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"griffith" poems
The great hanging weak **** of India on the map The Fingernail of Malaya The Wall of China The Korea Ti-Pousse Thumb The Salamander Japan the Okinawa Moon Spot The Pacific The Back of Hawaiian Mountains coconuts Kines, balconies, Ah Tarzan- And D W Griffith the great American Director Strolling down disgruntled Hollywood Lane - to toot Nebraska, Indian Village New York, Atlantis, Rome, Peleus and Melisander, And swans of ***** Spots of foam on the ocean
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10th Chorus Mexico City Blues
HE lived on the wings of storm. The ashes are in Chihuahua. Out of Ludlow and coal towns in Colorado Sprang a vengeance of Slav miners, Italians, Scots, Cornishmen, Yanks. Killings ran under the spoken commands of this boy With eighty men and rifles on a hogback mountain. They killed swearing to remember The shot and charred wives and children In the burnt camp of Ludlow, And Louis Tikas, the laughing Greek, Plugged with a bullet, clubbed with a gun **** As a home war It held the nation a week And one or two million men stood together And swore by the retribution of steel. It was all accidental. He lived flecking lint off coat lapels Of men he talked with. He kissed the miners' babies And wrote a Denver paper Of picket silhouettes on a mountain line. He had no mother but Mother Jones Crying from a jail window of Trinidad: "All I want is room enough to stand And shake my fist at the enemies of the human race." Named by a grand jury as a murderer He went to Chihuahua, forgot his old Scotch name, Smoked cheroots with Pancho Villa And wrote letters of Villa as a rock of the people. How can I tell how Don Magregor went? Three riders emptied lead into him. He lay on the main street of an inland town. A boy sat near all day throwing stones To keep pigs away. The Villa men buried him in a pit With twenty Carranzistas. There is drama in that point... ...the boy and the pigs. Griffith would make a movie of it to fetch sobs. Victor Herbert would have the drums whirr In a weave with a high fiddle-string's single clamor. "And the muchacho sat there all day throwing stones To keep the pigs away," wrote Gibbons to the Tribune. Somewhere in Chihuahua or Colorado Is a leather bag of poems and short stories.
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Memoir of a Proud Boy
HE lived on the wings of storm. The ashes are in Chihuahua. Out of Ludlow and coal towns in Colorado Sprang a vengeance of Slav miners, Italians, Scots, Cornishmen, Yanks. Killings ran under the spoken commands of this boy With eighty men and rifles on a hogback mountain. They killed swearing to remember The shot and charred wives and children In the burnt camp of Ludlow, And Louis Tikas, the laughing Greek, Plugged with a bullet, clubbed with a gun **** As a home war It held the nation a week And one or two million men stood together And swore by the retribution of steel. It was all accidental. He lived flecking lint off coat lapels Of men he talked with. He kissed the miners' babies And wrote a Denver paper Of picket silhouettes on a mountain line. He had no mother but Mother Jones Crying from a jail window of Trinidad: "All I want is room enough to stand And shake my fist at the enemies of the human race." Named by a grand jury as a murderer He went to Chihuahua, forgot his old Scotch name, Smoked cheroots with Pancho Villa And wrote letters of Villa as a rock of the people. How can I tell how Don Magregor went? Three riders emptied lead into him. He lay on the main street of an inland town. A boy sat near all day throwing stones To keep pigs away. The Villa men buried him in a pit With twenty Carranzistas. There is drama in that point... ...the boy and the pigs. Griffith would make a movie of it to fetch sobs. Victor Herbert would have the drums whirr In a weave with a high fiddle-string's single clamor. "And the muchacho sat there all day throwing stones To keep the pigs away," wrote Gibbons to the Tribune. Somewhere in Chihuahua or Colorado Is a leather bag of poems and short stories.
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45
White picket fences Four family houses Checker pattern apron Pie left to cool on the windowsill Watching Andy Griffith Paying some old television bills and hoping the kids will notice Anything but the coldness that lies outside the front porch The one with the swing This is the American dream Not really knowing what "minority" means Fighting for a penny to put in a candy machine "Oh, where did it go?" Some people ask As if corruption was a thing of the past
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Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 10:22 PM UTC
American Beauty
That frat boy’s Bill Nye Bowtie Has got me thinking Do kids these days Even know who Bill Nye is? Or **** Van **** Or Andy Griffith? Some of my heroes from way back when Is Eli Wallach Ever going to ride his horse Steal corn from Mexican villages again? Do kids these days even know food comes from the earth Not from a can? I can’t imagine growing up Inside Except to watch Bill Nye The science guy And play Oregon trail Home alone On Friday nights
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Nov 30, 2012
Nov 30, 2012 at 3:54 PM UTC
I feel old
Andy Griffith found success when he starred in "The Andy Griffith Show". That sitcom is still popular today and it was created over sixty years ago. It was one decade ago today when Andy Griffith took his final breath. Andy didn't have a funeral, he was buried immediately after his death. He starred in "Matlock" from 1986 to 1995. Andy would be ninety-six if he had survived. Ten years ago today, a famous man died. Andy had Charisma and talent and that can't be denied.
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Jul 3, 2022
Jul 3, 2022 at 10:55 AM UTC
The Tenth Anniversary Of Andy Griffith's Death
My dreams are dreams of black and white. I dream of the late Cool Hand Luke, And Big Daddy in the rain. I dream of Hepburn, where it's hot, Of Skelton upon his stage. I dream of Jeannie, Of Lucy's man, Of Hitchcock's crazed suspense, And of my freckled friend, named Opie, Relaxing with Papa Griffith. Jethro swings from chandeliers, As daddy fends off fiends. Granny ***** that little hand, Signaling the end.
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Jul 17, 2011
Jul 17, 2011 at 12:22 PM UTC
Classics
As the sun begins to retire for the day, we sit here in my black, 1965 Lincoln Continental convertible, gazing upon the glowing city skyline that is illuminated in orange and red, a perfect complement to the burning house at the bottom of the cliff.   This shared moment couldn’t be any more perfect. I look over at her.   How did I get so lucky? With her I don’t have to talk. I can simply enjoy her company, me eating a vanilla cone as she inhales a burger and fries.   Food gone, she looks longingly at me, so I extend my right arm to share my ice cream. She is so adorable. Her inherent beauty is magnified by her quirky imperfections, especially that slight under bite and scarred face, some scars more pink and fresh than others.   The sun finally disappears, and we are cloaked by the black, star-filled sky.  I continue to marvel at the smoldering house, taking it in, processing it, and developing it as if I am a photographer in a dark room.   Reaching for the ignition, I pause.  I lean back in my seat and close my eyes for a very brief moment.  All I see is the pathetic expression on his face, his struggle.  And those ***** cuss words he spat at me – if only I had had soap, but I didn’t.  I lean over to Casey and take off her collar, throwing the encasement of her old life out of the car and into the endless mystery that lies beneath us. The blisters on my left forearm begin to sting and throb, the heat disrupting the stillness of this reality.   I need a bag of ice and a bottle of whiskey.   I can’t wait until we are settled into my apartment, enjoying that cheap air conditioning as we cuddle and watch re-runs of the Andy Griffith Show.
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Jul 20, 2014
Jul 20, 2014 at 9:00 PM UTC
Prizefighter
As the sun begins to retire for the day, we sit here in my black, 1965 Lincoln Continental convertible, gazing upon the glowing city skyline that is illuminated in orange and red, a perfect complement to the burning house at the bottom of the cliff.   This shared moment couldn’t be any more perfect. I look over at her.   How did I get so lucky? With her I don’t have to talk. I can simply enjoy her company, me eating a vanilla cone as she inhales a burger and fries.   Food gone, she looks longingly at me, so I extend my right arm to share my ice cream. She is so adorable. Her inherent beauty is magnified by her quirky imperfections, especially that slight under bite and scarred face, some scars more pink and fresh than others.   The sun finally disappears, and we are cloaked by the black, star-filled sky.  I continue to marvel at the smoldering house, taking it in, processing it, and developing it as if I am a photographer in a dark room.   Reaching for the ignition, I pause.  I lean back in my seat and close my eyes for a very brief moment.  All I see is the pathetic expression on his face, his struggle.  And those ***** cuss words he spat at me – if only I had had soap, but I didn’t.  I lean over to Casey and take off her collar, throwing the encasement of her old life out of the car and into the endless mystery that lies beneath us. The blisters on my left forearm begin to sting and throb, the heat disrupting the stillness of this reality.   I need a bag of ice and a bottle of whiskey.   I can’t wait until we are settled into my apartment, enjoying that cheap air conditioning as we cuddle and watch re-runs of the Andy Griffith Show.
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12
The funniest thing about the Andy Griffith Show. He had an aunt that he loved so. Which took time for Opie to know. He had a deputy with one bullet. Give him more. Then you were in for a show. But, he also had a famous phase. Like "Nip It In The Bud". Which every now and then, he spoked. In truth Bernard P. Fife was vital to the show. Yes, the funniest thing about the Andy Griffith Show. He was a good parent first and fore most. He was fair and firm. When it came to his son. After all. He only had one. Unlike that , of My Three Sons. The men seems to gather at the Barber Shop. Which , we still see today. And like Flyod, many talked before they cut. And many times. He would cut too low. Yes, this was part of the fun of the Andy Griffith Show. Who doesn't remember Otis? Who could teach many drunks today's a lesson. He personally checked himself in. Just to sober up and leave again. Who doesn't remember that adult kid Ernest T. Bass? Who many of times was sneaky and smart? Or wanted a uniform just to wear it with class. Of course the black and white shows are better than color. All because they are so much funnier. We admire Thelma Lou. Still trying to figure out exactly what she did do? We remember even Ellie. Who wouldn't give a senior citizen? A sugar tablet. Yes, this was part of the fun of the Andy Griffith Show. I could go on. But I stop for now. Least until, I see the show when Bill Bixby learn a lesson. From visiting the town.
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Aug 6, 2012
Aug 6, 2012 at 9:45 AM UTC
The Andy Griffith Show
I try to remember how the trail looked the day we took the long way up Griffith Park But I can't and it hurts I try to remember the movie we watched every Thursday night and why it was so intriguing But I can't and it hurts I try to remember how the apartment looked when you began packing But I can't and it hurts I try to remember the design of the door that I focused on for hours after you left But I can't and it hurts It hurts Because all I can remember is the smile that caressed your lips after you whispered 'I love you' But that hurts too Because all I can remember is the journey of the lines etched on the palms of your hands in the dark But that hurts too Because all I can remember is the exact shade of your eyes as the tears streamed mercilessly down your cheeks before you closed the door But that hurts too I fall back in my seat and try to regret all the things I missed in this world while I stared at you But I can't and that hurts the most
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Nov 1, 2015
Nov 1, 2015 at 3:28 PM UTC
It All Hurts the Same
I cast my line into the water. The bobber bounced a few times and then rested on the surface slightly cocked to the side. I pulled my hat down low, just far enough to block the sun and still see the water. Everything was quiet. Tigger was running around the other end of the pond, looking for raccoons I guess. He went to the water and took a drink, then he took off into the woods. He’ll be back. I love that dog. I must have had him for 10 years now. I lit up a cigarette, a Marb red. God, this is the life, man, just chillin, fishin. I had other things to do. I should be looking for a job I guess. I should probably be cleaning my apartment, or taking care of those overdraft fees, I forgot about those, **** Oh well, this is my day. The birds had started to sing again. I whistled along, Andy Griffith’s theme song, God’s gift to whistlin fishermen. I could feel the sun on my bare arms. That’ll be good for my tan. I took another drag on my cigarette, the air was calm enough that I could blow smoke rings. So I did, for about an hour. Then out of the corner of my eye I saw the tip of my pole dip down a little, it did it again, again, and again. Finally the bobber disappeared under the water. I grabbed my pole and started to reel ‘er in. It was a catfish, about five pounds I’d say. This was perfect, I would get Tigger and we could go home and fry this sucker up, and I would drink a few brews, watch the game and go to bed. What a wonderful day. I called for Tigger, but he didn’t come out of the woods. Probably found one of those ***** So I walked around the pond to where I saw him go in. No matter how many times I called for him he didn’t come back. I searched for two whole hours but I couldn’t find my dog. He was gone.
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Aug 10, 2010
Aug 10, 2010 at 5:03 PM UTC
Fishin'
I cast my line into the water. The bobber bounced a few times and then rested on the surface slightly cocked to the side. I pulled my hat down low, just far enough to block the sun and still see the water. Everything was quiet. Tigger was running around the other end of the pond, looking for raccoons I guess. He went to the water and took a drink, then he took off into the woods. He’ll be back. I love that dog. I must have had him for 10 years now. I lit up a cigarette, a Marb red. God, this is the life, man, just chillin, fishin. I had other things to do. I should be looking for a job I guess. I should probably be cleaning my apartment, or taking care of those overdraft fees, I forgot about those, **** Oh well, this is my day. The birds had started to sing again. I whistled along, Andy Griffith’s theme song, God’s gift to whistlin fishermen. I could feel the sun on my bare arms. That’ll be good for my tan. I took another drag on my cigarette, the air was calm enough that I could blow smoke rings. So I did, for about an hour. Then out of the corner of my eye I saw the tip of my pole dip down a little, it did it again, again, and again. Finally the bobber disappeared under the water. I grabbed my pole and started to reel ‘er in. It was a catfish, about five pounds I’d say. This was perfect, I would get Tigger and we could go home and fry this sucker up, and I would drink a few brews, watch the game and go to bed. What a wonderful day. I called for Tigger, but he didn’t come out of the woods. Probably found one of those ***** So I walked around the pond to where I saw him go in. No matter how many times I called for him he didn’t come back. I searched for two whole hours but I couldn’t find my dog. He was gone.
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3
Los Angeles Griffith Park, June 2009, we got out of our concrete cage and into the untamed wild. We tried to escape the amber streetlights because they polluted the sky; twinkling stars winking aeroplanes and startling skylines covered in the midnight blue. I walked with you, in lockstep, we avoided the cracks in the pavement. We found a quiet place, just you and I, the sky cleared and I didn’t want to blow my cigarette palls into the sky as I feared they would block your view.
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Apr 8, 2014
Apr 8, 2014 at 2:43 PM UTC
lunar park
I never saw your dad’s new turtle in its tank in Milwaukee. I never told you how you looked leaning over the railing at Griffith’s Observatory. The city flickered like a jar of lightning bugs beneath us that night, but the telescopes were disappointing. I didn’t mind. I never saw your sketches. I never made room for you on the blanket at Dockweiler Beach. We left the others by the fire and walked to the foaming black water to investigate what we thought might be a body. I still think it was. I never reached for your hand by the Ferris wheel. I never gave in when you said, “You have no idea how hard it’s been not to kiss you,” and I stared at my empty paper cup, wishing I had gotten a bigger size because I needed something more to do with my hands. I never found something better to do with my hands. I never let you touch the scabs I got when I fell off the sidewalk after I decided I was someone who should jog. I never touched the scars you got when your lungs collapsed and they pumped them back up like a balloon and they woke you up to breathe with your chest still open. I never turned to face you when you kissed the top of my head. I didn’t want to move. You told me about your family instead. I never told you about my family. I never told my family about you. I never put my head on your shoulder at two in the morning when we sat in a booth under a flickering yellowish light, shivering with our little Styrofoam cups of hot chocolate in our hands, trying to keep our burning eyes open as we waited for our friends. I never met your friends from home. I think I would have liked them. I never sat in the passenger seat of your Oldsmobile with the radio on and the windows down as we drove through Nevada, then Kansas, then Illinois, but it’s probably for the best since your car never would’ve made it anyway.
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Jan 9, 2014
Jan 9, 2014 at 1:52 AM UTC
never
I never saw your dad’s new turtle in its tank in Milwaukee. I never told you how you looked leaning over the railing at Griffith’s Observatory. The city flickered like a jar of lightning bugs beneath us that night, but the telescopes were disappointing. I didn’t mind. I never saw your sketches. I never made room for you on the blanket at Dockweiler Beach. We left the others by the fire and walked to the foaming black water to investigate what we thought might be a body. I still think it was. I never reached for your hand by the Ferris wheel. I never gave in when you said, “You have no idea how hard it’s been not to kiss you,” and I stared at my empty paper cup, wishing I had gotten a bigger size because I needed something more to do with my hands. I never found something better to do with my hands. I never let you touch the scabs I got when I fell off the sidewalk after I decided I was someone who should jog. I never touched the scars you got when your lungs collapsed and they pumped them back up like a balloon and they woke you up to breathe with your chest still open. I never turned to face you when you kissed the top of my head. I didn’t want to move. You told me about your family instead. I never told you about my family. I never told my family about you. I never put my head on your shoulder at two in the morning when we sat in a booth under a flickering yellowish light, shivering with our little Styrofoam cups of hot chocolate in our hands, trying to keep our burning eyes open as we waited for our friends. I never met your friends from home. I think I would have liked them. I never sat in the passenger seat of your Oldsmobile with the radio on and the windows down as we drove through Nevada, then Kansas, then Illinois, but it’s probably for the best since your car never would’ve made it anyway.
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15
so you have an affinity for ghosts? explore our urban ruins, at most, forget the Queen Mary ain't nothing as scary as a spectral Vincent Price and Frank Lloyd Wright lurking amongst the needles and graffiti in Barnsdall Park you say you want uniquely terrifying and seedy? try this rotten picnic table nestled deeply in Griffith Park atop which two young Angelenos made love then died under the crushing weight of a healthy oak tree felled by some fell spirit coordinates thirty four eight thirteen one eighteen eighteen twenty three if you don't believe me
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Jun 19, 2014
Jun 19, 2014 at 1:46 PM UTC
Rules for Living in Los Angeles #14
Jim Nabors always said "Shazam", that was his catchphrase. Because of his contribution to television, he deserves praise. It was hard for him to watch the opening credits of Gomer Pyle because many of those Marines died in Vietnam. We always know that he's on Gomer Pyle or the Andy Griffith Show when we hear him say "Shazam". We also remember him yelling "Citizen's Arrest". All of his fans are sad and they're also depressed. He also starred in some movies, two of which were Cannonball Run 2 and Stroker Ace. His friends, fans and family have to say goodbye, his death is hard for them to face.
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Dec 4, 2017
Dec 4, 2017 at 8:19 AM UTC
SHAZAM!
She was home but not the world seemed different to her Her senses muted Andy Griffith like in her vision Downed power lines noted She picked them up Knowing she should be shocked Finding it odd She was not She hurried under them A transformer in the distance sparked Her children but not hers Played in her garage She protected them against the power lines Then **** they were gone A stranger child sat upon her dryer Laughing as though possessed The laughter was not human Demon at best Chills down her spine she approached His laughter stopped To her these words spoke ***"You will not get to keep them He will have them to his self You will not be able to protect them They will be his No one else"*** She then awoke It was just a dream Hurried down the hall to check Her children in their beds Safe and sound, fast asleep After kissing each again She turned, her room to head She heard the demon laugh Turned back and saw Fear again gripping her He sat upon their bed......
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Aug 13, 2016
Aug 13, 2016 at 2:08 PM UTC
Nightmare
Mulberry Square Inn nestled around Mountains, and a Night a romantic Moon In fact, they call the Inn the Make Out Experience But sounds more like a retreat in influence However, the Mulberry Square Inn offering Guest amenities of quality service But with romantic in the air that should be obvious It is not exactly a resort, but you still get the relaxing pleasure It’s a getaway for good measure Picture Perfect Mountain’s surround Quite it and serene having no sound But when Night comes, it’s no holding back The Dazzle and Sizzle of music that the Mulberry Square Inn provides It’s where entertainment resides So Mulberry, you know the name from the Andy Griffith Show Although It goes beyond that There is no connection and that is a fact Think on Mulberry Square Inn being and giving more This is something I wanted to explore Mulberry Square Inn being a promise and providing being honest.
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Oct 7, 2021
Oct 7, 2021 at 12:20 PM UTC
MULBERRY SQUARE INN
Last night once more I ventured beyond the pale To find Nanci Griffith Awaiting me there She's pushing E's On her drum n' bass knees Pleading with me please To be the last of the true believers But I can't and yet I can Feel her watching over me From a distance She is just another no one That's been sent to deceive Yet another love for sale Beyond this pale So I move on at least To my fourteen year old self Weak arms and weaker will Holding back a door All in vain As the screams grow The knives and living dead flow My father at the kitchen table Silver bangle adorns his strength He laughs at his son How could it come to this? A useless seed born with a breathless kiss Leave it to me comes his hiss Tough love is for sale Beyond this pale To a foreign city With the few friends I've left It is anxiety and fear That begin to whisper in my ear You do not belong You should never have come here As the skies start to tear Separation comes next The rain empties the nest Two by two, one by one Friends and companions To this city are gone Desolate in a storm Lies a desperate man With a lonely love for sale Beyond this pale Tonight once more I shall venture again for sure As I pray to the gods That I will not see you there For my ecstasy would dissolve At the closing of a door As you walk out on me Towards a rank only you see That last cab to set you free So tonight do not appear Nor take to their stand To settle their score Let them be the ones To finally understand True love is not for sale Beyond the pale
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Apr 17, 2019
Apr 17, 2019 at 12:15 PM UTC
Beyond the Pale
Last night once more I ventured beyond the pale To find Nanci Griffith Awaiting me there She's pushing E's On her drum n' bass knees Pleading with me please To be the last of the true believers But I can't and yet I can Feel her watching over me From a distance She is just another no one That's been sent to deceive Yet another love for sale Beyond this pale So I move on at least To my fourteen year old self Weak arms and weaker will Holding back a door All in vain As the screams grow The knives and living dead flow My father at the kitchen table Silver bangle adorns his strength He laughs at his son How could it come to this? A useless seed born with a breathless kiss Leave it to me comes his hiss Tough love is for sale Beyond this pale To a foreign city With the few friends I've left It is anxiety and fear That begin to whisper in my ear You do not belong You should never have come here As the skies start to tear Separation comes next The rain empties the nest Two by two, one by one Friends and companions To this city are gone Desolate in a storm Lies a desperate man With a lonely love for sale Beyond this pale Tonight once more I shall venture again for sure As I pray to the gods That I will not see you there For my ecstasy would dissolve At the closing of a door As you walk out on me Towards a rank only you see That last cab to set you free So tonight do not appear Nor take to their stand To settle their score Let them be the ones To finally understand True love is not for sale Beyond the pale
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64
I am a slave to all that I own I can’t remember the last time I woke up and didn’t want to walk out my front door down the street across state lines into the overpopulated void but my ********* common sense always stops me "what a waste” it’s a shame, pathetic really that I desire the freedom the thrill of being undiscovered by society to the point that I dream about it constantly and still, here I sit in a room full of records expensive guitars and seasons of The Andy Griffith Show that I can not leave I am a slave to all that I own
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Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 2:49 AM UTC
to all that I own
13.00 was written on the tip line the total was 68 you told me I was rude for making sure to ask if that made 20 percent and that we made sure our waiter knew that at least one of us here gave a **** about their pain gripping the door handle so tightly I felt like throwing myself onto the beltway would've been less dangerous than trying to calm you or thinking of just closing my eyes and screaming just screaming so maybe you would've crashed into the shoulder and finally stopped talking outside with your cigarette I felt my heels dig into the cracks in the asphalt and I felt ethereal and tangible the night held me at the waist and stroked my hair whispering lilac words and scarlet promises but you had to go and put your lips on me and opened your mouth again on the hotel bed I sunk into the silence and the hum of traffic outside of the window I thought about how your fingers felt helping me zip up my dress and how those hands haven't once touched me in ways that should've killed me by now but you didn't need them because when I close my eyes these days I have to think about breathing and all I can see are my mother's arms cradling and covered in blood and the way the trees decided to match the color of my cat's fur on the same week he departed and then turned to red and fell back down on the asphalt and I remember when I looked at you and saw yellows and orange and pinks but they were just glints of fond memories like the reflection of vegas lights shining in the desert and off my reflection in the fountains or my blistered feet padding along the wooden floor towards the bed naked and smelling of pisco grasping to you in the cold new york night or of course the sunburnt twilight up on griffith holding on tightly to the rails but this time with flight under my skin soaring through the haze and actually feeling the corners of my mouth cramp from overuse now all I see are street lamps and the monochrome wrinkles that line your eyes your face a void my hands firmly holding myself trying so hard to escape again i held for so long and ripped my skin piece by piece for your ego for your possession for your trophy but when it came to paying the bill you were still like always about a dollar short
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Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 11:29 PM UTC
a penny
13.00 was written on the tip line the total was 68 you told me I was rude for making sure to ask if that made 20 percent and that we made sure our waiter knew that at least one of us here gave a **** about their pain gripping the door handle so tightly I felt like throwing myself onto the beltway would've been less dangerous than trying to calm you or thinking of just closing my eyes and screaming just screaming so maybe you would've crashed into the shoulder and finally stopped talking outside with your cigarette I felt my heels dig into the cracks in the asphalt and I felt ethereal and tangible the night held me at the waist and stroked my hair whispering lilac words and scarlet promises but you had to go and put your lips on me and opened your mouth again on the hotel bed I sunk into the silence and the hum of traffic outside of the window I thought about how your fingers felt helping me zip up my dress and how those hands haven't once touched me in ways that should've killed me by now but you didn't need them because when I close my eyes these days I have to think about breathing and all I can see are my mother's arms cradling and covered in blood and the way the trees decided to match the color of my cat's fur on the same week he departed and then turned to red and fell back down on the asphalt and I remember when I looked at you and saw yellows and orange and pinks but they were just glints of fond memories like the reflection of vegas lights shining in the desert and off my reflection in the fountains or my blistered feet padding along the wooden floor towards the bed naked and smelling of pisco grasping to you in the cold new york night or of course the sunburnt twilight up on griffith holding on tightly to the rails but this time with flight under my skin soaring through the haze and actually feeling the corners of my mouth cramp from overuse now all I see are street lamps and the monochrome wrinkles that line your eyes your face a void my hands firmly holding myself trying so hard to escape again i held for so long and ripped my skin piece by piece for your ego for your possession for your trophy but when it came to paying the bill you were still like always about a dollar short
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80
Your last name said it all, you were the best. Because of you, the entire world was blessed. You have left this world at the age of eighty-eight. Your life is something that we should all celebrate. For six years you dazzled us as Rosco P. Coltrane. You died but your reruns will continue to entertain. You starred in a few episodes of Bonanza and twice on the Andy Griffith Show. You entertained us for several decades and all of your fans hated to see you go. Talent should've been your middle name. It's not surprising that you found fame. You starred in a Twilight Zone episode and in Firecreek. You will never be forgotten because you were unique.
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Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 7:39 PM UTC
Goodbye, James Best
Frank Sutton was an actor who died half a century ago. He starred in one episode of "The Andy Griffith Show". He starred in every episode of "Gomer Pyle: USMC". Sutton died fifty years ago today at the age of fifty. People were sad because he wouldn't be coming back. Sutton's life came to an end when he had a heart attack. He starred in "The Twilight Zone" and "Town Without Pity". He starred in "Armstrong Circle Theater" and "Naked City". He starred in "Love, American Style" and "Valentine's Day". Sutton would be 100 years old if he hadn't passed away.
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Jun 28, 2024
Jun 28, 2024 at 9:00 AM UTC
The 50th Anniversary of Frank Sutton's Death
walk inside my mind to a journey deep inside personifications of laughter filter through the caverns alone I bask in the vast expanse between that of space and time there is a river with lava beside its strange presence dig much deeper then ever before lest I implore another opened door solitude is among me now with the ever glow of an aura of twilight giving cadence toward the premonition of branches proceeding outward come with your hurt come with your need to such a place as these lucid dreams falling apart at the seams getting down to the very means The thought of Andy Griffith with Opie so very care free fishing down by the pond each of us is responsible for our actions we can't blame anyone but ourselves walk inside my mind once again to when i was ten sitting under the Elm tree gazing to the sky crafted a fascination of soaring space ships from outer space would invade my place in good taste I would create those moments of love from god up above alone again then I stare at the wall but in the back of my mind I heard my conscience call reach for oblivion if someone gives you the opportunity say yes then learn it later life is a roller coaster with twists and turns one soul soars the other will burn best to invest in charity getting knocked down to your knees apathy comes in a variety inside of me to hide from thee there is a hero in us all so stand up ten feet tall choices with voices with moments of solitude give thanks to the one who sets us all free cause most of life is but a mystery for what are we willing to achieve mark the one willing to explore awe so much more a challenge to be free is a question of time remember when you were broke down to your last thin dime... in time we sall shine brighter then ever before lest of course I implore another door wax on wax off Mr Miyagi said it best putting Daniel to the test I must confess: "Better learn balance cause balance is the key" ! Wax on wax off always do your best cause most of life is but a test yet off the cuff here I send out a cheer to all those who persevered best to offer positive reinforcement then any negative thoughts Wax on wax off in the midnight hour have to take a cold shower
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Nov 27, 2017
Nov 27, 2017 at 12:42 PM UTC
Wax On Wax Off
walk inside my mind to a journey deep inside personifications of laughter filter through the caverns alone I bask in the vast expanse between that of space and time there is a river with lava beside its strange presence dig much deeper then ever before lest I implore another opened door solitude is among me now with the ever glow of an aura of twilight giving cadence toward the premonition of branches proceeding outward come with your hurt come with your need to such a place as these lucid dreams falling apart at the seams getting down to the very means The thought of Andy Griffith with Opie so very care free fishing down by the pond each of us is responsible for our actions we can't blame anyone but ourselves walk inside my mind once again to when i was ten sitting under the Elm tree gazing to the sky crafted a fascination of soaring space ships from outer space would invade my place in good taste I would create those moments of love from god up above alone again then I stare at the wall but in the back of my mind I heard my conscience call reach for oblivion if someone gives you the opportunity say yes then learn it later life is a roller coaster with twists and turns one soul soars the other will burn best to invest in charity getting knocked down to your knees apathy comes in a variety inside of me to hide from thee there is a hero in us all so stand up ten feet tall choices with voices with moments of solitude give thanks to the one who sets us all free cause most of life is but a mystery for what are we willing to achieve mark the one willing to explore awe so much more a challenge to be free is a question of time remember when you were broke down to your last thin dime... in time we sall shine brighter then ever before lest of course I implore another door wax on wax off Mr Miyagi said it best putting Daniel to the test I must confess: "Better learn balance cause balance is the key" ! Wax on wax off always do your best cause most of life is but a test yet off the cuff here I send out a cheer to all those who persevered best to offer positive reinforcement then any negative thoughts Wax on wax off in the midnight hour have to take a cold shower
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He was an actor who died at the age of seventy. William died of complications from heart surgery. He starred in over eighty television shows over the years. This man chose to be a character actor, that was his career. He starred on The Andy Griffith Show in 'Stranger In Town'. He died over thirty years ago and he's buried in the ground. He starred in 'Sanford and Son', 'Newhart' and 'Cold Steel'. He also starred in an episode of 'The Trials of Rosie O'Neill'. He starred in one episode of both 'Wonder Woman' and 'Amen'. It's sad because William is dead and we will never see him again.
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Aug 12, 2025
Aug 12, 2025 at 11:09 AM UTC
William Lanteau