"frankie" poems
Oh, what a horrible night
Definitely not late December back in '63
These are the Frankie valleys of my days
Night is always black
Night always comes back
Night envelopes us in the abyss
And makes us cherish light
Heightening our senses
To help us handle the unknown
When my days are filled with stimulation
The stillness of night sinks me
Into quicksand mixed by
The current of my mind
Overflowing into the sands of time
And reminds me
Of the stillness of my eyes locked on you
Or the stillness of my actions as you walk by
Or the stillness of my heart when you call me a ******
My frustration boiled
Night's black tar
So I bottled it up
Placed it in a syringe
And medicated my love with darkness
I worked my first job at the local Kroger's
People would leave with everything they wanted
And I'd push their empty carts back into the store
The artificial lights of the street lamps
Lacked warmth
Their hypnotic buzz highlighted
The stillness of night
Making me wonder if there was any way I could be happy
Similar to when activity would die down in rehab
A pitiful wretch left to his faculties
I'd stare out the window
Into the concrete chasm
And wonder if happiness could be found by someone like me
Night continues
Night confines
Day comes
And goes
Night returns
Night reburns
Night relearned
I really hate to see the day come to an end
It'd be alright if I was on the bay with a pen
But I live near sulfur vents
Inside a searing tent
Where the hellacious temperature rises rapidly
Despite the absence of the sun's warmth
The hellfire of night
Reminisces of those
I have thoroughly failed
And my overwhelming remorse
As I stare out my window
Into the bramble ravine
I wonder about the possibility of contentment
The stillness of night answers me
But at least now I can open the door
And charge into the night headstrong
To search frantically
For someone who
Erases my history
And writes my future
And makes me wonder if I could ever be happier
Jul 11, 2017
Jul 11, 2017 at 4:13 AM UTC
romeo is bleeding but not so as you'd notice
he's over on 18hh street as usual
lookin' so hard
against the hood of his car
and puttin' out a cigarette in his hand
and for all the pachucos at the pumps
at romeros paint and body
they all seein' how far they can spit
well it was just another night
but how they're huddled in the brake lights
of a 58 belair
and listenin' to how romeo killed a sherrif his knife
and they all jump when they hear the sirens
but romeo just laughs
and says all the racket in the world
ain't never gonna save that coppers ***
he'll never see another summertime
for gunnin' down my brother
and leavin' him like a dog beneath a car without his knife
and romeo says hey man gimme a cigarette
and they all reach for their pack
and frankie lights it for him
and pats him on the back
and throws bottle at a milk truck
and as it breaks he grabs his nuts
and they all know they could be just like romeo
if they only had the guts
but romeo is bleeding
but nobody can tell
and he sings along with the radio with a bullet in his chest
and he combs back his fenders and they all agree its clear
that every thing is cool now that romeos here
but romeo is bleeding and he winces now and then
and he leans against the car doors
and feels the blood in his shoes
and someones crying in the phone booth at the 5 points by the store
romeo starts his engine and wipes the blood off the door
and he brodys through the signal
with the radio full blast
leavin' the boys there hikin' up there chinos
and they all try to stand like romeo
beneath the moon cut like a sickle
and they're talkin' now in spanish about there hero
but romeo is bleeding
as he gives the man his ticket
and he climbs to the balcony at the movies
and he'll die without a wimper
like every heros dream
just like an angel with a bullet
and cagney on the screen
Jan 1, 2013
Jan 1, 2013 at 7:16 PM UTC
In my "Thought for the Day XLIII" (43), I spoke of poets that have been with me, and supported me for quite some time. Sally and Pradip have been with me since my first posting, "1894", nearly two years ago, and I have "adopted" Vicki, Catherine, Ryn, Deborah, Pamela Rae,and others along the way. There is Quinn, Phil, Pradip, Francie, Frankie J, Mike, John, Nat, SE Reimer, Sverre, "The 'Ole Storyteller!" and,"Larry, Moe, and Curly Joe!"
Unfortunately, I cannot list everyone, in fear of overlooking writers who, collectively, mean so much to me. Please forgive me for that.
I will continue to "do my best" for all of the poets/writers/contributors to the HP site. I do not write for monetary remuneration, but for relaxation and recreation, with the end result, hopefully, bringing a smile to my peers. I thank all of you for allowing me to attempt, and occasionally, reach that goal.
Sincerely
Richard Riddle- June 03, 2015
Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 9:35 AM UTC
I'm a DJ, a Disk jockey.
My fingers are like a jockey stick.
I breathe and live House music.
The first descendant of Disco music.
I'm the descendant of Frankie Knuckles.
My tunes ease listener's glooms.
I'm a predator, music beats are my prey.
House music is the only language I understand.
I busk locally and internationally.
I'm a beast, not just any beast.
Beast that play 4/4 repetitive beats.
I play tunes that move with heart beats.
My tunes aren't restricted to race or religion.
Behind the deck, I'm thee "House beast"
May 16, 2018
May 16, 2018 at 7:17 PM UTC
I thought about this long and hard
In fact I thought about it all the time
What would happen to belly button lint
If you set the stuff on fire
I collected more than enough
Over the years to see this through
So I went and invited a few friends along
The word it spread and the crowd it grew
All the folk from the town came out
They'd been collecting belly button lint just like I had
Not quite as impressive a pile as mine
I guess I'm the biggest belly button lint dust collecting man
That's (B.B.B.L.D.C.M.) if you want to simplify who it is I am
You might think that's something to be proud of
And believe me when I say that I am
After I got through signing autographs
We proceeded with my grand plan
The crowd stepped up one by one
To toss their lint onto the pile
Coming close to blocking out the moon
As the pile grew ever higher
(Finally the time had come to light up
the famed belly button lint dust fire)
It was Frankie who spoke up first
And said he'd be honored to flick his bic
That was the very last time we saw any of him
Frankie and the lint lit up like a rocket ship
When the shock wore off I turned around
And saw the whole town up in flames
I've had a lot of great ideas before
I'm not quite sure this was one of them
I now live in a hippie commune in the woods
Since my towns no longer there
It's kind of lonely without Frankie around
Although there's still that lingering hint of burning hair
I no longer collect belly button lint these days
I sure learned my lesson with that
Haven't worked out the details of my next grand idea
But I can tell you it involves a big ball of my ear wax
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 8:06 AM UTC
I think the end is mine to write (Cry For You, September)
Tell me darlin’ where do we begin? (Feel Good Drag, AnBerlin)
And if I die baby just know that I never got over you (Clocks Remix, Tito Lopez ft. Coldplay)
I’ll never give myself to another like I gave it to you (Rehab, Rihanna)
Cause anything worth my love is worth a fight (I’m Free, Kenny Loggins)
You got me lifted shifted higher than the ceiling (Sugar Sugar, Baby Bash ft. Frankie J)
Why deny it? It cannot wait I’m yours (I Won’t Say I’m In Love, Hercules) (I’m Yours, Jason Mraz)
Why don’t you sit right down and stay awhile? (Why Do You Let Me Stay Here?, She and Him)
We can share a cigarette cause we’re both fools (Yesterday, Atmosphere)
I can’t believe that’s what you said, I wonder am I sick? (Disco, Metro Station)
And all of these emotions are pouring out of me (Soundtrack 2 My Life, KiD CuDi)
Nothin’ heard nothin’ said, can’t even speak about it (Disturbia, Rihanna)
Cause when a heart breaks, it don’t break even (Breakeven, The Script)
I don’t know what’s right and what’s real anymore (The Fear, Lily Allen)
And I don’t know how I’m meant to feel anymore (The Fear, Lilly Allen)
Take me to all that we had, the good and the bad (Never Forget You, Lupe Fiasco ft. John Legend)
These tears didn’t care, they just hung in the air and refuse to fall (Crooked Teeth, Death Cab For Cutie)
This is the way it’s really going down, is this how we say goodbye? (What Goes Around, J.T.)
Know that you could set the world on fire (Walking On Air, Kerl)
If you are strong enough to leave your doubt (Walking On Air, Kerl)
But baby, you make me better (You Make Me Better, Ne Yo ft. Fabulous)
And it makes me feel so fine I can’t control my brain (Island in the Sun, Weezer)
I keep on runnin’ and nothin’ helps, I can’t get away from you (Erase Me, KiD CuDi ft. Kanye West)
We can’t rewind now, we’ve gone too far (The Internet Killed the Video Star, The Limousines)
And all I could do was think about sleeping next to you (Reflections, Atmosphere)
No matter where I am, no matter what I do, I’m always coming back home to you (Always Coming Back Home to You, Atmosphere)
Apr 25, 2011
Apr 25, 2011 at 3:20 PM UTC
god is the devil and the devil is bob
god is the devil and the devil is bob
god is the devil and the devil is bob
you see god triumphs all over poor bob
you see today bob was going to the local bowling alley to reform the messiah, you see
this person believes he is the messiah, and his mate brian was annoying the pants off him
by every time he got a strike, brian copies TV, saying, yes, there is a GOD, about 100 times
and drove the messiah nuts, saying why are you saying this, then brian got another strike
and said it again, yes, there is a god, and the next miss, brian will say 100 times , no there isn’t a god
brian never offended the messiah, but he said, yes there is a god, or no there isn’t a god about 100 times
and at the end when brian got 182 as his bowling score, brian yelled out, yes, there is a god up there
and when someone got the same score, he said, there is no god, it still drove the messiah nuts
and bob delahunty said, why are you saying he drives you nuts, he is a family person, you can
learn a lot from brian, and brian sang we are the champions, the messiah left going
god is the devil, and the devil is bob
god is the devil and the devil is bob
god is the devil and the devil is bob
GOD THE DEVIL AND THE MIGHTY BOB
bob delahunty wanted to understand the messiah, so he made brian and the messiah go to a ACT Brumbies game
and brian filled with the simpsons lines in his head, went go brumbies, go brumbies, and when they dropped the ball
brian yelled out we stink we stink we stink, and it happened again, the brumbies ran up the field with brian saying
go brumbies go brumbies go brumbies go, and they dropped the ball, and brian said we stink we stink we stink
and the messiah, who has bionic hearing said, the two islanders behind us, said, why does he keep doing that
and brian said, he was copying frankie j holden on TV, or trying to be the GOOFY homer simpson, which to brian’s
opinion is cool, it was the messiah that has the problem, and the messiah walked away saying
god is the devil and the devil is brian
god is the devil and the devil is brian
god is the devil and the devil is brian
god the devil and annoying old brian
and then bob delahunty decided to follow brian and the messiah around, and it seemed brian had a point
every time the messiah had problems, he would yell out, GOD DOESN’T WANT ME TO HAVE ******* FUN EVER IN MY LIFE
and the messiah would say that again and again, saying god doesn’t want me to that or this or every fucken thing
you see, the messiah wanted to live with some old soccer mates, better than brian because he was a total ****** and brian
said, i am not a ****** i am trying to be nice to you, allowing to go to the coast together, and to the movies
and you still say, and making me say god doesn’t want me to have fun ever in my life, and bob gave brian the messiahs drug to
help him beat the ****** in him, and stop that silly thing to say of god doesn’t want me to do that, it forced brian’s best school mate
ripping into brian’s head after hearing he is a buddhist, saying sit there, buddha doesn’t want you to go on the computer
and i told that voice, buddha wants me to join the next generation, which is better than being a ****** saying, if i eat a banana
god will punnish my family, and force people into rioting with one another, brian knows they wanna party, and bob told the
messiah, the way to make you better dear child, is split this friendship, ok, so the messiah walked away singing
god is the devil and the devil is bob
god is the devil and the devil is god
god is the devil and the devil is god
GOD THE DEVIL AND MY MATE OLD CHUM BOB
god is the devil and the devil is god
god is the devil and the devil is god
god is the devil and the devil is bob
god the devil and BUDDHA AND THE JEWS, makes bobs day really complete
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 3:57 AM UTC
(10/6/11) Halloween
Let me give an update of Halloween night
When Freddie Krueger and Jason got into a fight.
Blood was flying all around
Yet not one of them made a sound.
Their instruments of death as sharp as can be
And the ending - no one could foresee.
They were joining forces for Halloween night
Since all the Halloween crowd would be waiting for them
Because at midnight the scaring would end.
Now that all the revelers were here
They would plan their rants and jeers.
FREDDIE would pull them out of bed
Then the GRIM REAPER would cut off their heads
Then DRACULA would **** them dry
And their bodies the goblins would hide.
The GHOSTS and WITCHES decided to do their thing
And the frightened victims they would bring.
The GHOULS and WEREWOLF would roam the alleyways
To ensure those that were hidden would not stay.
Now there was FRANKIE, the MUMMY , JASON ,
and the GOBLINS too
They’d hide in the shadows waiting for you.
FRANKIE ,the MUMMY, and JASON were all slow walkers
But they was great as shadow stalkers.
The GOBLINS would trip them to the ground
And jump on them before they could make a sound.
To the graveyard at midnight they would go
Man oh man ! What a wonderful show.
To their places of eternal rest, till next year
When they’ll do their best.
Look at that cemetery and you will see
That this is where they have to be.
Oct 6, 2011
Oct 6, 2011 at 7:27 PM UTC
bunny blue
is a baby rabbit
that lost her mom
to a hunters habit
she now has befriended
a squirrel named frankie
thats often happy
but sometimes cranky
they hang around
and like to play
till the night comes
and ends the day
at first light
there back outside
laughing
playing
and being sly
they are the closest
two friends can be
have a look
and you will see
one day
bunny blue came out
and frankie was nowhere about
she looked around
all day long
her very good friend
was nowhere to be found
the news it came
from her friend
the racoon
frankie
got hit
yesterday afternoon
bunny blue
could not stop crying
certainly her friend
the **** was lying
now she sees
the truth so sad
she hopped to the street
and it was bad
a smile on his face
his eyes shut tight
there frankie was
in the middle of the street
there in his mouth
was a bright orange carrot
he got it for blue
and couldn't wait to share it
bunny blue
stopped crying a moment
she said a prayer and wanted to show it
blue took the carrot
from her good friend
kissed him goodbye
and said
i love you frankie
i will see you again
in heaven
my friend
Apr 25, 2013
Apr 25, 2013 at 3:50 AM UTC
*[Note: Subject X's accounts contain no record of a proper name.
The following is Subject X's first entry and is believed to have been written shortly after the Time Anomaly began]*
A Full Stop?
It's all been suspended... The birds, the deer, the breeze... All of life in animate suspense... except for us, the people...
On April 18th 1955, as best as can be described, time itself-- the fundamental instrument of evolution and Life-- stopped. At exactly 7:20 am, as per the Clocktower at the end of main street. As per the pocket watch in my hand. As per the alarm clock upon my nightstand. As per the humming birds suspended mid flight in my front garden.
All of nature, still...
Have we come to a "Full Stop"?
Ask me how long it's been... ask me.
It feels as though it's been a few "days". The only indicator I have of this, is the panic spreading rapidly across town.
"Frankie's kid just dropped dead. Running track. The kid was in better shape than "Mickey" Hargitay. Collapsed halfway through his 4th lap... Nothing but skin and bones, they found. Barely a body-- you would have thought it was an old man.", told stories of high crass.
"My mother passed last night... she walked... She walked and aged a week with every step.... too weak to barely speak, she whispered, 'Here.'
After 2,600 steps the bony woman clinging to my arm-- my own flesh and bone, my creator--
laid to rest." , told stories of elegance.
As for me...
The only time I know is written on my face...
Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 1:40 AM UTC
A caterpillar had the feeling
That change was coming
That time was stealing.
To embrace the metamorphosis
It wove a cocoon around its chest
And choose our wall to take its rest.
The young are thoughtless, often cruel
And I was no exception.
I would have destroyed it but
for Frankie’s intervention.
Frankie lived in the corner house
He was older and quite wise.
He taught me that this green cocoon
would change into a butterfly.
He bade me watch, he had me wait
to see the wonder taking shape.
We saw the Monarch first take wing
once caterpillar, now a King.
Several summers passed us by.
I still lived but Frankie died-
He was nineteen, Young and brave
A landmine put him in his grave.
He died just before Saigon’s fall
His name’s inscribed upon the Wall
Corporal Frank Evangelista Junior,
beloved by mother and mourned by sister.
He was too good, too young to die.
He would have been a butterfly.
Nov 22, 2011
Nov 22, 2011 at 5:11 PM UTC
1. Understand Weather.
(Strangers on a bench,
Looking up.)
“Cirrus, I think.
Cirrocumulus?”
“Stratus surely.
Or altocumulus.”
(You must also hate the cold
And the sun,
And always wish the current season
Was a different one.)
2. Never Be Honest About Stuff That Hurts.
Pain so bad
Can’t even **** –
“How are you, Arthur?”
“Brilliant, thanks!”
3. Have An Opinion On These People
Katie Price (Feminist? Witch?)
Kate Moss (Goddess? *****
Stephen Fry (Snob? Wilde?)
Frankie Boyle (Offensive? Mild?)
4. Never Talk About Money.
“So.” An American asks. “How much do ya make?”
“I…I…Oh My God look at that dog over there that has a face like a pancake!”
5. Learn How To Apply The Class System To Cigarettes.
Pipe – Monty Withnail
Silk Cut – Comfortably Middle.
Lucky Strikes – Probably not British.
B&H; – Shops at Lidl.
6. Secretly (Or Openly) Enjoy The Royal Family
“So, did you hear what they called the baby?”
My boyfriend shrugs and says -
“I don’t give one tiny ****
“They named him George. Isn’t that twee?”
“Aw ******* hell, I had a tenner on Louis!”
7. Hey Jude.
If all else fails,
At the end of the night,
Sing na-na-na
And it’ll be alright.
8. Never Complain About Your Meal
“Hm. These mussels look a bit suspect.”
“How’s your meal, Sir?”
“Perfect!”
9. Always Hate The French, (Even If Your Own Mother Is French)
Numberplate 'F'
On an articulated lorry.
“Stuck up…onion…bastards.”
(I’m sorry mum, I’m so sorry!)
10. ‘Jerusalem’
Mime a sword in your hand,
Bang your chest with devotion,
Wave the sword about,
Sing with emotion.
Sep 27, 2013
Sep 27, 2013 at 10:35 AM UTC
'..and now the end is near'
Frankie sang it loud and clear
Did you hear..
..it?
Sentiments so full of sh*t..I could laugh.
This staff of life is full of go
But I ain't going nowhere yet.
And certainly not in a bereavement column
Them things is full of far to solemn.
And anyway..I got a date next Saturday
Can't be late for that
Can't be laid out flat
How would it look to her..?..
..who's had more than her share of half dead men.
When I hear that song..
I know it's time to move along and swing my feet
Not yet going to meet my maker.
Going to take her..out
Dance and then another laugh.
In the cafe my friends all sit
Waiting for the day to hit
But not me.
Feb 8, 2013
Feb 8, 2013 at 11:55 AM UTC
Leaflet through the door on a 5K run for charity.
Spam email on the benefits of the Paleo eating regime.
Pals posting photo's of culinary creations on Facebook,
and Im in the queue for the food bank;
a hand to mouth existence.
In Scotland, half the people in poverty are working families
struggle to survive day-to-day and the basics of food to live
being asked to work longer hours for less money
while the politicians say they have nothing more to give
and the "Queen talks about austerity while wearing a £1 million hat"
(I'll thank Frankie Boyle for his razor sharp insights on that)
and Im in the queue for the food bank;
a hand to mouth existence.
Contrary to common misconception it doesn't always rain in Scotland.
This week its been 26 degrees, and Glasgow is awash in t-shirts and shorts, and beer gardens with bees. Cold beer never looked so refreshing.
West Enders in their top-down convertibles extolling the virtues of organic produce from Peckhams and their exclusivity price-point gourmet cheeses,
and Im in the queue for the food bank;
a hand to mouth existence.
Jun 20, 2014
Jun 20, 2014 at 9:49 AM UTC
The first word in Arabic
You ever taught me
Was Aoheb:
Love,
Spelled G-I-V-E
The kind that
I forgot what I was
When I felt you holding me.
But only privately.
Like crossing the street,
We look both ways
Before our hands meet.
Because even though
it's okay for me
Culturally..
We don't do that
Until we're married.
But just like
The next words
You taught me,
Ana fahemt:
I understand.
Like that time
I called you a beautiful Woman..
You got so mad because
You want to stay a girl forever.
Baby,
I never
Want to grow up
Together
I want to grow in.
So give me a garden
To come home to
Give me a heart
I can roam through
When it's 3AM
And both of us
Have **** to. do.
One day,
When we're tired
Of learning each other's language
You can call me Frankie,
And frankly,
I'll fly you to the moon.
Give my very breath to you
I'll keep you so warm
In my arms that baby,
Your blood will boil.
And I don't mean to spoil the fun
But could you please put that
Super cute face of yours away?
Because
Your smile,
Is so bright
Solar radiation
Needs sunglasses.
And even though
You're sweet as molasses
I don't think that Nasa's
Satellites can handle that
Amount of sunshine right now.
I think
"Ana bufuker."
...really? .. "Ana buhfucker?..
Whatever.. Ana bafaker:
I think,
Google translate is awful.
Especially when it involves
Conversations with your
Your dad and me
Because honestly
I always think I'm gonna
Say the wrong thing
At the wrong time.
And I always just end up
Saying the wrong thing
at the wrong time.
But somehow you always
Seem to know how to
read my mind.
So
Habiby. Aomry. Hayaty.
My love, My life, My age...
...And the rest of the poem is none of your business.
Truly. It's between that girl and I.
But I will say this though:
We don't talk much anymore
And I'm not really sure why.
But I know that
Somewhere out there,
In-between all of the ********
Of our daily lives;
There is a girl that
Is going to speak my language.
Sep 19, 2015
Sep 19, 2015 at 11:19 PM UTC
She kept bringing
abstracts out from
a huge cardboard box
as the next artwork
revealed itself
the box produced another
more bizarre than the last.
Drawn on pizza boxes
maccaroni,glued and painted
kleenex box canvases
and a few done in ketchup.
She kept pulling them out
and she was loaded.
I drank my beer
and I sort of saw
I kinda felt where
they came from.
The Greek laughed
and cursed
I've thrown them away many times
but she keeps digging them out of the trash
I'll throw them away again
into the trash
with her wine bottles
and stripper clothes
he sat down
hit his joint.
Why don't you
let her keep these
I asked the Greek.
Because it's garbage
she too is garbage
her,and her art
both garbage.
She mumbled
something not hearable
while clutching her
baby doll.
I walked to the can
and threw away
my empty bottle.
I wanted to give
this to you and
I handed Frankie
the drawing I had made him.
He seemed pleased
and handed me another beer.
The Greek thought it
was **** I could tell.
He told me my garbage
wasn't any better than
her garbage artwork.
The energy's gotta
go somewhere
might as well be on these
canvases and pizza
boxes I said.
We sat there
for a few more hours
as Frankie finished
my Ruin symbols on
his large,silver grinder.
The Greek and the girl
finally left the
room and i was
relieved and the
room slowly
lost it's superfluous
tension.
I sat there in
Vegas staring
at the box of
GARBAGE
Dec 4, 2012
Dec 4, 2012 at 10:03 PM UTC
She slowly started to hear what sounded like whispers in the distance, her mind was at ease though. It felt like a bed she was laying on, plush, maybe even extra pillows under her head. Her face ached more than she thought possible and trying to open her eyes made her head throb more than she could stand.
There was a shadow in the distance, a man, standing perfectly still. She could only make out his shape but he seemed familiar, friendly. She finally felt safe though, for the first time in days. The man said something she couldn't understand, then he rushed to her side.
"Clara, you're awake! Finally! It's been 12 hours. How are you feeling?" he said rushed and excitedly.
"Uncle Frankie?" she asked weakly.
"Yes Sweetie, I'm here, you're safe now" he said with a big awkward smile. He'd always been awkward, since she was a little girl, but he was her dad's little brother and she loved him like a father.
"What happened?", she was so confused, the last few days were a blur of fists and guns in her mind.
"Johnny BlackHeart and his crew kidnapped you Clara. They held you captive for days, called us for ransom and demands, said they'd torture you if we didn't comply. We finally found out where they were keeping you yesterday, me and the guys came in guns blazing and killed most of the guards. We thought we'd lost you for a few minutes but George got you out just in time. We're so lucky you made it."
She took all this in and in the next instant all the memories came rushing back, the beatings, the restraints, all of it. She sat up quickly, refusing her uncles hand for help.
"We need a family meeting, now! Get George and the boys in here immediately!" she said angrily.
"What are you going to do?" he asked wearily.
She looked at him like it should have been obvious but she said it anyways, in the calmest voice she could.
"Get Revenge"
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 5:39 PM UTC
I met a Cupid once,
At my cousin's wedding
Androgynous and gay,
It Fluttered among the joyful guests,
Dancing to it's heart's content
It's heart that overflowed and bathed the guests with it's love
I asked the Cupid, "what is your name?"
They responded, "I do not have one.
But it could be Johnny,
That's the name of a boy who spoke things,
Things I loved.
So I mimicked his nose."
"So your name is Johnny?"
"Not necessarily."
"Then what is it!"
"It could be Annie,
That's the name of a girl who never betrayed love,
I love people who are loyal to love.
So I mimicked her kind, honey-filled voice."
"You sure do say love a lot."
"Well of course, I'm a Cupid!"
"Let me guess, you loved a kid named Alex so you mimicked their eyes?"
"Actually it was her teeth."
"Well alright then Frankenstein."
"Did you just name me?"
"It was a nickname, a joke."
The Cupid laughs gaily
"I love the things you say."
"They're nothing but a bunch of annoying questions."
"But you're curious about love aren't you, little one?
That's why you're curious about me."
I stubbornly avoid their eyes
"Look away for too long and love will disappear."
"Why should I care, Frankie?"
"Now I'm sure you named me!"
My childish antics seemed to amuse the Cupid,
But their antics seemed to draw my attention in as well
It's smile softened and in one sentimental assault it said
"I love you."
That word rubs me the wrong way,
and coming from Frankie it was no different
Too many people abuse it,
Making it cheap and worthless
But something pure about the sparkle in Frankie's eyes,
The wrinkle in their nose,
The sincerity in their voice,
And their big toothy grin,
Hit my heart like an arrow on the bullseye,
And made my chest feel warm and fuzzy
That feeling stayed with me long after the Cupid had gone
And I thought to myself
"I don't dislike this feeling...
In fact
I might just love it."
Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 4:10 PM UTC
Oh, that (SHE), who once aglow
And lithe with youthfulness, would know,
That years must come to take their toll
Drape tiny fractures on the doll
Whose porcelain, once flawless smile
Now framed in tiny lattices, compiled
Of wrinkles, faint to puckered lips,
(to complement the shapely hips),
Which, when worn with grace of knowing years
Dispel all arrogance of tears,
Allowing, (SHE) to strut her style
Confounding raised eyebrows, awhile.
Allowing (SHE) to work her plan
Of adoring this discerning man.
M.
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 9:57 PM UTC
The show must go on, Frogmore
says, and Lottie sits and has
a quick drag on her cigarette and
sips the foul coffee from the
drinks machine. Legs ache, head
banging, back stiff. She inhales
and thinks of Frankie and his
coming to her place the previous
evening and wanting to stay over
for the night. The cabaret takes it
out of her. The eyes on her, the talk
going on while she and the other
girls do their bit. Frankie such a
sweetheart, such a Mr Softy, curled
up on the sofa, his huge overcoat
as a cover, his head sunk into a
cushion, sleeping. She watches the
smoke rise from the cigarette, she
lifts it and the smoke rises in short
circles, like her father used to do
when she was a kid sitting on his
knee. Watch the smoke Kid, see
how it rises like some kind of message
to the gods. And he laughed about
that back then. She felt safe on his
knee even when he used to let it rise
and fall like some kind of riding horse.
Now it is just the cabaret and the lonely
nights and Frankie on the sofa because
his old lady threw him out and he won’t
sleep with Lottie because he’s a good
Catholic boy and anyways, he said, it’d
get too confusing and he’d just lay there
on the sofa on those nights and she’d lay
alone wanting company and maybe someone
to hug her real close. Hey, Frogmore says,
you in this next dance or what? What do I
pay you for, huh? Sit about and smoke
yourself to death? You want to die do it
in your own time not mine. She stubs out
the cigarette **** and drains the foul coffee
in one last gulp. The music has started up
their theme bit for her and other girls and
out there in the audience drinking, eating
and talking, maybe Frankie staring or her
father with his latest flame without beauty
or brains or nice figure or remembered name.
Jan 24, 2013
Jan 24, 2013 at 5:22 AM UTC
Fly by night,
Or the seat of your pants
Hang on tight,
May I have the next dance?
Take a deep breath,
Or a load off your feet,
Hey pretty mama,
May I sit in this seat?
Snoopy and Sloopy and Sloop John B too
Don’t you know
I think I love you?
All night long,
Nothing else can compare
Mickey Mouse, Elvis, Frankie, Annette
Down on the corner, cool
Cigarette.
All grown up
With no where to go
I left it to ******
But he didn’t know
Wally and Eddie
Were out selling drugs
Popeye and Brutus
Were two vicious thugs.
In the Fifities and Sixties:
It was hard to keep up
“They” fed us the Kool Aid
We drank from the cup.
Kent State and Woodstock
And a man on the moon,
Kaleidoscope childhood,
Ended too soon.
Phil Lindsey 9/16/15
Sep 17, 2015
Sep 17, 2015 at 11:14 AM UTC
Frankie said, “Jane’s okay”
and Jane,…well
she never really liked
Frankie’s way,
Yet his charm and that tattoo
of ‘Mom’ on his arm
made him seem like a nice boy
You see…
he never won her heart
just stole her mind
“In just a matter of time”
he’d brag, “She’ll be mine”
no sooner she was won
with a ring fit for her thumb
Frankie found himself a new toy
Jul 11, 2021
Jul 11, 2021 at 7:29 AM UTC
da da dada yada
da da yada yada
hey hey frankie boy
they give ya praise as got no joy
hey hey frankie you
aint no slave now....are you!!
da da dada yada
da da yada you
ye are as man upon de earth
no matter
no matter
or maybe it matter!
ya da da da da yadda true
da hell wit all des flatterers
oh yeah
yea are soul true
so a guess a death thinkin.....
we gotta
jus to overwhelm da lies
with unceasing
true
truth............
Aug 20, 2010
Aug 20, 2010 at 11:17 AM UTC
When my uncle Frankie died
I didn’t think much about death
or the short fact of living.
I thought about my cousin Siobhan.
Everybody did.
He left 3 children dying,
but Siobhan was already dead -
the part that harvested hope anyway.
But people tend to focus on what’s missing
probably because we're all obsessed with growing.
Anyways, I knew then that she’d try to fill that void
like a hoarder, collecting anything within reach.
But her father’s watch wasn’t a token of relief
it sent her body into epileptic shock,
clutching white-knuckled at his biological clock.
And his glasses? Well she still wears them
but if she misplaces them for a moment
she’s liable to panic into another dimension.
Yes, Frankie’s death defined a tragedy
but Siobhan’s living only defined a tragic heroine
and all anybody could do was study her face,
know when it wrinkled from living
listlessly expressing that void, the missing,
the agonizing in the glass of her eyes
that tells me she’ll never again hear her father call her,
Blondie, creep up behind, massage her tired shoulders
and tell her without words that he will always be there –
there with her.
Siobhan would count her losses like this
making grief tangible in memory –
like the loss of language her and Frankie shared.
Sometimes at night I think of Siobhan
at last thanksgiving watching her daddy wave back to her
on home movies never saying much but smiling wide,
wide enough to make you gulp and twitch
and feel the hairs of your arm rise.
I remembered thinking that not many daddy’s have kindness in their smile.
But I knew then that everybody was playing detective
secretly watching Siobhan, screening her face
for clues to a crime unsolved
talking to every other family member in the room.
I often wished I felt brave enough
to grab her hand and squeeze it to stone
and tell her very “undetective” like,
“If this isn’t love, I don’t know what is.”
Jan 31, 2012
Jan 31, 2012 at 12:27 PM UTC
Frankie and Joni
They were young lovers
Nothing could tear them apart
Don't worry baby, says Frankie to Joni
I'll never do you no harm
In a ****** motel
On the outskirts of town
Joni goes dancing with Jake
The rhythms they make, there aint no doubt
God help them if Frankie found out
A cruel twist of fate
Frankie came home
She found Jake and Joni in bed
In a hail storm of lead from a .38 chrome
Jake and Joni were dead
Frankie and Joni
They were young lovers
Nothing could tear them apart
Say what you will about this thing called love
Some people just aint no **** good
Sep 2, 2016
Sep 2, 2016 at 9:06 PM UTC