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Shofi Ahmed Jun 2018
Without a rope but
squaring the circle
the giant man gives it a try
takes a flight off to the sky
only to fall flat on the ground.

She turns around
gives the circle her pi.
He bounces back
and retakes the flight
Que Sera, Sera on the way!
Zoe Sue May 2014
Maybe if I'm buried beneath these sheets long enough
I'll melt into them
Chained to the bed
By a fatigue dressed in fuzzy pink handcuffs
With your name scrawled on the side

Ravaged the light from me
So if I don't see the sun for long enough
I'll convince myself I'm not real
A figment of someone's imagination
Sent to tell them their taxes are due
Their fly is undone

Convince myself that if I stay still for long enough
I'll slow my body to a leaking faucet
Lethargic sleeping pill slow motion
My heart will beat the way I imagine yours does


buhhh





boom



What a heart you have




buh



boom



A beat
As though living is an art I could just master



buh




boom


Like loving was the art you couldn't grasp



buh




boom

Maybe if I dream about you enough
I'll stop having these nightmares about being alone




buh




boom



Or maybe if I peer over the edge of the bed
It'll look less like a cliff than I thought

Buh


Boom

Maybe my feet could find the floor
You once swept out from under me

Buh Boom

Maybe I will stand without your hand to steady me
BUH BOOM
Maybe
I never needed you much at all
Depression drains you of all feeling.
Emotions can be up or down, but the worst is when there's nothing wrong at all.
Just like the alarm from the monitor when there is nothing pushing you forward.
You feel exactly like that sound, but it occurs inside.
If only there were defibrillators to resuscitate my emotions.
The feeling leaves me powerless and there's nothing I can do to stop
                                                    The Flat Line
Samuel Hoffmann Mar 2018
From my perspective the world is flat
because I've never been to space,
and love seems like a stupid idea
having only ever kissed my mom's face.

A college degree just seems wasteful,
but I don’t have one yet.
And coffee seems so distasteful,
but that's true, don't fret.

My world doesn't have unicorns
or cotton candy clouds.
Extremely fantasized love movies
plague young teenage crowds.

I know I might seem all together,
please trust me when I say thats not true.
I take a shower, brush my teeth,
And go to bed broken and blue.

I know I might seem stoic,
and yes, most times, that's true.
But honestly, I do love many things,
one of which is you.
CK Baker Feb 2017
There were dividing lines
between springfield
and mariners gate
soft, subtle lines
that spoke of origin
and code
and biting union

it was all
the reason
for being;
alive and living
dead or dying
deep in a pack
of pint size resistors
hell bent on the
marsh crow
and cannabis tower
jumping the rush
with *** shots
and anchors
and tribunals

camouflage creepers
and transient floaters
marked rebellion at the gates
(skullduggery and taunt
high on their favor list)
jack straws and flat paddles
for the evening charade
beakers and flailing hands
from the foot washing baptist
(the pleasant street conservatives with their
own something to say…“there’s gonna be hell to pay!”)

there's a
lingering effect
to this sentiment
(evident in the pump house stride)
the river winds
blow gently
into the night
as the huddling packers
and **** backs
chase the evening hours

it’s a bitter sweet
end of an era;
those traction bars
hood scoops
and nickel bags
will always
be the rage
Vexren4000 Aug 2018
A time of wonder,
Merriment and melody,
Music was magical,
Movies were special,
A time faded into the past,
A place gone from here.
The magic of an evening out,
Now destroyed by human innovation.

©BAS
Eryri Mar 13
Seven billion souls
Being spun around
On this flat Earth;
A rotating disc,
Master of its Domain,
At the centre of the Solar System,
Where it belongs,
The star of the show,
A Double A-Side planet.
Flat Earth: of course, I'm not a Flat Earther.
Peter J Jul 2018
On flat bank’s where
grass runt reeds grow
waiting for rising tide,
A lone Heron stealths silently
while Gulls cry warning, and dive effortlessly in to a cold sea air.
Pheonix  Peanut and Pandora
stranded on wet mud bank,
wait for their chance to escape
but it’s bonds that need to be severed in their quest for freedom.
Estuary lights dim and flicker in the distance while closer to shore Mermaids sing on the breath of a storm.
Beckoning sailors "come ride the waves"
Siren songs of lost souls and shadows
“Come with us” on this bursting sea.
And they sing with a drowning charm
as fishermen launch vessels under a shawl covered wife's watchful eye.
And yesterdays widows weep, face rained bright from navigational lights.
Ships bell ring in time with a rollicking sea,
Pheonix  Peanut and Pandora
still await their escape but not this night.
While the Heron has long fled this great swell.
No cries now from gulls nor mothers hurrying their little ones to the safety of their coal fired warm homes.
Just the rage of wave riding mermaids that will have their bounty
the heart and souls from a fisherman life.
#Something I dotted down while sat under the brown Laugharne castle gazing  out to sea.
Zeeb Jul 2018
The Lake Pontchartrain Causeway… man that’s one long bridge
I drive it every day for my pay - here’s what I see along the way

Here comes:
Corvette Kary, setting pace he’s in a race
When Kary’s not waxing his ride, we all have to pull aside

Petrified Patty, she’s over water and she can’t swim
She’s driving a white Lexus, so scared she has no reflexus

Miata Mike, chasing Kary, not gonna get too far
Trying to convince himself, he didn’t buy a girly car

Watch out for:
Makeup Mary, on cruise-control wow she’s one of the worst
She loves her new Camry, but her next car might just be a hearse

Yes, that Causeway, can be a long and boring ride
And if you get a flat… there’s no place to pull aside
Oh but that Causeway has its points, take time to see
24 miles of entertainment, and the Northbound way is free

Here comes:
Road Rage Randy, always ****** and he doesn't know why
Today he’s running late, but finds time to escalate

Doughnut Danny, a rolling example of efficiency
A cream-filled and a coffee, and a newspaper on his knee

Wackin Wayne, you’ve got to be kidding me
Vibrating Virginia, now we have equality

We've got:
Maypop Marty, doesn’t know that tires wear out

Mark the spark, man go find a muffler shop

Headphone Harry, has no clue the cops are behind

Fugitive Fred, on the go 65 point 000

Yes that old Causeway, can be one long and boring ride
And if you get a flat… there’s no place to pull aside
Oh but that Causeway, has its points, take time to see
The mechanized circus on parade, our hilarious humanity

Don’t forget:
Frozen Frita, every rainstorm stops her dead in her track
Then here comes Ramin’ Ron, goin 60, aint too good for her back

No tie-down Tim, **** flyin’ out of his truck
For everyone behind him, Tim doesn’t give a ****

NPR Nancy, she must be in a “Driveway Moment”
Only problem is, she’s on a god-**** bridge

Texting Theresia, I’ve saved the best for last
The last thing in life she did see, was an idiotic emoji

Lookin’ Lee, that’s me, pretty sad that I’m just as bad
Come join us nuts on the Causeway, might be the most fun you ever had
Carmen Jane Apr 20
I shredded a photograph of myself
It was taken ages ago
When I borrowed the jean bra like top
That went with the jean mini skirt
Even though I had a perfect body back then

I didn't look enough confident

That's why I shredded it
Now I regret it
A bit
It would have been nice, to have kept the proof
That I had flat abs, back then,
But I did kept one, from that same day,
Where I revealed just one shoulder
Looking over it, I imagined
you being taunted by it

I gleamed with  confidence

I gleamed with the confidence
That you'll be mine and that you'd love my playful ways
Even though, we didn't met,
Yet.
Robin Carretti Aug 2018
Where do we meet
    Oh! No He_*
Getting onto
the next courses
Oh La- La "Cheri"
K>ANSAS>>City

_ Prime spot pretty

 let's >- jump ))) To Love
Please raise the horses

What a skirt steak in her
Petticoat Junction
Going to Kansas City affection
Different tribe or breed
What needs to love me
tender Elvis meet Beavis Buthead
    More  T.L.C  
computer DOC Tick Tock
IRS taking a meat beef
chunk is everybody drunk
IOS what is really the meat
Business Politician Trump

Subscribe well done
Cooked or rare spooked
Taking a Spin City kick
She got canned and licked
The prime meat hot seat

The ******* who arrives
first class steak knifes
Ms. Pork hard chew 
Mr. Beans second rate
Dark pumpernickel
Saloon *******, he
is eating
The young tender
chicken leg

High five thigh? Hands
up Robin Fly
Save the meat "let it be"
  "Let it Be" Beatles
The beat Colonel deep fried
Grade A rare meat slicing

Eating in a board meeting
The pig meat market
of pricing

Doe a deer
he loves
International beer
A very sensitive time
Slaughterhouse no way out
His poker face meets
potato heads beef jerky
Surrender Weds
maple smiles picky
The rich Syrup
Disney Mickey Mouse
Kansas City Wonder
meat house

The beauty of animals
"Moms kettle she is talking
to Parrots" meat
the market for rings riot
Six enemies making
6 rounds
Six servants 666 carats
Robin smiles heartily
"Campbells Chicken" little


He's the Beef Man stew
If you only knew

He's spitting tobacco chew
She peels the potato for the
meathead bad to the
T-bone Dachshund I Bone

Garlic knots heart of the
Sausage wearing the
meat corsage Superbowl
My sweet basil good soul
Grilling your bullhead
Pirate Ribeye steak pupils
Mr. "Billygoat" Bachelorette
Hair flat crepe Suzette

Moms Korean style fuss
coleslaw
what a seesaw
Playing Porgy and Bess
 Scarlet the red rare meat
Rolling stone baking pin
Mississippi one or two
Under my meaty thumb

Comes in three-4-5-6- Lucky 7
-Crazy 8 furries
Nine meat ribs-10 babies
with bibs
Hungry Man meat when!!
Country plaid tablecloth
"Kansas Men" of the cloth
The Pig approval
Kansas City Mayor
new arrival

Family together eating
Don't eat our animals
Why is life so unfair
Feeding the poor
with cans
The bad cut of meat devil
this is not the "Grade A"
This is not a ring
circus trainer Bullseye

Robin coffee animal-friendly
Two peas in a pod I pods
  I tune like Gods
Were the luckiest people to have
animals  

The Floridian with dog murals
Palm trees green thumb
plants sunshine events
The symphony dog tails
of hunts
Whats to compare her twilight
eyes hold the moment stare
Talk to the animal's hearts care
The barbecue all the meat men and the women who love their fruit listen to the Owl lady how she hoots those Kansas city slicker boots and the Hehaw have a good time with family and friends treat the animals with tender loving care
Arrow May 19
I look around and all I see
Is an endless world of blue
And I think,
Can I sail to the worlds end ?
But then I realize
It is an endless world
The earth ain't flat
And life ain't myths.
Diana Santiago Dec 2018
I hate your stupid face
Those squinty eyes, them closed lips
Your expression so emotionless
Flat and stagnant is what it drips

Those masculine eyebrows, your expansive hair
That skin void of blemishes and scars
Complexion of espresso dancing with milk
Leaving the beholder seeing stars

Empty of smiles and feelings
Your visage the definition of dry
I go seeking for some semblance of life
Through your dark mysterious eyes

So I hate your stupid face
For it is the one that leaves me breathless
Casting the root on my heart
Rendering me into a state of restless
CK Baker Oct 2017
Iron bench, open sore
dragon rock, three in score
flesh on body, tortured soul
arms high, in hell's hole

Corner bulb, neon light
drake hotel, second flight
jolly pop, rizla plus
open flame, behind the bus

Broken fixtures, tully hat
channel swimmer, at the bat
blind alley, words of cuss
dealer waving, in a fuss

Grim reaper, boys in blue
super bee, armored shrew
****** sips, swollen glands
potpourri, on demand

Black death, huddler's arch
beat the cold, and summer parch
toothless grin, ****** glare
obituary, to be shared

Dead of night, decontrol
cheeva tar, black coal
east central, chinatown
mr. freeze, is coming down

Foot soldier, skidder row
chicken feed, and white blow
silver spoon, casted hand
demons surface, on demand

Frantic sounds, below the glass
poison waiting, to be passed
crack pipes, over coat
bodies flat, begin to float

Gospel sounds, from union square
friends gather, deep in prayer
guardian angels, now deployed
thornton park, without a void

Covenant house, in holy charm
welcomes all, with open arms
salvation spreads, on chapel row
kindness that, cannot be sold
Big Virge Aug 2016
Well ........
It seems it's ... OPEN SEASON ...
  
for ... MURDEROUS ... Policing ... !?!
  
NO MORE ...
will blacks take ... Beatings ... !!!
  
Police will leave us ... Bleeding ... !!!
while they ... KEEP ON ... receiving ...
PROTECTION ... for yes ... leaving ...
  
Blacks with ...
  
NO PULSE or ... FEELING ... !!!
In Fact ... NO LONGER ... Breathing.
  
and then .....
comes ... " Court Proceedings " ...
that leave black people ... " SEETHING " ... !!!!!!
  
Well fine it's ... OPEN SEASON ...
for poetry ... now ... Seeking .............................................................
  
Some TRUTH ...  
and less ... Deceiving ... !!!
  
See ....
I'm Incredibly ... not shocked ...
at how ... poor ... " Walter Scott " ...
  
got shot by ...
some ... white cop ...  
  
when Walter ... tried to run ...
from this ... Policeman ... **** ... !!!!!
  
But ......
before I ... move along ...
  
He may well have done wrong ... ?!?
but ... " Officer Slager " ...
Let Off ... EIGHT SHOTS ...
in ... Walters' BACK ... !?!!!? ...
  
Let me just .... " back track " .....
  
He shot ... " EIGHT TIMES " ...
Taking ... " HIS LIFE " ... !!!!! ...
  
Because .............
said ... SLAGER ...  
  
" He feared for his safety
because Mr. Scott, tried to
grab his Taser ! "
  
So ...  
That means ... WHAT ... ?!?
  
He ... Deserved to be shot ...
EIGHT TIMES ... in his ... BACK ... !?!!!?!
  
Maaaaannnnn ....
  
ENOUGH ... of this CRAP ... !!!!!
  
What kind of Policing ... ?!?
gives Policeman teachings ...
of ... SHOOT TO DEATH ... !!!!
  
Rather than ... " A Leg " ...
  
Shoot ... BOTH ...  
... if ya like ... !!!!!
  
But .....
ENOUGH ... of these vibes ...
where Black People ... DIE ... !!!!!!
  
Husbands and Wives ...
whose Fam' ... are told ... LIES ... !!!!!
about ... Cop ... HOMICIDES ... !!!!!!
  
So let me ...
  
Season and OPEN ........................................
how people are .... Bro Ken ...
and Blacks are just ... " Tokens "...
for them to be ... " Quoting " ...
all kinds of ... DUMB THINGS ... !!!!!!
  
About ...
  
... Po' Po' ...  
... Shootings ....
  
An ... Asian dude ...
who went to ... my school
posted ... one day ...
  
on my ...  
Facebook Page ...
  
"Blacks need to be wise
when police are in sight,
and not antagonise,
cos that's how they'll die !"
  
Yeah THIS ... Indian Guy ...
felt he had ... The Right ...
to tell me ... " Why " ...
Police TAKE ... Black Lives ... ?!!!?
  
cos' we ....
  
" DON'T ACT RIGHT !!! "
  
Well YEAH ... sometimes ....
but being ... SHOT TO DEATH ...
goes BEYOND .... NONSENSE ... !!!!!
  
but ......
Asians like ... HIM ...
Prove that being ... "submissive" ...
is how ... Most Choose ... to live ...
and how ... Most Seem ... to think ... !?!
  
How many ... Asian girls ...
and I ... DON'T MEAN ... Orientals ... !!!
  
have been ... " Experimental " ... ???
  
when it comes to ... Black Men ...
being in their worlds ...
as the ... FATHERS OF ...
  
..... Their Children ..... ?!?
  
It's CLEAR ....
from their ... " Caste System " ...
that ... Inter-Racial Teams ...
are .... Rarely EVER ... seen ... !!!
  
Unless their partner's ...
..... " White " ..... ?!?
  
Most Asians ....
Don't Trust ... blacks ...
and that is simply ... FACT ...
  
In Fact ...
Some do believe ...
that blacks are just ... MONKEYS ... ??!??
  
Check through their ... "History " ...
Such words ... AREN'T FALLACY ... !!!!!!!!!!
  
When we now ... " Greet Police " ...
  
Should blacks ... IMMEDIATELY ... ?
get down upon our knees ...
  
and BEG ... like ...
  
... " Slavery Scenes " ...
  
"Please *****', don't shoot me !"
  
which leads me to ...
... These Blacks ...
  
Whose uniform's now ...
.... " Packed " ....
  
to join these ...
... Police Klans ... !!!!!!!
  
What have they ... " Changed " ...
in ... Policing ways ... ?!!!? ...
  
" Not A Lot " ... !!!!!! ...
  
Ask ... " Walter Scott " ... ???
  
Well sadly now ...
  
You ... CAN'T DO THAT ... !!!!!!
  
because what is ... FOUL ...
is ... THIS HERE FACT ... !!!!!
  
while Walter died
and lied ... FACE FLAT ...
  
A cop who was ... BLACK ... !!!
seemed to search Mr. Scott ...
as if ... He'd ... STILL ATTACK ... ?!!!?
  
and then ...  
let this ... white cop ..
treat him ... LIKE HIS DOG .... !???!
  
I'm ...  
SICK ... of the ... CRAP ... !!!!!!
now coming from ... Blacks ... !!!!!!!
  
Will they wanna ... Shoot ME ... ?!?
for this ... REAL POETRY ... !?!
  
See it's been ...
  
..... OPEN SEASON .....
for ... QUITE SOME TIME ... !!!!! ...
  
cos' ....
Black folks be ... " submissive " ...
as if they'll face ... " A Lynching " ... !!!

for .. BREATHING ...
and NOT ... " Flinch-ing " ... !!!!!
  
when ... Po Po lights ...
Start .... Blinking .... !!!!!!!
  
which right now ...
gets me thinking ...
  
that ... " William Lynch " ...
is looking down and saying ...
  
"Look at these Black Clowns !"
  
Folks ....
This here ... AIN'T ...
  
" 12 Years A Slave " ...
  
This shooing happened ...
.... " YESTERDAY " .... !!!!!!!!
  
In ....  
South Carolina ....
where that PIG ...
has been ... Fired ... !!!
  
But ....
Without ... " The Footage " ...
would he still be out ... SHOOTING ... !!! ? !!!
  
See i'm ...  
a man of ... " Reason " ...
  
but right now ...
I'M SEETHING ... !!!!!
  
because ....
when it comes to ....
  
... KILLING BLACKS ...  
  
It's  .....
  
... STILL ...
..... CLEARLY .....
  
.... " Open Season " ....

Listen Here :

https://soundcloud.com/user-16569179/07-open-season
Certain poems speak for themselves, due to events that are as REAl, as they come .... I use the BLM moniker below, but, Do Black Lives REALLY Matter ... ??? beyond police actions .... ??? I prefer this tag #VerseThatMatters
bythesea Nov 2017
who took away your softness
and made you feel
the harshness of the ocean?
who took your tide away?
your lips tasted of salt once
but the blue dye of your
ocean has begun to fade.
you were then
so plump and mighty,
but today you lie flat
in the shallowest of
water
tangled in the algae
gathered by
your fingers
I assume you once danced the Cabaret
By how you strut your Flexi-Form abroad
This I figure on weeks-by-two per se
The Ardent Friend your Fervour can behold
T'was the Charm which every Fruit can discuss
And win many Smiles for a Pint or Ink
Telling us flat, Life can take us that Far,
In a Bus run by Monday's Downey Sink
Was it wrong to know the Inner-Woman-You
That Principle so many Thinkers deny:
"******-Hub! Buck-Forth! Lev, Lev, Lub, Lub, Le, Loo!
Then Drink your Bub-Clouds to Barrels on high!"
Nah, Forgive my Fishes, Sir! I bestate
You're one Sav Foretainer - Dance with me, Mate!
#rustyrockets
He is there but nobody sees him
He speaks but no one can hear
He lives his life in confinement
And no one ever comes near.
To watch him He looks rather lonely
He is lost that is perfectly clear.
Once a child in the arms of his mother
And his father would always be near.
But parants don't last forever
And soon they are no longer here
Now there  is nobody out there
To chase away all of his fears.
He walks to his flat he has no one
Loneliness his only friend
Is this what he really lives for
With nothing to show at the end.
Let's start from the very beginning
It happens in this day and age
Take note of this lonely stranger
Invisible in so many ways.
Watched a documentary a couple of years ago about the amount
Of people who live on their own it was amassing. Although this poem
Is a true case of a man who really was let down by the people around
Him saddly he was like being invisible  in the eyes of the world.
He just didn't fit in with others .
King Panda Sep 2015
my love has 1000x
the energy of a
dead corpse

viscosity

singing telephone
wire

aeolion
harp

my heart beats
like a rabbit’s

me
the prey
crouching in
tall grass
ears flat
legs ready
to spring
with dusk’s
breath

I will continue
to shake
with this
expression
Hg Dec 2018
rapunkzel, rapunkzel
shaved off her hair
goldie locks chopped off
long with her cares

rapunkzel, rapunkzel
takes every dare
hits on death
as if it’s a snare

rapunkzel, rapunkzel
black bra and sheer
self poked tatts
and new ****** pierce

rapunkzel, rapunkzel
immune to fear
once upon a crime
grew up with it near

they held her captive
kept up the stairs
with no parents
put in foster care

never had a youth
or someone to care
dragged down the hall
by her curly hair

rapunkzel, rapunkzel
got out of there
got her own flat
and full length mirror

rapunkzel, rapunkzel
smiled and stared
at her buzzcut
at last feeling fair
©Hg
Zeeb Jul 2018
Tool of desperate confrontation
Object of pride for a grateful nation
In Baton Rouge on the mighty river
Kidd rests proudly
376' length overall,  Fletcher Class destroyer
Like every ship, of oil she does smell
When I boarded her, she had something to tell

I was with a scoutmaster, my son and the boys
Concerned with their fun, and the making of noise
But late in the night, as quiet set in
Kidd started whispering, to my within

She spoke of the men who gave up their lives
Their children, their girls, the tears of their wives
Thirty-eight men, in fiery fuel
Hell's agony touched, a death so cruel
Fifty-five more, burned badly that day
Defending our country, our homage we pay
Visiting sailors will stand at attention
… and for a young Kamikaze, scarcely a mention

The big war was over, Kidd passed her test
Now to San Diego, for a permanent rest
But as men will prescribe, it didn’t last long
Kidd went back into action, near Korea’s Kaesong

When in Baton Rouge, you can visit the Kidd
If you’re bold, listen carefully, just as I did
You'll get half of the story, the rest we don't know
The men who have fallen, to Kidd's mighty blow

Let's set now a new tone and have us some fun
The Kidd's crew were pirates but they didn't run ***

Those flat-tops were fancy, their flyers elite
In the galley was ice-cream, their reward and their treat
When a pilot was downed, Kidd quickly steamed
Then radioed the skipper, "your man for  ice-cream"
Keiya Tasire Mar 14
When roaring sorrow
Uproots you
Envision a lotus staying
Gently a float upon the pond
The sun's soothing, comforting, light
Breathing in and gently out
Releasing gripping hands
Clasped around an oar.
No need to leave
No need to go
Deep sorrow of your heart beating
Rivers of Love's tears upon the pond.
Yet the sunshine never fails.
Floating  to and fro
To that perfect spot
Within the same pond
The Lotus flower
Sends it's tap root deep
Taking root
Once again
Among the other lotus blossoms
Growing up from
The pond's murky floor.
In the first year after a loved one dies, it is best to not to make any huge changes within the first year. A person needs their community, for support and love. To move away will make this task more difficult. If a person stays they will find the arms of caring and loving friends and family to see them through their time of grief and loss. For a person, who is grieving to come to serenity it seems to take the support of loving others who open the healing door with compassion, understanding and the insight gained from their own past griefs.
Wade Redfearn Jul 2018
It isn't like that.
It isn't a left turn too early,
a lark awake at night,
thick brown light in an open field;
unpredictable: a bad or counter-miracle.
It is only wanton.

You know how it is
Suddenly, something trapped between your toes:
the world has a strangled voice, it is
unroofed. You want the comfort of normal walls,
normal light, normal noise; in your hand
is a hot brand you'd halfway use
to smith it back together
and halfway swallow.
I had different plans for this vacation
than destruction.

I had plans. You had plans. The earth
planned its axial tilt; the weather planned
its burning; we put aside too little water.
A few plants were familiar -
the ruined piñon pine I remembered from the placard.
One lonesuch tree that made a little niche
at a defiant angle into the air
and outlived all except its orphaning.
How we thought we could fare better, I cannot say.

Ten feet up by one hundred feet over:
one liter water per mile climbed:
fatigue. Fatigue.
The quiet supremacy of all these rules for living like
transit and occultation
refraction and dimness
exertion
hunger
peristalsis pulling down
huge loads of sunlight
into the ***** gully
like bread and meat.

You will not see the bottom
no matter how hard you look.

If blood I am, then what kind of blood?
Unsettled and unsettling. The circulatory system
has an apt name: sometimes I can feel yesterday's blood
in the same neurons, saying the same thing.
I have no choice but to repeat it.
Time sheds its significance.
I have no continuity:
I have rhythms.

The new day, on fire and sitting in the trickle
you held a golden fish in your palm
as if you had made it by will
and cupped, it circled in the valley of your fingers
and I ate from the vision of care.

Erosion: isn't that what made these furrows?
I beg it to unmake me
flat like a seabed and many fathoms green
where the sun will never reach me.

In the penumbra of your anger
I do not fear dying,
only dying unclean.
Heights are all the same.
They would all break me and none would enough.
The grasshoppers and gecko hatchlings
all die in their way, rubbed in the hot dry dust.
Parched, I gnash my stone teeth
and tongue of chaparral -
I am making a song to say
die with me
but smile at me.

Then I see it through flashes of temper,
frame by frame, like a fingertip behind a pinwheel:
a dream of something distant that is also true.
Dreams of freedom alongside dreams of dying.
Sam Hawkins Apr 2013
What we have named Fire Escape
(an ordered, angular tangle of ladders and rail)
had made picture geometries in my west window
well-framed and flat--set foreground and background
in two dimensions, as the sun hid,
and my round eye opened.

What we have named Fire Escape
was flaked-paint brown orange, as if
first it had been born of a flame
and then had taken up living as metal--
tempered itself into usefulness,
which I should trust now, in case of the yelling
and the engines.

What we have named Fire Escape
was happy Jungle Jim or Jungle for Jane
for the sparrows I saw this morning
which flitted and wildly played
within, rising up
arched and back again.

Made of the square pairs of ladder rungs--
a tunnel entrance or ducking posts,
or highway bridges to clear;
the birds like small plane, daredevil pilots
each following each, going under.
No sparrow would ever crash.

And what is this I remember now?
How one bird eased its engine and perched there to stay?
As if to offer me, with a little turn of head gesture--
a thank you, for the bread I'd left on the sill? Or to say  
I'd better shut the curtain and make my exit?

Either prideful guess gets me nowhere fast.
Failed even is speaking in any sparrow languages
from my recline stuffed chair; again, but now imagined,
to draw beady eyes to fix on me, telling me much less.

That morning, with the very last sparrow gone,
I remember that nothing in my sight moved,
save an American flag at a distance in the wind,
with its one red-white striped wing
waving toward the cold north,
as the white church spire,
framed in open quadrilaterals,
held its position.
written and posted a few hours before the Boston Marathon Bombing, Monday April 15th, 2013
Stephen E Yocum Oct 2014
Fourteen years old and thinking I was older.
'Assistant Maintenance Man' at a Public School
Summer Camp. Billy Deitz had just graduated
High School, I thought him the coolest guy
I knew. The first week was ended, the little
kids gone home, a new batch in two days time.

We did our work, cleaned and swept, sweated
in the summer sun. Took the old surplus Jeep
over to the creek and plunged ourselves in.
Deitz had some beer in an Ice chest, I drank
one, my first ever. We shot his 22 for a while
and ate PBJs in the shade. Then we heard it.

A train horn in the mountains is a haunting
call. It does not seem to belong there among
evergreen trees and massive granite boulders.
We drove the hell out of the Jeep and found
our way to the down grade tracks. And there
she was maybe 50 cars long, snaking her way
from the summit of the Sierras out of California
into Nevada. Through the Pass over a hairpin
filled course hugging the skirts of the rock face
mountains, slowly rolling her massive load
pushing her four engines, breaks a screeching
in protest. "Click Clack, Click Clack", her steel
wheels clanging upon the rails, a rhythm like
her train heart beating.

Deitz grabbed his coat and tied it round his waist,
looped a canteen over his head, "Lets go kid!"
I did what he said, and then we were running
along beside the box cars, more a trot than a run,
"Do what I do!" Deitz yelled over his shoulder.
A flat car with some machinery approached and
He grabbed on to it and pulled himself aboard,
I copied his moves and he helped pull me up
and then there we stood on the deck of that
moving, mountain ship, with her grunting and
shaking under our feet. We could feel all her
massive weight and power vibrating up through
that wooden plank deck of the flat bed car,
entering our legs and spines. . . It was thrilling!

I had not had time to think all this through,
"Now what?" I asked some what perplexed
"Reno Kid." Deitz yelled with a grin.  

We climbed atop a Box Car, our ship crawled
out of the upper pass and we stared down
upon Donner Lake far below. Looking behind
and ahead it was hard to understand how they
had cut that track out of solid rock and how it
maintained it's frail finger tip grip on the sheer
mountain side.

We ducked nearly flat going through the snow
tunnels, the clearance was tight and it seemed
that a guy could lose his head. The diesel thick
air made us cover mouth and nose with our shirts.
Two tunnels in we noticed our faces getting
smoke blackened. We laughed at the joke.
Doing black face on a boxcar in a tunnel of wood.
Two city kids playing Hobo.

We reached the lower valley, passed the place
where the Donner Party met their grisly end.

Truckee was next and the highway grew close.
We got back down onto the flat car and hold
up by the machine cargo, more or less out of sight.

I thought of all the down on their luck men that
had ridden those rails, not on a some lark. That
whole Grapes Of Wrath, Woody Guthrie period
of no joke, for real ****. Pushed by poverty and hope.

I must admit at that moment, I felt more alive than
at any other time in my life. I felt grown up, like a man.
Until my belly began to rumble, the speed increased
and the wind began to chill. The Click Clacks of the
wheels quickened and grew irritatingly redundant.
The loud wailing of the engine horn no longer exciting.
Now only hurt my ears.

It was dark by the time we hit Reno, we jumped off
before the train yard. Walked into town with its
bright lights calling the casino gamers to unholy service
and nightly prayer. Proceeded over by hard-bitten
dealers in communal black, with cigarettes dangling
from their unsmiling lips, possessing the empty
dead eyes of the badly used up and down-trodden.
Through the ***** windows, the people there seemed
to possess no joy in their sluggish endeavors.
Both players and dealers all losers, merely Automatons
of those games of chance.

Reno was still rough-hewn in those days, a hard
scrabble place full of cigarette smoke, ******,
card tables, slot machines and not much else.
It seemed to reek of lonely desperation.

Having seen our soot ***** faces in the
window reflection, we washed up some
in the cold river that runs through town.

We walked around a bit, ate some hot dogs,
Downed a Doctor Pepper.
"Now what Deitz?"
"**** I don't know kid,
first time I ever did anything like this."

"What?" My world collapsed right then,
I thought he was much more than
he turned out to be. Maybe everyone is.
I even started to get a little scared.
No money, no place to stay and apparently,
like most of the denizens there, **** out ah'
luck. I'd never felt that way before, from
mountain high to valley low in two hours.
All that excitement turned to Dread.

We hitched a ride with a long haired
guy of questionable gender,
who kept staring at me in the rearview mirror.
West, to a Truck Stop on the edge of town.
Found a trucker willing to give us a lift back
up to the summit.
Jumped in and were happy to find,
that his cab heater worked just fine.

Badly judged our get out spot and searched
and stumbled around in the shadowy dark,
dim moonlight looking for that **** jeep,
all that friggin' night.

When the guy that ran the camp returned
and found us sleeping at half past two,
in the afternoon, to say the least,
He was not amused.

Need I say, I felt much older that day
and a little wiser too.
I know this is too long, more a short story than
a poem. A memory stirred up by a write of a HP
friend W L Winter about riding a box car. Little
stories recalled and shared. Too long to read,
I'll understand, I wrote it for me and my kids.
Bison Jun 2016
I have expanded through one million dimensions and still I remain flat.
Paper walls surrender my paper heart to the words that erase themselves with age.

If there is meaning I find it meaningless unless you got it right in one guess.
Can you feel blood in my lost chest as it circulates? Maybe that's a mistake.

Do dead men tell no tales or maybe they spin them lacking air to rattle through ragged dead lungs still pink yet misunderstood? Dust that settles behind twinkling stars lets me down above this silent neighborhood.

I think we all grow up to be pirates, Y'know the kind that the Pan hates?
Betraying our childhood dreams and aspirations for backgreens and exasperations.

If this ship is sinking I want to be the anchor, watch it all crash down in slow motion, while it buries me at the bottom of your endless ocean.
Tick, tick, tick. The clock have ceased their tocks.

Cover to cover I think I have found another darling. Can this tale continue to spin while the world above changes page by page?
Exploring stories that stand up to the test of time. Peter Pan has always been a fascinating idea to me. Thank you for reading!
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