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John F McCullagh Jan 2012
I’d worked late the previous night,
programing applications.
When the alarm went off at four A.M.
I hit snooze- no hesitation.
Eventually my feet found floor,
I stumbled to the shower.
A routine usually done in ten
took me a half an hour.
I was running up the platform steps
but my train just left the station.
Great, I will be late for sure,
I thought, in consternation.
At least the day was perfect,
Warm and clear, no threat of rain.
I fished and found my ticket
and took the next westbound train.
The ”E” was fairly crowded
When I boarded it at Penn
I’d missed the first and I was glad
Another quickly came.
Beneath the streets of Gotham
The subway lurched downtown.
Above all hell was breaking loose
as two large planes were down.
I climbed the stairs up to the street
And entered the inferno
The sky now black from billowing smoke
Bright day turning nocturnal.

A Seven thirty Seven’s wheel-
I heard a woman screaming
I saw a body at my feet
Were we at war or was I dreaming?
I stared up at my window-
where I worked the night before.
Where flames and smoke leapt to the sky-
where my co workers were no more.
They’re jumping, someone shouted
I saw black specks launch from on high.
Better to die upon the street
Than to suffocate or fry.

I turn and ran, I am ashamed.
No Hero’s tale to tell.
I was a safe way away
when the first tower fell.

Had I not hit the button
or dawdled in the shower.
Had I caught my usual train
I’d be dead in the tower.

This is my shame and burden
To live when others died.
Preserved by fate and circumstance
From terror from the sky.
We ambled the streets of Harare
Meandering aimlessly
Fleeting past wide-eyes scanning us enviously
Hand in hand we walked into the restaurant
Leisurely on Second Street
Our hunger awakened
Our appetites heightened
At almost closing time
With no one in overtime mode
A signal that here we could only dine on another day


Joina City was our next stop
Up the lift right to the top
'Closed' it read at the coffee shop
Into the nearest chair I went flop!
Though hungry, we gabbed non-stop
By and by we regarded the clock
It chimed 8 o'clock
And sadly, it was time to go home

Busy and noisy
Were the streets of Harare
Jabbering crowds, kombis hooting
Hawkers, vendors or is it hustlers now -
Calling for buyers or just huddled to pass time
No chill in Harare
Picturesque like a dream
Surreal…
Hand in hand we dawdled
In despair for a hot meal

In the shimmering distance
Like a mirage in the desert
The neon lights read
'Creamy Inn'
Something to calm our rambling bellies
At last…
Nippy evening air hit our souls
'Ice-cream tastes better at night'
I said
'I can't believe I'm having ice-cream'
He said
We frolicked
Hand in hand we danced past faces painted with adoration
'What a handsome lover!'
They probably thought:
My delectable younger brother
Wrote this after one of my visits to Harare, Zimbabwe in 2017.
cheryl love May 2014
Tread Carefully
Tread carefully through the tulips
Rush through the bluebells.
The tulips are perfume free
And the bluebells have smells.
You’d get pollen on your fingers
And powder on your toes
If you dawdled through the daffodils
And sat beneath the rose.
Sitting for more than an hour
Under the lilac tree.
Finally you would disappear
I know believe me.
Wandering past the lanes
On a dark Autumn night
If you get caught by a blackthorn bush
It would put up a fight.
Wandering through a strawberry field.
Being here would be a dream
Don’t forget your spoon and dish
And *** of rich double cream.
My high school ethics class taught me so much
For example, the fact it is completely fictional
Reminds me that I shouldn’t care
About the world we inhabit or our gaseous air
Why worry that we’re ****** every single resource?
Why worry about dying breeds of animals or melting polar caps?
Should we bother helping honey bees, or consider our affect on bats?
Would it be ok to take a person’s land then tell them what to grow?
When we took the land from natives, was it generous to tell them where to go?
Have you wondered why people living even now think it is ok to **** like Pol?
Or why some think we’re better off to be completely baffled by the genome?
When do embryos become humans, and what does that mean?
Is it ok to grind up cows in machines, or change their names to “Beef”?
Should we ignore terrorists sincere qualms?
Or refute their “strife” with nuclear bombs?
Are we making the planet a more peaceful place?
What a success my education has been!
Apparently school district officials were just challenging me
Because I would have found a purpose
If I knew there were so many chances for improvement
And I guess I should be thankful
That my dawdled years were not interrupted by concern
That one philosophy teacher might create
Because the way of life they placate
May just be in jeopardy
The day we learn that ignorance is greed
MMX
Garth lay still in the gilded cage
Unable to move a thing,
The bars were merely spiders’ webs
Of a faery’s magicking.
He’d wandered into the Faery Ring
Where he’d seen the mushrooms spread,
And now was caught in a faery spell
With the rest of the living dead.

With Tom, the Candlestick Maker’s son
And a barrel of candlewax,
He’d dawdled home from the marketplace
And lay in the beckoning grass.
He woke to find he was tightly bound
With a faery up on his chest,
She said, ‘Lock him in the cage as well,
Along with all of the rest.’

And Madge, the maid with a milking pail
Who was sent to milk the cow,
She’d wandered off on her way; she thought,
She needed to feed the sow.
She woke to mushrooms, ten feet tall
All towering over her head,
The stalks were bars, set under the stars
And her limbs, they felt like lead.

While Tim the Tinker was there as well
With his knives and sharpening tools,
His grindstone lay in a pile of hay
And the bonds on him were cruel.
The beggar lay in his filthy rags
While the rich man muttered, ‘Shame!’
He’d soiled his boots and his Regency suit,
Was bound with his watch and chain.

They lie not far from the caravans
Of a gypsy camping ground,
So Faeries say: ‘Let’s take them away
Before they’re seen and found!’
But dancing into the faery ring
Is the Gypsy, Mavourneen,
Who stumbles over the gilded cage
And steps on the Faery Queen.

The top flies off from the gilded cage,
The webs of the bars are torn,
And Garth crawls over the mushroom heads
To swear, ‘I feel reborn!’
The faeries weep as they carry their Queen
In death, to their Faery Dell,
There’s mushrooms still in that Faery Ring,
But now, Toadstools as well!

David Lewis Paget
Joe Bradley Jun 2016
Un-belonging
Undressed from teenage rhythm.
It’s a yearning for
The lost birds

Whose wings you rode
In talkless flight,
Til the silence got thicker
And woke up

Under the acupuncturist’s shadow.
And it needled it’s point as
Chinese wisdom, or as a well-meaning homeopath.
It dawdled all the same.

And you’re all sat right there.
Submurged. Happy as reflections.
Like an underwater photograph,
Mermaid’s song, gargles

Like the frog in my throat.
Almost Bauhaus, Picasso,
Almost watercolour, a mockingbird’s
Impression of a rock.

It was just
Undiagnosed sickness and I’m
Wading slowly into the sea with
my parents stones in my pocket.
Haunted ghosts host our waking hours
during sleep they transport us to places
indescribable by human words.

The ghosts lean on door posts
watching us, remembering their corporeal selves
Wanting to be warm blooded again.

Orchid scented air announce their presence
Morbid thoughts clog our senses
Do we remember them?

Do we want to remember them?
They are dead, long departed
Long deported off this realm.

Halted thoughts gloat at our minds
How those haunted ghosts once chortled,
fondled, and dawdled along.

Long dead; these ghosts are haunted
Not by us the living,
but the memories of them we bring.
© JLB
joe dearmore Mar 2012
So and so thousand of years ago we dwelled, dawdled, subsisted.
Connected by instinct and possible affinity.
What linkage, or seam could be listed?
D.n.a., dreams, common elements in our lunch?

I would like to esteem if we were to meet we would bore each other, and stare at our feet.
I've come to a modern conclusion that we came together through time with infinite cause.
Our gathering however would be brief in nature, because its probable we **** another without pause.
Wack Tastic Nov 2012
The cornflower blue fields rolled to the edge of the town,
Held lavender and sapphire incense,
Absent produce just steaming scents,
Nestled in a vast valley,
Between pillars of countless smokestacks,
Churning out great sleepy coughs,
There was a place of milk and honey active consistency,
Where the lulled townsfolk dawdled,
The corners of their eyes and mouths thinned,
Within passing minutes and shifts,
From one scape to the next,
Predetermined and provincial,
As the sleepy smoke rose so did the passengers,
After a long and tired trip,
Leveled, gathered, proceeded on,
The machine's hum ringing in the air,

Slowly the air moved,
The townspeople gathered in their huts,
They barricaded themselves inside,
Imprisoned their own lives,
Content to be slow and easy-going,
They feared the one,
The One that they dare not acknowledge,
He strolled informally,
Chaotically, they say, he once lived in the fields,
The one greeted the sleepy folk,
But they didn't trust him,
Once he had been like them,
Until one day the One looked around and became hysterical,

No one know what to do with the one so they ignored him,
Day after day turned into year after year,
Soon the blue mist that rose from the fields turned navy,
It dyed the walls and the machines and even the people,
They became statues of alabaster,
Seeming to move now only slightly each day,
The one became a blur,
An invisible spinning, chanting, living, teraphim,
The one had lived a thousand years,
In a comparable minute to the townsfolk,
He only hoped that he could help,
But they couldn't see him,
Their slumped eyes had grown accustomed to the dream.
Marly Feliciano Jun 2012
To hold myself against myself is a habit of dark skin; scratching my olive palms across prickly cement. Take a bow in the mirror and see no reflection. Say you are reflected. Say something else. Say nothing. Those lucky charmed looks have spoiled your dying heart. Your intense desire for the forever lover has been dawdled. There, no one has discharged your respected, insubordination mind - they are too busy ******* the minds of cheap leached lips and tongue. It always was for that one special moment of feeling pleasure. Get used to fox fangs dragging you viciously through skeleton gravel. Get used to the skeleton. Have no fear of being contagious. Have knowing that I am insufficiently sediment. I want felicity again.
Waverly Dec 2011
"Mane, that girl's so fine,
I think
I might **** her," Heck laughs.

I don't know how the conversation
dawdled
to this.

I don't know where we came from.

But it's here now.

The bones are loose,
the mind is loose,
the lips are loose.

And we end up saying things
without knowing
that we're saying them.

We here ourselves talk,
and the hurt
is numb.
Sometimes i wonder about the inner-workings of the human soul. But Heck is not an evil person. And he would never **** a girl. But it was said. And I still love him, because he's my homie and he's been there through it all. But I just want to shake the soul of man sometimes. Just to wake the soul up to its own drunkeness.
Frances Marie Apr 2018
Pitter-patter;
     pelting peaking the poignant hearing of a peering, personable
     person.

Awakened she walks;
     waiting for water to weaken against the small windows,
     withering away.

Flourishing souls;
     stemming from spring came spitting droplets, refreshing flora.

Drab days;
      dead development dawdled by dreary dates - winter is gone.
    
Joyful cheers!
     Carrot's stones cherished close for colder days.

Winter disappears for departure.
    Spring reappears for resurgence.
Everyone enjoys spring but I think rural and urban farmers alike understand that rain is the prime time for plant growth.
for a moment i dawdled, and now the crosswalk denies me. so i shall dawdle again.
Allania Berkey Jun 2016
It was a beautiful, and warm Monday afternoon.
Physically, the world felt in place
The sphere around her bore in serenity and tranquility
Except her mind.

She laid her body carelessly in a bed of a thousand lilacs,
Dawdled by thoughts
She was unready to explore her surroundings
But the world craved her undying attention
Unfocused, discomforted, content
The wind fleeted swiftly through her hair,
While the lilacs obscured her of pollen

She could hear everything, but simultaneously, nothing at all.
Too much or too little, it never seemed to be enough.
Just as she laid her head back on to the bed of lilacs
The wind danced in ******, tempting heed of her

It was a charming afternoon
Most would say,
But her mind danced along the brass of the wind,
rather than attending in curiosity  

Once again she laid her body back onto the bed of lilacs
Trying to comfort her discomforting thoughts
Finally
It was quite and her mind now felt at ease

Carefully, she listened to the wind
She didn’t miss a beat
The rhythm felt smooth—natural
Chills struck down her spin as the wind tackled through her tangled hair
Ironically, she felt at peace

A sudden shadow casted above her undistributed body
The lilacs comforted her in a way that her bed could not
The wind started to silence itself
Composure diminished from the realm of her thoughts

Quietly, she listened to the raspy and familiar voice that would not stop humming
In a chuckle he asked, “why are you laying in a bed of flowers?”
He didn’t even notice that they were lilacs
Flustered by his sudden appearance, she opened her eyes and realized that it was time to leave the garden
She stared at him for a moment before she actually responded
With a slight nervous laugh, she responded honestly “I don’t really know.”
Dazed and confused, she gathered her strength to stand up “It’s been a while...”
But before she could even finish her sentence,
The brassy wind started to chime
“Want to go grab some coffee?” he nervously said.
Danny O'Sullivan Jun 2013
i fell down on your skin.
just before the mole hill on your wrist
the walk was bumpy, a bit creased.
And, well, I was looking more at you.
Anyway. Those tiny creases tripped me
on my travels i ended up stopping.
Stumbling right there, face down.
Sat for a bit in the chasm of your scars.
Dawdled. Happily. Very happily.
I did pull myself out, though,
i used the vines on your arm
you’re covered in them, all
soft. Something rest-your-head-on-able.
So that’s what i’ll do on my hike.
I’ll stay awhile.
Eloisa Jun 2019
My mind has gone to thousands of directions
I walked in dark alleys and bumpy streets
I dawdled in roads that were rough, treacherous and steep
Seeking silence, I turned around distracting thoughts
The humps, the bumps, the wrong turns and detours
The missteps, the slips and the stumbles
My road ahead is neither smooth nor easy
But on this beautiful path, I now tread in peace
With each tiny step, I feel the gentle breeze
With each little step, I see pretty flowers flourish
#Purpose
Each of us has a unique purpose in this world. To serve our life's purpose, we are given a choice to traverse the path we'd like to explore. We actually have our own road to travel. Worry not of what lies ahead. Let us take each step at our own pace, ahead is our own journey to savor and marvel. Let us go as far as we can and from there, trail even farther. There will surely be tons of challenges to face and many failures to experience. There will also be a lot of humps, bumps, wrong turns and detours. The setbacks, pitfalls, shortcomings and even some of the triumphs we'd meet are lessons that will pave a way to get us through our desired destination. Just always try to be generous to take time to care about who we are, what we do, the people we meet and the wonderful views we encounter along the way. Take our journey to be an amazing chance to learn and an opportunity to make a positive difference to the world we live in.
Ribhu Dec 2017
The morning chill
came with a thin drizzle -
dipped in tea and
served with tobacco.

Nausea was gulped
down the throat for
breakfast - the back of
palm wiping the mouth.

Trapped in a brown
jacket and your green
eyes, I felt a sudden urge
to ask you to follow me

to a place I had reserved
solely for your arrival which
sometimes smells of coffee
brewing in the morning.

The urge to approach you
was strong, and yet 
I did not, for this morning
the sky shared an intimate

kiss with the clouds and it
began to pour - people routed
indoors and you quickly took
resolved steps, covering

your head with a diary,
the front of which had
a picture of two flowers
nudging each other.

Boys in warm sweaters
and girls in knitted scarfs
carelessly dawdled around 
as I walked back home, alone.
gabersons Jul 2020
I got my favorite motto from a little avacado
Green is good, brown is bad, the pit is hard to swallow
We can drown in bottles
The good Snows' always yellow
And my Molly's always coddled
Got a Tab at the bar so I went home and thought I dawdled
Woke up hulking in a schoolbus dropped the wheel and hit the throttle
they ask me why I am the way that I am, aristotle
I reply why the ***** the world have to be so monochrome and awful?
And we just lie to ourselves, that what we find in this hell
Makes all the suffering that we endure all worthwhile well
**** that
Before you kiill yourself
they say call me up
it's 1 800
No one gives give a ****
Please don't actually **** yourself
Tiffany Nov 2017
I used to picture you
with a voice oscillating like ocean water, casting words
as nets on a surface shimmering effervescent green.
And even the handful of stars outside dawdled just
a while longer to see the fish rise up and wink
out in the morning sun, scales slipping together
the way clay lips slot against coral white heart-cages
and curved, ivory xylophones patterned like shadows
and gold strips of sun. Everything quivers; we are only a
cosmic moment singing aubades, horsehair and rosin falling
like shooting stars against mahogany and warm steel, origami
folded bed, redefined by sharp angles and all the ways I am not afraid.
When we rise to sleep, pressed sable will drip down
and the air will be rimmed with the sea salt tang of dried coffee.
Dave Robertson Jul 2021
A red kite passed between the sun and I
momentarily delighting with its shadow,
a shrill cry launched at an empty sky, happy

Hot creosote of neighbours fences
smelt of care and the eighties
while my own untreated panels bleached

By the stream, illegal fishermen dawdled
while the world chose not to care
and for now this snow globe held unshook
meanwhile May 2019
we waited for each other on the corner
of the fever dream street at the border
our bus passed by but it was out of order
that's okay cause i know a way that's shorter

as we dawdled along the shorter route
so engrossed in each other like we're glued
talking about the tv shows that we viewed
and the sweetness of all the snacks that we chewed

the tide goes on and on and
i hope it doesn't stop and
i cherish every second and
i wish we could drift through this ice cream paradise forever
and

the tide goes on and on and on and
we're swept up by the waves and
we're taken someplace new and
we're carried slowly through this ice cream paradise together
and

i feel you on my arm as we watched the skies
stood in awe and secretly hoping one of us cries
protecting each other from our bored sighs
knowing we're in this together until our demise

then we made it back to your place, loving
the time we spent together, memories preserving
we spent six months in the front room, laughing
and collaging all our dreams together, photographing

later you laid me to bed and told me what i knew
and i still teared up cause it's coming from you
the sweet words you utter shine with a rainbow hue
and then we end another day by saying "i love you, i do"

i wish we could drift through this ice cream paradise forever
i hope we can drift through this ice cream paradise forever
i know we will drift through this ice cream paradise forever
i wish we could drift through this ice cream paradise forever
i love ice cream and i love my girlfriend
I winked at the sky
It gave me a sign
The strong luminesce of the moon flashed into the night
My legs drove me to a place unknown
I couldn't resist for they were stronger than my brain
The stars lit the way
I followed in desperation
Suddenly my heart beat was brought to a halt
I could no longer breathe
I felt dead though the fragrance of the roses that grew from afar still escaped into my nostrils
Guess I was scared
I remember the time by my watch
It was 2:00am in the night
I didn't know what I were doing there all by myself
I'd call it a night to explore
I heard the mermaids sings as I dawdled by the sea
This whole thing was strange
The melodies were sweet so I let my body dance
Trees started shaking too
I ignored the signal
Was I drunk? I can't tell
The roar of the lions then made me sober
It was now predator prey interaction and I were to be hunted
Small as I am, i felt defenceless and fell to my knees
As they approached, i watched
Afraid to die, i screamed out for help
That's when I remembered it was just a movie playing in my head
A movie just like Jurassic world
I made my first move soon as the traffic lights turned green.
Ran after you for I was following my heart.
You were with your friends enjoying your girls night out, when their faces turned to mine and they took me for a thief because  i was all sweaty and dressed in rugs
Somehow you ignored them and listened to me when I asked you to.
We dawdled by the river side in the silence of the leaves adorably, sat by the river side admiring the stars and how the waters glinted with light.
Talking and laughing infectiously,
I saw perfection in you as I was already falling for you
I was desperate to make you mine that's why I sang you your favorite song.
I believed that day my life would be whole again.
A happier one than  before for I saw it in your eyes  
Unfortunately,  the wind of change passed by and carried you along without a goodbye
Was it an illusion that gave me those butterflies?
Jared Eli Apr 2018
Tell me that you're dying
And I'll say it must be Tuesday
You've got a pocket full of holes again

And there's nothing in the sunset
Makes me think that I'd believe you
When you're walking 'cross my path again

Hey, it's been ages since we've talked, you know
Lives have started, stopped, and dawdled on
And I'm not the one you met so long ago
I'm not the one you lost or need
So hello, familiar stranger
Hello, hello, goodbye

You tell me that you miss me
And I say, "grab a phone book,
find the number that I never, ever changed"

You say, "absence makes you fonder"
But I've been absent most my life
And there's nothing from that that I've ever gained

It's been ages since we've talked, you know
Lives have started, stopped, and carried on
And I'm not the one you loved so long ago
I'm not the one you lost or need
So goodbye familiar stranger
Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye
James Floss Jun 2018
Amy ant ambled but
Bobby baboon bounced ‘cuz
Cathy cat caterwauled as
Dougie dog dawdled then
Ellie eel embarked while
Freddie falcon flew–
Gerald grasshopper gamboled and
Harold J. Harold hare hopped!
Izzy iguana immigrated.
Jessie June bug jumped when
Katie kangaroo kicked-it with
Larry lizard leaping left because
Moe marmoset merely meandered.
Norbert numbat just sat.
Ophelia oyster oozed while
Peter penguin paddled and
Quinton quail quivered but
Rosy raccoon ran 'cuz
Sasha salamander sashayed!
Tariq turtle tumbled as
Uooley urchin ushered
Vinny the vulture to visit
Wally walrus who waddled with
Xander xerus through the xystux;
Yasha yak yacked it up to
Zooey zebra who zipped it to:

The All-Species-Day-Parade!
And EVERY ALL had tons of fun!
ok okay Oct 2022
My eyes wandered onto a lonely highway
Only a few headlights remained
They dawdled like fireflies in a midnight sky
Moments like these are few and far between
But when these occur, I feel alive
I can dream
Adeosun Olamide Aug 2017
In a garden of rosary pea I do lie, a gentle wind-
There to perish, I softly swirl- yearning release-
From undying grief brought by a season, mad in nature
-A cold cold that slain the snowy lilies, my only love
A parallel of roses once swirled, I deeply- too
That nurtured from earth where buried
-But roses, *****- loved the sun, the sun alone
And hast, say no whiff for my bottomless fill
Ah, then- when the sun, its angst has bore
Then its tongue over the roses bloom, lapped
And leave a burnt, a shriveled to, in shame
I came then again, hurrying to the -roses aid,
To bury, free from the suns – mortifications
Here, along this unrequited where daily wandered
Came my snowy lilies- neath some flowering almond
They - dawdled lonelily and shyly there,
That upon there look their thoughts were written
And beck, I softly sang and made them dance
And swirling, filled here bottomless with fragrance
-Four seasons slept and woke- but in love, a jiff
When with, in my watch and air, their ***** lie
Heard whispers, of colds- love to a jasmine
Whom when touched by- a cypress came
And of its love then to a dahlia that red pour-
And in their ***** where lie, I did feel
Echoes its ire that made the sun frost than a moon
And allowed under some aspen tree-’ its ire thrive
For not a fair flower bare a desire, dreading it
-Nurturing its foul and hatred for all that was loved
And all that was loved, it spats its venom-
And none was loved than my snowy lilies
And none was festered than my snowy lilies
-Now shredded, perished a death by me-
Than be frozen in colds embrace from reach
I, in a garden of rosary pea do lie, the gentle wind
There pleading, weary- to go where my lilies came
Neville Johnson Oct 2018
I could not help the thought
As I dawdled for a minute
Considering what we have lost
I know we could have made it
Had we gone around that bend
Sometimes I can’t help wonder where we’d be
If only now was then

If only now was then
If only there was time
To go back to yesterday
When I was yours
And you were mine

At least we had our love
At least we really tried
To take our magic to the end
I’ve carried it inside
From all the way back when
Sometimes I can’t help wonder where we’d be
If only now was then

If only now was then
If only there was time
To go back to yesterday
When I was yours
And you were mine

If only, if only, if only, if only
Today was yesterday
This is a new song I've written
sandra wyllie Aug 2022
like a beef and bean burrito
till you drew blood like
a mosquito. So, wrapped up
as a babe swaddled, till the years

with you dawdled. Wrapped
as a caterpillar in her chrysalis, I didn't
emerge as a butterfly. I was stricken
with syphilis. I couldn't wrap my head

around all of this. His sweet kisses
turned into hisses. I was wrapped as
a broken arm in a sling. I couldn't move
in this self-effacing fling. So, I cut

the appendage. And I hung back
suspended. Now I'm more like a dowel
than a wet paper towel.
Lawrence Hall May 22
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

              The Power was Out, the Road was barely Passable,
                                   a Man Wore a Glock

The dawn was hot and wet and sticky and still
In quest of a coffee and a croissant
I stowed a chainsaw into the four-wheel-drive
And dawdled into town, clearing windfall from the road

The breakfast buffet at the Valero, and then out
Some men blocked the door, swapping pills and cash
I begged their pardon and walk through their deal
One wore a Glock on his hip; they all glowered at me

The dawn was hot; the paper-cup coffee was warm
I drove home and got my old generator to work
My People
manya Apr 2020
It was a Saturday,
the 16th i guess.
The last time
you held me in your arms
so safe and sound
like you wouldn't let go
Even if the strongest force on earth
Were to try and part us
As you gently stroked
The curls of my freshly washed hair
watching the summer zephyr fly by
As we dawdled around
One last time
Until the next last time
Waiting for the rain to bless us
With all those memories again
that were now etched in
those paths we used to travel upon.
And like all the previous farewells,
You said your bit once again
And i shed a tear or two
as we both said our saccharine goodbyes
And i forgot to gift you your letter away
The one i had handcrafted
to be one of the souvenirs
of our little rendezvous we had from time to time,
unaware, that that may be the last one ever.

It was a Saturday,
The 16th i guess.
A year had passed by
And your name still came out of my mouth
Like the sweetest honey dripping out
While i mindlessly shared conversations about you
To the strangers out there in the wild
as they told me to stop loving you,
that i could only love so much
till it consumes me
In its unfair nature.
But oh darling,
If you only knew
It was your love that kept me going
On the most difficult of my days,
As i stared at that letter i never gave you
Long enough for your ghost
to come by and soothe me
with a voice so tranquil
One so similar to yours.
And oh darling ,
If you only knew
That i looked for your love
in our hackneyed texts
And your one word replies
a love that never existed
But seemed so real to me
That it became a drug
I would devour
every second of every day.

It’s a Saturday.
Saturday the 16th.
It has been 2 years
since i have last thought about
Your pearl like pretty eyes
and a smile so warm-
Just Like those homemade brownies
I used to bake for myself
Every time you left me heartbroken
As i ate away the pain
Till I could eat no more.
And oh darling,
It’s time i finally tell you
That today is the last time
I Ever think about you,
That you no longer remain my idol
The one i looked up to for love
Because i’ve found someone better,
And that better is me.
So now i say my final goodbyes
As i remove you
from my ‘favourites’ list
And block your number
So i'm not constantly reminded
Of what could've been
And write out my future,
Of what it will be,
Without you.

- happy
Chapter 9:  Big Brothers, Big Sisters, Friendship & Mentoring

On the first day of school, every first grader was assigned a ‘big brother’ or ‘big sister’ from the 8th grade.  These were our designated guidance counselors and caretakers during the entire term of the first year.  This was something the 8th graders took seriously and a responsibility that not every 8th grader was given.  If you were lazy or irresponsible, this honor would go to someone else.  The care of these younger children was a serious matter, and you treated the 1st grader in your charge like your younger brother or younger sister at home.

You duties entailed number one, making sure that they had a safe way to get to school.  If both of their parents worked, a rarity, you would try, if it wasn’t too far, to meet them at their house and walk them to school.  Most students lived within walking distance. By today’s standards, the 30-minute walk many of us had would seem too far away.  Back then, the walk to and from school was one of the highlights of our day.

It was on these treks, back and forth, that you oftentimes experienced your greatest adventures.  You would try to find a new, and shorter, way each time and always different from the one you had taken the day before.  In reality, there was only one way home, but we dawdled and zig-zagged, and cut between different houses, so it always seemed like our navigation was different.  Every one of us fancied ourselves as Meriwether Lewis —blazing new trails for others to follow.

When walking home with one of our ‘charges,’ it was straight home by the quickest and safest route. In the morning, for safety, we tried to take the pathway that would have the least car traffic so our younger ‘brothers’ and ‘sisters’ would be safe and not afraid.

Once at school, we helped them put away their coats and get their desks in order.  We also asked them if they were having any trouble with their ABC’s or numbers. If they were, we would work on those things on our way to and from school.

Once ensuring their safety, our next most important job was to instill in them a knowledge of what would be happening over the next 8 years.  What better example could there be than 8th graders who were completing the journey, and in 9 short months would be graduating and heading off to the various high schools that served our area.

We reveled in the success of these younger charges, as they learned to read and eventually count as high as 100 before their first year would end. Often, they would paint us special pictures, depending on what we liked, and based on the stories we told them.  These became some of our most prized possessions, and over 50 years later, I still have mine prominently displayed.  

What we did, more than anything else with these little people, was share.  We shared our time, our laughter, and our concern for them, and were rewarded with love and admiration in return.  Yes love, the kind of love that needs no reason or explanation, one that is given freely and without asking, and a love once received that was so special that we couldn’t wait to give it back in return.

                                 It was a love we shared

We loved watching these little kids going through the same magical process that we did and hearing Sister Rita Marie tell the same stories, with the same inflection and emotion in her voice, as when she had told them to us so very long ago.  They also got to share, through the power of her instruction, the knowledge of what true value was in life.  She taught each one of them in a special way that was tailored for their own individual needs, emphasizing always that what was given away would come back 100 fold, and how to be a true friend.

We reinforced the same lessons to our young charges at recess and on the way home in the afternoon. We knew they would again hear the same things from their parents over dinner that evening (does anyone remember family dinners), and the chain of connection that we shared would only solidify and get stronger.

                        We Really Were ‘Parents In Absentia’

Like the relationship between parents and their children, the accomplishments of these little ones, and their occasional misdeeds, reflected on us.  We took great pride in their victories and we suffered with them when things didn’t go well.  They struggled, they learned, and they played together, all the while knowing they would never be alone.

               It All Worked Because We Were Willing To Share

This willingness to share didn’t happen by accident or osmosis. It was handed down, and then taught, in a system run by highly principled women who knew its intrinsic value and what it would ultimately mean for all of us.  

Whenever I meet another person who went to parochial school, or in most cases any public grammar school during the 1950’s, there is an instant kinship and connection.  After 15 minutes, we usually end up finishing each other’s sentences and marveling at how identical our upbringings were.  No matter how far removed our childhoods were geographically, it made no difference. The lessons the nuns taught were universal in their message and roadmaps to a better life.

What gets shared among young children today?  The desire for more of what they couldn’t get enough of yesterday — and will still yearn for tomorrow?  In the abject isolation of a destructive video game, or violent TV program, they withdraw further and further inside of themselves, missing much of the beauty that is only brought out by others. In the absence of cell phones, I-pads, and video games, we personally got to know each other, and in many, if not most cases, those friendships we made are still strong today. It takes another human being to bring out the best in you, and vice-versa.

              Not A Machine Or Unfeeling Scion Of Technology

The obesity of today’s younger generation is caused by inactivity and a series of lazy and uninformed choices. It is driven by a search for temporary comfort and gratification at the expense of their health and self-esteem.

I’m sure, looking back 50 years from now, we will have discovered that diseases like Obesity, Diabetes, Autism, ADHD, and Anxiety & Depression, were all at least partially caused by an inactive, poorly nourished, and degenerative lifestyle.  

We couldn’t build a bird house, assemble a scrapbook, or put together a model airplane without the glue or adhesive that held it all together.  We faced many challenges and obstacles on our journey toward 8th grade, but we encouraged each other, respected the rules, learned to laugh at ourselves, admonished the stragglers when needed, and most importantly — did it together.

The Glue We Had Was A Set Of Core Values That Proved Their Worth When Times Got Tough




Chapter 10: TV & The Messages It Held Inside

My generation, the Baby Boomers, was the first to be raised, at least in part, by television. The magical gray box held wonders beyond compare for a 5 year old fixated in its presence. You would marvel at the places it would take you, as it became your special nanny, while your parents were off tending to the chores in the ‘real world.’

Like all mediums of information, The T.V. was neither inherently good nor bad.  That depended on the intention of the programmers behind the camera. As young children, we experienced the final result, and in 1955 that result was almost always good.  The messages the T.V. brought were mainly those of accepted, time tested, family values, and our parents were comfortable and confident letting us watch by ourselves.

Back then, the message always ended with the good guy winning and the cowboy wearing the white hat saving the day.  The one’s wearing the black hats were always the villains, and implicitly we knew this when they first appeared on screen.  The good guy’s stuck together in our T.V. shows, and the bad guys were those who didn’t hold to the accepted social order (values) and wandered off in search of self-interest by breaking the law, creating havoc, and usually getting caught and then punished by shows end.  The message of these early shows reflected the shared values we had as a society and only served to reinforce what we were already being taught in school and at home.

I can remember my mother and father coming into the living room as I was watching re-runs of the ‘Our Gang Comedy’s’ from the 1930’s.  They were among my very favorites, and my parents would sit down with me and watch them too.  They would then relive all over again their childhoods during the Great Depression and tell me over and over how much that series meant to them when times were so tough.  The characters were called ‘The Little Rascals’ and had names like Alfalfa, Spanky, Porky and Buckwheat and always got into some kind of mischief.  They usually got caught, resulting in their acknowledging the errors of their ways, and learned a great lesson in the process. In many ways, they were as much a ‘morality tale’ as any told previously or since and a stark contrast to what the negative on-screen ‘entertainment’ provides for our kids today.

According to film historian Leonard Maltin, “Our Gang put boys, girls, whites, and blacks together in a group as equals.”  To be equal, we had to agree upon and share in what makes us that way.  Back then we had no problem doing that.  

                                             As equals  

‘Our Gang’ was comprised of some upper middleclass kids, but mainly poor and black kids all playing together. In playing and seeking out common goals, they set aside any petty or surface differences in their pursuit of adventure and fun.  They may have come from different economic or social circumstances, but they realized, when playing together, that that’s all that they were. The magic and the adventure of the task at hand superseded any variation in class, color, or social standing. They had much more important things to do than worry about petty differences and spent all of their time playing, planning, and conspiring as a group.

                        They Had More Important Things To Do!

The images on T.V. came to us in black and white, and the messages they carried inside were black and white too.  No confusion or embarrassment in trying to be ‘politically correct’ like today. Their messages were linked both spiritually and ethically to the ones we learned outside when the T.V. was turned off.

Shows like Lasssie, Rin Tin Tin, Gene Autry, The Lone Ranger, Howdy Doody, and then Superman, all came with a message that if the right choices were made, good would triumph over evil.  We felt better after watching these shows, and again our parents would often break away from what they were doing and watch them with us.

                            Another Thing We Shared Together!

With our decoder rings and coonskin caps, we cheered for our heroes on the 11 inch screen.  We knew that they might struggle for a while, but in the end would always win the day. They let us know that the same thing applied in our personal lives as well.  I remember going to see Gene Autry in Northeast Philadelphia when I was 8 years old. Gene Autry, along with Roy Rogers, were the biggest cowboy stars of my young generation. Gene had his horse Champion, and the Son Of Champion, with him at the outdoor demonstration.  

Gene took the time to walk the entire crowd and tried his best to talk to every child who stood outside the corral.  His questions to each kid were always the same … “Are you doing good in school?” and “Are you listening to your mom and dad?’  I left that day knowing that my on-screen hero was real, and the things that he told me, and encouraged me to do on his program, were things he believed in his heart.  I also knew he had served his country bravely during World War 2 when many stars in Hollywood hadn’t.  He represented the best of all the things, and we all wanted to be like him.

Our on-screen heroes also encouraged us to have piggy banks and to save our penny’s, explaining to us the magic of doing the right thing every day (saving) and how quickly it would add up.  They also reinforced that good things take time, and that immediate gratification was the imposter of the short-sighted. We filled our piggy banks by having paper routes and redeeming used soda bottles and didn’t ask our parents for the money, knowing that they hadn’t asked theirs.  

When that bank got so full, that it wouldn’t accept another dime, you  knew you were the wealthiest person in the world, or at least on Rockingham Road where I lived.  Your parents proudly accompanied you to the local bank where you had opened your first passbook savings account with your name on it (Mom and Dads too).  At birthdays, and holidays, you might have some relatives who wanted to ‘invest’ in your future success by making your passbook even heavier with the magic it contained.

Every kid in the 1950’s knew the story of ‘The Tortoise And The Hair,’ and understood that it was by continual effort, not just a grandstanding initial burst out of the starting blocks, that true progress was made.  It was the choice of putting aside the temptations of the present, and contributing to something larger and more important, that they taught us on T.V.  We all knew that the value in saving, and planning for the future, would override any temporal persuasion and allow us to eventually accomplish much bigger things.

                  Again, These Messages We Got From Our T.V.’s

Just think of the symbols and messages that exist on T.V. and in Video Games for kids today.  Violent action figures that continue to **** and maim, basing their success on how much damage they can do.  These violent messages reach children today at a young and impressionable age. Unless parents are conscientious and extremely vigilant, the young child is damaged severely before he or she is even given the chance to understand that the world can, and should, be a different and more uplifting place.

Occasionally, our T.V Shows would deal with tragedy and even death, but it was presented in a spirit of hope and renewal and a belief in the future.  I remember how I felt watching ‘Old Yeller’ when the dog was shot after contracting rabies while defending the boys from a wolf and had to be put down.  I was sad for days until it slowly started to sink in.  The message was that sometimes life isn’t fair, but we can be, and that doing the right thing in certain situations was the hardest thing of all.

                    And That Made It All The More Worth Doing!

Rin Tin Tin, a tan and black German Shepherd, was my personal favorite.  He was the troop mascot in a cavalry unit, and Rinty was always saving some trooper from an Indian attack or rescuing someone who was either lost or being held prisoner in the American West.  Rin Tin Tin embodied the moral message that the army and the settlers shared in common, and he proudly served to enforce these values when called upon by his master.
Rinty was both loyal and obedient, courageous and brave …traits we all tried to emulate in our everyday lives.  

He also knew the difference between right and wrong because that is what he had been taught.  We all loved and wanted to be like him and trained our own dogs to be at least partially as heroic and adventuresome as Rinty was.  As I got older, I always had German Shepherds as my personal dogs.  In real life, they share most of the qualities, and nobility of character, that Rin Tin Tin personified on screen.

In many ways, we love dogs so much because of the purity of their character.  They are totally loyal to their masters, and would in most cases die in the protection of those that they love. They often give up their own interests, in the pursuit of deferring to their masters, and want nothing more than to serve something, or someone, they see as bigger than themselves. They truly are man’s best friend!

                  And T.V. Portrayed Them Exactly That Way

Whether watching ‘Sky King,’ ‘Sgt Preston Of The Yukon,’ or ‘Daniel Boone,’ I never saw any cross-legged kid, sitting in front of the T.V., confused as to what the message was in the show he was watching. We all cheered together, laughed together, and cried together, based on the plot at hand because we all shared in the values within the message that was showing on screen.  The good guys were always good, and the bad guys always bad.  No matter how desperate the situation got in one of those shows, we always knew that good would win out in the end.  It was in this spirit, of sending a positive message of hope, that the T.V. shows during my childhood were at their best.

Imaging what a young person watching a show today, laced with *** and violence, must be thinking.  He or she can’t help but come away from that show diminished and in less control of themself than before. The only value in T.V. today is one shared by the parents.  Many parents today use television and I-pads to keep their kids occupied, and out of their ‘hair,’ while they check their emails and watch even more violent and sexually explicit programming thinking, in error, that they are spiritually immune from its negative effects.

If you have children of your own, and no parental controls on your T.V.’s, … then shame on you.  If you allow your children to watch T.V., play video games, or with I-pads, at their friend’s houses without the same controls, then I echo the sentiment.  Children grow up fast enough as it is without having the very core of their childhood ripped away from them by these violent and destructive electronic pariahs.  In many ways, T.V. — and its electronic counterparts — are the great progenitor of the downward moral spiral that we seem to be on.

My head is neither in the clouds nor do I live in a world of fantasy … in most ways I am a realist.  The realities of the world today I am all too familiar with, but I am unwilling to anoint them with unlimited power over our children in a capitulation that there is nothing we can do to fight back.

When young children, and teenagers, bring guns into our schools, with mass murders and suicides the result of their misguidance, what does this tell us about their state of mind and what they see when they look into the future?  As young children, we had heard the stories about Nagasaki and Hiroshima and the devastating results those two bombs caused.  We also knew they were dropped with a higher purpose, and in the end saved lives.  Invading Japan, which would have been the only other alternative, would have resulted in many more lives being lost on both sides.  We understood their purpose, and we also understood the difference between self-protection and preservation and wanton destruction and violence.

As horrible as it was to think about what those Japanese went through in Hiroshima and Nagasaki, we understood why it had to be done.  I don’t think anyone, including the confused and misguided young person with the gun in their hands, understands why someone enters a place of learning and starts indiscriminately shooting at everyone and in all directions.  A person like that can’t share the same value for human life that we all like to believe we share.  A person like that has had their moral barometer and compass shattered inside them. They are running sociopathically amok — devoid of any empathy for others — or sense of right and wrong.

People like this don’t just happen. They are created in an environment of abandonment, moral confusion, and despair. In many ways, the Columbine shootings were done by someone feeling even more helpless than his unfortunate victims did on that sad and tragic day.  

The television of today puts kids in these violent and destructive situations on screen.  If they are left unsupervised, the lines between fantasy and reality can easily become blurred, and over time these negative images pile up inside of them until one day the pressure becomes so great that they snap, hurting not only innocent victims, but themselves.  

Our TV programs in the 1950’s were an extension of our parents, our teachers, and our religious instructors.  They were a positive reinforcement and the best example of what the medium could be.  As has been said many times … “Art is a reflection of the society of its time,” and our time (in the 1950’s) was reflected in the most positive and uplifting light by the things that we watched.

What eventually happened to TV is what happened to our society in general.  By not sharing the same value systems that created those great programs, we’ve allowed our world to become polarized and divided with our heels dug in. In our misguided defense of what is politically correct, we have allowed the perpetrators of wrong to sit equally, and sometimes as overlord, at the table with those who are trying to do the right thing.  

To make matters worse, through misguided legislators and organizations like the ACLU, we pass laws and give legal rights to the creators of this violent and perverted programming.  As the famous comic strip character ‘Pogo’ said in the 1950’s …
    
                   “We Have Met The Enemy — And He Is Us!”
Michael John May 2021
i)

F sharp
was her
favourite

mine
is
E flat

worlds away
night to day
i called

i said,
E flat?
she´d say

F sharp!
i dawdled,
she flew

forward
and back
i thought

she did
she did nt..
i said

G flat!?!
but the
retort-was

(inevitable-)
D sharp..
(i

should have
known)
we had no-

common
but,
love..

ii)

her laugh
F sharp
mine

E flat
she said
that´s funny

i said
not really
i stayed

quiet
(in E flat)
she told

an allegorical
tale
of faith

and loss
she asked
you know what

i call that?
i said,
let me guess

nothing in
common
but love..?

iii)

we met
one food fast
day

She said,
i know
your an E flat-?!

i can always
tell!
(another one..)

so,
began
our sojourn

in hell..
who paid
we split it..

tbc..

— The End —