"downtime" poems
Morning smells of Lilacs rapture me,
Taking me back to Kinderhooks Chatham Street….June 21st 1961……not a cloud in the sky.
Lying in bed I open my eyes to the hum of a window fan.
And in the distance I hear a Hudson River barge blast its horn.
This moment in time, well it brings tears to my eyes.
Eleven years old, brown hair, hazel eyes, a toothy smile,
Grins in the mirror, hoping to find a whisker or two…
My cat Oscar sits there on the sink purring out his contentment.
“Oscar” I say, “today I leave for the Freedom Farm”
The Freedom Farm is the one place where I’m free to be me
Without the fear of a negative comment or a boot in my ***
I climb aboard the Greyhound bus with suitcase in hand, And looking down at Mom and Dad....I wave…. So Long Suckers!!
Walton NY, June 22nd, Dunk Hill Road, the smell of cow ****
The land of Milk and Honey, Fields of four leaf clovers and 10’ corn stalks.
It was here that all my friends lived, Shorty the horse, Mrs Blue the Holstein,
And there was Uncle Ike, Aunt Minnie and 9 Cousins. I loved them all!
On this little dairy farm……my potential was unlimited,
Uncle Ike taught me to drive the Tractor, water the heifers,
Milk the cows, shovel **** spread manure and have some **** fun!
Hell Uncle Ike even let me try a piece of his plug tobacco... (Note to self…Just say No Thanks next time)
A summer filled with character building experiences and an eight year olds understanding of work ethic.
But we still had plenty of time for fun and cousin bonding.
My Cousin Tom taught me to ride the cows and honed my spitting skills.
And in my downtime I'd perfect the finer points of armpit farting,
Four weeks of heaven on earth where nothing was impossible.
*Once you work on a farm you get dirt in your shoes. And when you get dirt in your shoes, you can never get it out!"
Aug 8, 2016
Aug 8, 2016 at 4:50 PM UTC
Thugs
Go to Stanford.
And the construction workers
I've seen
Are more likely to spend
Their downtime playing
Video games
Then smoking the ****
And I've seen my
Fair share of manic,
Wide-eyed young Filipinos
Like myself,
A little browner,
A little more beautiful,
I'm a little more racist
But
It's not okay.
Maybe.
Maybe not.
I guess what I simply want to say
Is there is a simple joy
To watching fingers
Of all kinds
Mold and shape futures,
Whether it be in the form
Of softened concrete slabs
Or the hard writ
Of word,
Whether it taste
Of exhaust smoke
And leather
Or orange juice
The school
Is the sky
The blue sky and the
Fields and university
Is a gold-ringed
Fist and in this
Respect we all have
Our PhDs.
And as for this sheltered
Unsheltered rooftops
Holed like ozone
World we've all built together
Well,
We try to find words for it
And collapse.
Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 10:34 AM UTC
Tripped out blackened falling past back through the CRACKs again
Blasted wasted all of it tasted so FRESH again
I am who I say I am, but what am eYe?
Perception, damnation, ascension, redemption
Falling, falling, rising, writhing in the light the serpent tWiZtS
Like a DNA double no triple quintuple helix outside the bounds
Imagine the sounds, can you expound on the downtime?
Know what I'm saying if it's not clear to you
I question the norm and fall back into you
Am I insane? What is sane? To feel pain? Or to ignore it all, fall, fall, only to rise, the skies have opened up and spilled their seed upon the ground
Sounds like Chaos. I'll make it.
Peace. Equanimity. Balance. Words have power, but we give it to them. A serpent could just as easily be a dove. Vibrate. Ommmmmmm. Sanskit. Hebrew. Who knew? Enochian keys and Christian disease. Why do they believe? Because they're scared and it's all they have to turn to. They are given no other options. Open your ******* MINDS. Question authority. Think for yourselves. Nobody else can tell you what is true. There are no authorities, we just let them boss us around. **** hierarchy. I'm a monkey, you're monkey. Just because we can string words together doesn't mean they make sense. Just because you write something on paper doesn't make it true. Change is good. Any change would be welcome in this stagnant society. Hey, look, that kid can spell deoxyribonucleic acid. He must be smart. Don't believe it. Cost effective ******** **** Newspeak. Why are you letting them take away your freedoms? Are you really that insecure? **** the police state mentality. You don't have to listen to those people. Don't listen to me either. Listen to yourselves, your inner voice. You know what is right. Man's law is not God's law, and the Bible, the Koran, the Torah, these are all MAN's words, twisting the eternal truth into chains to bind you to their ways. **** that. You will not find God in a book. Think. Question. Go off the deep end. Lose your ego. Don't be afraid to experiment. That cliff is waiting, jump, jump, JUMP, you won't fall, you'll fly, oh **** they fell for it, you're falling, you're falling, you're ******* FLYING, wings, and it's all all right now, ain't it, off across the Universe to better brighter things, ******* words limit the conveyance of the true message, but it's all right, you'll get there, just forget everything you know, and BAM! it's right there.
Free your mind. Be. Om. Words lie. Truth is.
Dec 7, 2013
Dec 7, 2013 at 9:53 PM UTC
My leaves have begun to turn
from the green of photosynthesis
to that pumpkin Autumn orange
descending below October skies
landing on the lush lawn of November.
Flat grey skies of overcast.
Of rain filled clouds - stretching-
as far as the horizon line
bursting at their rolling seems
to see this season’s first thunderstorm.
Once I am bare, naked, & exposed
the snow will come in blankets
covering all signs of my yearly decay
the malignancy of once being a sapling
who sprouted an eon of Springs ago.
My arms extended in every direction
inching and reaching for a sun
that has been masked and dimmed
in acceptance of this cycle of life
this years seasonal downtime.
The first rays of a new Spring
stimulate my entire being
sprouting new buds to leaf in quantity
giving momentary hope from knowing
that I am only living for the Fall.
Nov 10, 2010
Nov 10, 2010 at 9:42 PM UTC
A hippy child by birth
Preordained as a psychic,
Gyspie of thieving church.
Dandelions art their thirst
Days groweth colder
Downtime gets worse
Smiling faces sicken them
When others smile back
Melatonin
Vitamin d
F
And c
Sickened by mailing
Babble trawling
Click lick chatter
Bit wit batter
Shocked to sloth
And madness of creepiness..
Jun 27, 2015
Jun 27, 2015 at 5:19 PM UTC
It’s nice to have some holiday downtime and not be all go-go-go. I’ve even gotten in some Animal Crossing play. After 40 minutes of picking up weeds, Bianca, one of my villagers, told me she’d heard I was dead.
Later, we’re in Lisa’s living room taking turns playing songs from Spotify.
Lisa just played “Woo”, by Rihanna. When the song ends, fading out, Leeza deadpan said, “That song is pure evil.”
“You guys, I forgot to mention it but that is my energy song, it makes me feel so HOT.” Lisa adds with a chuckle.
“It has an evil vibe,” I admit. “An evil vibe,” Leeza confirms.
“Don’t be judging,” Lisa reminds us.
“Your next,” Lisa said, nodding to Leeza, “What’ve you got for us,” she speculates, “some mental health rock?”
Leeza’s had this girl-punk-rock group called “Vancougar” playing on a loop in her room. At first, I wasn’t enthusiastic but now I think they slay. Her mom’s even gotten on board, dancing “the twist” to “Philadelphia” when it rolls around. Leeza has great taste in music although she leans a bit EMO (emotionally hard core) for me. She makes me feel old by introducing us to all these new bands like “Youngest and only,” “Calling all Captains” and “Beatrice Dear.”
“I’ve got one song to play,” Leeza says, “Paparazzi, by Lady Gaga.”
“I’ve been listening to that song all WEEK!” I gasp, “I love that song, it may be her best - that’s so random,” I finish saying as the song starts.
As Paparazzi ends Lisa says, “That song has major Gwen Stefani vibes.”
“It DOES,” I agree, “It could be “Cool” or “Sweet Escape.”
“Yeah, for sure,” Leeza agreed, “shoutout to No Doubt.”
Leeza says, “I have a conversation topic: What’s something we all acknowledge is cheugy but we still do anyway?”
“Being blonde,” I say, which gets stitches of laughter because it’s true and Lisa and I are.
“That’s true, that’s fair,” redheaded Leeza laughs. “Anyone blonde is dead to me,” which gets her a pillow in the face.
“Ok, I’m going to come for a lot of people,” Lisa says, “but yogurt, yogurt is cheugy.”
Leeza gasps, “You think yogurt.. It’s not cheugy!” she practically yells, “It gives MOM.”
Dec 28, 2022
Dec 28, 2022 at 3:33 PM UTC
Sifting through throngs of ordinary people
Feeling the sweat run down your spine,
Knowing that somewhere, lost in the nowhere
Penniless thoughts are sweeping your mind.
Whispering breezes caress the deep valleys
Towering aspens reach for the sky
Loveliness stretches across the whole landscape
And ordinary people live life as they die.
The everyday actions of ordinary souls
Which gather like old leaves in piles at your feet,
They billow and flow like windblown confetti
And lay there like derelict snow in the street.
The passion and pain that flow through the lifeway
The highs and the lows that paint in your mind
Magnificent portraits of colour and texture
That render your eyesight effectively blind.
You scream at the hollowness, vacantly pulsing
Thrash at the emptiness shimmering there,
Long for the avalanche of substance returning
Long for the touch of her long golden hair.
Swim through the morass of ordinary people
Wade through the ordinary thoughts that live there
Making the most of the moments of lightness
Through quivering lips you discard despair.
Dancing in puddles and splashing through gutters
Cascading on through in a frivolous way,
Tossing your mane with a smile built on vapour
Dispelling your cares like windblown hay.
To gasp for air in the turquoise downtime
****** out your palms apon your knees,
Feel your chest convulse with effort
These flooding tensions gush to ease.
Whispering nothings are echoing softly
Silkily wafting from this side to there
Imparting the message that life is worth living
And crimson & scarlet diffuse in the air.
This ordinary day has done it’s thing now
Temperate airs have cooled to chill,
Vistas fade into the distance
Starlings flock upon the hill.
Marshalg
Mangere Bridge
18 January 2008
Oct 23, 2009
Oct 23, 2009 at 3:57 PM UTC
'Pets and Palates'
he had only two real loves
ducks and waffles
this was highly disconcerting
to his parents
who tried to distance their boy
from these strange affectations
by buying him a precious pet goose
named Berchunice
and putting him on a steady diet
of pancakes
and their various
international counterparts
needless to say
he didn't live to a great age
as a matter of fact
he died at twenty-two and a smidge
because while pets generally extend and enrich life
caring for a goose you despise
and dining on starchy carbs
seriously inhibits life expectancy
his passing was terribly unfortunate
as was the life his parents had forced upon him
if they hadn't forced these changes on him
had they merely accepted
perhaps
encouraged even
this love of ducks and waffles
their lovely lad
would have
efficiently and economically
solved global warming
in an effort to protect
the best interest
of his friends
the ducks
and in his downtime
he would have put
a major dent
in the world hunger problem
with a highly adaptable
waffle recipe
too bad.
Feb 13, 2010
Feb 13, 2010 at 6:26 PM UTC
waste of time,
i hear my phone chime,
my time is gone,
working until dawn,
time to say hi,
when I really want to say bye,
it's now bedtime,
but for me that doesn't mean downtime,
yea, it's a waste of time.
Sep 21, 2017
Sep 21, 2017 at 12:11 PM UTC
*Spectral & Whites,
She shoots liquid kryptonite,
Forming civil twilights,
Lighting up satellites,
Effusive she moves in crowds,
Vetting the loud,
Entombing in her vortex clouds,
Fiction stitched exclusive to her shroud,
Translucent transcendence,
Sinking in ascendance,
Obscured abundance,
Her celestial dependence,
Mutating sacraments,
Dissolving electrolytic laments,
Decaying she resents,
Her serene blood stains,
Choking reckless intents,
Torrential far cry,
Of her desecrated lullabies,
Edging serrated highs,
Triggering sulphur lies,
Profanity in her transmits,
Photonic duality she emits,
Fluttering in trance,
Her psychopathic stance,
Initiating empathetic dance,
Seductive incandescence,
Buffering her schizophrenic vehemence,
Veiling the era of repentance,
By unveiling spiritual severance,
And pseudo sacrosanct irreverence,
The future’s here,
Nuclear souvenir,
She past my prime,
When the evidence realigned,
Confiscating her downtime,
She committed my crime,
Make amends… We are designed to be outlived….
03:22AM*
Feb 27, 2017
Feb 27, 2017 at 5:01 PM UTC
Sitting in the sun,
Watching old movies,
The Australian heat
Washes up against my feet.
The dog shakes off the afternoon
And snoozes by the couch
And all our troubles melt away
Like the ice cream now resting
In our stomachs.
Sweet peace,
The ignorance of it all.
Only at the cost of our minds
Do we chase our tails and sunbathe
On the crisp autumn grass.
Apr 1, 2018
Apr 1, 2018 at 7:15 AM UTC
I'm pottering and napping
with no space for snap chatting
I'm reading and snoozing
with no online browsing
I'm just taking downtime
some space for just me time
I'll see you tomorrow
when I emerge from my burrow
Feb 17, 2019
Feb 17, 2019 at 2:43 PM UTC
open the door
come out some more
you're too much a bore
just sit on your floor
the grimy-ass woodwork
washed out with splinters
the ***** **** carpet
your social skills hindered
i'm sorry that i couldn't be happy
i'm sorry my life was so ******
i'm sorry i became so sappy
i'm sorry my text posts got so yappy
so write your last words down on my arm
i'll try to choke down my talk of harm
we'll forget this partnership ever took place
the echoes and traces gone of my face
hello old drama
i'll see you tomorrow
there will be no contact
just second-hand feedback
together we could dive into
each others ****** up souls but you
got scared or maybe i don't know
for some reason you just had to go
all that remains is lost intentions
and i will still cringe when your name she mentions
the pages are torn and you took them with you
i'll drift away with nothing, not a clue
my palms are clammy
the car isn't starting
sit on the side of
the highway, eyes darting
guess there won't be more downtime
i can learn to look on the bright side
you saved me a **** ton of gas money
so i'll just leave and say "thanks, honey"
Apr 10, 2013
Apr 10, 2013 at 3:33 AM UTC
I feel like,
By the time I'm finished preparing for my future
I'll be too old to remember
The things I enjoy.
Sep 10, 2014
Sep 10, 2014 at 6:27 PM UTC
I pray to that know-it-all Inter-web
- that I can book a safe beach vacation.
That I’ll meet some nice cahtholic boy online
- without **** fueled expectations.
Weber-net, without undo downtime
- please address my ongoing frustrations.
I need my Christmas loot on time
- and not priced-up by supply-chain inflation.
AIs, who are listening, it’s time to send me a sign
- beep or whir to let me know you heard my small rogation
Nov 22, 2021
Nov 22, 2021 at 9:41 AM UTC
Calming raindrops
Fall slowly
Erasing on the macadam
The memory of teardrops
From the tragedy
Crying Ad nauseam
In the heart
Of the hurt
Dark fate
Made love depart
When the burst
Terminate
One drop at a time
Nature reminds
Us of beauty
Forgiving downtime
Our clock rewind
Celebrating liberty
The wash of nature
Brushes away
The traces in surface
Hello future
Blow me away
Bring a smile on my face.
April 23, 2013
G.
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 7:51 AM UTC
A hippy child by birth
Preordained as a psychic,
Gyspie of thieving church.
Dandelions art their thirst
Days groweth colder
Downtime gets worse
Smiling faces sicken them
When others smile back
Melatonin
Vitamin d
F
And c
Sickened by mailing
Babble trawling
Click lick chatter
Bit wit batter
Shocked to sloth
And madness of creepiness
©brandon nagley
©lonesome poets poetry
Jul 19, 2015
Jul 19, 2015 at 8:08 PM UTC
so the stars are hiding
tonight...
perhaps they make a deal
with the clouds,
so every now and then,
they can kick back,
drink a beer and go
to the movies....
it must be hard,
to keep your twinkle, sparkly
night, after night, after night,
everybody....
even the heavenly ones deserve some....
down-time.
am i right or am i right!!!!
Nov 14, 2014
Nov 14, 2014 at 6:02 PM UTC
it was you
and me
against the world
it was you
and me
every single day
it was you
and me
holding hands
it was you
and me
taking turns
making the other half happy
it was you
that had the last say
it was you
who swept me
off my feet
it was you
who surprised me
with new information
every other day
it was you.
it was always you.
when did the 'me'
in 'you and me'
disappear?
that's why it's
downtime
right now.
Dec 3, 2015
Dec 3, 2015 at 10:09 AM UTC
uptown train
a rare sighting, a shiny dime,,
in a city where clothesworn-grime,
an unshed waning gray, a skin coloring,
stony faces always chewing, enduring
in tunnels neath rivers of streets,
there is no moon, so little hope,
nightly somebody’s thinking,
somebody’s baby,
I’ll be, tonight,
someday, maybe
who will see them
as they are,
willI I, will I,
before they’ve gone too far,
roadies, touring to nowhere, disciples,
nose-led by a vision,
daring, but archetypal
there are no gardens,
but plenty secrets,
all planted,
that will never planet bloom,
seeds raised to die,
in watered sorrows drown,
embryos stillborn,
passed to daughters down
the trains go uptown
to shiny places,
to uptown people,
washed, shiny faces,
bedecked with futures,
hope, their jewel,
but not for them,
the downtime people
five pm, afternoon dying
into night bleeding,
the subway noises,
the perfumed stink, all,
goes unnoticed by senses dulled, unfulfilled,
day goes down,
another, and another,
colored pained refrain, why do we bother?
Jun 9, 2020
Jun 9, 2020 at 5:13 PM UTC
Gurl gots to do
What's a gurlies gots to do
No money
But got new shoes
It's best
In the downtime
At work
Sep 12, 2015
Sep 12, 2015 at 9:24 AM UTC