"fairview" poems
Northern Michigan has got some pretty twisted people but call themselves decent, God faring Christians. Copy pasting two typical posts on rants & raves forum exchanged between two typical Northern Michiganders. Not like them but think they are weirdos and get a good old belly laugh at the ignorance in the good old deep south errrr, I mean northern michigan. We got spared today from reading that Obama was chief ***** head but did get to read his racist post faking being American Indian.
From northern michigan craigslist poster #1
RE; Curious in Fairview (TC)
You sure were quick to figure out what "passes for" debate on this place.
Good Job!
Here's what I do....first, I don't give a hoot what any of them say or do to my posts.
The name calling, and personal bashing are simply humorous to me. Truthfully though, I sometimes egg them on....It simply helps prove that the common IQ level
is somewhat ( ???? ) LOW!
Secondly---"Chief Itchybutt" is the ONLY one worth reading---he tells some
pretty incredible stories....he should probably write a book in my opinion.
As for all the rest of the spew---let it roll off your back like water on a wet
duck...just read it and be glad your not one of "them"...
Advice from:
YBBB--the one, the only!
Craigslist poster #2 with pic of Obama with huge photoshopped lips.
Special for Bob, a deer hunting story (in my woods)
Ugg! How! Chief IIttccheebutt of the Neverwiippee Tribe here to tell all what I see in woods hunting for deer, Ugg! Me go out with boomstick early in morning when turkeys are on roost to sit by deer trail to **** a buck.Very windy out, see no deer, me not even see a tree rat with fuzzy tail. Me wait and wait and wait, still no deer. It get dark now so me go in and try next day. Next day come, same thing,no deer, me think I pick a different spot tomorrow. Tommorrow come and I sit by the edge of a big field with sand holes and short grass with flags in little holes, it very quiet and me hear leaves crunching, me crouch down and get gun ready. Noise get closer and closer then it stop so I look out from behind tree and put gun down and pick up I-phone and snap pic of most stupid looking buck me ever see... then me start big belly laugh, ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.
Ugg! How!
Nov 17, 2013
Nov 17, 2013 at 5:15 PM UTC
I stood in front of the big glass doors
Of some sub urban shopping mall
Conversations buzzing by
Like flies in a bathroom stall
*What a ******* **** Break up with him!*
Slam
Honey I love you
Slam
Overdressed teenagers, women with fur coats
Slam
Broke fathers
Slam
Rich housewives
Slam
Lovers
Drunkards
Reprobates
Slam
So bland yet so intricate
So doltish, yet so innocent
And oh so bizarre
Dec 14, 2013
Dec 14, 2013 at 2:22 AM UTC
Standing in the tunnel
at Eighth and Pine station,
I survey westbound commuters
waiting across the tracks -
standing arms akimbo
or leaning on marble walls.
A well-suited young man paces the platform -
cell phone pressed to his cheek.
[Passengers stand clear of the
edge of the platform at all times]
Rushing in from the east,
a gleaming white chariot
arrives - pauses - resumes
leaving the far platform vacated
as if by alien abduction
From the left a blazing light
pierces the tunnel
and the Shiloh – Scott eastbound
halts and snaps open its doors.
crossing the threshold.,
I claim a seat by the aisle.
[Please stand clear! Doors are closing]
With eyes half shut I scan the crowd:
uniformed workers wearing ID's,
a toddler’s arms and legs
dangling off his mother's lap,
An elderly couple talking softly.
The soft clatter of wheels
and the gentle side-to-side sway
rocks us like a cradle -
memories of the long day
melting into thoughts of home.
[Fairview Heights Station.
Doors open to my right]
The lady with the toddler steps off.
A trio of teenage girls
fresh from the mall
seek and find empty seats -
filling the rear of the car
with the music of their chatter.
Streetlamps scatter shadows
over parking lots.
The unseen country side
slips by under cover of darkness.
Headlights gleam like jewels
waiting for crossing gates to lift
[Next stop Belleville Station
Doors open to my left]
I clutch my lap top,
work my way to the door
and wait for the train’s full stop
Stepping out into the frost filled air
I pause to watch the sleak white chariot
vanish on the eastern horizon.
September, 2006
Nov 13, 2015
Nov 13, 2015 at 6:29 AM UTC
I’ve already graduated from high school,
But I’m still living in our house.
So I need to get used to commute
From East Fairview to UST.
It’s really different now,
Literally farther from usual.
It may be one ride away,
But with a longer travel time.
So, I have to leave earlier
Than the usual time back then.
If I don’t leave early,
I’ll get stuck at Espana for long.
FX or bus, you name it;
Whether partially or almost full.
Even if it’s very crowded,
I have no choice but to fit in.
So when I know I’ll be late,
I cross my fingers so hard,
Wishing that my ride
Will take an alternative route.
I just hate the fact
That when all else fails,
Even alternative routes
Are totally filled with cars.
In just a few months in college,
I already learned shortcuts to UST.
At least when I know I’m stuck,
I’ll find a way out of it.
In life, however,
There is no shortcut to happiness.
You still have to go a long way,
And withstand the challenges along it.
So we have a choice
And hard work is needed;
At least you know that
You’ve done it with effort.
Well, if a shortcut fails,
That means try another one.
But what can I say?
Manila is a busy road.
So I have to expect and endure
The heavy traffic flow at Espana,
As much as I can do it
In my own busy life.
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 9:31 AM UTC
The warning bell sounded, and heads did spin
In a full on exorcist twist.
Hearts and lungs on overdrive.
Max gear ***** race, go!
Eyes meeting, hardly a greeting.
Run for the horizon, little darling daredevils.
-
His legs are burning, her lungs are burning.
Can’t stop, can’t stop, won’t stop.
She sees the results and snickers.
Surrounded by searchers and sirens.
The schooling facility, a funeral pyre,
a gasoline catalyst. “All the same, stupid”.
-
Endless lines of lockers filled to limit.
Echoes of “run along to class!”.
Chunks of charcoal - Chambers of change.
Left on Fairview, right on King.
Watch out for Pauly’s pit bulls barking!
-
Down the hill on University avenue - Dead End.
Train tracks up the hillside, so climb!
View of the evidence;
Matchstick Mayhem Miracle Man.
Gasoline Gal, so elegant.
Smoke cloud, smoke cloud, our little secret.
Aug 21, 2013
Aug 21, 2013 at 12:08 PM UTC
another cl post by somebody
Funny **** (nm)
You gonna be a alt crazy woman, don't forget who your posting as. Before you removed your Glen Arbor post, I copy pasted what you said. If your a man you got mind of a female.
Read below and laugh at Glen Arbor words responding to something aimed at Fairview. They are one and same person.
"First of all, calling me a ***** is plainly incorrect. I'm not a woman.
Anyway, this is an anonymous forum. It's not as if any of you actually know me or my Grandparents anyway. That said, I don't feel any compunction against using my Grandmother's health problems as an example of how dangerous obesity can be when left unchecked. I should also point out that she doesn't mind either."
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 4:37 PM UTC
Funny **** (nm)
You gonna be a alt crazy woman, don't forget who your posting as. Before you removed your Glen Arbor post, I copy pasted what you said. If your a man you got mind of a female.
Read below and laugh at Glen Arbor words responding to something aimed at Fairview. They are one and same person.
"First of all, calling me a ***** is plainly incorrect. I'm not a woman.
Anyway, this is an anonymous forum. It's not as if any of you actually know me or my Grandparents anyway. That said, I don't feel any compunction against using my Grandmother's health problems as an example of how dangerous obesity can be when left unchecked. I should also point out that she doesn't mind either."
Nov 17, 2013
Nov 17, 2013 at 5:30 PM UTC
Tell me when it has been enough,
Let me know when these bodies have run dry
When the sidewalks have been painted good and red,
You can’t brush off the blood, It just fades a little bit,
A patch just slightly darker than the rest,
They’ll take the other streets, blind to the madness,
Forget about the graveyards they’ve made of neighborhoods,
When targets have names and the lead expires too **** soon,
Tell me when it has been enough
Let me know when your heart has been pierced too
Than maybe you can understand
Sep 24, 2015
Sep 24, 2015 at 7:56 PM UTC
Attached to me like a phantom limb,
Tearing from my spent body,
Sparing me little pain, my map is marked a new.
My experiences etched in the frame, the floor.
Since mere infantsy, you protected me.
I've concealed within you my deepest desires,
my churning anxieties, my burning furies,
setting fire to the curtains.
Now I explore new empty walls
carrying my echo, evidence of unfamiliarity,
And I begin to unpack.
Feb 18, 2013
Feb 18, 2013 at 10:38 PM UTC
2/13/2016
"*notice how he has numbered the blue veins in my breast.
he is building a city, a city of flesh.
he is an industrialist.*"
anne sexton
i've seen god themself stirring
subzero confectioner's sugar around this place,
you are the dried up ***** on my face
something acrid that i fell asleep and neglected to wash
i used to cut down swathes of brambles, and the bees
they'd run away
when i was a kid they followed me everywhere.
"you're sweet, kid" my father would say
now he just says i am stupid, so droll
as if i've never known that before
my bulbous arteries run with the notion of
him, sweltering, pointing
"bowie's on sale again,"
the same stamp on the telephone box
there, rotting, gentle
two years later
i say this: there is nothing in princeton
and everything in manhattan
that princedom where you stumble on
***** sidewalks and run hands along bubonic
subway railings
where, really
wanting to throw myself on the freight rail
would just be wanted to throw myself off the Veranzzano.
sylvia said it best, i guess
my own bell jar sour as ever
no matter whether
i'm in Bremen
Lesotho or
in his bed, again
i'd find a way to do it,
i told her
the only place i am willing to.
Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 at 2:26 PM UTC
I had a cousin, or so I'm told,
whose name, in truth I never knew,
He was some three or for score old,
all this, no more, have I been told.
On a Thursday in the sitting room,
he was wont to say that he,
was going down to Grainger's gate,
and t'was his pleasure that none should wait.
It was said by those who knew him,
that this was but a petty lie,
and to this place he remained a stranger,
to this public house called Graingers.
I think it strange that one so old,
should be not so self assured,
as to to cover up his petty tracks,
with this pastime, of drinking black.
And what was it, that he desired,
but walk beneath the city sky,
by Clontarf, Marino, and Fairview,
O cousin, whose name I never knew
Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 1:01 PM UTC
XXIX
She has haunted my sleep for long enough, I fear-
My nightmares of ghost ships break the still night air
Too swiftly, too fiercely- the wound still stings.
In the night my heels and toes wander listlessly to the graves
Of those others have perhaps forgotten. I have not forgotten.
Fairview cemetery, Halifax, Nova Scotia.
The blank faced child, whom no one claims,
I fear has entered the end of life without the warmth
Of a mother’s embrace. I would hold them. I would love them.
The graves climb the hill like cinderblocks, one pushing the other
Up towards some heaven
Some beautiful blue sky where their souls must lay
And though the trees are bare and the sky feels cold
The silence calms me; here, they feel no water. No collapsing
Floor.
One hundred and twenty one ladies and men and children
Will rest here forever.
Among the graves I lay down my funeral bouquet,
Along with my ghost ship nightmares-
The world’s pain, and mistakes, and visions of a darker day
May perhaps one day rest here too
And float up towards some heaven,
Some paradise.
Jul 2, 2017
Jul 2, 2017 at 1:05 PM UTC
It’s a nice view of nothing
A road and stop sign that decides which way you can good
A field with nothing planted
And people planted with nowhere to go
A stack of books holds the town up like bricks and mortar
But the drive to nowhere is the most satisfying of all
And it’s a pretty Fairview of nothing
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 1:54 AM UTC