"feuds" poems - Hello Poetry

"feuds" poems

In the time between the worlds feuds A mighty crash left our country subdued Infertility plagued the land While everyone put out their hungry hand. People so fragile, plunged to their death Not even taking a second to hold their breath Women were forced to give up inside life Turning to coat hangers, instead of surgical knifes. While many men turned to a homemade noose To be found in a closet by those they would lose. Thursday became known as a blackened date As a reminder of countries’ terrible fate.

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Jan 1, 2014

Jan 1, 2014 at 5:37 PM UTC

ryan-cullen-macleod

The Great Depression

In the time between the worlds feuds A mighty crash left our country subdued Infertility plagued the land While everyone put out their hungry hand. People so fragile, plunged to their death Not even taking a second to hold their breath Women were forced to give up inside life Turning to coat hangers, instead of surgical knifes. While many men turned to a homemade noose To be found in a closet by those they would lose. Thursday became known as a blackened date As a reminder of countries’ terrible fate.

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A seventies child Born in Wales, one of the four Countries of The UK. I remember brown as the colour of the day. Fabric embossed wallpaper all the neighbours names, who married who, who was carrying on, the alcoholic, the beaten wives, Even, get this the peadophiles (or kiddy fiddlers as was known) Dai the milk, Mair the bread, the shop of infinite items. Rugby practice for dad, baking for mam (Cake and babies) gossip over the garden hedge Fish on a Friday a Sunday roast, hot sweet tea. Bubble and squeak, post delivered before you left for school. Mist on the mountain, dew on the grass. Welsh valley life, sounds idyllic but scratch the surface and a darker colour than brown emerges. Petty squablings leading to familial feuds, the Williamses don't get on with the Joneses, and as for the Pritchards, less said the better. School, local, no not for me. I was sent to a Welsh School, taught and learnt the language denied to my Parents by English politics. Cat amongst the pigeons there. Did I think I was special? Ideas above her station. That's what the neighbours say. Well, you all had the option. Dr Forbes FRCS Delivered babies buried men and women Loved by all, especially his lollipop sweets. I wasn't a child to get ***** or rip wrapping paper off of gifts, I liked to go under the stairs (like Harry Potter) and read. I left the dirt for my sister born 4 years later. Then in 1982 came my brother, tidy my mother describes it. '74,'78,'82 poor dad to have to wait I say! More pubs than chapels, more walking than driving more rain than sun, more music than ever was sung. The '80's came, and we had strikes, no electric, candles toast made with a toasting fork over the fire. No mines, no steel, no jobs. Picket lines, dole queues, women in work latchkey kids, Thatcherism, ******* times. Falklands war, IRA bombs, Royal weddings Tory rule But, the fire in the dragon never went out and Tom Jones still sings his heart out. Cymru cysglyd gwlad y gân, deffrwch nawr, dyma'ch tro.

0

May 15, 2014

May 15, 2014 at 4:27 PM UTC

Camellia-japonica

70's Childhood in Wales.

A seventies child Born in Wales, one of the four Countries of The UK. I remember brown as the colour of the day. Fabric embossed wallpaper all the neighbours names, who married who, who was carrying on, the alcoholic, the beaten wives, Even, get this the peadophiles (or kiddy fiddlers as was known) Dai the milk, Mair the bread, the shop of infinite items. Rugby practice for dad, baking for mam (Cake and babies) gossip over the garden hedge Fish on a Friday a Sunday roast, hot sweet tea. Bubble and squeak, post delivered before you left for school. Mist on the mountain, dew on the grass. Welsh valley life, sounds idyllic but scratch the surface and a darker colour than brown emerges. Petty squablings leading to familial feuds, the Williamses don't get on with the Joneses, and as for the Pritchards, less said the better. School, local, no not for me. I was sent to a Welsh School, taught and learnt the language denied to my Parents by English politics. Cat amongst the pigeons there. Did I think I was special? Ideas above her station. That's what the neighbours say. Well, you all had the option. Dr Forbes FRCS Delivered babies buried men and women Loved by all, especially his lollipop sweets. I wasn't a child to get ***** or rip wrapping paper off of gifts, I liked to go under the stairs (like Harry Potter) and read. I left the dirt for my sister born 4 years later. Then in 1982 came my brother, tidy my mother describes it. '74,'78,'82 poor dad to have to wait I say! More pubs than chapels, more walking than driving more rain than sun, more music than ever was sung. The '80's came, and we had strikes, no electric, candles toast made with a toasting fork over the fire. No mines, no steel, no jobs. Picket lines, dole queues, women in work latchkey kids, Thatcherism, ******* times. Falklands war, IRA bombs, Royal weddings Tory rule But, the fire in the dragon never went out and Tom Jones still sings his heart out. Cymru cysglyd gwlad y gân, deffrwch nawr, dyma'ch tro.

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I laughed in places Where Laughter was not asked for, In granite market towns Beneath refugee palm trees shivering. Running from giant hands That were covered in car wash fluids, The back of children's heads imprinted On their palms. I laughed during disciplinary procedures, Before authority figures With cornflakes in their red beards And my laughter crept over the edges of their flowerbeds And the grass laughed with me. I laughed at funerals, The sounds of horses beyond the churchyard And a messenger ran down the aisle panting and exhausted, He had a message for my laughter ' Quick you must come at once'. I laughed during marital feuds, Laughter rising out of its own body above broken guitars and dried up bonsai, Above all the things I said That contradict me now. I laughed during serious films, The tulips drooping on top of the T.V. The sun slumped against the door, Behind heavy curtains I mistook for pigs on hooks. I laughed over exercise books, Above algebra and history Behind impossible bra straps That appeared out of acne and ink flicked backs. I laughed at the swimming pool Hiding birthmarks like stains, Drowning above the water saying 'I am a fish I must get back in!'. I laughed in surgeries among migraines and told my mother that robots were taking over, in the same rooms where they removed my brothers' verucas And I saw the doctors small blade escape through the window. I laughed during friends confessions, In between the silences of repeated songs While pantomime dames walked past windows make-up running in black and yellow rain. I'm laughing while making coffee in a campervan, I'm laughing because its a monday morning, Because everyone else is busy, Because we have an oil lamp from a pound-shop Burning beneath the sound of rain on the roof, Because the radio's silent….. And because sausages are best done slowly.

0

Jun 26, 2015

Jun 26, 2015 at 11:05 AM UTC

i have eaten sausages in many countries

I laughed in places Where Laughter was not asked for, In granite market towns Beneath refugee palm trees shivering. Running from giant hands That were covered in car wash fluids, The back of children's heads imprinted On their palms. I laughed during disciplinary procedures, Before authority figures With cornflakes in their red beards And my laughter crept over the edges of their flowerbeds And the grass laughed with me. I laughed at funerals, The sounds of horses beyond the churchyard And a messenger ran down the aisle panting and exhausted, He had a message for my laughter ' Quick you must come at once'. I laughed during marital feuds, Laughter rising out of its own body above broken guitars and dried up bonsai, Above all the things I said That contradict me now. I laughed during serious films, The tulips drooping on top of the T.V. The sun slumped against the door, Behind heavy curtains I mistook for pigs on hooks. I laughed over exercise books, Above algebra and history Behind impossible bra straps That appeared out of acne and ink flicked backs. I laughed at the swimming pool Hiding birthmarks like stains, Drowning above the water saying 'I am a fish I must get back in!'. I laughed in surgeries among migraines and told my mother that robots were taking over, in the same rooms where they removed my brothers' verucas And I saw the doctors small blade escape through the window. I laughed during friends confessions, In between the silences of repeated songs While pantomime dames walked past windows make-up running in black and yellow rain. I'm laughing while making coffee in a campervan, I'm laughing because its a monday morning, Because everyone else is busy, Because we have an oil lamp from a pound-shop Burning beneath the sound of rain on the roof, Because the radio's silent….. And because sausages are best done slowly.

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High on the mountain, overlooking the valley, the valley where I was born, is a wooden bench. Standing to attention are the bottom of the deep V are houses, all the same, all in a row. From the bench the village can be watched It's comings and goings, the neighbours gossiping talking about nothing and everything. Everyone is there down below, John the butcher, Dai the milk, Mair the bread, Oliver's shop, where anything and everything was for sale. A picturesque Welsh valley, where everyone is actually Psychotic, and where you'll never leave except in a coffin feet first. Those of us that get out, stay out. Old feuds still burn, families not talking, not remembering how it started. Chocolate box prettiness masks the tension, the hate, the jealousies, the negativity held in the ***** of the valley. How green was my valley? It wasn't green, it's colour was red, like a hell fire. Oh, the trees were green, the mountain was glorious but that valley was poison.

0

Jun 7, 2014

Jun 7, 2014 at 12:24 PM UTC

Camellia-japonica

High on the mountain, overlooking the valley, the valley where I was born, is a wooden bench. Standing to attention are the bottom of the deep V are houses, all the same, all in a row. From the bench the village can be watched It's comings and goings, the neighbours gossiping talking about nothing and everything. Everyone is there down below, John the butcher, Dai the milk, Mair the bread, Oliver's shop, where anything and everything was for sale. A picturesque Welsh valley, where everyone is actually Psychotic, and where you'll never leave except in a coffin feet first. Those of us that get out, stay out. Old feuds still burn, families not talking, not remembering how it started. Chocolate box prettiness masks the tension, the hate, the jealousies, the negativity held in the ***** of the valley. How green was my valley? It wasn't green, it's colour was red, like a hell fire. Oh, the trees were green, the mountain was glorious but that valley was poison.

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Screeeeeeeechhh! Thud! Silence! Hearts stopped Faces turned Jaws dropped Prayers began He left his assembled bricks and wood and furniture and ran ran towards the sunset with nothing but his silhouette following him even years later it felt like yesterday possessed he ran as fast as he could Prayers began blurry shapes hoarded around the car his eyes refused to close against the horror of what lay beside his high crushed into water his delusion failed him his brain froze He ran as fast as he could to the beach wanting to walk into the water wanting to stop breathing seeking unfathomable peace that final peace His brain froze get out of the car people shouted was a life lost he didn’t dare to find out he just wanted a few seconds back just a few seconds back please That final peace eluded him waves silenced by his cornucopia of emotions his eyes now refused to open the saltiness of the beach was overcome by tears that flowed in secrecy inflaming everything within reach embracing his cheeks toying with his lips Please callanambulance sheisbleeding somebody tieyourshirtaroundherbleedinghead isittoolate is it too late Toying with his lips tears turning into questions could I ever forgive myself his sobbing heart didn't acknowledge the question it just faded he lived with himself he died within Is it too late his wife asked holding his hands breathing heavily her eyes averred every moment that they shared their feuds their make ups their teasing their loving her eyes were done speaking and now they rested He died within wailing like a baby he slept there with parched eyes reminiscing her parting words etched in his heart etched so deep that it bled internally bled and ached to release a shriek through muteness muteness, deafening deafening his emotions making them oblivious to his existence his fists clenching the vacuum of solitude the moon and waves began their tango and the water rose higher and higher embracing him within maimed to be saved releasing a gushing hymn for she was now deemed forever with him.

0

Jul 28, 2012

Jul 28, 2012 at 11:38 AM UTC

Screeeeeeeechhh! Thud! Silence! Hearts stopped Faces turned Jaws dropped Prayers began He left his assembled bricks and wood and furniture and ran ran towards the sunset with nothing but his silhouette following him even years later it felt like yesterday possessed he ran as fast as he could Prayers began blurry shapes hoarded around the car his eyes refused to close against the horror of what lay beside his high crushed into water his delusion failed him his brain froze He ran as fast as he could to the beach wanting to walk into the water wanting to stop breathing seeking unfathomable peace that final peace His brain froze get out of the car people shouted was a life lost he didn’t dare to find out he just wanted a few seconds back just a few seconds back please That final peace eluded him waves silenced by his cornucopia of emotions his eyes now refused to open the saltiness of the beach was overcome by tears that flowed in secrecy inflaming everything within reach embracing his cheeks toying with his lips Please callanambulance sheisbleeding somebody tieyourshirtaroundherbleedinghead isittoolate is it too late Toying with his lips tears turning into questions could I ever forgive myself his sobbing heart didn't acknowledge the question it just faded he lived with himself he died within Is it too late his wife asked holding his hands breathing heavily her eyes averred every moment that they shared their feuds their make ups their teasing their loving her eyes were done speaking and now they rested He died within wailing like a baby he slept there with parched eyes reminiscing her parting words etched in his heart etched so deep that it bled internally bled and ached to release a shriek through muteness muteness, deafening deafening his emotions making them oblivious to his existence his fists clenching the vacuum of solitude the moon and waves began their tango and the water rose higher and higher embracing him within maimed to be saved releasing a gushing hymn for she was now deemed forever with him.

Continue reading...

People seem to say, "Oh, it's totally fake!" "Why would you believe anything you see them do?" "It's all acting." And that isn't entirely true, at all, but many people won't believe me. Now, don't tell me I'm wrong, because this is my opinion. I won't say you're right or wrong in thinking wrestling is fake. All I'll say is, if you think it's completely fake, then I disagree. And here's why. I always ask those I talk to about this the same question. I ask, "If wrestling is fake, then why do people actually get hurt?" Then I say, "If wrestling wasn't real, then people would never get injuries that either cost them a few months, or force them to retire." The reason why I always say this, is because wrestling isn't a joke. I see people actually get hurt because they botch a move, or land wrong. I've seen punches and kicks actually connect, and cause someone to get a concussion. I've seen people get dislocations and broken bones, and wonder how long they'll be out for. Sure, there are things that can be overexaggerated. And I won't doubt that injuries can be purely storyline driven. But, when the person is actually hurt, and needs surgery, how can you call that fake? How is it fake if the injury causes someone to have to hang up their boots for a while, and go into physical therapy to recover? How is it fake if it can cost people their careers, or their lives? Remember what happened to Owen Hart? He was supposed to come down from the ceiling, but the thing broke, and he fell all the way down to the ring. People didn't know whether it was real or not, but he ended up dying from injuries sustained from that fall that same night. Wrestling isn't fake, but it is scripted. The storylines are scripted, I don't doubt that for a minute. There are many wrestlers who have feuds on camera, but are friends behind the scenes. There are people who act like heels, but are the nicest people you'll ever meet, or the other way around. Mistakes are real, and the bumps they take will actually hurt. There are things you can fake, and it does take acting in order to portray the right emotion. But when someone breaks something while wrestling, and is out for a long period of time due to surgery and recovery, then it's hard for me to believe for a second that it's completely fake. I prefer scripted, so that's what I call it. Raw is on tonight, so I had this thought in my head, and decided to get it out. Okay, that's my library post of the day. I'll talk about something else tomorrow, or the same thing, I don't know. I just write whatever I feel like, and I thought about this, so I wrote it. See you tomorrow, bye!

0

Oct 1, 2018

Oct 1, 2018 at 1:25 PM UTC

natasha-n-koucoules

Wrestling: Fake vs Scripted

People seem to say, "Oh, it's totally fake!" "Why would you believe anything you see them do?" "It's all acting." And that isn't entirely true, at all, but many people won't believe me. Now, don't tell me I'm wrong, because this is my opinion. I won't say you're right or wrong in thinking wrestling is fake. All I'll say is, if you think it's completely fake, then I disagree. And here's why. I always ask those I talk to about this the same question. I ask, "If wrestling is fake, then why do people actually get hurt?" Then I say, "If wrestling wasn't real, then people would never get injuries that either cost them a few months, or force them to retire." The reason why I always say this, is because wrestling isn't a joke. I see people actually get hurt because they botch a move, or land wrong. I've seen punches and kicks actually connect, and cause someone to get a concussion. I've seen people get dislocations and broken bones, and wonder how long they'll be out for. Sure, there are things that can be overexaggerated. And I won't doubt that injuries can be purely storyline driven. But, when the person is actually hurt, and needs surgery, how can you call that fake? How is it fake if the injury causes someone to have to hang up their boots for a while, and go into physical therapy to recover? How is it fake if it can cost people their careers, or their lives? Remember what happened to Owen Hart? He was supposed to come down from the ceiling, but the thing broke, and he fell all the way down to the ring. People didn't know whether it was real or not, but he ended up dying from injuries sustained from that fall that same night. Wrestling isn't fake, but it is scripted. The storylines are scripted, I don't doubt that for a minute. There are many wrestlers who have feuds on camera, but are friends behind the scenes. There are people who act like heels, but are the nicest people you'll ever meet, or the other way around. Mistakes are real, and the bumps they take will actually hurt. There are things you can fake, and it does take acting in order to portray the right emotion. But when someone breaks something while wrestling, and is out for a long period of time due to surgery and recovery, then it's hard for me to believe for a second that it's completely fake. I prefer scripted, so that's what I call it. Raw is on tonight, so I had this thought in my head, and decided to get it out. Okay, that's my library post of the day. I'll talk about something else tomorrow, or the same thing, I don't know. I just write whatever I feel like, and I thought about this, so I wrote it. See you tomorrow, bye!

Continue reading...

Now I'm An UNTOUCHABLE... !!! UNLIKE.... Cliff Huxtable... !!! Or YES I Mean... " Bill "... !!! I'm UNTOUCHABLY... ILL... When It Comes To My Will... !!! I Lyrically **** Well I Hope... NOT **** !!! But WILL- FULLY Build... Verse That INSTILS... UNTOUCHABLE Levels... of Using Your MENTAL... !!! Stencilled Pencilled... ... Mental Rhymes.... Kinda Like UNTOUCHABLE Guys... When It Comes To The Mic... !!! ME... Well INDEED... Some Do Believe... That I Flow My Rhymes Alright... Now That's A Humble Line... UNTOUCHABLY Designed... To Let... YOU Decide... If I Flow Like MIKE... ?!? AIR JORDAN Like... !!!!!! Well ONE THING I'll Claim... !!! Is That My Wordplay... Deserves A Place... In Halls Where Fame... ONLY HOLD What's GREAT... !!!!! But Skill On A Mic' Is NOT A Claim... I... Choose To MAKE... !!! Because UNTOUCHABLE Names... !!! DESERVE.... Such PRAISE... In How They're Viewed... And That's The TRUTH... !!!!! I'm UNTOUCHABLE Yeah... Just Like... " JERU' "... !!! Because I've Walked Through... Where... DARKNESS RULES... !!! But Moved TOO COOL... For UNTOUCHABLE Crews... To... Want To PULL... Their TOOLS And ABUSE... Because They KNEW... " Big Virge Is Cool ! AND UNTOUCHABLE Dude ! " Because I Choose... To Just... " Hang Loose "... EVEN WHEN Violence Is Used... Because of... Moods... UNTOUCHABLY Crude... !!! Where IGNORANCE Moves... To... FEEDING FEUDS... !!!!! I RISE......... ABOVE....... So DO NOT Touch... The... IGNORANT... !!!!!! Because In TRUTH... They're UNTOUCHABLE Too... !!!! Because of How... Their Energies Sound... FAR TOO LOUD.... !!!!!! For Me To Receive... !!!!!!!! Because Like THIEVES... They Feed DECEIT And ROBBERY... !!! of Things I KEEP... UNTOUCHABLE... !!! Like The Way My CHI... DENIES These FIENDS... A Chance of Getting... TOO CLOSE To....... ME... UNTOUCHABLE... IS... The Theme of THIS Piece... Because YES It's TRUE... !!!! My Poetry Is UNTOUCHABLY.... A Way For Me To Offer YOU... A Piece of..... ME..... A Piece of My Heart... And YES... My Soul... !!! Now It Can Get DARK... Like...... Al Capone...... !!!!! But Shows MORE LOVE... Than... GANGSTER Thugs... !!!! It's More Like... " NESS "... !!! When I EXPRESS... !!!!!! NOT ELLIOT.... Or... Loch MONSTER Bred... !!! I'm Just Blessed With A... NESS... That Moulds And Blends In... With......... " FINESSE ".......... !!!!!!! That's ME... BIG VIRGE... !!! So My Final Words... In TRUTH... " ACCEPT "... That When It Comes To... ... Government... Their Court Systems... And FEDERAL Friends... They'll TRY Their Best... !!! To Cause... PROBLEMS... BUT NO Matter WHAT... !?! They TRY TO.... PULL.... My SPIRIT Will Stay UNCRUSHABLE... !!! So I'll... ETERNALLY Be... ...... " UNTOUCHABLE "..... !!!

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Sep 23, 2020

Sep 23, 2020 at 1:03 AM UTC

"Untouchable" ... A Poem written by Big Virge 14/10/2016

Now I'm An UNTOUCHABLE... !!! UNLIKE.... Cliff Huxtable... !!! Or YES I Mean... " Bill "... !!! I'm UNTOUCHABLY... ILL... When It Comes To My Will... !!! I Lyrically **** Well I Hope... NOT **** !!! But WILL- FULLY Build... Verse That INSTILS... UNTOUCHABLE Levels... of Using Your MENTAL... !!! Stencilled Pencilled... ... Mental Rhymes.... Kinda Like UNTOUCHABLE Guys... When It Comes To The Mic... !!! ME... Well INDEED... Some Do Believe... That I Flow My Rhymes Alright... Now That's A Humble Line... UNTOUCHABLY Designed... To Let... YOU Decide... If I Flow Like MIKE... ?!? AIR JORDAN Like... !!!!!! Well ONE THING I'll Claim... !!! Is That My Wordplay... Deserves A Place... In Halls Where Fame... ONLY HOLD What's GREAT... !!!!! But Skill On A Mic' Is NOT A Claim... I... Choose To MAKE... !!! Because UNTOUCHABLE Names... !!! DESERVE.... Such PRAISE... In How They're Viewed... And That's The TRUTH... !!!!! I'm UNTOUCHABLE Yeah... Just Like... " JERU' "... !!! Because I've Walked Through... Where... DARKNESS RULES... !!! But Moved TOO COOL... For UNTOUCHABLE Crews... To... Want To PULL... Their TOOLS And ABUSE... Because They KNEW... " Big Virge Is Cool ! AND UNTOUCHABLE Dude ! " Because I Choose... To Just... " Hang Loose "... EVEN WHEN Violence Is Used... Because of... Moods... UNTOUCHABLY Crude... !!! Where IGNORANCE Moves... To... FEEDING FEUDS... !!!!! I RISE......... ABOVE....... So DO NOT Touch... The... IGNORANT... !!!!!! Because In TRUTH... They're UNTOUCHABLE Too... !!!! Because of How... Their Energies Sound... FAR TOO LOUD.... !!!!!! For Me To Receive... !!!!!!!! Because Like THIEVES... They Feed DECEIT And ROBBERY... !!! of Things I KEEP... UNTOUCHABLE... !!! Like The Way My CHI... DENIES These FIENDS... A Chance of Getting... TOO CLOSE To....... ME... UNTOUCHABLE... IS... The Theme of THIS Piece... Because YES It's TRUE... !!!! My Poetry Is UNTOUCHABLY.... A Way For Me To Offer YOU... A Piece of..... ME..... A Piece of My Heart... And YES... My Soul... !!! Now It Can Get DARK... Like...... Al Capone...... !!!!! But Shows MORE LOVE... Than... GANGSTER Thugs... !!!! It's More Like... " NESS "... !!! When I EXPRESS... !!!!!! NOT ELLIOT.... Or... Loch MONSTER Bred... !!! I'm Just Blessed With A... NESS... That Moulds And Blends In... With......... " FINESSE ".......... !!!!!!! That's ME... BIG VIRGE... !!! So My Final Words... In TRUTH... " ACCEPT "... That When It Comes To... ... Government... Their Court Systems... And FEDERAL Friends... They'll TRY Their Best... !!! To Cause... PROBLEMS... BUT NO Matter WHAT... !?! They TRY TO.... PULL.... My SPIRIT Will Stay UNCRUSHABLE... !!! So I'll... ETERNALLY Be... ...... " UNTOUCHABLE "..... !!!

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Now, We are mellow. Having spent the evening exploring the threads of friendship. That had come adrift of warp, weft and weave. Time and distance had silks, snag-tagged-torn, on the bustling-busy, hectic-hustling of work and family. Teasing-taunt, needle-gnawing, small, gap-rip-rents in the snug comforter that is... the wonder of us. Us, so many secrets woven. So many, nights of tissues and sobbing tears. Darning in daring exploits. Cutting away knotted, fear-angry-scream-fighting feuds. Cutting work, for days of delight and nights of desperate yearning. We used anything at hand, rough wools, pieces of string and twines. To weave a blanket, to hide us from life's storms. We were, so young, so strong, recklessly-brash, stupidly-joyous and braveheart-fools. And now, time and age, has softened our work. Felted and fuse-melded, the fibres into a beautiful entity. That we store-save in the heart's cupboard, of special and precious things. It is an heirloom of sorts. We bring it out,with occasional, humble-grace, to be dandled and stroked with reverence. Caressed and cossetted are our memories held within the abstract weave. We are the dwindling of a youthful exuberance flung-thrown-heaved to the wild winds. So now, we are grateful to be curator-custodians of the retrospective nature as we augment-append and reiterate-repair. A new thread here, now, embellish-embroider,embed and tatt-stitch. My son and your twin girls, squeezed, splashing into your tiny bathtub big-grin-giggling in the gurgling water. Our future, here and now, is the brightest of silks, Our past, mellow and yielding in, the luminent opulence, angelically-asleep in, the other room.

0

May 31, 2014

May 31, 2014 at 6:30 AM UTC

warp weft and weave

Now, We are mellow. Having spent the evening exploring the threads of friendship. That had come adrift of warp, weft and weave. Time and distance had silks, snag-tagged-torn, on the bustling-busy, hectic-hustling of work and family. Teasing-taunt, needle-gnawing, small, gap-rip-rents in the snug comforter that is... the wonder of us. Us, so many secrets woven. So many, nights of tissues and sobbing tears. Darning in daring exploits. Cutting away knotted, fear-angry-scream-fighting feuds. Cutting work, for days of delight and nights of desperate yearning. We used anything at hand, rough wools, pieces of string and twines. To weave a blanket, to hide us from life's storms. We were, so young, so strong, recklessly-brash, stupidly-joyous and braveheart-fools. And now, time and age, has softened our work. Felted and fuse-melded, the fibres into a beautiful entity. That we store-save in the heart's cupboard, of special and precious things. It is an heirloom of sorts. We bring it out,with occasional, humble-grace, to be dandled and stroked with reverence. Caressed and cossetted are our memories held within the abstract weave. We are the dwindling of a youthful exuberance flung-thrown-heaved to the wild winds. So now, we are grateful to be curator-custodians of the retrospective nature as we augment-append and reiterate-repair. A new thread here, now, embellish-embroider,embed and tatt-stitch. My son and your twin girls, squeezed, splashing into your tiny bathtub big-grin-giggling in the gurgling water. Our future, here and now, is the brightest of silks, Our past, mellow and yielding in, the luminent opulence, angelically-asleep in, the other room.

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Fathers faking false feuds french folk fills fun facts fringing fat failure flips Fredricks fame Frappe from France Fit from Finland Far from Fiji Flat fix from Florida Fini finished!

0

Apr 16, 2010

Apr 16, 2010 at 4:24 PM UTC

Fathers faking false feuds french folk fills fun facts fringing fat failure flips Fredricks fame Frappe from France Fit from Finland Far from Fiji Flat fix from Florida Fini finished!

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It is Christmas in July The neighbor's having BBQ's Inviting not just a few, but as many as they can fit To roast Smores and sing songs around the fire pit They even gave a poor boy a soft ball mitt They fed some local homeless men and women too They also inspired some random acts of kindness I hope the trend spreads like wildfire It is a wonderful time to put aside any family feuds I don't know if the story will make the news It is really up to me and you, to make it Christmas In July and all year too!

0

Jul 30, 2014

Jul 30, 2014 at 4:06 PM UTC

Christmas In July

It is Christmas in July The neighbor's having BBQ's Inviting not just a few, but as many as they can fit To roast Smores and sing songs around the fire pit They even gave a poor boy a soft ball mitt They fed some local homeless men and women too They also inspired some random acts of kindness I hope the trend spreads like wildfire It is a wonderful time to put aside any family feuds I don't know if the story will make the news It is really up to me and you, to make it Christmas In July and all year too!

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Run... run while you can before the envelopment entraps you encapsulating escape with leaden clouds skies darkened by searing missiles unburdening caches waiting for the stirring of conflict so easy to hijack as hatred screams loudest drowning out the pleas of nursing mothers as children's faces fend off old feuds and avarice of arms dealers

0

Nov 2, 2023

Nov 2, 2023 at 4:59 AM UTC

futility of war

Run... run while you can before the envelopment entraps you encapsulating escape with leaden clouds skies darkened by searing missiles unburdening caches waiting for the stirring of conflict so easy to hijack as hatred screams loudest drowning out the pleas of nursing mothers as children's faces fend off old feuds and avarice of arms dealers

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the intimate stares 2 A.M. reaching for me late night conversing the beautiful lust fervent true kisses at dawn drowsy morning eyes the heartbreaking feuds sleepless bickering phone calls slamming sunrise doors the dreadful regret day and night dreaming of you midnight drunk texting the fresh beginning the first date jittery hands read from line 1 now

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Nov 8, 2015

Nov 8, 2015 at 12:36 AM UTC

a relationship haiku

the intimate stares 2 A.M. reaching for me late night conversing the beautiful lust fervent true kisses at dawn drowsy morning eyes the heartbreaking feuds sleepless bickering phone calls slamming sunrise doors the dreadful regret day and night dreaming of you midnight drunk texting the fresh beginning the first date jittery hands read from line 1 now

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An abyss that echoes shrieks of eagles circling above: the moon lies smashed in her sunken depths by nights, this pit of enveloping darkness, a vessel emptied of life. Brick by brick, aeons layer her walls, who knows when she was dug? she carries fragrances of primordial waters gathered in the heart of earth to the winds of the present. Long before Joseph's well, she stood when desert land was verdant wood, and before the earth was tread asunder by the chariot, this graveyard of the stars. Plunder she has seen, and abuse as she towers over the past. Not a wellspring, emptied dry, but a bowl abegging. The bowl that gave a creed to a continent? Caravans pass by disgraced crevices remnant of that era, gone long of stone. Effeminate, she pawned her bricks over for a life. Or a well to collect the dead, frightened by the hundreds by the colonial bullet. Rise and fall, she carries in her wheel of life, her spoked zero. Of which yet arises a homespun yarn of dreams. Darkness wells forth from this abysmal chasm, and her waters cause feuds by brother to brother. Men of straw, of whom in a few years, no trace would remain, yet remain and the dove that flew the night a tryst was made still challenges the jacketed savant on Parliament square. A pair of inverted eyes guard the gates of darkness. And now and again, you see yet a star shooting out to the skies again from the waters: to the moon, a mushroom cloud, a circling satellite, and an octet notes. She's not one well: her waters brackish, are a thousand islands, that came together under the shadow of an empire on whom the sun never sets. Count the roots of the banyan, trees. Her sons grow weak and lumpen. Her daughters rise. And so she endures, this ancient mother. In her depths, on the day, when the star of David is reversed, she endures the ******** reversed, that shined in her of ages ago. Of men, two quarters great, arise from the same shadow: The eagle on the west, and the dove on the east. The not is the all, the zero is everything. Eternity, two zeros conjoined.

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Aug 14, 2013

Aug 14, 2013 at 2:18 PM UTC

An abyss that echoes shrieks of eagles circling above: the moon lies smashed in her sunken depths by nights, this pit of enveloping darkness, a vessel emptied of life. Brick by brick, aeons layer her walls, who knows when she was dug? she carries fragrances of primordial waters gathered in the heart of earth to the winds of the present. Long before Joseph's well, she stood when desert land was verdant wood, and before the earth was tread asunder by the chariot, this graveyard of the stars. Plunder she has seen, and abuse as she towers over the past. Not a wellspring, emptied dry, but a bowl abegging. The bowl that gave a creed to a continent? Caravans pass by disgraced crevices remnant of that era, gone long of stone. Effeminate, she pawned her bricks over for a life. Or a well to collect the dead, frightened by the hundreds by the colonial bullet. Rise and fall, she carries in her wheel of life, her spoked zero. Of which yet arises a homespun yarn of dreams. Darkness wells forth from this abysmal chasm, and her waters cause feuds by brother to brother. Men of straw, of whom in a few years, no trace would remain, yet remain and the dove that flew the night a tryst was made still challenges the jacketed savant on Parliament square. A pair of inverted eyes guard the gates of darkness. And now and again, you see yet a star shooting out to the skies again from the waters: to the moon, a mushroom cloud, a circling satellite, and an octet notes. She's not one well: her waters brackish, are a thousand islands, that came together under the shadow of an empire on whom the sun never sets. Count the roots of the banyan, trees. Her sons grow weak and lumpen. Her daughters rise. And so she endures, this ancient mother. In her depths, on the day, when the star of David is reversed, she endures the ******** reversed, that shined in her of ages ago. Of men, two quarters great, arise from the same shadow: The eagle on the west, and the dove on the east. The not is the all, the zero is everything. Eternity, two zeros conjoined.

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Homesick or just sick Unsettled by the clock's tick Thinking of posters on my wall, of furry paws in my face Longing for familiar footsteps in the hall, for discussions of grace I want fangs and feuds and cutthroat nights Not to look over my shoulder between homebound lights Homebound, not for months and seasons I want to call but I have no reason Even my imagination left some things behind They lived at home though I thought they lived in my mind Now I feel truly alone But who wants to hear untroubled youth moan? Not sick for home but sick for my friends An empty ache I don't think time can mend And I won't feel better locked in this new room Knowing I'll be gone when hometown flowers bloom December, holidays, so far from home For a frightened foolish freshman who wanted to roam Afraid to move forward and out Terrified whispers and tears masked by shouts Same album plays again and again Hoping some peace will find its way in Maybe If I just take the clock off the wall Time would stop, or go back, and we'd forget it all Tie our highway hopes tight with small road ropes And collegiate walks back to high school talks Could I dream Awake Alone With you I know it's true But I can't imagine that you're lonely too

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Aug 19, 2013

Aug 19, 2013 at 5:51 PM UTC

Homesick or just sick Unsettled by the clock's tick Thinking of posters on my wall, of furry paws in my face Longing for familiar footsteps in the hall, for discussions of grace I want fangs and feuds and cutthroat nights Not to look over my shoulder between homebound lights Homebound, not for months and seasons I want to call but I have no reason Even my imagination left some things behind They lived at home though I thought they lived in my mind Now I feel truly alone But who wants to hear untroubled youth moan? Not sick for home but sick for my friends An empty ache I don't think time can mend And I won't feel better locked in this new room Knowing I'll be gone when hometown flowers bloom December, holidays, so far from home For a frightened foolish freshman who wanted to roam Afraid to move forward and out Terrified whispers and tears masked by shouts Same album plays again and again Hoping some peace will find its way in Maybe If I just take the clock off the wall Time would stop, or go back, and we'd forget it all Tie our highway hopes tight with small road ropes And collegiate walks back to high school talks Could I dream Awake Alone With you I know it's true But I can't imagine that you're lonely too

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dry as a beggar's over-parched throat as an over-burnt piece of blackened rye-toast as the golden sand in Sahara roast was the air o' the day of the black death-note as the air crackled with the laughter of death and claimed the millions as it left bereft daughters of the earth their heart a-cleft from the breath of the devil with the head of Macbeth Houses, untenable, ditched searing memories, Turned sarcophagi from life and its treasuries Scorched skeletons of sagas and histories, Of family feuds, celebrations and victories, Of open secrets and whispered mysteries, Years of toil blest by gold sunbeams, The laughter of babes and the giggle of teens, Now fractured windows and ash blackened beams, Skeletal remains of life and its dreams.

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Jan 10, 2025

Jan 10, 2025 at 4:28 AM UTC

The Fires of LA

dry as a beggar's over-parched throat as an over-burnt piece of blackened rye-toast as the golden sand in Sahara roast was the air o' the day of the black death-note as the air crackled with the laughter of death and claimed the millions as it left bereft daughters of the earth their heart a-cleft from the breath of the devil with the head of Macbeth Houses, untenable, ditched searing memories, Turned sarcophagi from life and its treasuries Scorched skeletons of sagas and histories, Of family feuds, celebrations and victories, Of open secrets and whispered mysteries, Years of toil blest by gold sunbeams, The laughter of babes and the giggle of teens, Now fractured windows and ash blackened beams, Skeletal remains of life and its dreams.

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I REFUSE TO LOSE… Most dudes are confused, Stuck between the two, Wondering if the one is really you, Or if their mind is playing tricks, So they just never mind, which is a terrible thing to do. It’s easy to walk away, and just say, “I’ll try another day” Or “I’ll try another way” The answer is right in their face. Fear of commitment is what it usually boils down to, Afraid… Afraid they’ll give you all their trust, just to get played. But I’m not confused nor afraid, See, I’m confident in my confidence, I know that you’re the way. You’re the path that god has paved, And I won’t be led astray. I’m not like those other dudes, Confused minds have made them fools, Fear filled hearts have changed their moods, I’m smarter, so many mistakes, I know, I grew, It’s altered my personality and my point of view, On love, relationships and even you, You see I’m ready to do, what I know have to, Packed my thoughts, I’m ready to move, But there is a problem between us being two, And my love that problem is you. Still I REFUSE TO LOSE. Most girls know what to do, Confident on who to choose, No hesitation, no interludes, No deep thinking, it would just prelude To lose, who they wanted to give all their love to. It’s easy to say, “We’re meant to be”, “He’s meant for me”, And “Just wait, you all will see”, Or “I do!”, really fast, before the question has been asked. Fear of loneliness is the problem When you look inside, Afraid… Afraid they’ll be alone for the rest of their lives. But those girls are nothing like you. You're unsure what to do, Indecisive with your decisions. Your insecurity has you imprisoned, Steel bars made from your blurred vision, And you’ll never break the tension. You’re not like other women, Your mind is not confined, It’s just your heart being blind. You’ve made mistakes but have yet to grow, Past regrets will stunt your growth, You have to Learn, Live and Love to make the most, Throw away those futile, feudal thoughts, And let me show, You don’t have to worry About those problems and mental feuds, When you REFUSE TO LOSE.

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Oct 2, 2010

Oct 2, 2010 at 12:15 AM UTC

joseph-childress

I REFUSE TO LOSE… Most dudes are confused, Stuck between the two, Wondering if the one is really you, Or if their mind is playing tricks, So they just never mind, which is a terrible thing to do. It’s easy to walk away, and just say, “I’ll try another day” Or “I’ll try another way” The answer is right in their face. Fear of commitment is what it usually boils down to, Afraid… Afraid they’ll give you all their trust, just to get played. But I’m not confused nor afraid, See, I’m confident in my confidence, I know that you’re the way. You’re the path that god has paved, And I won’t be led astray. I’m not like those other dudes, Confused minds have made them fools, Fear filled hearts have changed their moods, I’m smarter, so many mistakes, I know, I grew, It’s altered my personality and my point of view, On love, relationships and even you, You see I’m ready to do, what I know have to, Packed my thoughts, I’m ready to move, But there is a problem between us being two, And my love that problem is you. Still I REFUSE TO LOSE. Most girls know what to do, Confident on who to choose, No hesitation, no interludes, No deep thinking, it would just prelude To lose, who they wanted to give all their love to. It’s easy to say, “We’re meant to be”, “He’s meant for me”, And “Just wait, you all will see”, Or “I do!”, really fast, before the question has been asked. Fear of loneliness is the problem When you look inside, Afraid… Afraid they’ll be alone for the rest of their lives. But those girls are nothing like you. You're unsure what to do, Indecisive with your decisions. Your insecurity has you imprisoned, Steel bars made from your blurred vision, And you’ll never break the tension. You’re not like other women, Your mind is not confined, It’s just your heart being blind. You’ve made mistakes but have yet to grow, Past regrets will stunt your growth, You have to Learn, Live and Love to make the most, Throw away those futile, feudal thoughts, And let me show, You don’t have to worry About those problems and mental feuds, When you REFUSE TO LOSE.

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I always keep a wish list I write what I want And the price I’ll pay. Be it a target for a twenty Or love for an arm and a leg. I’ll pay fifty for a new game And my soul for popularity. Music is a dollar a song. Friendship is always priceless. Racing suit costs me eighty And family costs a few feuds. The shiny new watch sells for forty Success sells for just too much. The only thing that’s ever free Is the happiness that surrounds me. All that cost is one’s own decision To tell sadness, good riddance.

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Sep 20, 2010

Sep 20, 2010 at 11:50 AM UTC

Nike-Kaffezakis

I always keep a wish list I write what I want And the price I’ll pay. Be it a target for a twenty Or love for an arm and a leg. I’ll pay fifty for a new game And my soul for popularity. Music is a dollar a song. Friendship is always priceless. Racing suit costs me eighty And family costs a few feuds. The shiny new watch sells for forty Success sells for just too much. The only thing that’s ever free Is the happiness that surrounds me. All that cost is one’s own decision To tell sadness, good riddance.

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*Let the playgrounds be there for children Hosting games which are played fairly Formative minds exercising for healthy future Open grounds let’s them breathe fresh air Embracing bonhomie and fair play Giving equal opportunity and space to each other Playgrounds will nurture the formative years Learning to play with dignity throughout life Growing up to be torchbearers of the nation Healthy mind resides in a healthy body Playgrounds be the venue for diverse congregation Spreading the message that games are not trivial So many feuds are resolved with dignity Children can teach the art of resolving strife A playground can be the hallmark for diversity Giving equal opportunity to all the players Let’s not botch up every possible place for our needs In the name of development, only concrete structures Only meandering roads leading nowhere Let the playgrounds be there for children*

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Aug 8, 2014

Aug 8, 2014 at 9:23 AM UTC

*Let the playgrounds be there for children Hosting games which are played fairly Formative minds exercising for healthy future Open grounds let’s them breathe fresh air Embracing bonhomie and fair play Giving equal opportunity and space to each other Playgrounds will nurture the formative years Learning to play with dignity throughout life Growing up to be torchbearers of the nation Healthy mind resides in a healthy body Playgrounds be the venue for diverse congregation Spreading the message that games are not trivial So many feuds are resolved with dignity Children can teach the art of resolving strife A playground can be the hallmark for diversity Giving equal opportunity to all the players Let’s not botch up every possible place for our needs In the name of development, only concrete structures Only meandering roads leading nowhere Let the playgrounds be there for children*

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Wilting as bullets flee. Open guns and unsettled feuds April 20th, 1999. Dylan and his pal are hanging around, coming closer with every breath be careful- they might hear the sound of your rapid-beating heart.

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Dec 2, 2015

Dec 2, 2015 at 3:26 PM UTC

Flowers at Columbine

Wilting as bullets flee. Open guns and unsettled feuds April 20th, 1999. Dylan and his pal are hanging around, coming closer with every breath be careful- they might hear the sound of your rapid-beating heart.

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the blasphemer and the blushing bride have no recollection of things like pride one detests ceremony while the other revels in vows and prayers and all such spells one waits for a day of celebration and rejoices the other rebels against insincere voices and if the two were to ever meet or stranger still to share the same seat all feuds might be forgotten for the sake of the truth whatever one chooses to believe in one's youth the importance should be placed on agency rather than the pomp of unsavory pageantry

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Oct 14, 2011

Oct 14, 2011 at 6:07 PM UTC

The Blasphemer and the Blushing Bride

the blasphemer and the blushing bride have no recollection of things like pride one detests ceremony while the other revels in vows and prayers and all such spells one waits for a day of celebration and rejoices the other rebels against insincere voices and if the two were to ever meet or stranger still to share the same seat all feuds might be forgotten for the sake of the truth whatever one chooses to believe in one's youth the importance should be placed on agency rather than the pomp of unsavory pageantry

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Red ants of unsettled feuds ail in my cerebrum and spinal cord… dear friend, give me the medicine of poetry, let get my blood cold… Spread the sedative of poem before taking me the knife.

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Jan 4, 2015

Jan 4, 2015 at 3:49 AM UTC

The sedative of poem

Red ants of unsettled feuds ail in my cerebrum and spinal cord… dear friend, give me the medicine of poetry, let get my blood cold… Spread the sedative of poem before taking me the knife.

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The memory of you comes in different shades of gray Like the Caribbean Sea breeze that stylized your hair Saturated stain on my pink satin sheets That was the moment when we knew that Those two souls could never be discreet Uncertainties heavily laden on my heart, It’s a strange and confusing time to depart In you her DNA float like acid rain: fogging your brain years of turmoil and silent torment: Here I am lamenting with you: You recalled that day when your light turned blue You said that it felt like love and hate moving toward the kiss of death The moment of truth landed like a erupt volcano on your desk A God-fearing man, a gentle soul Years of searching for motherly love, so it was told Only to find Low self-esteem and low-grade fatigue Trust equal lust: led to a fraud for a wife. You hide your sorrow in your smile, Tainted love is nothing but a slow dying disease Mother of your child, a son whom you once adore They both put locks on the front door. Then there is that woman from his past, Oh, how she saves him from the edge of madness: Court full of lawyers, a judge on the bench Fire and brimstones, infinite punishment for finite sins The sun might shine but the camera will not flash Because of a daunted woman, Whose feuds are too hot to defuse? Oh, the mad woman of sea view She made her bed, now she must lie on it Brick stones are stronger that old boards From now on the shower heads will turn cold, before the sun goes down The mist off the ocean should stink like acid rain Abomination on the lips of lying wife: One day shall easily crack: when the Truth shall reveal itself

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Feb 11, 2017

Feb 11, 2017 at 12:04 PM UTC

darknbeautiful-1

In You Her DNA Floats Like Acid Rain

The memory of you comes in different shades of gray Like the Caribbean Sea breeze that stylized your hair Saturated stain on my pink satin sheets That was the moment when we knew that Those two souls could never be discreet Uncertainties heavily laden on my heart, It’s a strange and confusing time to depart In you her DNA float like acid rain: fogging your brain years of turmoil and silent torment: Here I am lamenting with you: You recalled that day when your light turned blue You said that it felt like love and hate moving toward the kiss of death The moment of truth landed like a erupt volcano on your desk A God-fearing man, a gentle soul Years of searching for motherly love, so it was told Only to find Low self-esteem and low-grade fatigue Trust equal lust: led to a fraud for a wife. You hide your sorrow in your smile, Tainted love is nothing but a slow dying disease Mother of your child, a son whom you once adore They both put locks on the front door. Then there is that woman from his past, Oh, how she saves him from the edge of madness: Court full of lawyers, a judge on the bench Fire and brimstones, infinite punishment for finite sins The sun might shine but the camera will not flash Because of a daunted woman, Whose feuds are too hot to defuse? Oh, the mad woman of sea view She made her bed, now she must lie on it Brick stones are stronger that old boards From now on the shower heads will turn cold, before the sun goes down The mist off the ocean should stink like acid rain Abomination on the lips of lying wife: One day shall easily crack: when the Truth shall reveal itself

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Obsession Watching you from distant, is an edgy feast As you crawl in, like a feisty beast I am forced to ignore all that’s around me While the spirits wither and whisper Tell me that you could set me free Your tales from the battles Your victories and conquests Fascinate me all the more You aren’t trustable, to myself I swore Then comes out your witty compassion That’s when I accommodate you in a whole new fashion Try to make settlements with my mind To my surprise, you are one of a kind So blindfolded I become, wander alone in the woods Trying to solve these perplexing feuds You miss no opportunity to haul my attention You compress all of my growing suspicion The blend of truth and lie I want to peek in and pry Engrossed into the evil within your heart Now, only death could do us apart

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Feb 15, 2014

Feb 15, 2014 at 4:12 AM UTC

Obsession Watching you from distant, is an edgy feast As you crawl in, like a feisty beast I am forced to ignore all that’s around me While the spirits wither and whisper Tell me that you could set me free Your tales from the battles Your victories and conquests Fascinate me all the more You aren’t trustable, to myself I swore Then comes out your witty compassion That’s when I accommodate you in a whole new fashion Try to make settlements with my mind To my surprise, you are one of a kind So blindfolded I become, wander alone in the woods Trying to solve these perplexing feuds You miss no opportunity to haul my attention You compress all of my growing suspicion The blend of truth and lie I want to peek in and pry Engrossed into the evil within your heart Now, only death could do us apart

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If only this was a perfect world Where all could be set free Where words were expressed And read with love and devotion If only there was never feuds Where friends fell out at times Where friendship was created And it always reigned true If only people could be equal And forgive any injustice So everyone could fit in Instead of competing to win If only poetry was that simple To touch everyone in so many ways That we could understand the true meaning Where so many poems mean so many things If only I could find the solution To help make everyone find happiness Where we love the friendship we have Because then, I would find happiness too

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Feb 11, 2011

Feb 11, 2011 at 6:58 PM UTC

377: If Only This Was A Perfect World

If only this was a perfect world Where all could be set free Where words were expressed And read with love and devotion If only there was never feuds Where friends fell out at times Where friendship was created And it always reigned true If only people could be equal And forgive any injustice So everyone could fit in Instead of competing to win If only poetry was that simple To touch everyone in so many ways That we could understand the true meaning Where so many poems mean so many things If only I could find the solution To help make everyone find happiness Where we love the friendship we have Because then, I would find happiness too

Continue reading...