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Nat Lipstadt Jun 2023
You Are the Texture

…………………………

~ for all of you,
you, you poet~



Impasto

is a technique used in painting,
where paint is laid on an area of
the surface thickly, usually thick
enough that the brush or  painting-
knife strokes are visible.

Paint can also be mixed right on
to the canvas. When dry, impasto
provides texture; the paint appears
as if, to be coming out of the canvas.


<1:47pm>

Cut & Paste

is a technique used in poetry writing,
we refer back to our visions, heard words,
the eyeful, the earful, scents, the reads read,
all in the mind’s palette blended, thickly, but
the merging fused, every word~in~coloration,
it is unique, reincarnation, copying impossible.

The imagery, cut and pasted from thy heart and
soul, upon canvas, your poems~pieces each appear
as you-are-texture, you becoming out of, you, the canvas.

<2:04pm>


Postscript*
………………

it is not lost on me that the
scars, our words,herein,
we note too frequently, almost casually,
are, can be, the selfsame
words/painting-knife
employed
for our first and foremost
canvas we utilize,
is ourselves…
our bodies, ourselves
Fri Jun 23
2023
Little one, you have been buzzing in the books,
Flittering in the newspapers and drinking beer with
     lawyers
And amid the educated men of the clubs you have been
     getting an earful of speech from trained tongues.
Take an earful from me once, go with me on a hike
Along sand stretches on the great inland sea here
And while the eastern breeze blows on us and the
     restless surge
Of the lake waves on the breakwater breaks with an ever
     fresh monotone,
Let us ask ourselves: What is truth? what do you or I
     know?
How much do the wisest of the world's men know about
     where the massed human procession is going?

You have heard the mob laughed at?
I ask you: Is not the mob rough as the mountains are
     rough?
And all things human rise from the mob and relapse and
     rise again as rain to the sea.
Candy Noire Aug 2014
I find serenity in storms
The slams of doors make my heart race
And if you trace your finger's down my spine
I'll give you an earful
Of distasteful pleasure
I'll juxtapose any situation
For the most fun I can find
Oh I love being hard to read darling
I want you to open my closed eyes
And if you read me like a story
I will lie dear oh I'll lie
And cover up my deepest fears
And conceal everything I despise
I love to hate and hate to love
Those I regret most I crave
So lay me on the darkest train tracks
And pray that I will be safe.
You creatures used to be alive,
Now you're just desks with pulses.
You preachers used to breathe lies,
Now the air just smells repulsive.

Let's toast to our compulsions!
A third-finger salute to ill-indulgence, burnt out lights, and shame convulsions.
Leave the worries to the workers and the fearful.
Let the smiles stretch further while the room's erupting by the earful.

Sub-tyrannic suburban boredom brushes with death.
Sunk Titanic bourbon lushes bearing fermented breath.
Replica. Replica. Replica.
Fried Pickles and Angelica...haha.
Laughter via Helvetica.

A Doctor of Yesterday living in a pseudo-science fiction age.
What will be found between scribbled shore and shining sea?
An empty box filled with smoke and broken mirrors may be a shattered trick on  stage,
But does that mean that progress is solely based on me?

The stage is setting. The studios offer their warm embrace in exchange for a piece of yourself.
A piece, without, you are still a whole. A piece that is meant to be harvested, for if not it will wither and wilt.
Dropping, coasting, floating.
Anything but falling. An idea left un-reaped will be purged by slithering guilt.

The world warps and billows to conform to the view of the looking glass, yet, stretches far beyond it.
Letting go doesn't mean giving up, but rather, to allow the wind to blow and twist your perspective.
The harder you try, the more you will see: It's all a lot easier to swallow when you're not being force-fed ****.
A fine cocktail, made with equal parts top-shelf desperation, and the world's finest dedication,
Served in a glass half full of luck.

Sometime's you're flush, and sometimes you're bust, but most times, you lie somewhere in the between.
A spinning brain and a sparatic heart.
An argument spun from the silk of a dying worm.
An infection of the brain with no negotiation of terms.

Sleeping on porches and storming the boredom beaches.
Mad? Surely. Angry? Not even. Discretely thanking the earthquake for shaking things up.
The missing link lies just outside of our nests, dangling from a branch just beyond our reaches.
Though my wings clipped, and yours yet to form fully, I'm down to take a dive just to find out what's up.

Sometimes I think the clouds in the sky are just a reflection of my attitude.
I'm only here to have fun. Either grow up or get lost, boy.
There's something about a yellowing onion that reminds me of home.
A line(s) was added daily for 20 days. It was a fantastic challenge and I think I'll do it again.
Softly Spoken Dec 2018
There’s always a bustle here
In my ritual place of ribs and beer
The sharp scent of ginger and coriander
The acrid burr in my nose of seared flesh
Fusion food served around me
But I go for Hirata.. again.
Can’t argue with taste, and it tastes
Korean bbq and Buddha beer
A brief nod to the moments of clarity
As said by drunks
The beer bottle cool in my hand as I reflect
Beads of condensation forming on Buddhas belly
And I’m here hoping for Constant
It’s now my third attempt
In as many months to catch a glimpse
And tonight apparently the stars align
Jupiter and Mercury on the rise
As I walk in
There is a way about him
So much bluff and bravado...
reminds me of someone I once loved
There is a mischief in his smile
Something warm in his eyes
Even beyond his jokes of his ego
Too big for the Room, apparently
I don’t discourage..
He’s honest in a way that piques
So here I am
Third time lucky finding Constant
To my delight he recognises me instantly
“Lucky Buddha for the lady?”
His eyes dance..
I interpret, maybe to much
But believe he’s pleased to see me
So we joke..
We laugh
I watch him get an earful
For not concentrating on the flow
The manager in tow..
and he side-eyes me and winks
Inwardly I hi-five myself for
Timing this so perfectly
So here I am
Trying not to watch Constant flow
Trying not to blush as he looks my way
“I’m too old for this ****” I think
Then feel like a kid
When he throws a grin my way
I regular Wagamama in transit.. for the food mainly... ok maybe not all for the food
Arlene Corwin Mar 2021
Comeback

Perhaps I should be grateful
That I never was recipient
Of great applause,
Years of adorers,
Broadway’s honey,
Years of being stunning,
Grateful that
I never had to kowtow, bow out,
Miss the kudos and the fame,
Never knowing what life was
With and without them, since I never got them.
Never got to play Las Vegas,
Glad there never came a time
Of longing for a non-existent encore,
Cheering I no longer hear.

Hair going grey,
Kilos heading the wrong way,
You are asked to make a comeback,
Or you’ve asked to make a comeback;
Life feels boring,
No alluring pleasure takes the place
Of listener filled with earful grace.

You sweat and strain, extra kilos off again,
Get back routines,  
Move as you did in your teens,
Flexibility, the voice retaining every nuance.
Frank and Cher came back again - and then again.
We followed each rendition, each gradation, limitation;
Cheered until the cheers turned into hesitation.

I am grateful that I never
Had the clamouring for autographs and tresses,
Shredded dresses, theirs and mine.
Never had the glamour and the clamour of masses,
Fervent need to make a comeback,
Coming back to audiences smelling wine:
Hard to define.
And still I play and sing and grow.

Comeback 5.28.2008/revised3.19.2021
Birth, Death & In Between; Time; Vaguely About Music; Arlene Nover Corwin
Teri Bennett Dec 2013
Oh the joys of being positive

After enduring all your negative

The drama you created was stressful

Should've been an actor you'd be successful

Time for me to give you an earful

Because I'm no longer tearful

My enjoyment will be to watch you fail

Your new love now has a dominant male

No one's opinion is ever correct

You drive you're own point in every argument

If she is submissive you'll both get along

You overpower women that tend to be strong

You've moved her out and you moved her in

I see that you're starting all over again

It's hard to watch from across the street

To watch you start failing is a real treat

Your endless routine has become so clear

Destroyer of hearts has become your career
HAVE I told any man to be a liar for my sake?
Have I sold ice to the poor in summer and coal to the poor in winter for the sake of daughters who nursed brindle bull terriers and led with a leash their dogs clothed in plaid wool jackets?
Have I given any man an earful too much of my talk-or asked any man to take a snootful of ***** on my account?
Have I put wool in my own ears when men tried to tell me what was good for me? Have I been a *** listener?
Have I taken dollars from the living and the unborn while I made speeches on the retributions that shadow the heels of the dishonest?
Have I done any good under cover? Or have I always put it in the show windows and the newspapers?
Casey Dandy Aug 2012
There is no excuse
For any technical glitch

You “dont want to do this anymore”
Well neither do I
That’s why I sad “goodbye-
call me when you’re ready to apologize”

Finally you rang, and I answered...

To find no apology, just an earful of blame
No love, just a vacant flame.
A torch to my heart—
You lit the fuse
There goes any hope I had
Of me and you

Talk in circles for hours on end
How does this help mend
The relationship you claim you want?

Every word that falls from my lips
You somehow manage to flip--
Make yourself the victim,
When it was all your decisions
That left me alone and broken.

Years of words unspoken
Forced a gap, 3,000 miles wide
No way to know what’s going on inside
That cold vessel that you call a heart.
A shot in the dark.
A hope, and a loss.

You wanted to die
It was all my fault, so you say.
You admit it’s not a sound thought,
Then you close off like a vault
When I plead you to get help
Or we’re through.

Keep on singing the blues,
I’m not taking the heat
Sing away into the night
No longer will I fight.
Not for you, not about you, you never you.
No more.

My head pounds,
But my heart is still--
Content with this closure,
Content the battle’s over.

There was no winner--
Though you may claim the title,
It is I who will live her life
While you sit idle,
Wondering about the daughter
You left behind.
Keep on rocking that silly guise.

Two out of three of your children won’t speak to you
Because of all you put us through,
But you insist you’re in the right.
You claim you don’t want to fight,
When all you do is add fuel to the fire.
Now I realize, you’re nothing more than a liar.

Leave me when it’s convenient for you
Now all the sudden you’re stuck to me like glue,
Spinning negativity and hate.

I ripped at the seams
To set myself free.
Put myself together again
Without your help,
With all my true friends.

I’ll watch my back,
Thanks for the warning.
You’ll be awfully sorry
come the morning.

I said my piece,
But you couldn’t hear--
Ignorance has made you deaf, my dear.

Congratulations on your perfect life.
You live yours and I’ll live mine.
I’m surrounded by love,
you’re alone in the desert dust.

One confession: what you did was wrong.
One word: an honest “Sorry”.
One admittance: you caused me pain for so long.
You denied it all.
I felt my heart fall
And my head clear:
You’re not a changed man-
Exactly what I feared.

Glad I gave you one last chance
It’s a shame you’re too stubborn to see
All that you’ve lost
By losing me.
circa April 2010. Written around the same time as "The Truth, Daddy Dearest"
Pacheco May 2019
I sold her a bag of dreams
It had a hole at the bottom
She gave me winter and spring
Summer and most of her Autumn
I left her not looking back
Standing there
Clutching tightly
An earful of sorry stories
And a bottle of Bacardi
Haley K Collins Jul 2013
We talk with
The flitting understanding
Of space
Between two feeding birds.

Eyes look away
And return eagerly
Waiting to transmit
More of the feeling.

The feeling
Between us both
That both implodes walls
And builds them.

The feeling
That blushes in our words
And makes our silences
So loud.

The feeling fluctuates
Softly around our eyes
And strokes us both
With intangible caressing.

Stare at me.

Speak with me.

Be silent with me
For no matter what is said
Or unsaid
I am getting
An earful.
Mariah Carie Jul 2014
the blink that releases the tear that all lovers fight,
the day that all lovers dread,
the words that all lovers despise,
the pain no lover ever wants to feel...

as a lover of all things,
it amazes me how that blink, that day, those words and that pain always finds a way back to me
like a firefly moving hurriedly through the night, I find myself back in this familiar darkness
I find myself alone and afraid, searching for the light, yet again
I find myself hopeful that you will be the one to come and provide that light
I find myself waiting patiently for your return
I find myself hoping endlessly that this is your idea of a cruel joke

The memories, they haunt me
Small moments of what used to be happiness turn into reminders that we are no more
The silence, it eats away at me
Being left alone with my thoughts turns into an earful of tears
The music, it speaks for me
Every song on the radio turns into the soundtrack of my life
The heartbreak, it controls me
Those butterflies that once occupied the pit of my stomach turned into bees that sting with every aching heartbeat

Who says time heals all?
From everything to nothing in the blink of an eye
I don't doubt that it will take an eternity of blinks to fill this void
This emptiness, this loneliness, this sadness...

Falling out of love is far too difficult..
Won't you catch me?
Your hands are the only ones that possess the power to unbreak my heart
From now until you're mine again, no one else will have the opportunity to get close enough to even try

What am I supposed to do with this heart of mine?
It belongs to you...it always has, it always will
This power you have over me...I call it love
I loved you then, I love you now and I will love you forever

One of these days, I'll blink and you'll be back
I'll be awaiting that day just as the moon waits for nightfall
Is that foolish? I don't care
In love and war, everything isn't fair

We have to grow alone in order to grow together
Nothing but sunlight can follow this stormy weather

So until next time my dear lover,
I will never love another...

Ex's & O's
</3
Annabell Bradley Dec 2011
Everything is unraveling,
To reveal a side of us that we don’t always believe.
I love you, he loves me.
Why can’t everything come that easily?
We were sure to be so very careful with our hearts.
They got an earful of word spoken,
but the exception always comes.
Actions can speak too, that is where I lost you,
in loves devotion.
I still felt no emotion behind the sentence on the screen.
Fairytale meetings only in my dreams.
Like a ball of yarn falling to the ground,
I would never hurt you now as we unravel to our core.
And find there's really nothing more,
Than air.
Edna Sweetlove Feb 2015
Spiritual hope is in my pleading soul
Until the wondrous Rapture comes!
Christ be in my futile heart
Kindly looking down on me!
O** Lord how I earnestly beg of you,
Fearful and worthless creature that I am,
Forgive me as I grovel before Thy Cross!

Cleanse me please of sin dearest Lord,
Help me to know my own faults,
Raise me from the dust and dirt
Into which I am condemned to lie!
Slake my thirst for Holy Truth,
The Truth which only Thou can bring!

Only Thou, O great Lord, our Hope,
No one else can save the world,
Thou great Savio[u]r up above
Hearken unto our weedy and feeble cries!
Everlasting life is what you bring,
Crucified for us on Calvary
Royal and Holy Hill of Death,
Our only hope of Salvation!
Save us O mighty sweetest Lord,
Save us this coming Eastertide!

All must fall down on their knees,
Not forgetting to confess our sins
Devoutly worshipping the Lord's
Saving grace in this wicked world
Wherein we must toil and strive,
And at the last we must come face to face
Loving you, O great Lord!
Let Thy holy words filter down
On us like humble Easter Eggs,
World without end in thy embrace!

How can we dare to approach Thee
In the knowledege we are hopeless sinners,
Sinful filth from the days of Adam and Eve?
Sweet blessings we beg of Thee,
Prayers we send up to Heaven like emails!
Unless we confess and beg forgiveness
No one may be saved for the
Kingdom eternal in the sky!

Yea, please do not crush us to atoms
Underfoot as we grovel in the dust
Mutely offering up our anthems to Thee!
Are you all blind out there?
Has no one  noticed the acrostic?
Oh dear.
Robyn Jul 2013
It's shallow
How you try to be so deep
And it's level
How you try to be so steep
It's sad
How you try to be so cheerful
It's quiet
When you try to give an earful
You're trying
And it breaks my heart to watch it
Because you're failing
All you seem to do is botch it
life the grandest stage.
     life, gelid waters – I, the pompous admiral.
life, thorns withholding enigmas,
     clenching the true blood of flowers.
  life, the flimsiest avant-garde.

  our measures
  conceal all our knowledge,
    our fondness of exactitudes
bludgeons us to back to our smallness.

  the heart, like a riot,
  will always scream blood.
  the soul, like a jailbird,
will always carve a song.
  the mind, like a grave,
will turn soundless filled with bones.

  some will beat back to the same old music,
  assaulting the others with a concealed knife
gutting all of us as we lay still – the rest shaking around us.

  when I was young, I was unsure of myself
  and now that I have aged, it is all but the same:

I am a horde of drunkards.
I am the incessant pendulum.
I am the night-watch
and sometimes I am being watched by the night itself.
I am the loutish vandal on the wall.
I am hot, steaming music I am an earful of ***
I am a handful of hollow I am the dandelion whittling away
in the garden of full women seething with woes
I am the catapult of air from the sling of trees I am a somber god
I am an ungodly god I walk over toppled waters past genuflected hills
like maddened horses screaming victory
I am a limbless beast crawling back home
I am young I am old
my blood ravages the sinews of my body – I am a binaural cinematheque
   of slow minutes I am a mausoleum of chiaroscuros
I am all pleasure pleasure pleasure
I am just as ****** as everyone I am sour mash stirred in a wide-mouthed
      glass clinking together with this heavy slither of attendance around me
  somewhere in Pasay
I am love I love I am hate and I hate
I am forever the lion that roars at what life has done to us
    and they will cage me soon when the roses shy away from the deliberate daylight
and when all of this is through
               I have only just     begun.
I splash my blood across my father's new *******


a woman now



his liver is thin

and his new lover


(he is whispering as he rapes me)


is an image of my brother


remove his cartridges alone and place the bullets in my heart



my mother cries

and my father mumbles to himself



i rise from the grave

remove my father's gums

i place my teeth in his mouth

and i collect sinew from my unborn brother




i order my father into the ground

i dash his newborn's face into a **** stained alley


i ask for my father's
full name, date of birth
and
his mother's most exciting fetish


with another larvae from my father's womb


another show of strength
here now i have absolute strength

..

a man came to me as a child
and that same man told me

enter me and you will love nothing but me

..

my mother and my father become a new awe.



into the soil a beautiful odor blossoms


where there was a palm of lilac,
a scene of gore.

and

where was an earful of ichor or
crested display of lilac?



my mother and i cry on her grandfather's grave


it is my first day free from prison
a great very loud exclamation


i remove what i feel to be an artery from leg


high up
above the knee
above the thigh


near my groin i bleed


and my mother does not see my pain



a
change of tone


a
change of pace



the undertaker is *****
the commitment is difficult

alas pride beckons
truth denies me



my own blood speaks and disgusts me



closing of my legs in 2029


with my father's ******* between my teeth

with my father's teeth swirling around my tongue

with my brother's cord now inside me

with my mother's tears on her grandfather's grave


with my unborn brother.


III.


with my son
with the one i love



IV.




i enjoy the moment
i do not splash my blood across my father's *******

i do not ingest my unborn brother


a
change of tone
a
change of pace



i am not released from prison.

i have not been released from prison







a second part beckons.







i continue consuming serpent's droppings.

my spider's egg-sac continues singing.


a terrible wave of violence.


my father's teeth swirl over,  altogether across my tongue.

into my pallette.

my new-york strength fighting.


a terrible wave of violence.








my father's new ******* between my teeth
and my splashes of blood on his hand-me-down mantle.
Tragedy
Robin Carretti Apr 2018
How our vulnerability

takes a toll so naive
but we  roll

the camera

She is keeping steady

Her soft lines show stability

He took flight hands dainty

Zommed into her attitude

Giving them an ounce of

verisimilitude

Ear to ear attuned


The soft action play

"The Victorian Tuscany"

traveler, silk stay


So touch me in the morning

and don't walk away

Just love me for who I am
It's not about top scouring
Those soft tidbits take touring

You're wearing them out
Tattle Tail

Gorilla roar yes we have
bananas ta la la
Check your emails

She's too liquid forming
And turning her aching
tummy

She's the vanilla extract
yummy
The basic instinct
He's baking in his
monkey suit funny
Soft side hard taffy
pursuit

He is pigeoned toed to her
silk ties

Touched him mindboggling


He Googles to her

Explores her softer side


But softening her skin

All soft beauty topics

How they both loved

Palm trees surrender
Dorothy Spa Oz

He touched and tapped into

my tropics eating
Rainbow
"Candy Pez"

Soft cream in the middle

but hard candy
I phone smart Islanders

Tidbit bites Facebook websites

Friends and photos were the

topics take-out order

Those cool vibrations

To hear "Touch Me In
The morning"
French connections


The love me tender with

more tidbits the earful he

lifts her than after that

softer kiss no

SOS-Help

Boss
Scalp

Tender bits

  Love------ Toss

   Hey  no loss

Tender bits of the
(Godly Cross)

The soft power

"Global Hard rock" tunes
(Rough Spots)
He's
in the shower

Never another lover
On a Sunday or Monday
In June Wedding like
payday

She the soft one
Sundae soft-serve

2 B or not to B
the tough one
Hard so deserved


Don't get intertwined

The hurt one

Vie Que and
why you

The write Queue

Two types who?

I surprise the whole you

The "High IQ"__

closer two tips

Like we became soft

"Q tips"


To **** me softly with lust
The softer side or tranquil tone
Those tender bits
Her job is the perfect fit

Soft sunny side up

Like the Foe and the Fox

Oh! "Deer" the softball

The voice intellect

Something soft hearted

And what started over

the hardship wished respite

Cool refreshing sprite

"Victorian Charmer"


The Soundcloud the shapes

How it bewildered him


Extravagance like soft soap

melancholy

Soft smile snow globe

The sun worshippers
Grecian shave she put her
tender bits of energy

Perfect balance of symmetry

It went perfectly  he was
gratefully smooth he lit up

Victorian Christmas light
Tuned up
And she became the

But soft ballet flat the
soft climate

Hawaiian baby soft
"Luxuriance"

Intrigued by his reading

Such solitude eyes softly stared

He glared right into her room

wizardly he widened

Like the idleness
her loveliness


Having a soft spot
for people

They are the luckiest
people

in the world

Happily skin after

Soothing skin
Mmmhmm

Her skin took over the stage

How many stages of soft

changes to rough


Leaving marks begins

the tender bits

Silencing she loves to sit he

marks his way

she feels him slowly
coming near

You're nearer because I love you

Kind of my thing

We all needed a soft spot

Too many rough edges

How she missed those

tender bits and binges


Hearing the words love me

tender he went inside my dream

Killing me softly with his words

Why don't you just love

me tender and who is wiser?
Her soft skin he compliments she emerges into something amazing.Her skin starts the transition softly scratched the Cat in Black all pinky silk smiles back
miriam troth Mar 2017
King Ahasuerus desires a mate
'One chooses Esther one thinks she's first rate.'
Later he's soppy and showers her with kisses
Then honours his promise and makes her his missis.

Haman gets an earful ; the King's in a strop.
'You're history you hear us. You're for the big chop.'

'Oi, Haman, I'll miss you
Just Like a used  tissue!'
Mordecai's very cheerful
Though once he was fearful
'Oy vey,  I'm relieved
The Jews are reprieved'

Jeer and boo with a passion
Nibble hamantashen
(Poppyseeds are the filler)
That's the gansa  megillah



Miriam Troth 2016
Drew Renquest Mar 2014
A brush melds with canvas,

    releasing feelings so long oppressed.

    a ****** mess, a haunting duress, nature's caress…

A painting so vivid, lust for adventure intrepid,

    rushing streams, ambience in earful,

    why can't life be this beautiful?

Musicians play, painters paint,

    a journey to alternate reality so faint.

Escaping pollution and worldly restraint

    body and soul become twain,

    imagining what could have been.

Nature's figure, flawless, uncorrupted

Death, anointed and serene,

    portrayed in cascades, dissonant,

    by the marionette of dreams.
This is something that my husband wrote. I love his creativity, hope you all like.
Robin Carretti Jun 2018
Feeling deathly
Dearly or Darely
The fresh
Prince air
Royalty flew_->> her ear
Losing my wing
Tight hug hold- bearing
Seat me ((The Group))  
The fruit loops caring
Jefferson Airplane
*
The rain in
Spain
Graphically
Airbrushed
Shes the marvel
of comics flight book
How you used
to travel no
panics or air
fanatics
I was his carvel

to the top
He's mainly for me

Hey! don't cop
out on me__
#
My mind isn't
any number
Deli take out
Scared my wits out  
He's a flight low
feeling brain__ dead
Ah! Vey is that so?
Ring around to
ears of corn
I met Rosy
Some writer's
block
The ear revolves
around wake up clock
So many planes
crashed
Remembering Mom
Saying here's the
airplane
Feeding
The code yellow
She's the alert me- red
The dead weight of air
In retrospect
The plane on air--- pop
Shes so retro on
the go non-stop

This is dedicated to
the one I love
He's the frequent flier
Come-back< Go- Foward>
the landing
The Godly sending
toward me
But the butterflies
Got the pilot_
cockpit


Dunkin Donuts
Spilled the beans
Hitman
Macadamia Hawaii
I welcome you nuts
Rose blossom Japan
trees escalate
Bali Islander Barista (Cafe)

She was wearing
her lucky red-
Long earful (Giraffe)

Speak up we need
more ears were short
Did you hear me?
The airplane we travel way too frequent. Are we acting like delinquents? Going high way up get your coffee cup and take a ride Robin Red Breast fly
Listening to Classical and not feeling tearful, but I've not had an earful yet.

It's usually later than I think when I don't think that it's late,
but when it's midnight in Fresno or Cairo and bed time in Bodmin
you can't count on counting me in.

Still listening to classical and She's casting quizzical looks,
it's like love is a game of chess, castles and Queens, bishops and rooks
more quizzical looks and it's checkmate.
(20 minute poetry)

He sits opposite
using those words
swear words
the words that dare you to say
keep ths **** outa my way

I think he's angry or
he could be quite mad
but
the words that he's using
are definitely bad

blasphemy,
he's taking the name of my God
and firing it into me
he
should be more careful
or
he'll get an earful
from me.

Tubes are asylums
shocks to the brain
passengers are inmates
we all look the same.

Just an early morning run again
with
the ****** too late for the night shift
the pick up artists with gamblers eyes
It doesn't surprise me that people are mad
you'd go mad too doing what these people do

I stay sane by pretending this ain't no train but a time machine in an old fashioned dream full of Miss Monroe's and each journey flows like the river.

Then it ends as it began
an escalator jammed
a thousand step to climb,
descend
and that depends on if
you're coming or going.

I'm usually going
I seldom come back.
Brian Rihlmann Aug 2018
earful of mosquito buzz
disturbs reverie
a wave of the hand
brings silence

then
the quick sting
and slap to the neck

tiny mangled body
wings twitching

a drop of blood
trickles down palm's
lifeline crease
wiped on pant leg
forgotten

until
it swells
and itches

as we scratch
with nibbled fingernails
whispering curses
Magnus Sep 2018
The giver of lies,
The bringer of pain,
The false prophet,
Has come again.

The destroyer of good,
Harbinger of evil,
Destroyer of souls,
Will give you an earful.

Talking too much,
Like a parrot in a room,
He will annoy you to no end,
And bring you ultimate doom.

Puts on facades,
Of good and bright,
but under the veil,
He wants a fight.

He wants to do good,
But fails at the end,
He hopes for a savior to come,
And bury him.

— The End —