"hijacked" poems
Mark A. Williams
SEPTEMBER 14, 1962 – JULY 23, 2018
___________________________________________________________
Wow Mark,
Was so, so saddened to hear this news. I haven't seen you in over ten years, but as kids, we had some amazing adventures, didn't we? Partying, camping and swimming at the Hudson lime pits. Mowing down on Pizza and pitchers of Pepsi (and as we grew up, BEER!) at Pizza Hut. (We knew the numbers to ALL the songs on that jukebox by heart!) Hanging out and looking at the stars through Budvido's telescope, listening to Doctor Demento. Laughing hysterically as we ran through Monty Python skits as everyone looked on in total puzzlement because THEY wouldn't discover them until YEARS later!
Building underground forts in the North Woods. You, Budvido, Zeke and I playing pinball at 7-11 for hours and hours. Watching Bands, chasing girls and playing Foosball or Pool at the Touch of Class Teen Club. You gave me my first Imported beer . . . a Lowenbrau. I will always owe my passion for those German beers to you and it was fitting that Budvido bestowed you with that moniker.
All through Jr. High, sharing a seat on the school bus. You, Matt, Tom, Buddy and I cruising around late night on our bikes for hours. Hanging around in the Jasmine Lakes sign with hijacked beer or getting free bags of Burgers from Burger Queen when they closed at night! Jousting with shopping carts on our bikes in the Winn-Dixie parking lot. Sitting up all night in Jimi's room after climbing in through the window or going on endless space cruises with him and Raymond in the Toyota.
(RIP Jimi Carlsen)
Sneaking into the nudest Colony and skinny dipping! Always cracking up at the school lunch table. Swimming in my pool and terrorizing my sister and her friends. (Allegedly) Trashing that crook Fast Eddie's produce stand after he refused to pay us for a full day of picking watermelons!
Good times, indeed . . . Some of my most precious memories.
I can only pray that you know that I wouldn't trade my youth or you in it for anything in the world and you will be sadly missed, Lowenbrau, my old friend.
I hope that where you are, your beers are ice cold and that you and Jimi aren't having to glue the Hookah back together.
Jeff Gaines
July 28, 2018
Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 7:00 AM UTC
It’s a good day the lord granted.
Everything seems so perfect.
Weather is sweet.
Sun’s shining.
What could go wrong?
…….Until…..
I felt you coming.
Like a hijacker through a rear view mirror.
How I wish for a false alarm.
Dear lord may this cup pass.
A moment to accept the inevitable arrived.
Oh my God! you seized me once again.
You came like a thief at midnight.
You hijacked my mind.
You exposed me to wrath of migraines.
Horrible 30 seconds in a 24hour day.
It's like a small stain on a white garment.
The cruelty of an epileptic seizure is inevitable.
https://m.facebook.com/EpilepsyandCpfriends
Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 4:50 PM UTC
At the Zoo
Patriots and faux exhibit and binge on synonyms of liberty printed on beer and underwear
Advertising what should be unspoken and inspired to pervert and romanticize
Preludes to the parades and finale above us all
Weeks of saturated irony
Cuckoo bird irony and BBQ
As they reform Phoenix, rebirth of distractions and thievery
Predators in ally ways pursing America's diamonds and legs
Then gunpowder
Gunpowder of colors and cuckoos
Layers of streets in gunpowder
Towns built of gunpowder
Sky is gunpowder
We are born addicted to led and gunpowder
Gunpowder ****** in the air
Success, display and diversion and more gunpowder to ingest.
The Grand Finale
The Volta of the evening
The hammer of the judge
*** appeal of death and nature flexing it's muscles-
show us some skin!
Covering your ears
Eyes fastened-
Ready to burrow back to mothers womb
Binged and free
Chinese celebration hijacked
Red, White and Blue
And a moment of silence
Orchestrated onomatopoeia in heaven
Chorus of arousal on Earth
Band marching war machines in hell
The showdown of 241 years!
This freedom we are all grateful to only talk about
Only free to battle shackling intoxication
Men and women tugging extra weighted offspring
Sulking for indoors and portable addiction
Chanting three letter obedience
God being counted by his blessings
Fear and Statism in every breathe for salvation from our stick swatted enemies
Checkpoints that serve and protect asking for a toll;
liberty synonyms.
Arresting the too free
At the Zoo,
The cuckoos regaining reality.
The phoenix red eye and held under oath
To the next day where we are back
To hate each others freedom, again.
Jul 10, 2017
Jul 10, 2017 at 1:31 AM UTC
I hate Science
I hate Technology
Neither Am I Orthodox
Nor I am Fool
I am not a *****
But still I choose to hate
Science and Technology
Both gave us many things
I remember, there was a time
I worshipped both of them
They produced machines for us
They produced robots for us
Machines started building
Homes, Bridges and Flyovers
Machines helped us in
Food and Cloth Production
Milk and Silk Production
And Blah Blah Blah Blah
They made our life easier
They made our life safer
They provided better security
They provided better tools
They made our life longer
They made our life smarter
They gave us rays of hope
They promised much more
They promised more Freedom
They Promised Leisure Time
They promised better Environment
They promised clean Air, Water, Soil
They Promised Harmony and Peace
They Promised Equality for All
Both Science and Technology
Progressed exponentially day by day
But something went wrong
Someone captured them
Hijacked them and misused
By applying their ***** minds
We still have Machines and Robots
We still have Logic and Skills
But where is Freedom and Peace?
Where is the clean Environment?
Where is clean Water, Air and Soil?
Where is the promised Leisure Time?
Now we also have Nuclear Bombs
We have weapons of mass ******
We have smart tools for our Extinction
We have weapons of mass Destructions
Robots are being transformed
From Robots to Human Beings
Humans are being transformed
From Human Beings to Machines
Yes Slavery is back in the Game
Machines have enslaved Humans
Robots have been granted
Citizenship and Civil Rights
Machines have been made ready
Ready to wage war against humans
The question is who is the culprit?
Is it Science and Technology?
No. Not at all. I know this very well
But I still hate Science and Technology
The real culprits are the hungry Capitalists
Who captured, hijacked and misused
Science and the Technology for their greed
Though they have all the things they need
Science and the Technology easily surrendered
and allowed themselves to be used for their greed
This is why I Hate Science and Technology
I also hate Capitalism and Capitalists too
But I have a big question for Myself. I still doubt -
"Can I really live without Science and Technology"
Jun 30, 2019
Jun 30, 2019 at 8:02 AM UTC
Dented and newly used
my heart is set on cruise
Winning
Grinning
Never gonna give up
because I refuse
My heart may be breaking
but it is not the end
Dealer count me back in
I am on the mend
I am on a comeback
I am done being afraid
I am done being saved
Do not need another setback
I am on a comeback
*I believe in who I am
I'm better than I have been
I am not down and out
I have only just began*
Thank you HP and fellow poets for this great honor!!! Sorry I am so late to the party but my 8 yr old boy hijacked my phone from me.
Aug 9, 2016
Aug 9, 2016 at 4:07 PM UTC
What is it about this chase that eludes me
That runs away from me
That seeks to experience and then flee me
Until I get hijacked by another
Consenting to my own free fall into ignorance and bliss
Conditioning myself to transmit
Abundance without reservation
Until shot at the knee
But dragged along for a while longer
By the chains I so genuinely let bind me
And even before the wounds have healed
I don't stop running, I won't stop running
Resolute in a chase that targets me
I do so unconditionally
But you can't hijack my senses
I am not an experience or experiment worth having
I am not a temporary treat to be improperly digested and defecated
I am not an amber that ignites upon initial contact
To then be mediated or extinguished if the temperate is not right
I am not the holy water that you colonize
And shower with to cleanse you
To then invalidate that sanctity
When it falls down the drain
I am not a barometer that reliefs the labor
Needed to challenge the aberrations
Of your colonized and colonizing tendencies
I exist
Physically insignificant
As the earth that birthed me and will bury me
But eternal in essence
I am a permanent presence
I am an unforgettable imprint
I am your equal, no less, no more
The moment that we mutually acknowledge
Each other's existence
I have bound myself to you
From that moment...loved you unconditionally and eternally
And expect no lesser commitment
From you to me, or any other person you meet
And even after the wounds have healed
I don't stop running, I won't stop running
Resolute in a chase that targets us
We must unleash our abundance unconditionally
And when we leave
We will have given
Absolutely everything
That we had to give
During that time of our existence
Mar 6, 2015
Mar 6, 2015 at 8:07 PM UTC
A flight of three crows
added to
a dense grey day
Next add four
iconic conifers
as high as the sky
eternally ******* down
These things are
always in my sight
through my window
on this wet world
Multiply all of this
by a sweet daughter
who makes me proud
and raise the whole
to the power of a strong woman
who carries us all
on her back
The equation produces
a result that I am 95 percent certain
equals happiness
though the confidence interval
is wide
And this result
sweet as it is
and as uncertain as it is
will outlive me
leave a faint echo in time
an echo that will bounce off a star
and finally be found
gripped in my shriveled paw
long after the epiphany
nowhere near paradise
somewhere short of
the end of the line
This is a moment of happiness
stolen from time
hijacked by a fugitive
from civil society
I'll hold it close
until death pries it
without mercy
from my hand
Leaves it as a blessing
and a curse
for all who come after
Take the blessing.
Leave the curse.
That's the advice I give
with my dying breath.
And I leave this to you
from the generosity
of my heart.
With a nod to
the scant traces
of God's grace
that I find on these pathways
of travail.
Never lost.
Never found.
Always present
and generous
to all.
Be that.
Nov 19, 2016
Nov 19, 2016 at 6:01 PM UTC
I've been focused on nutrition
sense before recognition
of a requirement of nutrients
for my life.
I eat for nutrition
I shunned the processed
chemical ick
a lifetime ago it seems
no longer remembering the taste
of chemically created
food stuffs.
though I know if I were to get a taste
it would satisfy my buds
they were made with my buds
in mind
hijacked my senses
lied and lied and lied
told my body it didn't need
nutrition
that is could live off of
intuition
and stuff in boxes
and bags
and cans
I've become my own food processor
now
I have mouths to feed
now I know what to feed
and where they make feed from
so we stick to the grass-fed
I'll teach them how to eat
even before how to read
its just how I see it
once that sugar laden
red
chemical construction
touches their lips
they will instantly desire more
Twain and Fitzgerald
will take them longer to digest.
so these are my priorities
now.
I am a nutrition seeker
a truth seeker
and I believe I come from
a line of healers
all who knew nutrition
is the key to life,
here.
the basic building blocks,
the amino acids
of life,
here.
when you're nourished
it all makes more sense
but stay out of those center aisles
their chemical composition
is too dense
my kidney could no longer clean
the code of food stuffs.
My strong little kidney
I'm so proud of it for
releasing its grip on its twin.
it wasn't for us anyways
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 7:10 PM UTC
Thinking with short breath, gripping my chest, sinking with stress?
Just to attest, Imagine putting stress to the test
Over pushing boundaries set with intent
Chasing leads, gaining lost time pursuing a lust with broken trust
Only to rise to the question
Can the duality of morals and ethics which define us..
Be overwritten?
Misconstrued needs for skeptics lost in line
Slowly assimilating breathless methods
Hijacked
Black rose petals spiraling to conclusion, Decomposing as if to forget this
Why don't I neglect this elusive euphoria defined in terms of confusion?
Split paths once veering in opposite directions begin running parallel
I know I'm here, but who's that there?
Ominous reflections veer back with eyes unfamiliar
A face with no definition grabs my wrist lurching me forward
Weightlessly ***** following a diverging direction with questioned intention.
Where are you taking me? (Silence)
Operating in two places at once, questioning who is the driver
Hijacked
There but ever increasingly distant, attempting to reach you
The sunrise rekindling the spark of yesterdays intuitions
Preserving eloquence like a flower in full bloom
Suddenly fades eerie in an instant, dwindling on gloomy restless expressions
Cloudy perception refracted by crystalline illusions
The evanescent cypress terpene, king of bliss
Flowing in the direction towards what has been calling it most
An icy chill enters my chest, a constant race to chase an endless quest
A ploy of acceptance with a cotton ball
Aug 22, 2019
Aug 22, 2019 at 11:50 AM UTC
~ dad said she'd be famous ~
*"...a doctor
or diva
like lena horne,"* he said
he'd been doing odd day jobs
and driving cabs deep into the night
through these mean city streets
since ella's debut
at the apollo
and his smile
grew wider than
jackie o's
reservoir in central park
when this bouncing baby girl
made her grand debut
into his world
the dimples on her
cherub caramel cheeks
were irresistibly pinchable
and those twinkling eyes
knew she'd be spoiled infinitely
like a fruit-fly in a box
of rotten apples
~ reality check ~
....if you look closely
you might still see one dimple;
but the twinkles departed
back in '75
....and the burns
on her fingertips
and blistered lips
....and the bones....
jutting like the bones
of refugees and anorexics
....missing flesh
...and the tracks
on her forearms
and filthy jeans
.....and the eyes....
shifting like the eyes
of senators and thieves
....telling lies
.....and the rotting corpse
in a black garbage bag
in fresh kills
multiple choices removed
from the doctor
and diva of daddy's dreams
hijacked by dream-killers:
*smack
crack
and addiction*
~ P (Pablo)
(8/1/2013)
Aug 1, 2013
Aug 1, 2013 at 3:26 PM UTC
Captain Marryat's chariot
Was hijacked by Judas Iscariot
But with the aid of a lariat
He got it back.
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 3:08 PM UTC
Frustration is having a government
that was created of, by
and for the People
that's been hijacked by money,
holding We the People in contempt.
Jun 30, 2015
Jun 30, 2015 at 12:05 PM UTC
Deathbed Confession
“In 1971 a man calling himself Dan Cooper hijacked
a plane from Portland to Seattle, demanded parachutes
and $200,000 in cash, then jumped into the night with
the money, never to be seen again.” — fbi.gov
So little seemed to be at stake.
The bomb was real; the threat was fake.
Neither was difficult to make.
And I was in my element,
or almost there. Yes, the descent
was cold, but warmer as I went,
and yes it was coal black and raining,
but I had uppers and my training.
I’ve spent my whole life not complaining.
When I could see the woods I wandered
out with the twenties, which I laundered,
safety-deposited, and squandered,
and with the oddest thing — a name
I’d paid for but could never claim,
a private riddle, private fame.
That’s been the hardest part: denial —
remaining of no interest while
the Bureau opened up a file
on every former paratrooper
who in his final morphine stupor
discovered he was D.B. Cooper.
I’m D.B. Cooper. There, I said it.
It’s decent work if you can get it,
but it pays cash. There is no credit,
or blame, or pity in thin air,
and I’ve spent forty winters there.
I’ll take whatever you can spare,
although I don’t suppose the guy
whose last confession is a lie
deserves it any less than I.
This piece is written by Kansas Poet Laureate Henry McHenry. The rights to the poem are completely his.
Oct 23, 2015
Oct 23, 2015 at 10:44 PM UTC
I am not Christian but I have deep reverence for the teachings of Christ and his love of humanity.
I am not Roman Catholic but I recognize the life-affirming power of community, communion, and ritual.
I am not a Moslem but I find beauty and usefulness in the teachings of Mohammed.
I am not Buddhist but I have seen the results of meditation, daily spiritual practice, and putting aside my own ego.
I am not Taoist but I have felt the peace of the way of simplicity and harmony with the Tao.
I am not ancient Egyptian but I know the power of the Sun in the heavens, and I honor the Holy Mother Isis whose name has been hijacked by terrorists and propaganda machines.
I am not Wiccan but I have danced with the natural cycles of the year and the moon; I have known the power of the Earth and my place within it.
I am not Jewish but I will not forget the lessons of suffering, wandering, Silence, and discipline they have taught the world.
Heathen. Pagan. Atheist. Heretic. Believer. Trickster. Demon. Saint.
Paradoxically, I am none of these things and All of these things.
I believe in a humanity that can transcend the enslaving dogma and intolerance of patriarchy and religions used against us, to see ourselves, our god(esse)s, and our highest noble values in the faces of each other and all the natural wonders of this universal dream.
Original Sin = the Original Lie.
I believe in the goodness and greatness of us all.
Won’t you be my neighbor? <3
Dec 11, 2016
Dec 11, 2016 at 9:54 PM UTC
I am not here now.
Not available,
Absent. Not present.
Hijacked,
Held hostage,
Tied up in a tangled web
Of locks and chains.
Trapped,
Houdini like,
In a cage and thrown
Into the turbulent waters
Of my shark infested mind.
****** in by a
Whirlpool of stories,
My thoughts spin
Epic myths,
Fantastical tales,
Dark fantasies and
Cheap thrillers.
Each teasing,
taunting and
goading me
To disconnect,
Shutdown,
To flee from
This moment.
This tender,
Aching moment.
This unashamed longing,
Drenched in the desire
To be penetrated by
Your presence,
To free fall into
The lap of the Beloved.
But you, like me,
Are not here now,
Not available,
Absent. Not present.
May 14, 2018
May 14, 2018 at 3:42 PM UTC
My daddy always told me
I would catch my hair
with flames.
I bow down to the
little black toaster;
praising his holy name.
Oh! Let me give thanks,
little black toaster,
for you have now fulfilled my every need.
I huff and puff
on filter stem;
hijacked cigarette now all mine.
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 11:30 PM UTC
You are a thought terrorist.
I can't go on a walk
lay in my own bed
or have a conversation
without you there.
You have hijacked my eyelids
you linger in my mind
-its maddening!
Maybe with these words
I can cut you from my head
and trap you in paper.
You can not become
my background music or
the rhythm of my soul
-its MINE!
Yet still, I think of you.
Why do I do this to myself?
If you are the terrorist, I hope
I am not the plane going down.
Mar 21, 2012
Mar 21, 2012 at 12:43 PM UTC
Took 287 South
to a Borders
Goin Outta
Biz Sale.
Books may be
anachronisms,
relics from
yesterdays
analog age,
but literacy's
bankruptcy
does have
advantages.
Take an
additional
30% off on
any orphans
pleading
release from
the discount
racks.
Snooping down
the literature isle
Samuel Beckett's
somber face
arrested my
roving
eyeballs.
A stern stare
printed across
5 spines of
his shrink
wrapped
oeuvre
commanded
my arm to rise
to liberate the
face from the
dismal shelf.
In mid flight
my reach
was hijacked
by a Kris
Kringley red
snow flaked
trim tome
standing
open face
next to
earnest
Beckett.
It was "The
Christmas
Sweater"
by NYT
Best Selling
Author, Glenn
Beck.
Clasping at Beck's
book, it inflicted
a nasty paper cut
to my ring finger.
My mind recoiled,
thinking, "serves
you right. Like
Martha, I shoulda
chosen the better
thing."
I'll never
make that mistake
again.
Borders Books
Riverdale
2/20/11
jbm
Nov 6, 2011
Nov 6, 2011 at 3:50 PM UTC
To tell the story of the nice-guy
is to tell a tale of unlost innocence.
There is no complexity that circumstance can’t remedy. There is no effort
to niceness; only a ****** world that blossoms
on genetically mutated ideology, growing larger than generations past.
Tomorrow, in Houston,
a butcher will wake up to slaughter a cow he may have named.
There will no be no tears when he grills steak for the wife he wooed
and the children he prescribed himself.
Three daughters,
from fifteen to twenty-two.
Tiramisu for dessert.
Ten guns in the cabinet beneath the stairs
and innocence buried behind the woodshed.
Pretend now, that you are forgiven.
Mistakes fade like snow angels, regrets
float like chemtrails.
You love you as much as the world always did.
You have not seen friends struck down by powders or lunacy,
you have only lived in the glow of their light. Hearts remain full.
The word swagger hasn’t been hijacked by hip hop
and bluejeans still mask imperfections. Sunsets are memorable,
and so are first dates and last kisses.
Sun won't blister fragile shoulders.
Fields blossom just in time to suit your irregular taste buds,
satisfying sweet corn cravings on Christmas.
Forget your father’s words
or a stranger's hand.
Forget improbability, impossibility,
impotence, importance,
impatience
and improper goodbyes.
Forget the tears cried alone
into ***** filled sheets at midnight.
Forget the effect but remember the cause,
camouflaged like a landmine of good ideas.
Forget the fights and slow-turn walk-aways
that turned words flaccid.
Forget friends ******* ex-girl friends
and amphetamines crashing into hallucinations.
Nice-guys vanish like good ideas,
lost in the shuffle,
looking for pen and paper,
just like house cats die
on the forth of July,
and all that’s left are ashes
on a mantel
alongside fraudulent grins.
Oct 29, 2011
Oct 29, 2011 at 7:42 PM UTC
Versifyin'
Isn't dyin',
But man,
It's hard to do.
Words and lines
Sound like cliches,
What once
Was old
Is new..
Familiar phrases
Crowd the pages,
Causing such to do.
Can anyone write
Anything new.
Did I write that;
Overhear a wit?
Read it in the loo?
I'll note it down,
Sit,
Sweat and swap,
Get off the ***
And write it.
I don't purloin
Pretty Woman
Because Roy
Is older than me.
To write Yesterday
Is almost to say,
I've hijacked
Sir McCartney.
Write Daffodils,
And see what thrills
That word brings to you.
We may overuse them,
Unwittingly
Abuse them,
And with some we amuse,
But they're ours,
Put to good use
With me.
The number of chords
Limits the hordes;
Repetition ensues,
The decry is sung:
I've heard that song before.
The great ones of writing
Are cause for citing,
By we and me and you.
Can't contrast love to roses,
Shakespeare's told us;
Can't compare eyes to stars,
Lips to petals:
To say,
Your soft, white skin
Is an ink-black sin.
And Beautiful should not
Be used as such.
If one must use it,
One needs
A thesaurus.
Thee, Thine, and Shall
Have taken their toll;
Like Death,
Be not proud.
Be the chosen one,
You know how.
Words and phrases
Are replete;
Too well known
Not to repeat.
They're in
Our vernacular
To be used by
Any author.
But verbatim
Copying's outlawed.
The copy cops
Finger-print
The frauds.
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 10:19 PM UTC
He had been robbed of all character and individuality.
Once eyes had shone outwards, now white dwarf orbs shimmering from porcelain remained.
There was no excess whatsoever, nothing frivolous; his sinewy frame carried not an
ounce of surplus fat, nor did his attire serve any social function other than to cover his hijacked carcass.
He walked the streets anonymously, blending in like an instinctive chameleon, single mindedly rehearsing
the acts of the play that cycled through him.
Score. Cook. Nod. Kick. Relapse.
That was when I promised myself I'd never chase again.
Jan 24, 2012
Jan 24, 2012 at 9:27 AM UTC
It's been a long, cold, lonely winter
the only incandescence being hijacked effervescence.
Frothy nights ending in the embrace of a stranger's hand,
blacked out, wasted,
another set of lips I wish I'd never tasted.
Welcome spring, summer,
fondness for the same old thing.
God, I'm so alone
barricaded behind bad decisions
chasing more, just to complain.
Oh how I need to change.
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 1:11 PM UTC
On the banks
of the
Delaware
where
memories
of Valley
Forge's
dire winter
encampments
still linger
where sons
and daughters
of liberty
shook off
a mid-winter
rigor mortis
risking the
slow death
of complacency
to seize
the prized
celestial
article of
freedom
America's
Labor
Movement
amassed
in the
streets of
Trenton
a vigilant
battalion of
General
Washington's
invading
brigands
speaking
in tongues
of radical
insistence
armed with
the might
of truth
demanding
respect and
equitable
treatment
from the
lordships
of state
doing the
bidding of
527 llc's
Unionists
stand
firmly
on the
shoulders,
walking
in the
tracks
rowing
the boats
of militant
forebears
pledging to
fight on
in a battle
that never ends
to
liberate
the
******
river
of justice
hijacked
by the
privilege
of plenty
diverted
into
culverts
of greed
a
gluttonous
few
siphoning
off
the spoils
of liberty
engorging
themselves
leaving
workers
wanting
democracies
require
the cup
of liberty
to be
shared by
all
The Spirit
of
General
Washington
has
mustered
new
legions
to turn
back the
entitlistas
the
pelting
rain of
lies, the
flinging
arrows of
ridicule
will not
deter
the workers
trooping
for
justice
the
fight
to roll
back
the ugly
tide of
greed
coursing
through
the veins
of America
despoiling
the blood
of our
democracy
is on
the
explosive
dynamite
of struggle
will blast
the dam
of inequity
to bits
unleashing
the river
of justice
to roll
again
Music Selection:
Pete Seeger:
Solidarity Forever
Trenton
2/25/11
jbm
Apr 12, 2013
Apr 12, 2013 at 8:08 PM UTC
I pray for thousands of innocents
Who died because of 19 sinners
I wished for the wandering souls in earth
To be accepted on the side of our Creator
Bless the souls who died in Pentagon
Bless the souls who died in World Trade Center
Bless the souls of the hijacked aircraft's passengers
So they will rejoice, in the Land Of Promised
For the ones that lost their family, friends or their siblings
I want you guys to think positive and keep smiling
Because of that incident
They could enjoy their new lifes in Heaven
The place where pain never exist
And known as it's Holy
The place where our heart will never resist
To enjoy the eternal life and live happily
Rest In Peace
And you all will be missed
Sep 11, 2018
Sep 11, 2018 at 8:53 PM UTC
Just woke up now
My eyes still puffy
Can't believe this lovely dream
I had of being with you.
I dreamt I took a plane to you
And stole into your house
Crept around in search of you
But heard voices, hid beneath a bed!
Then some granny came into that room
Shuffling in and mumbling low
She lay down on that bed and tried
To wrestle comfort from sagging mattress.
Her nagging complaints drew them all
While I froze in fear, yet so alive
I shut my eyes and waited bated breath
While they tended to the dame.
Then you leaned down and saw me there
I turned, you looked right into frighted deer eyes
You ensconced the granny to another room
All left the room, turned out the lights.
Then fifty minutes later, when all asleep
I felt you pulling out me
All stiff by now, we rubbed a bit abed
And settled into shy embrace.
You kissed my eyes by sullen moon
Raking crescent fingernails over me
Barely hold the delight; no more
Dazzling slivers of light dance in your eyes.
But with time not on our side
We subtly reach that exquisite point
Where I hover twixt your crux
I wait and wait, then gently ****** ....
I yearn for you to move with me, oh!
And when you do, you writhe and twist
Then delicious thrills outwit in surprising bend
As you . . .
(.......)
(Daddy, daddy, please I want some ice-cream!)
Ohhhhh, crap!
This sure is one bedazzled catnap I did not want hijacked.
Star Toucher, 09 March 2013
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 10:01 AM UTC