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"grinned" poems
"While I sit at the door Sick to gaze within Mine eye weepeth sore For sorrow and sin: As a tree my sin stands To darken all lands; Death is the fruit it bore. "How have Eden bowers grown Without Adam to bend them! How have Eden flowers blown Squandering their sweet breath Without me to tend them! The Tree of Life was ours, Tree twelvefold-fruited, Most lofty tree that flowers, Most deeply rooted: I chose the tree of death. "Hadst thou but said me nay, Adam, my brother, I might have pined away; I, but none other: God might have let thee stay Safe in our garden, By putting me away Beyond all pardon. "I, Eve, sad mother Of all who must live, I, not another, Plucked bitterest fruit to give My friend, husband, lover;-- O wanton eyes, run over; Who but I should grieve?-- Cain hath slain his brother: Of all who must die mother, Miserable Eve!" Thus she sat weeping, Thus Eve our mother, Where one lay sleeping Slain by his brother. Greatest and least Each piteous beast To hear her voice Forgot his joys And set aside his feast. The mouse paused in his walk And dropped his wheaten stalk; Grave cattle wagged their heads In rumination; The eagle gave a cry From his cloud station; Larks on thyme beds Forbore to mount or sing; Bees drooped upon the wing; The raven perched on high Forgot his ration; The conies in their rock, A feeble nation, Quaked sympathetical; The mocking-bird left off to mock; Huge camels knelt as if In deprecation; The kind hart's tears were falling; Chattered the wistful stork; Dove-voices with a dying fall Cooed desolation Answering grief by grief. Only the serpent in the dust Wriggling and crawling, Grinned an evil grin and ****** His tongue out with its fork.
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13.4k
Eve
"While I sit at the door Sick to gaze within Mine eye weepeth sore For sorrow and sin: As a tree my sin stands To darken all lands; Death is the fruit it bore. "How have Eden bowers grown Without Adam to bend them! How have Eden flowers blown Squandering their sweet breath Without me to tend them! The Tree of Life was ours, Tree twelvefold-fruited, Most lofty tree that flowers, Most deeply rooted: I chose the tree of death. "Hadst thou but said me nay, Adam, my brother, I might have pined away; I, but none other: God might have let thee stay Safe in our garden, By putting me away Beyond all pardon. "I, Eve, sad mother Of all who must live, I, not another, Plucked bitterest fruit to give My friend, husband, lover;-- O wanton eyes, run over; Who but I should grieve?-- Cain hath slain his brother: Of all who must die mother, Miserable Eve!" Thus she sat weeping, Thus Eve our mother, Where one lay sleeping Slain by his brother. Greatest and least Each piteous beast To hear her voice Forgot his joys And set aside his feast. The mouse paused in his walk And dropped his wheaten stalk; Grave cattle wagged their heads In rumination; The eagle gave a cry From his cloud station; Larks on thyme beds Forbore to mount or sing; Bees drooped upon the wing; The raven perched on high Forgot his ration; The conies in their rock, A feeble nation, Quaked sympathetical; The mocking-bird left off to mock; Huge camels knelt as if In deprecation; The kind hart's tears were falling; Chattered the wistful stork; Dove-voices with a dying fall Cooed desolation Answering grief by grief. Only the serpent in the dust Wriggling and crawling, Grinned an evil grin and ****** His tongue out with its fork.
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70
I thought I saw him, Standing so elegant, No single expressed whim, His skin and body vents Can't smell what he sees, Only the breeze through the leaves, A forest fire blazed, But the tree always stayed Yeah, I've felt the wind, And I've heard the birds, Through the flowers I grinned, I tasted the words
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Jan 1, 2015
Jan 1, 2015 at 3:50 AM UTC
The Hippie Tree
“T'was the night before Christmas ...” and Santa was busy. The reindeer were antsy the elves in a tizzy. The missus was tending the ovens like mad And turning out cookies to make children glad. The wood chips were flying the sawdust was thick The workshop was bulging with toys from St. Nick. Contractors from Sega, Nintendo and Sony Were working on games (and a robotic pony). Iphones and Ipads (with virus removal) Were packed in their boxes and stamped "Elf Approval". Last minute touches were added with flair While elf stylists tended to Santa's white hair. Elf tailors were making some last alterations To Santa's red coat and his waist tribulations. The weather was fair as the weather-elf stated The routes were approved and departure was slated. Bells had been polished and harnesses buffed While repairs were addressed for the hoofs that were scuffed. The antlers were festooned with ribbons and bells And the reindeer were covered with elf flying spells. The clock approached midnight as Santa was seated. The countdown began as the flight crew was greeted. H-hour neared and the tension was growing. Outside it grew cloudy and then, began snowing. But Santa just grinned as the weather-elf winced. "Don't worry, my friend.   Our time has commenced." For the weather was nothing to Santa's conveyance. His reindeer and sleigh were immune to"delay-ance". With a whirl of his whiskers and a flick of his wrist The reindeer were launched in a flash of white mist. And I heard him exclaim through his teleport ray: "ALERT TSA. Tell 'em I'm on my WAY!"
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Dec 22, 2017
Dec 22, 2017 at 9:27 AM UTC
T’was The Night Before Christmas
“T'was the night before Christmas ...” and Santa was busy. The reindeer were antsy the elves in a tizzy. The missus was tending the ovens like mad And turning out cookies to make children glad. The wood chips were flying the sawdust was thick The workshop was bulging with toys from St. Nick. Contractors from Sega, Nintendo and Sony Were working on games (and a robotic pony). Iphones and Ipads (with virus removal) Were packed in their boxes and stamped "Elf Approval". Last minute touches were added with flair While elf stylists tended to Santa's white hair. Elf tailors were making some last alterations To Santa's red coat and his waist tribulations. The weather was fair as the weather-elf stated The routes were approved and departure was slated. Bells had been polished and harnesses buffed While repairs were addressed for the hoofs that were scuffed. The antlers were festooned with ribbons and bells And the reindeer were covered with elf flying spells. The clock approached midnight as Santa was seated. The countdown began as the flight crew was greeted. H-hour neared and the tension was growing. Outside it grew cloudy and then, began snowing. But Santa just grinned as the weather-elf winced. "Don't worry, my friend.   Our time has commenced." For the weather was nothing to Santa's conveyance. His reindeer and sleigh were immune to"delay-ance". With a whirl of his whiskers and a flick of his wrist The reindeer were launched in a flash of white mist. And I heard him exclaim through his teleport ray: "ALERT TSA. Tell 'em I'm on my WAY!"
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64
I was shacked with a 24 year old girl from New York City for two weeks- about the time of the garbage strike out there, and one night my 34 year old woman arrived and she said, "I want to see my rival." she did and then she said, "o, you're a cute little thing!" next I knew there was a screech of wildcats- such screaming and scratch- ing, wounded animal moans, blood and **** . . I was drunk and in my shorts. I tried to seperate them and fell, wrenched my knee. then they were through the screen door and down the walk and out into the street. squadcars full of cops arrived. a police heli- coptor circled overhead. I stood in the bathroom and grinned in the mirror. it's not often at the age of 55 that such splendid things occur. better than the Watts riots. the 34 year old came back in. she had ****** all over her- self and her clothing was torn and she was followed by 2 cops who wanted to know why. pulling up my shorts I tried to explain.
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9.4k
Who In The Hell Is Tom Jones?
Resuscitate our dead memories only just to die again; Waking from a deep slumber, Staring out the window pane; Counting hours, how long can I endure the need to restrain?; Nothing have changed I should just get back to sleep again. The sun rises slowly as it burns my pale tainted skin; It just felt so good just to feel pain! For so long I've been so keen; I grew weak in my dreams when I'm asleep, the thoughts of you makes me sick! It's not that you vexes me, It's because of what I did to you that worries me; Never before I have felt so sensitive within this lifeless body... Lived only by drinking blood! To be confined in this coffin just to feel lonely! And then you came... The one I thought who restrained the beast in me; The one who gave warmth not burning me, calmed my soulless fury. But we must all know that the nature has its way of breaking; Something that is beautiful, Something profound! A new beginning... And so it came to that point where I fed on her! left her dying! Perhaps it was all meant to be for a while just to forget the craving... I'm a killer, a monster! An abomination to this world! But I can't take my life...Believe me I tried! I bathed under the sun turn to ashes and died! Only to know that when darkness falls I'll be revived... I must make a choice... It fancies me just having this thoughts right now; What could I possibly do?If the beast within is the one who contains me and how? It seems like a personal attraction just to add some satisfaction as I reach for the **** A little drama, show some masked humanity, make them live a little just to quench the thrill! I have glared, I have grinned, I have laughed and I have seduced... As I get closer for my teeth to sink in, let loose, let the hunger reduced; But after the feed do I feel remorse? For hours I thought I did... It's been like that through all the years... Feels redundant indeed. So how far will this story goes? For centuries I have pondered in circles. I have been there the evolution, the changes, the life as it cycles. And again...Here and now as I stand where once I become capable staring at the sun; I will forget the unforgettable, sail away! Far away from this land... Remember my story as it will never end; I'm finding a way now to break free from this curse; To be one with my prey walk free no more blood to quench thirst; So long and goodbye from me Dracula... Serenity is what I seek...A redemption of what they speak.
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Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 2:36 AM UTC
Dracula's Redemption
Resuscitate our dead memories only just to die again; Waking from a deep slumber, Staring out the window pane; Counting hours, how long can I endure the need to restrain?; Nothing have changed I should just get back to sleep again. The sun rises slowly as it burns my pale tainted skin; It just felt so good just to feel pain! For so long I've been so keen; I grew weak in my dreams when I'm asleep, the thoughts of you makes me sick! It's not that you vexes me, It's because of what I did to you that worries me; Never before I have felt so sensitive within this lifeless body... Lived only by drinking blood! To be confined in this coffin just to feel lonely! And then you came... The one I thought who restrained the beast in me; The one who gave warmth not burning me, calmed my soulless fury. But we must all know that the nature has its way of breaking; Something that is beautiful, Something profound! A new beginning... And so it came to that point where I fed on her! left her dying! Perhaps it was all meant to be for a while just to forget the craving... I'm a killer, a monster! An abomination to this world! But I can't take my life...Believe me I tried! I bathed under the sun turn to ashes and died! Only to know that when darkness falls I'll be revived... I must make a choice... It fancies me just having this thoughts right now; What could I possibly do?If the beast within is the one who contains me and how? It seems like a personal attraction just to add some satisfaction as I reach for the **** A little drama, show some masked humanity, make them live a little just to quench the thrill! I have glared, I have grinned, I have laughed and I have seduced... As I get closer for my teeth to sink in, let loose, let the hunger reduced; But after the feed do I feel remorse? For hours I thought I did... It's been like that through all the years... Feels redundant indeed. So how far will this story goes? For centuries I have pondered in circles. I have been there the evolution, the changes, the life as it cycles. And again...Here and now as I stand where once I become capable staring at the sun; I will forget the unforgettable, sail away! Far away from this land... Remember my story as it will never end; I'm finding a way now to break free from this curse; To be one with my prey walk free no more blood to quench thirst; So long and goodbye from me Dracula... Serenity is what I seek...A redemption of what they speak.
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37
Dead in the center of her heart I found a minotaur. Of all things a frigging minotaur. I stood puzzled as we locked eyes. When I stumbled upon him he was sleep with today's newspaper drenched across his lap. He bounced up in full guard. Me being me I asked him for simple directions. Telling him that I thought I was lost. I planned on seeing heart shapes maybe a butterfly or two. A big bunny shape thing or two but you, just wow. He grinned slightly and said yeah that's the first time I've heard that one. One step further, I added. I take it from the amount of drool on the side of your lip you've been sleep for quite a while. Now I don't mean to intrude on your guarding the labyrinth thing but, How about you let me *** a smoke and we'll talk about it at the nearest dinner. After all who can be mad over breakfast
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Nov 26, 2016
Nov 26, 2016 at 5:56 AM UTC
Breakfast With A Minotaur
Mary had a little lamb, two lobsters and a Christmas ham, a three-pound tub of chicken wings, seven bratwurst tied with strings, thirteen loaves of garlic bread, a schnitzel bigger than her head, four rare steaks, a dozen eggs, caviar and turkey's legs, strips of bacon, mushroom stew, chunks of bread and cheese fondue, and two whole jars of sauerkraut, (to clean all of her insides out). Finishing the pasta salad, Mary soon looked drawn and pallid. "I don't feel well," poor Mary said. "I think I need to rest my head." Then from her stomach came a moan, a straining, churning, twisted groan. Mary gasped; her eyes grew wide. She'd only seconds to decide. What could she do? Where could she go? Her stomach was about to blow! So, reaching for the nearest bucket, she retched, and then began to chuck it. All the courses that she'd swallowed, and the apertifs they'd followed, all the steaks and all the fish, each and every single dish came flying back from in her belly, filling up the bucket smelly with a foul and toxic brew, and no one knew quite what to do, so this went on for ten whole minutes till Mary had expelled her innards. When she was done, her eyes were red, and sweat was pouring from her head. "Are you alright, sweet Mary dear?" her mother asked. She didn't hear. For Mary was already off - the waiters saw her try to scoff the whole entire pudding bar. Now, this had pushed her mum too far. "Alright!" her mother cried, "I'm through! I've done the best that I can do. I'm sick and tired of all you eat. I will not pay for all this meat. I'm going home. Go get some help —" Then Mary's mum let out a yelp! She glanced down at her legs and saw sweet Mary there begin to gnaw! She struck the lass, but with great haste, alas, the girl had reached her waist. As Mary's ma was there devoured by her offspring, overpowered, she cried one thing ere final slaughter: "It smells like lamb in here, my daughter." Mary licked her lips and grinned. She belched out loud and then broke wind. She felt her tummy start to rumble - and calmly ordered apple crumble.
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Dec 18, 2017
Dec 18, 2017 at 4:52 AM UTC
Mary had a little lamb
Mary had a little lamb, two lobsters and a Christmas ham, a three-pound tub of chicken wings, seven bratwurst tied with strings, thirteen loaves of garlic bread, a schnitzel bigger than her head, four rare steaks, a dozen eggs, caviar and turkey's legs, strips of bacon, mushroom stew, chunks of bread and cheese fondue, and two whole jars of sauerkraut, (to clean all of her insides out). Finishing the pasta salad, Mary soon looked drawn and pallid. "I don't feel well," poor Mary said. "I think I need to rest my head." Then from her stomach came a moan, a straining, churning, twisted groan. Mary gasped; her eyes grew wide. She'd only seconds to decide. What could she do? Where could she go? Her stomach was about to blow! So, reaching for the nearest bucket, she retched, and then began to chuck it. All the courses that she'd swallowed, and the apertifs they'd followed, all the steaks and all the fish, each and every single dish came flying back from in her belly, filling up the bucket smelly with a foul and toxic brew, and no one knew quite what to do, so this went on for ten whole minutes till Mary had expelled her innards. When she was done, her eyes were red, and sweat was pouring from her head. "Are you alright, sweet Mary dear?" her mother asked. She didn't hear. For Mary was already off - the waiters saw her try to scoff the whole entire pudding bar. Now, this had pushed her mum too far. "Alright!" her mother cried, "I'm through! I've done the best that I can do. I'm sick and tired of all you eat. I will not pay for all this meat. I'm going home. Go get some help —" Then Mary's mum let out a yelp! She glanced down at her legs and saw sweet Mary there begin to gnaw! She struck the lass, but with great haste, alas, the girl had reached her waist. As Mary's ma was there devoured by her offspring, overpowered, she cried one thing ere final slaughter: "It smells like lamb in here, my daughter." Mary licked her lips and grinned. She belched out loud and then broke wind. She felt her tummy start to rumble - and calmly ordered apple crumble.
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60
I found myself stranded on Neverland with no way to fly and no star to show me the way 'till one night as I closed my eyes a shadow appeared and a boy close on his heels they tumbled and rolled before my feet Boy and Shadow became one and grinned at me "Peter Pan" he said to me playing a tune and swore he just wanted to talk for a while Laying amongst the tiger lilies I so adored and staring up at the stars He asked me to be his When I asked why he simply replied "I once saved you from Captain Hook." "I’ll keep you safe." "I promise you’ll never be lonely.” Foolishly, I agreed and he took me to his Hiding Tree where spiteful Tinkerbell tried to be rid of me for I was Self-Composed, Human & Withdrawn, everything she was not. He taught me how to fly, showed me every nook and cranny of his world by moonlight. And I fell in love with the way, his eyes shone like fireflies and his pure and genuine laugh. He was enthralling and magnetic always so carefree and reckless How wonderful it was 'Till Wendy bird came along for she was Kind, Romantic & Empathetic everything I was not all I could do was watch as they flew through Neverland by moonlight She fell hopelessly in love with his recklessly playful nature and hypnotic charms Yet every night Wendy gazed down to see the girl with the crow feather in her hair laying amongst the flowers she was named with Tinkerbell by her side. Whenever she asked Peter why he simply replied “She is as Wild as she is Beautiful. She cannot be contained by the hollow walls of my Hiding Tree Nor the boundaries of her village." Then one night when Wendy bird left and Peter returned to Hangman’s Tree he found Tiger Lily gone. Every night he’d fly above Neverland only to glimpse her crow feather but all he found was an empty space belonging to her ghost whispering "Peter Pan Take my hand and fly away to Neverland where the beast within can be free" Tinkerbell never did say where she’d gone only to leave her be. Her wild beast no longer had a home. Peter Pan would never see her again He had broken his Lily's heart
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Nov 22, 2015
Nov 22, 2015 at 8:43 PM UTC
Peter Pan
I found myself stranded on Neverland with no way to fly and no star to show me the way 'till one night as I closed my eyes a shadow appeared and a boy close on his heels they tumbled and rolled before my feet Boy and Shadow became one and grinned at me "Peter Pan" he said to me playing a tune and swore he just wanted to talk for a while Laying amongst the tiger lilies I so adored and staring up at the stars He asked me to be his When I asked why he simply replied "I once saved you from Captain Hook." "I’ll keep you safe." "I promise you’ll never be lonely.” Foolishly, I agreed and he took me to his Hiding Tree where spiteful Tinkerbell tried to be rid of me for I was Self-Composed, Human & Withdrawn, everything she was not. He taught me how to fly, showed me every nook and cranny of his world by moonlight. And I fell in love with the way, his eyes shone like fireflies and his pure and genuine laugh. He was enthralling and magnetic always so carefree and reckless How wonderful it was 'Till Wendy bird came along for she was Kind, Romantic & Empathetic everything I was not all I could do was watch as they flew through Neverland by moonlight She fell hopelessly in love with his recklessly playful nature and hypnotic charms Yet every night Wendy gazed down to see the girl with the crow feather in her hair laying amongst the flowers she was named with Tinkerbell by her side. Whenever she asked Peter why he simply replied “She is as Wild as she is Beautiful. She cannot be contained by the hollow walls of my Hiding Tree Nor the boundaries of her village." Then one night when Wendy bird left and Peter returned to Hangman’s Tree he found Tiger Lily gone. Every night he’d fly above Neverland only to glimpse her crow feather but all he found was an empty space belonging to her ghost whispering "Peter Pan Take my hand and fly away to Neverland where the beast within can be free" Tinkerbell never did say where she’d gone only to leave her be. Her wild beast no longer had a home. Peter Pan would never see her again He had broken his Lily's heart
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87
You were all the chemicals I crave A cocktail of all the elements I couldn't refuse Tall, dark, and nerdy That's how I described you To my best friend and she laughed Those eyes And a penchant for swearing And American Spirits A bad boy A light-weight And a snuggler Co-existent in a Starcraft lover Creating covalent bonds At the bar over whisky Losing ourselves in time loops And infinity I corrected your grammar And you grinned And I fell Knowing that the Force was strong with this one Too strong to resist And I swallowed my heart Like Ms. Pac-Man The first time that we kissed Go figure that a Jedi Would fall so hard For a Sith
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Apr 17, 2013
Apr 17, 2013 at 2:36 PM UTC
Nerd Love
"hell yeah?" the burglar asked the pusher. (the burglar: wirily, ambitious. plain appearance, dressed in black. the pusher: wealthy, strong and well-conditioned. sumptuous leather jacket.) "hell yeah", the pusher answered. "now i got what i like and you got what you need." both grinned. after a day of extensive work, they relaxed in a hellish pub. it was visited by diplomatic creatures whose faces were recognizable like shadows. this pub was called babylon 8. the burglar and the pusher touched glasses to celebrate their deal. they drank. "nothing to be written down", the pusher added. burglar nodded. voices of the diplomatic creatures surrounding them; satanic sighs; bold laughter; their sentences sounded like orders that are dictated by judges.    snakes and rats. gravelpitbulls and red cats. creatures with excellent memory. guys who swallow their plans after they had learned them by heart. a while later, a lady entered the pub: adorable like a man's fantasy; imitable like a woman's strategy. her hair color was your desire; her skin color the color of your dreams. her name was fantasy girl. suddenly, the lights went out; suddenly, a lightblue sun illuminated the room. no one noticed. everyone so busy hiding something that nothing was hid. the creatures of babylon 8 therefore didn't perceive the light. fantasy girl ordered a drink. she told the bartender: "i need freedom. that's what i want from you, the people of babylon 8." the bartender a giant with a face full of shining scars; his right ear missing; flashy shirt; an ancient first name; speaker of all world languages combined: the omerta. fantasy girl took a sip from a silver brew which had been served to her by the bartender. she took out a single match and there was no box; a long cigarette between her unknown lips. bartender looked at fantasy girl. without saying a word, he turned his stubble cheek into her direction. fantasy girl lighted the match. lightblue fire. inhaling. smoke. iceblue cloud. the burglar and the pusher had been looking at fantasy girl all the time. fantasy girl held a white fountain pen and took a black sheet out of a green handbag. she began to write.
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Dec 15, 2019
Dec 15, 2019 at 10:12 AM UTC
BABYLON 8. FANTASY GIRL'S SCENE.
"hell yeah?" the burglar asked the pusher. (the burglar: wirily, ambitious. plain appearance, dressed in black. the pusher: wealthy, strong and well-conditioned. sumptuous leather jacket.) "hell yeah", the pusher answered. "now i got what i like and you got what you need." both grinned. after a day of extensive work, they relaxed in a hellish pub. it was visited by diplomatic creatures whose faces were recognizable like shadows. this pub was called babylon 8. the burglar and the pusher touched glasses to celebrate their deal. they drank. "nothing to be written down", the pusher added. burglar nodded. voices of the diplomatic creatures surrounding them; satanic sighs; bold laughter; their sentences sounded like orders that are dictated by judges.    snakes and rats. gravelpitbulls and red cats. creatures with excellent memory. guys who swallow their plans after they had learned them by heart. a while later, a lady entered the pub: adorable like a man's fantasy; imitable like a woman's strategy. her hair color was your desire; her skin color the color of your dreams. her name was fantasy girl. suddenly, the lights went out; suddenly, a lightblue sun illuminated the room. no one noticed. everyone so busy hiding something that nothing was hid. the creatures of babylon 8 therefore didn't perceive the light. fantasy girl ordered a drink. she told the bartender: "i need freedom. that's what i want from you, the people of babylon 8." the bartender a giant with a face full of shining scars; his right ear missing; flashy shirt; an ancient first name; speaker of all world languages combined: the omerta. fantasy girl took a sip from a silver brew which had been served to her by the bartender. she took out a single match and there was no box; a long cigarette between her unknown lips. bartender looked at fantasy girl. without saying a word, he turned his stubble cheek into her direction. fantasy girl lighted the match. lightblue fire. inhaling. smoke. iceblue cloud. the burglar and the pusher had been looking at fantasy girl all the time. fantasy girl held a white fountain pen and took a black sheet out of a green handbag. she began to write.
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21
I'll Take Belize Please the water so blue in the caribbean sea I could almost see the reflection of me the palm trees with banana and coconut the man on the corner chewing a cigar **** the gentle breeze and sun so bright the only thing better than the cool soft night me friend Gomer he say to me I'd like to dive to find the perly I knew what he meant it must be so he thinks of the perl wherever he go in his straw brimmed hat drinking the *** he pick up his guitar and he begin to strum it was a song of cheer and a song of sad so glad he be here but still feeling bad he try to shake off saying oh what the hell swirling the *** in his coconut shell he still wanted to share this beautiful place he wished to see the smile on her face her long golden hair blowing in the wind the sand on her feet and then he grinned it was a thought that only he knew and maybe one other member of the crew an imaginary hug a gentle kiss fall to his knees if you don't mind he'll take Balize please Caribbean Joseph ....
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Dec 5, 2011
Dec 5, 2011 at 7:42 PM UTC
I'll Take Belize Please
She told him to put it in a hot dog bun "Kinky he thought, Licking It up and down she grinned seductively "Do you like my meat baby, "No I'm a Vegan so I'll never swallow meat juices,
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Feb 5, 2017
Feb 5, 2017 at 6:24 AM UTC
Vegan *******
T'was just before Christmas and I went down to the garage To have my old car looked at by a fellow known as  "Sarge" He said I need tires and my wipers weren't so hot My hoses all were leaking and my muffler was shot The repairs just kept on coming and I saw a sparkle in his eyes He was counting all my money, he was the devil in disguise I told him "Thanks, but I would go and get another look" Before I signed for his repair list and I was on the hook So I went on to my friend's place to see what he could do We've been friends for nearly 30 years...since 1982. His mechanic took it out back and while he had it on the hoist I saw a woman at the counter, looking rather moist She said my car is leaking there's  a hole that must be filled I thought that if Rob had a coffee, it'd most certainly be spilled A girl came in and she told Rob her boyfriend had loose nuts And whenever he was driving her, they slid into the ruts Rob stepped back, grinned a bit as he was looking down her front And from where I stood behind her I could almost see her Donation to the Angel tree that was standing in the corner A door opened, a breeze blew in, and there was no time to warn her Her skirt blew up, exposing  her tattoo of some sprigs of holly And Rob came round and covered her just like Sir Walter Raleigh I'm sorry miss, for I did look when your skirt was lifted And I must say, you made my night, for my drive shaft has shifted And then a man came through the door and said "My name is Nick" "I've problems with my reindeer and I need them seen to quick" Rob said "we work on cars here sir , I can fix tires or a hose" "It's nothing major son, I need a bulb for Rudolph's nose" "It doesn't stay on like it should and the other deer get frantic" "And I can't risk it going out when I'm over the Atlantic" "So, if you would replace it now with something nice and bright" "I'd pay you well for all your time and for aiding in my plight" Rob stepped up, fixed Rudolph's nose and said "This one's on me" "And for all work done in my shop you get a guarantee" We all stood round as Santa left, for we new that  it was him For he left us each a candy cane in a metal alloy rim And as we watched him fly away, I'm sure we heard him yell "There's mistletoe tattooed on her too, but...where I'll never tell!"
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May 30, 2012
May 30, 2012 at 3:01 PM UTC
Christmas at The Garage
T'was just before Christmas and I went down to the garage To have my old car looked at by a fellow known as  "Sarge" He said I need tires and my wipers weren't so hot My hoses all were leaking and my muffler was shot The repairs just kept on coming and I saw a sparkle in his eyes He was counting all my money, he was the devil in disguise I told him "Thanks, but I would go and get another look" Before I signed for his repair list and I was on the hook So I went on to my friend's place to see what he could do We've been friends for nearly 30 years...since 1982. His mechanic took it out back and while he had it on the hoist I saw a woman at the counter, looking rather moist She said my car is leaking there's  a hole that must be filled I thought that if Rob had a coffee, it'd most certainly be spilled A girl came in and she told Rob her boyfriend had loose nuts And whenever he was driving her, they slid into the ruts Rob stepped back, grinned a bit as he was looking down her front And from where I stood behind her I could almost see her Donation to the Angel tree that was standing in the corner A door opened, a breeze blew in, and there was no time to warn her Her skirt blew up, exposing  her tattoo of some sprigs of holly And Rob came round and covered her just like Sir Walter Raleigh I'm sorry miss, for I did look when your skirt was lifted And I must say, you made my night, for my drive shaft has shifted And then a man came through the door and said "My name is Nick" "I've problems with my reindeer and I need them seen to quick" Rob said "we work on cars here sir , I can fix tires or a hose" "It's nothing major son, I need a bulb for Rudolph's nose" "It doesn't stay on like it should and the other deer get frantic" "And I can't risk it going out when I'm over the Atlantic" "So, if you would replace it now with something nice and bright" "I'd pay you well for all your time and for aiding in my plight" Rob stepped up, fixed Rudolph's nose and said "This one's on me" "And for all work done in my shop you get a guarantee" We all stood round as Santa left, for we new that  it was him For he left us each a candy cane in a metal alloy rim And as we watched him fly away, I'm sure we heard him yell "There's mistletoe tattooed on her too, but...where I'll never tell!"
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38
There was a young girl and her name was Carrie All she would dream of was being a Fairy She would come home with tears down her face Thinking of the words said made her heart pace To the park she would go to try and get a look Writing and drawing in her small book One day she as was there jumping towards the sky When all of a sudden she heard a small cry She looked to her feet to behold a rare sight A small frail fairy starring up at her in fright She picked up the being and took it back home Up to her room where it could freely roam As the days went on the fairy grew sad Because of that Carrie became mad One day the fairy had asked to go Carrie was so mad that she roared out a ‘NO’ The fairy’s heart hurt For Carrie had begun to treat it like dirt Slowly the fairy thought of a way When Carrie would leave it’d ask to come play Carrie accepted without a clue But before the time came she already knew Before she had left she locked the fairy up Away it went in a small plastic cup Loudly the fairy screamed out for mercy Calmly Carrie said ‘You should have loved me” She picked up a lighter and set it aflame Looking down at the fairy with no hint of shame As the cup lit up and the golden flames licked out Carrie covered her ears as the fairy began to shout She grinned at the cup with no hint of remorse From that moment on her life went off course She soon became crazy and also was bitter Mad at that fairy for not wanting to be with her She then gave up with keeping up with her lie And quickly decided it was her turn to die She wrote a short letter for all those who cared Re writing the life of which she had bared The finale few lines spoke of her fears But only the last two were covered in tears These were the words that were said Right before Carrie had shot herself in the head I am a young girl and my name is Carrie As I grew up I dreamed of being a fairy People would laugh and break my joy They didn’t realize that I wasn’t a toy My dream soon came true in a sick twisted way I didn’t know that I would turn around and say That fairies aren’t real to those who don’t see And being able to know one comes at a fee I was one of the few who had to pay that cost I was once found but now I am lost I am ready to go for the clock is ticking My heart and soul is now one for the picking I guess it is time to reveal all kept hidden For I was the one that had it forbidden Because I am a young girl and my name is Carrie And I’m leaving this world the queen of all fairies.
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Jan 24, 2017
Jan 24, 2017 at 10:51 AM UTC
The Fairy
There was a young girl and her name was Carrie All she would dream of was being a Fairy She would come home with tears down her face Thinking of the words said made her heart pace To the park she would go to try and get a look Writing and drawing in her small book One day she as was there jumping towards the sky When all of a sudden she heard a small cry She looked to her feet to behold a rare sight A small frail fairy starring up at her in fright She picked up the being and took it back home Up to her room where it could freely roam As the days went on the fairy grew sad Because of that Carrie became mad One day the fairy had asked to go Carrie was so mad that she roared out a ‘NO’ The fairy’s heart hurt For Carrie had begun to treat it like dirt Slowly the fairy thought of a way When Carrie would leave it’d ask to come play Carrie accepted without a clue But before the time came she already knew Before she had left she locked the fairy up Away it went in a small plastic cup Loudly the fairy screamed out for mercy Calmly Carrie said ‘You should have loved me” She picked up a lighter and set it aflame Looking down at the fairy with no hint of shame As the cup lit up and the golden flames licked out Carrie covered her ears as the fairy began to shout She grinned at the cup with no hint of remorse From that moment on her life went off course She soon became crazy and also was bitter Mad at that fairy for not wanting to be with her She then gave up with keeping up with her lie And quickly decided it was her turn to die She wrote a short letter for all those who cared Re writing the life of which she had bared The finale few lines spoke of her fears But only the last two were covered in tears These were the words that were said Right before Carrie had shot herself in the head I am a young girl and my name is Carrie As I grew up I dreamed of being a fairy People would laugh and break my joy They didn’t realize that I wasn’t a toy My dream soon came true in a sick twisted way I didn’t know that I would turn around and say That fairies aren’t real to those who don’t see And being able to know one comes at a fee I was one of the few who had to pay that cost I was once found but now I am lost I am ready to go for the clock is ticking My heart and soul is now one for the picking I guess it is time to reveal all kept hidden For I was the one that had it forbidden Because I am a young girl and my name is Carrie And I’m leaving this world the queen of all fairies.
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58
Pretty is a six-letter word that can’t encompass your entire being in its arms. You were born to a mother who wore pain like trees wear their rings, as marks of fierce bravery and battle cries. You almost split her insides open coming out, wailing so hard the plaster cracked, but she grinned and bore it like a champion, even though the walls of her womb felt like one giant cigarette burn that no one cared enough to put out. You are Icarus incarnate, with a body stitched from wings, flying toward the sun every day no matter how low the storm clouds hover. Pretty is not a synonym for learning how to put together a body that fights itself every day with pocket knives, like assembling letters to form words that flame in the mouth. That’s called survival. Pretty is an ugly word. It leaves behind a bitter residue that apologies cannot erase. Pretty is just an excuse for playing darts with a woman’s confidence. When told you are not pretty, always remember how your body expanded to fit its widening cage, its blooming hips, how the growing pains were less like pain and more like cracking fault lines. How your body turned itself inside out and spilled over and over again. Getting emptied is not pretty. It is dark and wounding and it requires strength enough to move mountains. On your worst days do not look in the mirror and call yourself pretty. Call yourself trying, call yourself surviving, call yourself learning how to get through a day, a week, a month or year. Call yourself still learning. Pretty is just six letters for lipstick, false eyelashes, combs for hair that never gets tangled, not for women who earn a victory every day just managing to exist. When told you are not pretty, do not **** in your stomach. Pretty is a discriminatory word, but having a body that knows what it wants and gets what it wants is not a hate crime. It’s a healing hymn. Don’t forget how trees shake their last leaves in winter like they’re shedding skin from the old year. Shed pretty. Shed it now. Teach yourself to replace it with heart-wrenching, brilliant, clever, artistic, unique, understanding, fighting. Always living. When told you are not pretty, don’t fall in love with the ground. Get back up. This is not an apocalypse; this is not the end of the world. A six-letter word doesn’t have the power to burn down every building in site or freeze the entire world in epic proportions. Your body is not wreckage or refuse left over from a world on fire. Your body is just fine. Look in the mirror. Tell yourself, Pretty is not me. Pretty is an ugly concept. I am more.
0
Feb 19, 2015
Feb 19, 2015 at 6:59 AM UTC
when told you are not pretty
Pretty is a six-letter word that can’t encompass your entire being in its arms. You were born to a mother who wore pain like trees wear their rings, as marks of fierce bravery and battle cries. You almost split her insides open coming out, wailing so hard the plaster cracked, but she grinned and bore it like a champion, even though the walls of her womb felt like one giant cigarette burn that no one cared enough to put out. You are Icarus incarnate, with a body stitched from wings, flying toward the sun every day no matter how low the storm clouds hover. Pretty is not a synonym for learning how to put together a body that fights itself every day with pocket knives, like assembling letters to form words that flame in the mouth. That’s called survival. Pretty is an ugly word. It leaves behind a bitter residue that apologies cannot erase. Pretty is just an excuse for playing darts with a woman’s confidence. When told you are not pretty, always remember how your body expanded to fit its widening cage, its blooming hips, how the growing pains were less like pain and more like cracking fault lines. How your body turned itself inside out and spilled over and over again. Getting emptied is not pretty. It is dark and wounding and it requires strength enough to move mountains. On your worst days do not look in the mirror and call yourself pretty. Call yourself trying, call yourself surviving, call yourself learning how to get through a day, a week, a month or year. Call yourself still learning. Pretty is just six letters for lipstick, false eyelashes, combs for hair that never gets tangled, not for women who earn a victory every day just managing to exist. When told you are not pretty, do not **** in your stomach. Pretty is a discriminatory word, but having a body that knows what it wants and gets what it wants is not a hate crime. It’s a healing hymn. Don’t forget how trees shake their last leaves in winter like they’re shedding skin from the old year. Shed pretty. Shed it now. Teach yourself to replace it with heart-wrenching, brilliant, clever, artistic, unique, understanding, fighting. Always living. When told you are not pretty, don’t fall in love with the ground. Get back up. This is not an apocalypse; this is not the end of the world. A six-letter word doesn’t have the power to burn down every building in site or freeze the entire world in epic proportions. Your body is not wreckage or refuse left over from a world on fire. Your body is just fine. Look in the mirror. Tell yourself, Pretty is not me. Pretty is an ugly concept. I am more.
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8
I knew a simple soldier boy Who grinned at life in empty joy, Slept soundly through the lonesome dark, And whistled early with the lark. In winter trenches, cowed and glum, With crumps and lice and lack of *** He put a bullet through his brain. No one spoke of him again. You smug-faced crowds with kindling eye Who cheer when soldier lads march by, Sneak home and pray you'll never know The hell where youth and laughter go.
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4.1k
Suicide In The Trenches
I thought of you, when you thought of me. I deleted all our memories off my phone. The ones where we're smiling, As if in a few short months, We didn't know we'd be nothing to each other, You gave me a quiet hey, I gave you a simple nod, We asked about each other's lifes, I found that quite odd, Because it feels like just yesterday, You knew me better than myself, But you told me about your new job, 1500 a night, Taking your clothes off for girls, As if that was right, I asked jokingly if you charged extra for the guys, You nodded without missing a beat, I felt chocked up inside, I just grinned and said I remember when I got all of that for free.
0
Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 10:46 PM UTC
Untitled
'O Jesus Christ! I'm hit,' he said; and died. Whether he vainly cursed, or prayed indeed, The Bullets chirped - In vain! vain! vain! Machine-guns chuckled, - Tut-tut! Tut-tut! And the Big Gun guffawed. Another sighed, - 'O Mother, mother! Dad!' Then smiled, at nothing, childlike, being dead. And the lofty Shrapnel-cloud Leisurely gestured, - Fool! And the falling splinters tittered. 'My Love!' one moaned. Love-languid seemed his mood, Till, slowly lowered, his whole face kissed the mud. And the Bayonets' long teeth grinned; Rabbles of Shells hooted and groaned; And the Gas hissed.
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3.5k
The Last Laugh
I I was walking through the forest of life when I saw in my path a shade whose spectral form blocked my way to the sweet fruits that lay beyond. II “Who are you, shade?” I asked, “Why do I find you now, in my travels?” The shade spoke not but instead pointed down yonder path and grinned a shade’s grin. III Where he pointed I could see through the space between trees a castle as black as night from where it sat brooding on a high hill. Instantly were the fruits forgotten, so great my urge to reach and enter this castle. IV When I looked again, the shade had vanished and I was alone once more. Quickly I continued down the path and towards my goal. V The way was long and as I finally reached the hill upon which the castle sat night had begun to fall. VI As I looked up, my first thought was that the castle had vanished leaving me alone and lost at the end of the path. VII When suddenly I saw a flame burn from one of its high windows. I realized the castle was still there but as deeply black as the darkening sky above. VIII Soon stars were visible and the contrast of the infinite darkness of the castle against them seemed as if a great black hole had opened up, revealing the never ending darkness that lies beyond what is known. IX Up I climbed until I came to its great gate and with beating heart did I gently push it open and enter the courtyard. X In it stood a fountain, now dry, and beyond that the crimson door through which I would gain access to this mysterious keep. XI As I approached the door I could read the inscription written by its large metal knocker: “Behind you lies what is known, ahead lies the unknown. For what is behind this door changes everything.” XII Slowly did I push the door and it quickly gave in. I passed the threshold and my eyes adjusted to the the darkness inside. XIII As my vision cleared I saw what lay in the middle of the room: a pen and a blank piece of paper.
0
Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 4:06 AM UTC
The Black Castle
I I was walking through the forest of life when I saw in my path a shade whose spectral form blocked my way to the sweet fruits that lay beyond. II “Who are you, shade?” I asked, “Why do I find you now, in my travels?” The shade spoke not but instead pointed down yonder path and grinned a shade’s grin. III Where he pointed I could see through the space between trees a castle as black as night from where it sat brooding on a high hill. Instantly were the fruits forgotten, so great my urge to reach and enter this castle. IV When I looked again, the shade had vanished and I was alone once more. Quickly I continued down the path and towards my goal. V The way was long and as I finally reached the hill upon which the castle sat night had begun to fall. VI As I looked up, my first thought was that the castle had vanished leaving me alone and lost at the end of the path. VII When suddenly I saw a flame burn from one of its high windows. I realized the castle was still there but as deeply black as the darkening sky above. VIII Soon stars were visible and the contrast of the infinite darkness of the castle against them seemed as if a great black hole had opened up, revealing the never ending darkness that lies beyond what is known. IX Up I climbed until I came to its great gate and with beating heart did I gently push it open and enter the courtyard. X In it stood a fountain, now dry, and beyond that the crimson door through which I would gain access to this mysterious keep. XI As I approached the door I could read the inscription written by its large metal knocker: “Behind you lies what is known, ahead lies the unknown. For what is behind this door changes everything.” XII Slowly did I push the door and it quickly gave in. I passed the threshold and my eyes adjusted to the the darkness inside. XIII As my vision cleared I saw what lay in the middle of the room: a pen and a blank piece of paper.
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82
I sat by the lake sipping coffee and feeding the ducks. In between breadcrumbs, I dialed his number. "Your call could not go through." I grinned; Could not, not would not. Long since the city summers, I finally found our stillwater space: a sense of security that felt as serene as my remote arcadia, disturbed only by the footstrokes of a hungry mallard passing by. No breadcrumbs for him. "Call failed." Call failed, not I failed, and I picked apart the stale bagel to dip in my coffee and feed to the ducks.
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Sep 25, 2013
Sep 25, 2013 at 4:50 AM UTC
"The Cottage"
I can't recall what made me spark, that night at kyles left a mark. A mark of a memory deep in my brain. One simple second I couldn't refrain. Your arms spread wide , as wide as the car. And I grinned like I do at the beauty you are. I looked deep in your eyes as I grazed down your hip. I hesitated in fear that I would mess up or trip. Two ends of a magnet our body's seemed to fuze. So perfect the Angels we highly amused. Dancing and hoping my heart seemed to beat. Beating so fast to the hands ,so much heat, on on my neck. So elegantly placed and fitted in feathered., Like a puzzle piece, eaisly put back together. Distance won't be any trouble you **** Cause we have the most amazing hug.
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Feb 20, 2013
Feb 20, 2013 at 2:28 AM UTC
HUG
Put the coin in the box, Colin, Uncle Donal said, Hear it shake, and he’d Take up the box and shake It hard so that the coins Would rattle loudly. Do you Hear that, Colin, that’s the Change from my purse and Pocket, the missionaries can Have that for their work abroad, To feed and spread the Word. Will you hush the noise there, Granddaddy called; I can’t hear Myself think for the racket of it. The horses are on the run and I Can’t hear who is where and who’s Behind. Uncle Donal put the Charity box down on the mantel Shelf with the gentleness of Cousin Chloe removing her underwear Before her bath. Ah, **** the horse, Granddaddy bellowed, I could run Faster myself so I could. Never bet On the horses, Colin, he said, they’ll Let you down and take your money Just like a woman. Uncle Donal pulled A face and grinned from ear to ear, as Grandmother entered the room with A face of thunder and Granddaddy said, Oh, hello, wife, how are you my dear?
0
Jul 29, 2016
Jul 29, 2016 at 2:51 PM UTC
COIN BOX. (OLD POEM)
The rabbit haunts from a distance, patrolling fields for one to bear witness. Gracefully the tenderfoot stalks, keeping a watchful eye out for Mr.Fox. The creature walks with a slight limp, other animals often call him a gimp. This way, that way, it all seems wrong, keeping time with a lost robin's song. His home constructed as a single story wonder, located within a large tree laying asunder. Family life wasn't right, as fleeting an image as a wayward kite. A field mouse, left without spouse, Stumbled upon the home in a tree, accompanied by a group of songbirds filled with glee. The field mouse was asked to go, the creature in response, simply said no. A man stumbled up, as mad as a hatter, his portly girth made it hard to imagine being any fatter. He spoke of intrinsic right, boundless visions beyond sight. Told the rabbit he had a duty to the mouse, saying it immoral to deprive him of a house. The rabbit, reluctant to accept , found out from the man of the true evils in neglect. He was told that he didn't own the home, it had simply been gifted as a goodwill loan. That meant it was as his as much as the rabbits, regardless of any perspective habits. With that the moused moved in, and brought with him his prized snakeskin. Over a meal the mouse spoke of danger, coming in the form of a wandering stranger. He told the rabbit, this creature travelled light, but usually shrouded in the cover of night. Said the creature was not large in size, though his methods of thievery seemed quite wise. The rabbit recoiled in his chair, as the field mouse offered up a demonic glare. The field mouse grinned from ear to ear, sensing this rabbit's new grasp on fear. Pulling the snakeskin from his sack, the dried shell was quick to crack. The mouse spoke of a brave duel, between him and this monster, which had downed a mule. He used every ounce of his cunning, and sent the legless beat running. It wasn't good enough for the mouse, who was certainly no louse. He tracked the snake for six long hours, through a field of partially bloomed flowers. In the end he killed the snake, then took its skin so listeners knew the tale wasn't fake. He held the skin, I mean the mouse, and said he'd hang the shell within the house. Mr. Rabbit was found dead two days after, his body lay desecrated next to the snakes, hanging from a rafter.
0
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 1:02 PM UTC
Colonialism (Coquille River, Oregon) (1854)
The rabbit haunts from a distance, patrolling fields for one to bear witness. Gracefully the tenderfoot stalks, keeping a watchful eye out for Mr.Fox. The creature walks with a slight limp, other animals often call him a gimp. This way, that way, it all seems wrong, keeping time with a lost robin's song. His home constructed as a single story wonder, located within a large tree laying asunder. Family life wasn't right, as fleeting an image as a wayward kite. A field mouse, left without spouse, Stumbled upon the home in a tree, accompanied by a group of songbirds filled with glee. The field mouse was asked to go, the creature in response, simply said no. A man stumbled up, as mad as a hatter, his portly girth made it hard to imagine being any fatter. He spoke of intrinsic right, boundless visions beyond sight. Told the rabbit he had a duty to the mouse, saying it immoral to deprive him of a house. The rabbit, reluctant to accept , found out from the man of the true evils in neglect. He was told that he didn't own the home, it had simply been gifted as a goodwill loan. That meant it was as his as much as the rabbits, regardless of any perspective habits. With that the moused moved in, and brought with him his prized snakeskin. Over a meal the mouse spoke of danger, coming in the form of a wandering stranger. He told the rabbit, this creature travelled light, but usually shrouded in the cover of night. Said the creature was not large in size, though his methods of thievery seemed quite wise. The rabbit recoiled in his chair, as the field mouse offered up a demonic glare. The field mouse grinned from ear to ear, sensing this rabbit's new grasp on fear. Pulling the snakeskin from his sack, the dried shell was quick to crack. The mouse spoke of a brave duel, between him and this monster, which had downed a mule. He used every ounce of his cunning, and sent the legless beat running. It wasn't good enough for the mouse, who was certainly no louse. He tracked the snake for six long hours, through a field of partially bloomed flowers. In the end he killed the snake, then took its skin so listeners knew the tale wasn't fake. He held the skin, I mean the mouse, and said he'd hang the shell within the house. Mr. Rabbit was found dead two days after, his body lay desecrated next to the snakes, hanging from a rafter.
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29
I don't want to be his five minute cigarette break I want to be the person he comes to every time he lights up a blunt I don't want to be drunk with him on a Saturday night I want to be the person who's there with him when the sunrise is up on Sunday morning and he's still hang over I want to be the person he drunk calls at four o'clock in the morning when his mind is blurred, yet my name is the first and only thing he thinks about I want to be the person he thinks of when he is so high and he can't think straight but the thought of my face is always clear no matter where his mind wanders off But these are just my thoughts when I've already had five hits As I watched him across the room He probably had too many to drink and lit up a lot When he takes his last hit, he smiles at me And the thoughts I had felt like forever But only a minute passed by But when he grinned at me In that moment I wished it lasted for a long time He probably won't remember any of this the next day I know I will
0
Sep 18, 2015
Sep 18, 2015 at 1:06 AM UTC
lovely stoner
i feel trapped inside of my feverish skin and i wish i could escape it, because i don't want to be myself today i don't know why i'm so different, why i feel so lonely and tired of living yesterday, i was so happy and hopeful, inspired and alive i lit candles and sang along to the radio and grinned and felt completely intact but today, i'm in pieces i feel hollow and meaningless i don't get why my feelings change so quickly it's like once i've wrapped my arms around them, the wind picks them up and carries them away, leaving me with a heart full of unfamiliar emotions i don't understand, i just wish i could figure myself out sometimes
0
May 10, 2013
May 10, 2013 at 12:28 PM UTC
march 18, 2013