"deliveries" poems
Making deliv-eries,
drugs of every kind.
Got some that will sedate you,
and some that will blow your mind.
Making deliv-eries,
just trying to ply my trade.
Since i started selling drugs,
can't believe the friends I've made.
Everyone is eager,
bound to big you up.
All in a selfish,
downward spiral,
trying to get ****** up.
The glamour and the tragedy,
of people in the gutter.
But now I'm selling drugs,
it is my bread and butter.
Got to turn it over,
and try to make a buck.
Couple of quid short,
here and there ..
but I don't give a ****
Making my deliv-eries,
police not far behind.
Put my **** on the line,
in a bid to blow your mind.
Flashing lights,
neon blue,
right upon my tail.
They're about to pull me over,
I'm about to go to jail.
( (c) P Skez 04/01/2014)
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 2:33 PM UTC
Off she went all dressed up to meet the guy she swiped left upon.
Five feet 10 his profile said but that's where all the lies began!
In she walked in her killer heels, eyes wide and bright to look for him.
But not a sign of him to see had he stood her up? How dare he!
Then at the bar worst for wear she saw his face and balding head.
How had he aged so much, so soon from the photos that made her swoon.
Well the truth aired and shots were fired, Napoleon's descendant had clearly lied!
The CEO of a successful business would be up at 5 for the newspaper deliveries.
His holiday home was a caravan, in the **** of Wales where no one went.
His hair had gone south long ago and his belly was chasing it now as well.
But in all of this, had she lied? Was she 48 or 55?
Had those lips been rendered too? With botox and the wrinkles smoothed.
At 48 or 55 that dress had some riples inside.
The parts Spanx can't control, where age and love handles roll.
She stayed they drank. Then drank again and laughed and talked of other things.
They danced made shapes for all to see like watching a form of epilepsy.
They left at one her shoes in hand, holes in her tights, lipstick smeared upon his cheek and a room to find to seal the deal.
Promises made to meet again and drink and dance and meet their friends.
Next week he was sat at the very same bar, watching the door for her enterance!
She? Oh no, nowhere to be seen. Across the town at another scene. This time an accountant, chartered too!
But we all know it isn't true.
Fairytale endings nowhere to be seen. Just nights of ****** and living the dream.
All in all is this all that they want? Repeating the cycle over again.
With another fool in fancy dress?
Viewed from the bottom of an empty glass.
Jan 6, 2019
Jan 6, 2019 at 8:49 PM UTC
Maelstrom of emotion emboldening an eye opening betokening of an attitude full of alluring arousal
Walking thesaurus as fluid as a notable chorus playing in accordance with an authentic Baroque performance; silver-tongued eloquent deliveries enthusing an amusing musing
Roaring reassurance of being on the prospect of procuring central evidence - the preciousness within choosing a gained conscientiousness approach promotes an unadulterated antidote
Introspection of one’s predilections stirred the modern, robust direction toward the recollection of a pristine, internal haven nurturing relaxation and crystallization.
Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 11:37 AM UTC
rehearsing...
in the mind
he rehearses
a sequence of blows
lefts and rights
uppercuts
the jabbing low
whilst dancing and skipping
on spry feet
insides...
butterflies start to flutter
around in his insides
yet knowing the opponent
must not see any nerves
he's got to be
cool
and
assertive
the glove's punch
deliveries
being
a
bout
winner
dreaming...
it's fight night
at the Las Vegas
Grand Garden Arena
he'll slog it out
for the welter weight title
muscles
poised
his package
ready
to wear the crowning
belt buckle
Mar 24, 2017
Mar 24, 2017 at 5:48 PM UTC
The seed had been planted long ago. The words had been prophesied to give life.
I'm making deliveries, although I'm not a midwife.
These words are a key to unlock the invisible bars for those who have lost their voice......due to a bad choice.
He observed her movements, like a lion that stalks its prey.
She found him to be quite handsome when he spoke to her that day.
She had been praying the her loneliness would soon come to an end. The third wheel activities needed to come to an end.
He wasn't a big time star....just a regular dude. His mother instilled manners ....so he made it a point not to be rude......
He was well aware of the female's who thought that men only wanted to see them ****
Although, he had to admit there was some truth to this myth. There was something about this woman ......that had him in awe.
She was a Michelangelo type woman.....rare and precious. He didn't have any crafty lines....so he didn't know how to catch this.
Opportunity that he knew would only come once. He had read about the Proverbs 31 woman and wondered if she could be.
The addition to eventually make three.
How did he jump so far along in his thoughts?
Just married a woman and had a family......
All this from watching a beautiful woman walk down the street.
Hopefully....one day he will muster up the courage eventually to speak.
The seed has been planted.....
Oct 14, 2012
Oct 14, 2012 at 9:26 PM UTC
What can I say that I've broken the Baha'i Fast so that I won't be overly anxious on a busy day at the restaurant?
Using my arms and back to wash dishes.
Tactile placement of the feet around co-workers.
Remembering every detail needed for deliveries.
Baha'u'llah has exempted heavy labor from the Fast.
I couldn't do my work without constant water and a store of calories.
But what of smoking on work days?
What would God think?
The fact that I'm overly anxious at work without them has made me know how addicted I am.
So anxious as to question whether I should quit work.
"Don't do that to me again," my body tells itself, "last night was too much anxiety to simply be without smokes."
I suppose my soul will go to a tier of the afterlife where people are addicted to cigarettes.
Mar 6, 2021
Mar 6, 2021 at 4:22 PM UTC
the Boxing Day test cricket match
has just begun
with the Indian bowlers
out to stymie the Australian's run
they'll be keeping
their cherry ball deliveries tight
so the lads from Oz
don't get any easy flight
on the wicket there will be
a momentous Waterloo battle
the Indian side shall need
all of its line and length chattel
no loose ***** going awry
into the four's ditch
they'll have to be spot on
when sailing down the pitch
in the first session of play
India can't afford one mistake
or their teams shall be left
in the Aussie team's shattering wake
as the innings progresses
throughout the day
the Australian side
will surely be making hay
the pride of both cricketing nations
is at stake on the MCG
those vying to win the spoils of the test
shall require a flawless key
runs aplenty are on offer on the pitch
for the Aussie boys
so the Indian bowlers must forestall
their batting ploys
Dec 25, 2014
Dec 25, 2014 at 8:32 PM UTC
We start the shift at the same pizzeria
Then we must go on deliveries
And individuality is born
Through varying methods and differing destinations
But distinction is mostly born through tips
The start of the drive is almost always somewhat positive
Unless you know you're getting a low tip in advance
The transaction is the singular event
It's outcome determines your demeanor for the drive back
To the store that is our equalizing ending
Deliveries are over at that point
The beginning and end are the same store
The middle is our transaction
Delivery drivers have lived a thousand lives
If they have delivered a thousand pies
Often getting low tips and asking why
I maximize the radio's volume
To avoid hearing
The roar of my engine
Indicating the speed of my delivery
But the lyrics
Sound so similar to my engine's audio
Tears form in my dreaming eyes
I wipe them away
To be presentable to the customer
Who doesn't tip in heartbreaking fashion
As I return to my vehicle
Tears are no longer available
Only silent contemplation
My thoughts void blaring music
As the reality of my delivery has been discovered
And the nature of my drive back dawns on me
I'm compelled to rush to the end of the journey
So I might possibly start a new delivery
Instead of the one I'm on
Wishing I had gotten better tips
Jun 18, 2017
Jun 18, 2017 at 10:17 PM UTC
romantic callings
spanish bayonet
dagger plant
adams needles
jealously guarding
with expansive labor
a plant nurturing
most startling to find
new life
from adjoining steps in
unbroken broken ladder
rocks then plants
animals finally us
dedicated partnership
from evolution's mist
simple pollen deliveries
flower unto flower
cells and eggs
carefully enjoined
in pistil cradle womb
symbiosis of light
awaiting birth of spring
plant and animal
mutually interrelating
humble
and most hidden
might we extract
insight for our time
nurturing our awareness
expanding sacred ladder
one spiritual step
recognizing now clearly
ladder becoming whole
guarding still nurturing
welcoming spring light
emulating and repeating
a yucca mother's pattern
stupendous birthing
young yuccamoths
her amazing
our enlightening
brood
(with appreciation for genesis 2:15,
and for advice from a real life
yucca momma)
May 16, 2012
May 16, 2012 at 6:14 PM UTC
People of Wal-Mart:
what the **** is wrong with you?
You are reducing our lives
and prices in unison...
Today, in passing, i saw on T.V.
a special report: a year
after super-storm Sandy, New Jersey
still hasn't gotten its
sand dunes back.
This is news?
It took 5 years for the
Gulf Coast to begin recovering
from Hurricane Opal.
No national headlines about
Okaloosa Island a year later.
It was flat. It didn't
used to be.
A year after Hurricane Katrina,
all i heard was that Kanye West
thought President Bush didn't
care about black people. But
Wal-Mart helped with logistics
deliveries. Because Bush asked (kind of).
We basically lost a major city
that time.
Where was our airborne toxic event?
Our 15 minutes post mortem?
Thanks for helping, Wal-Mart.
But this is all your fault.
Because without cheaper stuff,
the People of Wal-Mart
would still be able to think.
They would know that
consumerism is great, but also
that it is an identity crisis.
A buzz in their heads.
Our nation fights wars
for capitalism,
but our soldiers fight
for their lives.
So i will see you on
Black Friday, Wal-Mart.
We are dying here in the
South, we have to save
a penny where ever we can.
And, People of Wal-Mart, don't forget:
No president cares about any individual.
The greater good prevails.
And **** your sand dunes, New Jersey.
Oct 29, 2013
Oct 29, 2013 at 4:22 PM UTC
I am a physician.Last fall, I had a very interesting
conversation with a patient who is a trucker. I asked her if she knew
anything about deep underground military bases, and then I played ignorant
to see what she would say.
Without further prompting, she informed me she is an independent contractor
trucker, driving 18-wheeler rigs cross-country. She said the bases are real
and are located all over the country, "especially under the mountains out
West". She said one of her main contracts over the last few years has been
with DHS.
She said there are underground roads running all over the United States,
connecting the underground facilities.
She said she has personally delivered many truckloads of supplies to the
underground facilities. For each DHS shipment/delivery, there was a stack
of non-disclosure forms about (by her description) six inches thick she had
to sign.
DHS would attach a tracking device to her truck for each of these shipments
and monitor her truck's every move. She would be told where to go to accept
delivery for each shipment. In each case, she would be escorted by guards
"with machine guns" away from her truck, so she could not see what was
being loaded into her rig. The truck would then be locked by a large lock
with a ring 'as big around as your finger", which had to be torch-cut off
at the time of delivery.
When she would make deliveries, often within underground facilities, she
would again be escorted away from the truck by armed guards, the lock would
be cut off, and the goods would be unloaded.
She said the only shipped goods she ever saw in these DHS shipments were
stackable black plastic things that looked like coffins.
She told be the gov't is getting ready for a collapse, which she told be
she expected might happen as early as late 2014.
She also told me she thinks the gov't has just about everything is needs
stored underground, because the number of DHS shipments has been
declining.
I asked her if she would be willing to have lunch with me and tell me more.
She replied, "yes", but afterwards when I contacted her, she had changed
her mind and would not talk further about it with me.
Another pt of mine, whom I saw within about a week of this lady, is a local
trucker, but he told me that he has lots of friends who are truckers, and
through them, he said he had learned that there are "thousands of miles of
underground roads" running across the country, connecting underground gov't
facilities.
He had just recently, in fact, heard among his trucker friends of a
shipment of frozen meat being shipped to one such underground facility,
totaling four million pounds of meat.
Apr 5, 2015
Apr 5, 2015 at 2:19 PM UTC
Back behind Gianni's
There was no one to be found
The alleyway was quiet
You could not hear a sound
The frost had not yet burned off
The alleyway was wet
The deliveries had not been made
No one was moving yet
In the sky a rarity
Both sun and moon were out
But seen by just night creatures
Since no one was about
The back window to Gianni's
Opened to where Jim slept
There was garbage in the doorway
Since it had not yet been swept
The moon was getting lower
The sun just in the sky
The silence was then broken
By a blackbird flying by
The bird woke up the Bluesman
with his early morning call
And he watched the Bluesman set up
Perched up high upon a wall
The Bluesman had his guitar
Wiped some moisture off his crate
Another blackbird landed
A rat peeked out from a drain grate
The Bluesman started playing
Singing low, just barely heard
More animals were showing up
And they took in every word
His medicine beside him
In a flask, engraved "For Dad"
His voice was smooth and smoky
You could hear him, just a tad
More birds came for the concert
More rats, some squirrels too
No humans yet were moving
In the early morning dew
He sang as he was known too
To no one special, just the sky
Songs of revelation
Songs of watching people die
The small flock that had gathered
Watched The Bluesman, moved a bit
As he took sips from his medicine
Not a single song...a hit
The world was just now waking
But The Bluesman didn't care
He was doing what he always did
Singing softly to the air
Normally, the street would fill
As word would spread around
That the Bluesman was out playing
But, today...no one was found
The window to Gianni's
Let Jim lie in bed and dream
That he heard the Bluesman singing
In his room, on a sun beam
The birds all flew away at once
The was movement in behind
Life was coming to the street
Where at night the vermin dined
The Bluesman packed his kit up
Snuck away from the day light
To sleep and rest his weary bones
To venture forth again that night
The rats went to the sewers
The birds had flown away
The squirrels, they were also gone
And the street began it's day
Jim looked out his window
The alley empty, no one thee
Where while Jim thought he was dreaming
The Bluesman sang songs to the air
An early morning concert
Full of music, 'neath the sun
A concert heard by many
A concert just for one
Feb 11, 2017
Feb 11, 2017 at 4:46 PM UTC
Did you happen to notice
That last year Santa's sleigh
Was missing an important
Figure, by the way?
Let's see: Comet and *****
Along with Cupid and Prancer
Were there, and so were Donner,
Dasher, Blitzen, and Dancer.
Which reindeer was missing?
Rudolph? Ah, you guessed it.
The news was out there, but
The media had suppressed it.
(Because of frequent fog,
Santa was being sensible
In counting on dear Rudolph,
Who had become indispensable.)
It all started like this:
On the morning of Christmas Eve,
Rudolph was tired from having
Been on the qui vive
For sneaky present robbers
All the previous night.
By noon, poor ol' Rudolph
Looked a sorry sight.
To perk himself up a bit--
The "where" is still unclear--
He dipped into a little
Too much Christmas "cheer."
Now I don't know about you,
But Rudolph's nose would flicker
Whenever he drank wine
Or any other liquor.
When the team of reindeer
Lined up, Santa could tell
That sleigh-guiding Rudolph
Wasn't doing so well.
Needless to say, Santa
Really got a whiff
When he approached his friend
And took a little sniff.
"I can tell, dear Rudolph,
That you've been making merry.
Did you turn your eggnog
Into a Tom and Jerry?"
"I think--hiccup!--a little,"
Said Rudolph with a blush.
"Go to bed," said Santa.
"We are in a rush."
That night Santa was forced--
Although he felt remorseful--
To use toys with lights
To guide him. How resourceful!
So last year if the batteries
To your toys were run down,
Causing disappointment
And many a tear and frown,
Don't feel so sad.
They went to a good cause:
They helped to distribute
Gifts from Santa Claus.
Regarding this year, I
Don't want to keep you guessin':
Rudolph's back in service.
I think he learned his lesson.
But some say Santa's considering--
Despite objections and moans--
Future gift deliveries
With the use of Amazon's drones.
- by Bob B
Nov 25, 2016
Nov 25, 2016 at 1:26 PM UTC
Remember when life was delivered
from milk right on down to your meat
There'd be people out delivering groceries
At least two on every side street
If you neglected to pick up an item
Just phone up and talk to the store
A delivery boy would soon bring it
You don't get this service no more
Each house had a door for deliveries
Your milk, cheese and eggs would all fit
If you call up today and said "tab it"
The person you're phoning would ****
Ice was delivered in wagons
Horses pulled them around every town
But, today ony fast food is delivered
And delivery horses aren't found
Every morning when you'd get your paper
It was delivered as well by a kid
You could smell the fresh bread in the morning
with the glass bottles of milk with gold lids
Remember when life was delivered
It was all a much simpler time
Back when customer service was special
No it's gone and that's just a crime
May 6, 2012
May 6, 2012 at 1:22 PM UTC
Behold merrily dancing eyes! moonrise-hued that delight in surprise,
Waterfall-cascading hair, sleepily stirring from a golden lair,
Heaven-glimpsed in leafy disguise, powerless to resist I surmise,
Elven locks frame an Eden-parterre, a majestic Springtime fayre!
Banished Winter’s-strife, unveiled a collective bursting into life,
Love, laugher and blossom hold sway, a dress-parade in full panoply,
Nimble Elven hands serve as nature’s midwife, their deliveries run rife!
This is no chaotic affray, but the Almighty order we never gainsay.
Their unbridled gaiety I watch in wonder, but I feel such an intruder,
Stiff limbed I shake off love’s-hibernation, a lifelong affliction,
Shall I be welcome I ponder, or will they flee in panic and anger?
Their joyous souls offer salvation, unleashed a grim determination!
A rapturous-smiled greeting! handshakes and hugs - our first meeting!
Blinkers-away restores my sight, from this embrace I must not take flight,
Alas! this is mere wish-dreaming, awake my face is aglow and gleaming!
This kinship-reverie serves to ignite, a joy and happiness so eager to excite.
Gone are doubt-swirling mists, hopeful lips plead to be kissed,
This alluring Elven-dream, lures me into passion’s fragrant-stream,
No more envy-bound wrists, as I fiercely battle loves-duellists,
Folly pursuit of Crusading esteem? no courage with a steely gleam!
My brow burns with the fierce rays of Summer,
My soul plunges into despair, with the decline and fall of Autumn,
My feet are mired in the cloying-clay of a sodden Winter,
But heart-contentment sings aloud with the uplifting beat of Spring!
© Robert Porteus
Jun 20, 2021
Jun 20, 2021 at 7:00 AM UTC
in the annals of cricket
those of greatness get a mention
for what they've achieved on the wicket
these men stand head and shoulder
above the rest
their contribution
to the game
has
been written as the best
three men have inspired
younger players
in their homelands
they've accomplished
much on wickets
throughout the many cricket playing
lands
Steven Waugh(Australian Captain)
the master strategist
who had a captain's mind
replete with brilliant tactics
when he took to the pitch
the opposition teams
would quiver in their
collective boots
field placement
over deliveries
the weather conditions
all of these factors
actuated in his mind
so he could
bring an innings
of a notable kind
Sachin Tendulkar (Indian Batsman)
the king of the blade
who none can equal
in test matches
his cuts and cover drives
were worthy of an epic prequel
his style with the bat
twas magic to see
he had a prowess
of majesty
Vivian Richard (West Indies All Rounder)
he was never phased
he held his nerve
with the bat or the ball
a tradesman
who fielded what ever came at him
and in his relaxed style
chewed on a piece of gum
and demolish
the bails
with a Caribbean hum
cricket's hall of fame
that 22 yard pitch
where three greatest of the game
performances
did of fans
ever bewitch
Nov 14, 2014
Nov 14, 2014 at 6:45 PM UTC
Earth-shine in your loved one's eyes
Is all you have for memories;
Moonlight died beneath their lids,
When death did his deliveries.
And now the world's a colder place,
Though sun still shines above it,
And moon comes too, and looks upon
The graves, were made with loving.
And though the years will pass the same;
Though weeds and grass obscure it,
Their names on trembling lips will live-
As long as we endure it.
Jan 20, 2013
Jan 20, 2013 at 12:26 AM UTC
We conquer foul play caused by past discrepancies
Somewhere along the chart, hearts sink into the sand
Scars caused by burned skin never change their shape
Even when nursed back to health, they still hold the same print.
The pleasure that you speak of is too far in the distance,
All moves are read with a cautious eye
Feelings cannot be talked off the overhanging ledge
The fire of pain cannot be put out inside.
Roads do not just lay out paths before us,
They form partings of what was once a unified land.
Promised deliveries are only distractions
So the forbidden can again be secretly admired.
Why does the bond have to be evolved?
Why does it have to mean coexist as the separate?
We all live lives so solitary and curious
Where there is always a bit left on the side.
Hopeless and heartless is what we are left with
The more we go on the less we can hold onto in pride.
Call the delivery man for food, love and friendship
When we are done we tell him to go on and drive.
All feels like an existence in a video game
Where all the lights are made to be blinding
Same pages may exist but
How they are read is never beloved again.
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 10:00 AM UTC
It varies from woman to woman, however
this girl will always hate giving birth
Maybe she wouldn’t even get married nor have ****** ***********
More than forty years ago those childish thoughts kept circling in my mind
It didn’t take long for her to realize that *** and babies had something in common
Nana so often said to us girls with her Island slang
*“What sweeten a goat mouth, would burn his tail end”
So girls you're worth it, don’t do it*
The after effects, the after effects so complex and powerful
Nana woke us up in the wee hours of the morning
either with her singing, or the rattling of the *** and pans
I knew at some point I would come to hate being a nurse
I probably wouldn’t be able to show Compassion
If you aren’t compassionate enough: being a Nurse isn’t for you
I hated those homebirth early morning deliveries
Not enough light, no running water in the homes,
And the list goes on in late sixties on the Island
When I finally woke up that morning
I noticed Nana’s black bag on the table:
Her lily white apron on the back of the chair
How she got her uniform to stay so white was a miracle to me
Granddad was outside fixing something under the old Wolseley bumper
Using an old flittering kerosene paraffin lamp to get the job done
Our country farm house sat the bottom of the hill
So Grandad needed the old Wolseley car to be in good condition
To pulled Porte hill and there I was about to be Nana’s Nursing Assistant
Was I up for the yelling, screaming, crying? At my age, I wasn’t,
However, being defiant wasn’t appealing, Nana played on our emotions
another one of her favorite island slangs
“Some children are to be ****** to death if they are defiant to their parents said Nana”
I was also too sleepy to sulk so I sat and quietly listen to her rambling on and on:
So I turned all my thoughts and energy to Genesis 3:16
To the woman he said, "I will make your pains in childbearing very severe; with painful labor you will give birth to children. Your desire will be for your husband, and he will rule over you."
And that was my last words to Nana: No man shall have control over my body
and that was my last trip with Nana on her delivering baby route.
May 15, 2015
May 15, 2015 at 6:50 AM UTC
SANTA'S GETTING OLDER AND HIS EYESIGHT'S NOT SO HOT
HIS MEMORY IS FADING TOO, THERE'S LOTS THAT HE'S FORGOT
LIKE WHERE HE'S BEEN, AND WHERE HE'S TO AND THE THE HELL IS HOME?
AND WHICH WAY IS INUVIK WHEN I TAKE OFF FROM NOME?
THER'S PLACES THAT HE'S BEEN TOO, THAT NOW HE CANN'T FIND
IT'S NOT THAT HE'S FORGETFUL, I THINK HE'S LOST HIS MIND
THE ELVES ALL STAY AWAY FROM HIM WHEN HE'S AROUND BECAUSE
HE'S ALWAYS GOING ON ABOUT THEIR RELATIVES IN OZ
THEY TELL HIM HE'S MISTAKEN AND THAT OZ IS NOT THERE
THAT IT WAS JUST A MOVIE, BUT SANTA DOESN'T CARE
HE SITS AROUND AND MUMBLES AND TALKS ABOUT THE PAST
ABOUT HOW THINGS ARE CHANGING AND KIDS GROW UP SO FAST.
"BEFORE COLUMBUS SHOWED HIS FACE..I HAD THIS THING DOWN PAT"
"I NEVER MISSED DELIVERIES BACK WHEN THE WORLD WAS FLAT"
"THE TIME ZONES HE CREATED WHEN HE PROVED THE WORLD WAS ROUND"
"GET ME HOME TWO HOURS PRIOR TO THE TIME I LEFT THE GROUND"
"I LEAVE AT TWELVE, DO MY TRIP AND I GET HOME AT TEN"
"I CAN'T REMEMBER IF I'VE BEEN...SO, I GO OUT AGAIN"
"WITH ALL THE MAIL THAT I RECIEVE, IT'S GETTING RATHER TOUGH"
"SO LAST YEAR I COMPUTERIZED TO ORGANIZE MY STUFF"
"I DESTROYED ALL MY INFO AND STORED IT ALL ON DISC"
"I LEAPT INTO THE FUTURE AND I TOOK A MAJOR RISK"
"MY ATLASES I TOOK AND BURNED, MY LISTS I RIPPED UP TOO"
"I DIDN'T NEED THESE THINGS NO MORE, NOT WITH MY IPAD2"
"WAY BACK IN MID DECEMBER THE PLUG SLIPPED FROM THE WALL"
"I DIDN'T HAVE A BACKUP, AND SO I LOST IT ALL"
"MY ELVES THEY CANNOT HELP ME, IN FACT THEY SIT AND LAUGH"
"BECAUSE LAST YEAR WHEN I AUTOMATED, I CUT MY STAFF IN HALF"
"IT'S GOING TO TAKE A WHILE, IT MAY BE A FEW YEARS"
"BUT I'LL DELIVER EVERY GIFT WITH A LITTLE HELP FROM SEARS"
"YOU SEE, I'VE GOT A CATALOGUE AND I'LL ORDER FROM THEIR SHELVES"
"WHO CARES IF I GET MY STUFF FROM THEM, OR IF I GET IT FROM MY ELVES?"
"I THANK YOU ALL FOR LISTENING, BUT NOW I'VE GOT TO SCOOT"
"YOU SEE, I DROPPED SOMETHING OFF WRONG AND YOUR GIFT'S IN BEIRUT"
"DON'T WORRY YOU'LL STILL GET IT, JUST CHECK BENEATH YOUR TREE"
"IT MAY TAKE A LITTLE WHILE, BUT I'LL GET IT THERE....YOU'LL SEE!"
Jun 1, 2012
Jun 1, 2012 at 8:53 PM UTC
There's a girl
Who I've never seen before until last week,
She passed me as I was working the cafe -
The perfect natural shade of red-orange hair;
****
Her hair was enough to make me fall in love and go crazy over her
Her messenger sling bag over her left shoulder
Thick homemade cloth headband keeping her hair pushed back
I wondered if her name was Autumn
It should be,
Her ravishing hair would make it all fall together perfectly
And I never thought I'd see her again,
But I did
After I closed up she was waiting outside of her next classroom
I told myself it was just pure coincidence,
But I saw you yet again Miss
Friday I was working the coffee cart making deliveries
And I stopped
Only to see you come down the stairs,
A few seconds of uncertainty rang through me
I could only tell by your hair
But at that moment,
You wore a long cardigan sweater with a hood over your head
And as I started to look away slightly disappointed it was as if you heard my mind;
Your hands came up grasping the edge of the cloth
As you swiftly flipped it down;
I never knew
Such a simple action could be so magical and graceful until then
I saw you in all your elegance
And my heart raced;
Such a prepossessing creature
Love tell me,
Why are you so **** gorgeous?
I remained staring at you,
Smiling like a ***** as other people saw me and passed,
But you kept walking away
Your back to me and knee-high boots clicking away
Madam,
Is this still just a coincidence?
Or is this now destiny for us to meet?
Oct 14, 2018
Oct 14, 2018 at 5:05 PM UTC
I never got to know who I would really be.
The day was pure, I went to play and lift me brown-eyed brave;
I never got to know who I would really be.
My cousin was not home, but his father was,
who offered to show curious me something;
I never got to know who I would really be.
Taking my hand, up we went into that shadowed bedroom;
I never got to know who I would really be.
There I cried and nearly died as breath and trust drained away,
and then he finished;
I never got to know who I would really be.
With all my four-year might, I barely stood,
trembling friendless for a lifetime,
waiting and wishing for the end of me that never came,
frozen by the echoes of his whistling;
I never got to know who I would really be.
My light and trust twisted numb, and I became,
in that sacrificial horror, unwantedly wise;
I never got to know who I would really be.
My nature heart and caring head left for other worlds,
replaced by unwanted imitations,
strange deliveries from the unknown;
I never got to know who I would really be.
The rest of my life unfolded in starker silence,
hidden tears, and lurking fears, later liberated
for short, surprised, and sublime times
by the fairest love of two women,
safe children, their adoring little ones,
and a few determined adventures now and then,
hinting of the lost;
I never got to know who I would really be.
But now I write it all, and from my defiant and disobedient depth
consider, when I can, what imagining did for me
and never came true,
to stand and say and show
who I have become anyway.
This is my private anthem to my beloved self,
though
I never got to know
who that boy might really be.
Apr 25, 2015
Apr 25, 2015 at 11:42 PM UTC