comers I feel like Hemmingway did when he was my age, how all the minds gravitate to each other and sit in a ***** room by the beach and let the creativity go. Like Mary Shelly and the whole gang writing Frankenstein and Dracula in the same trip.  After a while I think Taj is going to make it, Jack will be a politician and Caddy will be lost and with another woman. Ky and Nate will still be smoking and reading the encyclopedia, all the way down to ‘z’. I am like my mother: attracting the company of smart successful men who pay her selective attention.
The door burst open and the cold air stayed in my pores after it was closed. Rodger invited himself over. It would have been all right but when Rodger is wasted he forgets his manners. In his animated state he managed to kick over Caddy’s favorite smoking piece, insult Jack and look at me a little too hard. His girlfriend had immediately passed out on the couch, but she never smiled or spoke to me anyway. Her head was cradled in the lap of a girl I hadn’t noticed. Her hair was perfect and her eyes shadowed, the liner and mascara smudging its way slowly onto her high cheekbones. She stared at me but didn’t speak. I tried to smile, but didn’t want to give away the champagne sensation covering my skin, still too up to speak. She had already formed her opinion of me, some young ******* the arm of an older boy. She was once in my position, I’m sure of it, we are the same kind of beautiful and empty eyed. That doesn’t stop her from judging, in the total of 15 seconds she looked at me. Her self is tamed and mine is wild still. Unintroduced and unnoticed by the men in the room, we have an understanding and a mutual dislike of each other, only to defend ourselves.
The room takes time to settle, a bowl has been packed for an entitled Rodger, and now that everyone is calm, Cad sits back down and puts his arm around me again. I lean into him, protected and anchored, whereas I had been floating or about to puke a minute ago. I don’t know what I said but Caddy seemed annoyed when he said “Just let it happen, embrace the feeling,” and so I kept quiet for ten minutes or so. The high was infected with guilt. Next time he looked at me-- it could have been an hour—I whispered, “I can’t” and finally he heard me, and stood up.
Cad came back into my vision with a glass of water and turned on Drive, prompting Rodger, Mrs. Rodger and my pretty enemy to leave. Ky and Nate had gone long before I could focus on noticing. Taj left for trivia night down at the bar and no doubt some girl; wrapped up in a cashmere scarf and cardigan he kissed my cheek before he went. Jack also took his graceful leave with the Rodger group to woo some girl who knew exactly what she was doing to herself. He did have a straight nosed charm, Jack. I could not blame this girl, one of many (I am embarrassed for her; I have been like this ******* many occasions).  
Taj had been sent the advanced copy of Drive in blu-ray, so we snuck it from his room and watched it that way (the only way Taj would see movies now, it is the future (for now)). Kavinsky came through Cad’s new speakers the boys had spent half an hour trying to wire earlier in the night. “They’re taking about you boy/but you’re still the same” crooned Lovefoxxx as Ryan Gosling cruised down a street, ****** intense in driving gloves. Gears shifting and motors growling are very ****, I tell Cadillac so into his ear, as he pulls me into his arms and covers me up with a blanket.
The movie was perfect, maybe because it made me feel less dizzy and sickguilty (Cad knew it would) and maybe because Ryan Gosling can wear a white satin jacket. I loved it, hardly noticing when the absent roommate Travis strolled in with Taj and tacos somewhere around 2am.  Colder as Caddy got up for a burrito, left me alone on the couch for the kitchen table. Registering Taj taking his place, playing with my curls and talking Hollywood to me. I’m staring over at Cad in his chair, he makes eye contact once or twice and I blow him a kiss before Taj repositions my head toward the television and my ear back where he can speak into it.
Eventually Cadillac taps Taj on the shoulder and motions for him to get up. With Cad back I can relax and I fall into sleep just as the movie ends. Taj and Trav have gone to their own beds and Cad leans over me, picks me up and takes me to bed knocking my elbow on the doorframe along the way. He apologizes and kisses my head but I am too tired to care. He lays me down on the bed with crimson sheets and takes off my boots but then sternly says, “Mimi, you are not a child.” and so I must get up and undress myself. He wraps me in a duvet missing its cover and his arms. I trust him long enough to fall asleep.

-

Standing in front of the stove it was hot, but I am easily overheated. He came up behind me and said in my ear, “you’re lovely” watching me put the last piece of French toast on the large stack, getting ready to scramble eggs. He kissed my cheek. Then my neck and then my lips, taking me away from my cooking to be pulled against him, for a sweet short minute and went back to the living room with his friends. Jack had mysteriously reappeared in the night; he said he locked himself out of his apartment after leaving to see one of his girls. Taj just sat and blasted Radiohead over the new speakers, shouting something relevant at me. I scramble the eggs and make up plates, two pieces of toast each and a nice healthy pile of eggs. It is gone very quickly and no one says thank you, except for a smile from Caddy and a kiss on the forehead. It’s usually enough for me, knowing he likes to show me off to his friends. I sit down with my cup of coffee and plate, within a few minutes Cad suggests he takes me home. I resentfully take time to finish my coffee. But we are both busy and he is right, so I say goodbye to the boys and gather my things. We drive with the “best MC on the game these days” (so I am told) over the weak speakers of the car. Cad drives with his arm around me always. Cruising into my building’s parking lot I lean over for a kiss on my forehead, nose, lips. He says go, but his hand still sits on my shoulder so I stay for a little longer. “You’ll probably have to let go of me if it’s time for me to go Cad,” I say quietly, with a tentative smile on my face. He grins back and lifts his arm. I slide out of the suicide seat and smile at him, but he’s looking at the radio dials. Then my face. His eyes give him away, softened around the edges with affection. Maybe love, but he’d never say it and I refuse to say it until he does. I try not to think about it much as he drives away to smoke up again with his friends. I wonder if this is how it will always be, but then I realize our kind of “always” is only the next few months. I turned unsteadily and walked up the stairs to my empty room—dark and overheated smelling heavily of sugar and spice candles-- with the geese outside my window for company. I haven’t slept here for days.
Nat Lipstadt Jul 2018
Prologue

casual glance at my notifications while driving even though
I’m all ready a bad bad boy, cruising at a sedate,
cruise-controlled 70 mph  vs. the bureaucrat bifocals 55,
a remnant regulation of the Eighties,
all the while humming with Gilligan
“a 3 hour tour,
2 passengers set sail that day”

then execute a four lane 180,
gotta get highway sideway grassed ,
cause i’m gassed...
by a Poem Breach

of the poems promised by me,
to write of thee,
you, my best inspiration,
the list grows longer, faster
than the hours provided

pull over fast emergency for my composure breached,
my vision wetted, my eyes hit by an unplanned unexpected,
sudden summer thunderstorm

<•>

The Poem Breach

once more into the breach thy words breeze through my chest,
like on a flamed stick, night roasting, toasting beach summer marshmallows,
that cut direct to the ineffable sadness that resides resists within,
that sticky, white mess,
a human heart melting

a thank you message that I’ve read before,
many times more than once,
how my unasked poem, a sun unique,
arrived at the
precise time and place,
to lift and even save,
how could I’ve know?

I did not know

but these messages collect on my chest,
unsought words of purple ribbon metal that make a
less burdened cowardly lion,
grown man cry,
do crazy things for it is a possible solution to his
age old quest

Why do I exist, is this my purposed plan, don’t understand, all
but the answer peaked and peaceful accepted in the breach unreasoned,
my port of entry, a gateway to the scales, a bridge it is, over a time-life river styx and unstuck, yet certainly always confused...



“It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known.”


thank you so insufficient
Cold now.
Close to the edge. Almost
unbearable. Clouds
bunch up and boil down
from the north of the white bear.
This tree-splitting morning
I dream of his fat tracks,
the lifesaving suet.

I think of summer with its luminous fruit,
blossoms rounding to berries, leaves,
handfuls of grain.

Maybe what cold is, is the time
we measure the love we have always had, secretly,
for our own bones, the hard knife-edged love
for the warm river of the I, beyond all else; maybe

that is what it means the beauty
of the blue shark cruising toward the tumbling seals.

In the season of snow,
in the immeasurable cold,
we grow cruel but honest; we keep
ourselves alive,
if we can, taking one after another
the necessary bodies of others, the many
crushed red flowers.

— The End —