"greeter" poems
If I should describe the best place now,
it will be my pillow.
The one who is there when I cry
and the one who wipes my tears.
The one who hear my stories
and my screams.
My accompany when I'm dreaming,
the greeter when I'm tired reaching my dreams.
Shall I give her a name?
Jun 21, 2016
Jun 21, 2016 at 9:06 AM UTC
I'll drop a twenty dollar bill into the take-a-penny tray at the local gas station today
A tiny donation to the broken mother with four kids who needs a tank of gas to get her to a job that barely pays her the money she needs to feed her children
She goes without tonight
I'll smile at the Walmart door greeter this week
An acknowledgement that will ripple through her subconscious to tell her that suicide is not an option
The boy on check out lane 4 is
I will pull over expeditiously for the ambulance racing by
The new father to be is craddling his newborn baby
Crying out helplessly while his fiance bleeds on their new kitchen floor
Her life will not be lost today
Your reactions to the world around you are what show the world that it does not revolve around you
You revolve around it
Feet planted firmly
Gravity holds down the ability to stay content to my skin like microbs burying into a foreign body
Hold the door tomorrow
You might meet your reason to wake up
Nov 16, 2013
Nov 16, 2013 at 11:46 PM UTC
Traveling through the dusk tunnel
A pinpoint of light at the end;
Warmth overtaketh me
The beginning of life's around the bend.
One hundred kin
Waiting to greet me in;
All smiling, all radiating
Ages range from five to one-hundred and nine,
Some looketh old, though all's young: no age existeth, time here is not told. Age only existeth back on earth, though here; all age's art the same, no one is special by their birth.
Betwixt mine family standeth tall mine savior and lord
Jesus Christ the king; with angel's whom standeth beside him, as tis they speaketh together telepathically. In Christ's hand's he reacheth out to me- as whilst I looketh at his eye's aqua green, the universe showeth itself in a way to Man unseen; and whilst at that moment clearly I hadst seen the hole's in his Palm's and feet, his word's " cometh hither mine son" I bowed in front of mine kin to him instantaneously.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
Nov 6, 2015
Nov 6, 2015 at 2:51 PM UTC
The pilgrim's pull ashore....
Strange glass waves smash their feeble ships...
In the meanwhile upon land
In the distant abyss.....
The wildmen dance in song singing....
Ya ha ha-way!
Ya ha ha-way!
Ya ha ha-way!
Ha ha ** ha ha ha-way
Ha ha ** ha ha ha-way...........
Connecting to the creator
Hellion's to sojourner men
Outlandish semblance
Blush maroon colored skin...
Pinna's stitched into costume
As bead's wrap their neck
Efflorescence garbs their smiles
As sage smokes their chest's
Trace bouquet Smell's as oak
As the Willow's they do gather
Pinecones and nut's the both
Are used, eaten, and slathered
Tis
Their friends with the forest
Watchmen of Cimmerian adumbration
Not thy average native
Not found on t.v stations
They follow not the world
Nor the things of material crud
They gallop exposed
All unclothed painted in by the mud
Their mundunugu's and isangoma's
Their healer's of sickened loma's
Their future reader's
And old time Greeter's
They hash up balm pharmaceuticals
And mix in remedy anesthetics
Antibiotic doctors
Believer's in angelic medic
The pioneers come in
Scratching their heads
Bearing babies of far distance
Bringing disease with no end
They park their Vessels on edge
Of those wild men they call beasts
They plant their flag of hatred
And the redskin's are forgiving treat's
The ivory men draws gun
Whilst the natives draw their god
The pale man doth run
This is native land didst the whitened did trod
The natal men's Architect was stronger
Against the real true brutes
As the shaman sent home those foreigners
Back to England and Europe's coupé
As when the bleached beau's had left them
They went into different song
It goes like this
Please don't miss
These are the original's of the law!!!!
They Carol in fire hot dance...
Wee hee nah wee hee nah hee nah
Wee hee nah hee nah
Wee hee nah
Wee hee nah hee nah
Wee hee nah hee nah
Hey **
Jun 6, 2015
Jun 6, 2015 at 8:51 AM UTC
She was called a pollyanna.
Positive exclamation addicted
she high-stepped and varied her pace
through life's shifting textures.
Retrieving sea glass and a scallop-cut piece of shell
from the day's foam ruffled waves
at the edge of iridescent aquamarine.
She lived as a greeter.
Always expectant, rounding each corner
to meet until-now unfound friends or catch
a coin's shiny glint from the sidewalk's crevasse.
A collector too, she gathered smiles as she
walked past and sometimes toward faces
moving to their meeting places for the day.
She said regrets lead backward.
Ruminations rehash long ago or too current
memories looking for what-ifs and what-thens
not in her mind the stuff of collectibles.
She chose to live today
and dream tomorrow
always loving forward.
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 8:44 AM UTC
Come enter the darkness
Come witness a monster, a man
Of features of a rare creature
With a clear path for a seeker
With a life of a greeter. Stay warm in this cold world with heater
Away from the gangsters and strippers.
Join the growers and hipsters.
Free like in the Castro and Mission.
Always in the corner, being a loner, getting high like a stoner,
being awake unlike an employee and being free.
Don't you see the system of delusion where they draw the conclusion but it's time take back the power and find a resolution
And lead to a revolution
Dec 4, 2017
Dec 4, 2017 at 1:35 PM UTC
I am aware that I'm toxic
It was never fair to believe that in life you just give and receive
Spending half a life as the novelty welcome mat on a rural truck stop.
Nobody ever stayed around, they were all on some journey.
A foot gets put down and occasionally people frown
as in you were never supposed to do that
as in you should be comfortable because people still at least say hi
When the greeter gets greeted they feel more or less defeated
Because everything is done the same daily, it's repeated
Crane that neck around, and see the stomps impeding
On all that sense of worth, that basket full of reassurance that was spread like pixie dust
Take all those coming forward with their not so friendly faces
Get off of the floor and go forward, get ready for the races
Stay down or drown in a pool full of that stiffling reality that just cannot be avoided.
Go toxic.
Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 11:17 PM UTC
Shes simply.....
****
Sweet
A delight
Heavens treat...
A cherub,
A serpahim,
A chariot
Of heavens plum....
A cheribum,
A reader,
An angel
Past life soulmate and mine greeter...
One of woes
And stressed
Worries
She invests in...
Thinketh to much just as me
For tis I'm her,
For we art free.
She's unbound to worldly knowing
She's her own show...
Halo on her head
Close thine eyes when she glows!!!
Though open thy eye's
When thou want to seeith,
Everything heàven offer's
She healeth me when I bleedeth...
She's, mine
Mi amour
Mi amare
Mine child
So fair,
Alluring
Appealing,
Charming
Dazzling,
Delicate
Delightful
Elegant, fragile
Insightful,
Helper
Of others,
Sister
Lonely
As her feathers...
She hast wing's
She flappeth them at night.
When her moon cometh out
Her worries turn bright.
Gorgeous
Graceful
Giving
Unwasteful,
Marvelous
Pleasing
Maketh me wait
She's teasing
Splendid
Stunning
Superb
Poetic words of her's art flowing and running.....
She turneth me on
She maketh me see
Everything I wanted before
In a lost boys dreams...
Though I've told thee
I kneweth her from lightyears away,
When wilt she maketh me hers?
I guess I'll have to wait ..
Though I'm not patient,
For her I shalt be....
Because that's true love...
Waiting on thee......
©Brandon nagley
©lonesome poet's poetry
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 8:10 AM UTC
Come enter the darkness
Come witness a monster, a man
Of features of a rare creature
With a clear path for a seeker
With a life of a greeter. Stay warm in this cold world with heater
Away from the gangsters and strippers. Join the growers and hipsters. Free like in the Castro and Mission. Always in the corner, being a loner, getting high like a stoner, being awake unlike an employee and being free.
Don't you see the system of delusion where they draw the conclusion but it's time take back the power and find a resolution
And lead to a revolution
Jan 9, 2018
Jan 9, 2018 at 2:07 PM UTC
I want to be a greeter to the new seasons
to allow the new love, new sunrises and sunsets
the moon looks different from here
I gave away the old shirts and kissed the new lips and let the old worries stay awhile
change is the only thing we're promised
I made my old bed in a new room and danced in the kitchen in my same socks
I welcomed the softer skin and sugar-coated voice, the life that changed when I stopped looking back
everything shifts and I adjust
it's me, a new me, the same me
somehow different
somehow just as marvelous
Sep 2, 2019
Sep 2, 2019 at 8:13 PM UTC
note to me
limit the coffee
from now on to one
***
i've been hand shaking greeting everyone at wal-mart
all day
even the store manager and security
trying to shoo me away
but i am , doing I am , I AM
such a good job the people
are gathering around
Jun 24, 2017
Jun 24, 2017 at 8:33 PM UTC
The thinkers mind does not stop
It beats on time, the bob drop
a small key winds back fates date
The greeter of death's great gate
is sitting high with devil cries
and still he works, times fly by
the workers hard hands grow old
the metal inside is cold
circadian days were long
and every minute was spent wrong
this grandfather clock looks broke
from the time he spent awoke
he would work without a halt
hes been built, hes not at fault
a self made product, that's true
hes held together with glue
so with the long passing hours
he slowly lost his power
The second hand too slow to spin
the clocks sound has grown real dim
the repair men cant heal it
a crack and they cant seal it
they speak like it's only trash
It had a hart, a hart thats now ash
Feb 6, 2018
Feb 6, 2018 at 5:19 PM UTC
I have a savvy relationship with pain.
Particularly the kind that my nerves play out;
a cruel fiction science is still trying to workout.
Luckily, it's not harmful, it just hurts.
It would be fair to say that I don't like pain.
Being a daily greeter at my bedside table,
the moment I consider opening my eyes.
I would be contradictory, yet fair all the same,
to say that I like pain.
Not the random pain I was born with,
but controlled pain.
That once consisted of self-inflicted
lines of distraction.
Or any distraction that calmed the storm.
Lately my therapist advised squeezing ice cubes,
it surprisingly... works well.
My relationship with pain is involuntary,
self-inflicted or otherwise.
Curse or coping,
It is something I cannot escape.
I have day dreams of what 'normal' must feel like,
yet also wonder if any of us are not in pain.
I wish I wasn't alone in my relationship with pain.
Pain is a feeling, it does not negotiate.
It has driven me to madness.
It has made me want to clime stairs while I still can.
It motivates me and rips me to shreds,
simultaneously.
So when deeper pains come into play,
like the depression that grows within me.
Survival becomes a challenge,
because my mind can only shift around pain so much.
Eventually I will fall.
Literally, figuratively, or both.
You have to be there to catch me,
but I don't know if you're ready.
Jun 18, 2018
Jun 18, 2018 at 8:48 AM UTC