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everly Aug 2017
gps
Got so quiet

When I needed rain
You always left me in a drought
So I went a waze
And chose another route
No longer have to deal with fears or doubts
Writing little things here and there to keep my head occupied..got to stay busy to distract yourself
crossing over the x’s
of life’s yeild signs,
wisdom paused at potholes
alarming damaging obstacles.

appreciation of a flattened heart,
restored by breathing breaths,
repaired  the elements that once,
depleted healthy treads.

ignoring warnings of danger,
living in a reality of denial
has fooled my internal equilibrium.

sapience surrounded my driveway,
i looked both ways and proceeded with caution.

foolishly piloting with a naive navigation,
is not within my futuristic visualization.
abecedarian Sep 2017
he said/begged,
make love to me just like a woman!

kiss me toe to head, linger on my neck,
trace my waist, begin at my lips, pause at my hips,
quibbles intersperse, quips and licks on eyelids,
nibble me, near me, close and closer yet
unto the glorious victorious near death experience...

whisper me sweet everythings
before during after and over again,
when you must pause to exhale, blow all their warmth
upon thy fingers and bring that warmth inside

Columbus
me with tongue and eyes,
take me slow then again,
even slower, for thy pleasure,
than execute summary judgement upon me

falsely accept, then deny, deny, deny
my every appeal to
oh my god
for anyone's mercy!

adjudge me then guilty yet again,
and to the tower take me
to drown in mine own lashing lamentations,
thy incontrovertible evidence,
mine own uncensored revelations
execute me twice,
slowly, goodly with lengthy and lovely measures


she said,  and so I shall, eventually,
do what you beseech, what you most excellently seek

but you may recall, somewhat earlier, I called out
shotgun
so you must start my dear by following
all the precise driving instructions you just stated,
and bring your GPS^, and, oh yes,
I'm waiting...


too wit and sod this!
he gruffingly huffingly, hurrumphingly, replied,
all hell and damnation,
treat me like a woman just once pity-please!"

can't can't can't -
she be-witchingly cackled!

then sang to me the lyrical words of a
Nobel Prize winner!

"
You fake just like a woman
Yes you do, you make love like a woman
Yes you do, and then you ache just like a woman
But you break just like a little boy
"
^GPS is a permanently attached male guidance system.
The P does nots stand for Positioning.
mariamme Apr 2018
i am broken and i want to be whole
death is stained on my fingertips
he loves the taste of my tears
so i wash my face too often

why am i so broken
there is no meaning in the cracks of my soul
i fill my life with comfort and
still death is always behind me

my throat is so swollen
from pollen and panic attacks
that ravage my body and
rip out the seams in my story

i've lost myself and
though i spent months seeking myself
all i see in the mirror is unspent
potential for depression to run me aground again

there is no wayfinder in my heart
like yours, with your goals
as a GPS and your achievements
like landmarks in your mother's hallway

i write beginnings
of sentences that now are
litter on the floor of my mind
because no words encompass my fear

and now endings are all i can think of
but i don't want to be another
face on the obituary, lost
amid painful goodbye's and small typeface
disjointed thoughts, as always. i'm getting worse and worse as a writer as my apathy continues to grow. i just want a steaming bowl of pasta puttanesca and a couple seasons of pokemon to distract me from anxiety + this ******* cloud over my head.
Deb Jones Jan 6
I am sitting and waiting
In my window nook
I am perfumed and fluffy
Just the right look

I am so hungry
To see the first glimpse of you

But you are probably lost
Don’t want to look unmanly
By stopping to ask for directions
Unshaven and wrinkled

And most likely
Drunk
Off the bottle of wine we were supposed
To share together

You could have saved
Us both by using your GPS
But nooooooooooo...
What an ***
I am not waiting for a Prince Charming. But if I was this would be my luck.
Antino Art May 2018
What I like about walking is that
you're free:
no GPS, no machinery

The sidewalk is all you need

The sound of footsteps is
a slow-dance
against the backdrop of buildings on either side,
lamp posts overhead
passing audiences seated in cafe windows
passing time

sure, walking is the slower, old-fashioned way to get there,
but if you want to slow things down,
this is how. Look how it reveals
every crack in the sidewalk
with which to measure each step.
Look how it wraps the sounds of the city around you
as a record around its player
to where you hear the song beneath the static.

I wander in circles
to arrive at my center,
my soul-o
the jazz of each step improvised
over the plans that bridge today with tomorrow, burned
in sunset orange -
a sepia photograph
we would have failed to take
had we driven in and out of the skyline at rush hour,
eyes locked on the road ahead, the day
a blur in the rear view mirror

walking is a panoramic experience
that motor vehicles can't replace

It's not so much
an act of movement
as it is of arriving
at where you were all along.
Ryan O'Leary Oct 27
I was somewhere close to
the border between Armagh
and Monaghan, lost of course.

I saw a sign that indicated GMT,
which I confused with GPS, there
was a Gnome beside it, pointing.

I took his advice, kept on driving,
came to a X roads where someone
had written, BreXit this way, no arrow.

I was bolixed, DUPed by a *******
blue nosed Gnome, a Leprechaun
would not be near as mischievous.

Out of fuel, well after midnight,
Halloween to boot, no choice but
remain, yet, all I wanted was to leave.


Ps.

Show me the way to go Gnome
is a metaphorical analogy which
attempts to explain N.Ireland.
Ryan O'Leary Jul 8
Poetry, in some strange
way are passwords, or,
at least, the sharing of.

Every now and again, I
am requested to re enter
it, but, I forget what it was.

Reset, a bit like the GPS
lady who turns our cars
around when we are lost.

Cul De Sac, (is end of bag).
this is when we silence
the ***** for wrong info.
L B Sep 12
9-11 POEM:

Dreadlocks of a Scream
____

Fever too high
Doze
hallucinate
doze...

...into the blue sky
and watch the tracer upward
tip
hesitate
and turn toward earth
Split apart
in the widening dreadlocks of a scream
One that took the whole world down with it

A woman is standing on an edge
hundreds of feet up in the open air--
Just standing....

“You-- who have mounted to the sky
will be cast down
with great violence
You, the golden cup”
set down

I am burning up at 103
Toss in the arid sheets
Chafed flushed cheeks
against this living desert pillow

Desert
Hallucinate
Can't get a GPS on where I am
or what's the time
But most of all – what just happened?

I toss and wake to slivered light
coming from another room
Hear the whispers
See their vacant faces
Must have walked into the den
Feel their shivers hush
My questions
Between the aisles of candlelight
and murmured prayers
I'm walking
Still in my right mind

“It's on the screen”
for all to see
without electricity

I have a fever of 103
--and the main question???

Why everyone's transfixed

Everyone
______

1-28-86-- Space Shuttle Challenger explodes, killing crew.

9-11-01-- World Trade Center
_______

“...Now so that your heart does not grow faint,
And you are not afraid at the report that will be heard in the land—
For the report will come one year,
And after that another report in another year,
And violence will be in the land
With ruler against ruler”— Jer 50:46

Where Did the Towers Go-- by Doctor Judy Wood
I know that one of the "reports" was 9-11.  Not sure about the other, but I sensed something about the Shuttle Columbia's loss was significant.  In any case we are on borrowed time if Jeremiah's words are right.

Dr. Wood's book is hard to get, I understand.  Much of her scientific observations are on You Tube.  She does not speculate beyond what clearly DID NOT HAPPEN-- but does attempt to understand "WHAT" happened without conjecture as to "who or why or how."  Her observations are from many thousands of photographs and other accounts.
I’ve Got A Guilty Heart and a Texas Troubled mind*


looks as if I’ve won the losing lovers lottery twice,
had me the bonus number, now my silver buckle,
getting an overdue shine-up, my heads getting full
of regret and wondering, so my Daddy’s Stetson 6.75 size
nowadays, fit real tighter over my piled-up cowgirl braids

got excuses plenty, none worth sharing, none,
that’ll change nothing, two hearts continental drifting,
and with all the lyrics I write, got not a one about
how we let each other get away, the jukebox playing
Dixie Chicks “Cowboy Take Me Away”

think I’ll cover it in my next set, he will be sad down in Brownsville,
me, be traveling-singing in a dive bar up near Amarillo, no body
will be sad for me, no cowbodys posting no videos, no telling then,
but I’ll chance it, he will never know, cause I don’t want to
make him swollen sadder than he be already

somebody says god made country songs so sad so the world
could knowing-nod, been there, done that, in case company
might make you feel better, but it don’t till I right the wrong,
till I write the lyric that won’t explain much, but me, taking
the rightful blame, living with a guilty heart & troubled heart

me, way up north, but not so far away, still in Texas that’s for sure,
for the heart has a range finder that knows the GPS  of where he be,
and the exact distance between us...






—-

I've got a guilty heart
And a troubled mind
No matter where I go
You're never far behind
I'd like to think
That you've forgiven me
But forgiveness ain't enough
To wash my conscience clean”*

lyric from “Not Cause I Wanted To” by Al Anderson / Bonnie Bishop
you are drinking and smoking me

and i am feeling your energy

your breath surrounds my body

with the taste of my ****


in too deep we're on a roll

and you're set on automatic

i'm losing my ******' control

GPS cruising destination *******


your eyes beg let me

have your aching desire

i need you to take it

come quench this **** fire


your hot breath in my ear

mmm _ how you wanna do me?

i'm choking back the fear

wet between the knees


in too deep we're goin' to implode

you're touchin' brown skin parts

my resistance will _ gonna fold

ooh no! please stop! but it starts


you're going ******* the foreplay

turning my orchid drizzle to rain

my body can't take any more delay

got me thirsting __ sexually insane


Summer 2016
Tati Oct 2018
The man that I love makes me feel both lost and found
It’s a strange feeling, really,
Kind of like when you’re using a GPS to get somewhere and it’s telling you where to go yet you’re still confused
Last night his words tore right into me
Like a crazed panther on the hunt to cause pain
Though he insulted me, his beautiful accent made me confused whether to be offended or flattered that such horrifying remarks could come out of such a lovely tongue
“You’re so messed up. **** your self already”
Is what he told me
The reason?
I found text messages of his infidelity and lies from a while ago
“You’re overreacting. That was a long time ago. Get over it.”
I looked out the window while he drove and kept throwing his insults at me like a dagger
“You always do these things. Maybe if you stopped being so depressed all the time I wouldn’t have to cheat.”
That part killed me
But I kept looking out the window as the car rode on into the night. Tears flowing down my pale face
I’d always wanted someone to find me and save me from my sadness
But how is it that I’ve finally been found yet still feel so lost?
Darryl M May 6
don't ghosts lose direction...
Where the heck do they find the GPS?

Love be a phantom
forever haunting abandoned hearts.

She loves it when held close,
As she shivers in his arms.
For she wants the love,
But not just any.
She wants the love she considers hers,
And if unto her, it is given,
Then unto her, it truly belongs.

Grim reaping moments of truth;
Where you look at her
and don't see her undraped body,
But your naked psyche.
                 -****** of Love.
It's over and done with
and I should give thanks
to the colonels of catastrophe
and those of lesser ranks,

each makes a small division
in this life that's not my own
and takes up board and lodgings
in this body, I call home.

But as the satellites keep telling me
I am GPS acquired
monitored and mounted on my
own glass shard of spires.

I only dive in deep to
extinguish constant fires that
would relinquish me of life,
hard earned though it may be
it would be easy for me to lose.

— The End —