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"hoot" poems
On the winding path I continued to follow An owl sat perched Old tree remain hollow It’s eyes were wide Piercing through me Claws dug in To the barren tree Hoot hoot hoot A steady beat Inviting me To take a seat Under the owl I took my place Reached for a stick To trace My name in the mud Rummaged through my bag Began to take Yet another drag Turning to ashes I was in the night Under the owl It felt just right.
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May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 8:04 PM UTC
The Owl
From the green hill, blows downwards a wind, gently titillating the languid trees of this dense forest,the rustling of the leaves create, an impromptu tune, proving they are taut strings, yielding willingly to the sensual fingers of the wind. Super moon,while raising, listens keenly awhile as if she had never heard one like this before. The wise silver owl, sitting on the high branch keeping account  of every stroke of night,with an imaginary wand, as the conductor, catches the emerging mood that seethes within the million pieces of orchestra that gently merge, get exhilarated, finds a pause to punctuate it with a timely hoot, the moment freezes, falls in to the repository of time for keeps.
0
Jan 3, 2016
Jan 3, 2016 at 12:39 PM UTC
A slice of forest night for keeps
I say unto you with a sniveling snarl, Will you go on and be friends with an owl? Why, YES! I said boldly with a pompety grin My new owl friend will be lucky and win! He will hoot and toot a most beautiful song He will win a singing contest and sing all day long We will take all his winnings and spend it on mead We'll sing, drink and be merry, indeed! we'll capture a horse and dress it in tweed then ride to the sunset on our horse named, "Sardine!" Sardine might get hungry so we'll feed him some hemp We'll lay down to rest on a bed that's unkempt We'll wake in the morning to see Sardine's fate Sardine has died from starvation this date The sorrow we feel is so hard to beat So opon his flesh we started to eat w'ell pair it with taters all mashed in a pan we'll eat up our dinner as fast as we can but hold on a second, how silly are we! We tripped on some mushrooms we found on a tree! our minds started swirling and twirling; so dizzy! my owl friend shrieked and then started to tizzy he gouged out my eyes and laughed at my pain I fell to the ground and made peace with my name for I never did say from whence I came cause stories like this are not easy to tame I lay here in misery, my friend's not to blame It's all in my head, this silly word game
0
Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 12:48 PM UTC
My Dear Owl Friend
MAMA DON’T ALLOW Mama don’t allow no carpetbaggers ‘round here Mama don’t allow no carpetbaggers ‘round here We care a lot what Mama will allow Carpetbaggers ain’t no good no how. Mama don’t allow no carpetbaggers ‘round here. Mama don’t allow no gerrymandering here Mama don’t allow no gerrymandering here We give a hoot what Mama will allow Leave districts right where they are right now. Mama don’t allow no gerrymandering here. Mama don’t allow no poll taxing ‘round here. Mama don’t allow no poll taxing ‘round here. We don’t need Jim Crow no more We know just what that is for Mama don’t allow no poll taxing ‘round here. Mama don’t allow no warmongering here Mama don’t allow no warmongering here We care a lot what Mama will allow We’ve had too much war, don’t start no row. Mama don’t allow no warmongering here. Mama don’t allow no segregating ‘round here. Mama don’t allow no segregating ‘round here. Mama says we all take a breath We all got born and all face death Mama don’t allow no segregating ‘round here. Brent Kincaid 5/15/2015
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May 15, 2015
May 15, 2015 at 7:57 PM UTC
MAMA DON'T ALLOW
MIST CREEPING SLOWLY The morning found only blood & feathers. The fox leaving only Death & its presence & the gossip of the frightened chickens. My uncle swearing ‘til the sky was blue (early morning clouds that the sun shone through) . An embarrassed **** like a mad alarm clock crying like a cartoon “cock-a-doodle-do! ” My uncle dispatching him with a quick kick. “Oh yeah, and where the hell were you? ” I take in the scene of the massacre & whisper: “I sure wouldn’t like to be    a chicken! ” *    *      * All that next week my uncle stalked the chicken coup waiting for the fox who was clever enough not to turn up until the eight day driven by his hunger & his nature she stared into my uncle’s cold metallic sight & the evil acrid smell of a cartridge caught in flight as both it & the fox(shot through the head)   fell dead at my uncle’s muddied boot. My gentle uncle delirious with Death the frosted air stained with his breath. His voice almost transformed into an animalistic hoot: “Hey boy, betcha didn’t know I could shoot! ” The good side of the fox’s face seemed to still laugh at the very idea of Death. I whimpered: “I sure wouldn’t like to be    a fox! ” The countryside brutal & Biblical demanding a life for a life Yet all I could see was Death...Death. Priest-like... I knelt & whispered a quick act of contrition to the fox’s carcase. My uncle probably thought I was barmy. That night in celebration my uncle wrung a chicken’s neck (the chicken’s name was Patricia)   & I declined the clean white breast still haunted by the chicken & the fox’s death.
0
Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 7:14 PM UTC
MIST CREEPING SLOWLY
MIST CREEPING SLOWLY The morning found only blood & feathers. The fox leaving only Death & its presence & the gossip of the frightened chickens. My uncle swearing ‘til the sky was blue (early morning clouds that the sun shone through) . An embarrassed **** like a mad alarm clock crying like a cartoon “cock-a-doodle-do! ” My uncle dispatching him with a quick kick. “Oh yeah, and where the hell were you? ” I take in the scene of the massacre & whisper: “I sure wouldn’t like to be    a chicken! ” *    *      * All that next week my uncle stalked the chicken coup waiting for the fox who was clever enough not to turn up until the eight day driven by his hunger & his nature she stared into my uncle’s cold metallic sight & the evil acrid smell of a cartridge caught in flight as both it & the fox(shot through the head)   fell dead at my uncle’s muddied boot. My gentle uncle delirious with Death the frosted air stained with his breath. His voice almost transformed into an animalistic hoot: “Hey boy, betcha didn’t know I could shoot! ” The good side of the fox’s face seemed to still laugh at the very idea of Death. I whimpered: “I sure wouldn’t like to be    a fox! ” The countryside brutal & Biblical demanding a life for a life Yet all I could see was Death...Death. Priest-like... I knelt & whispered a quick act of contrition to the fox’s carcase. My uncle probably thought I was barmy. That night in celebration my uncle wrung a chicken’s neck (the chicken’s name was Patricia)   & I declined the clean white breast still haunted by the chicken & the fox’s death.
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64
I can cry; the glorious moon cheats the dazzling sun wanes the cloudy sky smirks the pudgy earth refrains I can cry; the man in the sidewalk eats the woman in bus denies the children on the playground smell the puppy on the stairway bites I can cry; the riddles in the book defy the maze and mouse are a lie the gun for a bullet doesn’t shoot the whistle in my palm doesn’t hoot. I can cry; the thoughts in my head lead astray the senses of my body can delay the questions I answered gave away the answers I’ve forgotten are a mistake.
0
Nov 8, 2012
Nov 8, 2012 at 11:20 AM UTC
I can cry
Now, the truth Luke & Leia is this love Thank God not the wrong kind Siblings apart since birth Together till the end of time Darth vader concious Dark, evil, twisted Luring Luke innocent No Luke! Don't do it! Doesn't matter he's your Dad Doesn't matter how sad He doesn't give a hoot Who on earth he shoots Stormtrooper beware Puppet of your master You will be beaten big time By a gorgeous little Ewok Chewy & Han You are the man Milenium shoots them all You saved the day Kept Darth vader at bay You saved our heros Wicked Poor Han solid In some ungodly squalor Not the nicest end Certainly not Han Solo's plan Geez George ... really ... Tin & metal R2, See threepio Nitter natter chatter Lots of friendly banter Cuter than buttons You just wanna hug em Jedi Knight Yoda Played his part of course Strong in force He helped the cause Although he has passed over Goodness wins in the end Good force takes the flag Mighty, Epic, Timeless And gloriously mad
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Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 3:46 AM UTC
Star wars pen .. the journey ends ..
I feel a simple joy As I look upon the hills The kind that uplifts my heart Without the skiing thrills. The trees look their best All dressed in multi-coloured hues And stretch for miles around Against skies of brightest blues. And as I watch the sun, Rise from the other side; I see life stirring out, From where at night it hides. The sky gets filled with colour: To a warm tangerine-orange glow; And my mind is filled with awe, At this wondrously delightful show. Some birds have started Singing their happy whistling tunes; And will continue with their songs, Till its way past noon. There are some that have started Before the day broke into dawn, And unite with the melodies Of those who start later in the morn. And these very merry sounds So full of happy cheer Makes the state of Kashmir, Our very prized frontier. The sounds are echoed far and wide On this mountainous terrain Over hills and through valleys They reach below to the plains. At night it gets all quiet, Except for the babbling brook And the occasional hoot of the owl That startles me from my book.
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Nov 20, 2018
Nov 20, 2018 at 12:18 AM UTC
Kashmir
Know this—I am well acquainted with the wolf, Well versed in his ways, his demeanor, His dispassionate relentlessness, His pitiless focus on hunt and hunted, His workaday disdain of pity. There are those who would laud the mythical Spartan lad Who hid the wolf beneath his cloak, Affecting some gallant stoicism As the beast consumed him without restraint, But I say to you that is a mere romantic fallacy, A wanton failure to apprehend the true moral. I have learned that there is no accommodation, No covenant to be reached with the wolf, And any attempt to do so is merely to invite destruction, And so I choose to engage him openly, without reservation, Rolling tail-over-teacup in the streets, Attempting to hold his jaws open with bare hands While those who find such battle unseemly and uncouth Jeer and hoot from porch and portico. No matter, for I will continue to meet the cur on my terms, For staid suffering in the hopes Of reaching some accord with the beast Is the not the act of the noble sage: It is the mock heroics of the coward, The sad acquiescence of the simpering fool.
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Mar 20, 2018
Mar 20, 2018 at 2:02 PM UTC
A Variation On Edgar Lee Masters' "Dorcas Gustine"
*It wasn't her fault as far as I know I made it not alive out her womb Not the drugs, not her liquor,No I was just destined for my tomb It wasn't her choice I took this route Tell her train of depression not to hoot It wasn't her making to be that small She's a special mama, among them all It couldn't be father's fault, It's fate Yes, let her not love the man with hate I know I should have been her first But she shouldn't think she's cursed Tell her to give motherhood another try I know she thinks it was a 9 months' lie Wipe her tears please, don't let her cry It wasn't her making for me to die Steal her sorrow, I'll pay the fine Do all you can to see she's fine She can have another to wear & dine In all treasures she says were mine Give my mama joy, God set her free You know she's barely twenty three I bleed seeing how bad she's broken Yes, give her a child, another token*
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Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 1:17 PM UTC
LET MAMA KNOW
Da Dum Da Dum - melodic sonnet beat, Ten syllables on each and ev'ry line; Enough to put the reader fast asleep, And don't forget the **** thing has to rhyme. Just fourteen lines exact, no more - no less, To revel in some tantalising plot; Two short quatrains endeavour to address, And introduce the who, the where, the what. Then just four lines to tell a second tale, That wends and weaves on some tangential route, To set the scene that leads to the unveil As if the reader gives a flaming hoot!        A rhyming couplet finishes the tryst,        To hit them with that all important twist!
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Jul 26, 2014
Jul 26, 2014 at 8:31 AM UTC
The Sonnet Sonnet
If I am feeling the need to purge I head on out to nature's church Where I can feel peace Where I can have quiet and practice my amen in nature's diet. Do not know which I like more Listen to an owl call for his mate with a hoot or when the tree frogs start singing and follow suit Have a picnic under my favorite birch oh yeah nature is my church Do not know which I like more My favorite coffee while watching the sunrise or watching all the colors of a sunset in the skies Seeking out treasures and trails to search oh yeah nature is my church So let us show a little appreciation and give a thanks to the man upstairs When it comes to his creations We should bow our head in thankful prayer Who says I am lost if I wander but I can get lost in God's wonder It isn't hard just look around and search Nature should be all our church
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Jan 28, 2016
Jan 28, 2016 at 4:56 PM UTC
Nature is my Church
Rooty toot toot, Let's all give a hoot Because today is your birthday! Hip hip hooray! It's your special day, It's a wonderful magical thing to say! Bring out the cake Let’s all gather around And raise up a musical Birthday song sound. Yippee hallelujah It’s time to celebrate We’re here for you And we really can’t wait. Rooty toot toot, Let's all give a hoot Because today is your birthday! Hip hip hooray! It's your special day, It's a wonderful magical thing to say! It’s always a good day When your birthday begins; The minute you wake up Your birthday begins. And if we are clever enough And do it the right way Your birthday continues At least for several days. Rooty toot toot, Let's all give a hoot Because today is your birthday! Hip hip hooray! It's your special day, It's a wonderful magical thing to say!
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Jan 12, 2017
Jan 12, 2017 at 8:10 PM UTC
BIRTHDAY CHEER
Contrast is beautiful. Like how the brilliant, marbled moon Shines against the dark twinkling sky. And the blanket covering our feet, Is the only thing separating us from the universe. Or how the beating of a heart, Pounds against a gently rising chest. Providing just enough sound, To make me smile. And sometimes the owls of the night, Hoot in the ringing silence, Awakening my ears, To also hear you breathing right next to me.
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Nov 9, 2012
Nov 9, 2012 at 2:57 PM UTC
Contrast
To the people who don’t or won’t support me, I don’t live in your solitary reality. I see the world in an equal and just perspective, It’s affective, connected, receptive, near-perfected. So I’m not going to heed your advice, I knew as soon as I saw her, what I think is right, I’m going to do what I was put here to do, I refuse to listen to you and your out-dated views. You say you will go to the city in the sky, Way up high in the clouds, after you die, And you say people like me will go to H-E-L-L, Then I’m glad I’m not near you and your homophobic smell. Plus, sending me back to my warm, homely home, Your cult will crumble like the Colosseum of Rome. You see, Satan is known for destruction and death, So if you decide to oppose me, you just took your last breath. I would kiss her right now, make you feel icky and horrible, I would hold her hand; remind her she is adorable. I would mess up her short, dark hedgehog hair, I would gently hold her face in two hands and stare. We would poke our tongues out at you, and then grin evilly, Then skip away, holding hands, eyes twinkling gleefully. Me and her, we don’t give a flying hoot what you think, You’re small, insignificant to us, gone in a blink. Me and her, we don’t want or care for your opinion, You’re just doing what you’ve been told, like a good lil’ minion. You go do your thing, and we’ll go do ours, We will look up and follow the brightly glowing stars.
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Aug 22, 2016
Aug 22, 2016 at 5:52 PM UTC
Homophobic
If only we could fly like   those that tweet or hoot without aid of jet or   parachute For I sure don't like   wings that boom and roar just so they can take off   and soar Ah, to fly without petrol, diesel   or fuel Oh, to halt that taloned midair   duel * Birds they don't pollute   the air nor need they any airline   fare So if only I too could rise   and glide and let the wind be my   sole guide I'd be happy to fly all the   way to 'em' faraway stars if I was assured I'd risk   no charring scars. Flying without aviation   formalities I could be sightseeing   many more cities Ah I so wish to fly just   like a jay or jackdaw Then I'd fly across all and   every border For I'd know nor follow no man-made law! If only we needed no darned immigration pass or visa We could have visited so many more touristy places Say even the spectacular and popular pyramids of Giza And we could have known different cultures and races Ah, a stylish photo next to the leaning tower of Pisa And return with exotica like a framed pic of the Mona Lisa
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Feb 26, 2019
Feb 26, 2019 at 12:20 PM UTC
Jumbo jets vs jackdaws or jays
An Apathy for Effort What happened to the world? What happened to all of the happy people? Drugs, money, ***** None of the above. I'll tell you what happened. People happened to people. Although, not others and to each other. People happened to themselves. Satisfaction became fiction Men and women lost the grip on their vision. Not eyesight, but people forgot the initial mission. The concept of being happy with what you have got And worrying less about what you want. If everyone would just shut up And see how truly blessed they are, Perhaps they would see How truly blissful life can be. Because what is bliss, but simply A continuity with the whole. And not a hole in the wall, but the make of two halves. If half the world gave half a hoot We might experience bliss. But we all individually feel deserving of more As if we should get more than what we work for. Yet NOBODY, is willing to give more than a lift of a finger to attain. It's too much of a chore. We all expect the doors of life To open to us, like a Walmart Super-center. Where's the effort? Where's that fighting spirit? It's taking a nap with all of the hypocrites. Those who spend their days feeling sorry for themselves. Those who left their aspirations in a a Mason's jar High upon the shelves, then claiming ignorance as to what happened to their dreams, like lost car keys. They know where they left them. Hanging on the seams of their memories, Abandoned when it became too hard To work to achieve. It's a sad state of affairs When a man settles for his second choice of lifestyle. Simply because his first choice was having an affair With difficulty. Making it fairly difficult. What is that man scared of? Failing? You only TRULY fail if you don't try. so instead he settles for second best, While his heart sits idle and cries. His heart cries: "WHY?! Why won't you try?" He is scared to lose, That's why. The sad thing is. It's not as hard as that man thinks. He simply needs to go out and do it, and he will know happiness for the rest of his life. But of course he's now too busy, ******* it all away. Sipping on his bottle of sorrow drowning firewater, somewhere when it's 5 o'clock. As the whiskey burns and numbs his senses, he attempt to consent himself with his settlement. Living out his days with his mind and his heart In constant battle. Wondering what could have been. What SHOULD have been... So I beg of you, don't choose to be another misfit or mishap. Be you and always be true. True to your heart and ideals. Don't ever be frightened by adversity, Be EQUALLY adverse. Do not ever lose your grip on what makes you, YOU. -Nathan W. Smith
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Nov 10, 2013
Nov 10, 2013 at 12:36 PM UTC
An Apathy for Effort
An Apathy for Effort What happened to the world? What happened to all of the happy people? Drugs, money, ***** None of the above. I'll tell you what happened. People happened to people. Although, not others and to each other. People happened to themselves. Satisfaction became fiction Men and women lost the grip on their vision. Not eyesight, but people forgot the initial mission. The concept of being happy with what you have got And worrying less about what you want. If everyone would just shut up And see how truly blessed they are, Perhaps they would see How truly blissful life can be. Because what is bliss, but simply A continuity with the whole. And not a hole in the wall, but the make of two halves. If half the world gave half a hoot We might experience bliss. But we all individually feel deserving of more As if we should get more than what we work for. Yet NOBODY, is willing to give more than a lift of a finger to attain. It's too much of a chore. We all expect the doors of life To open to us, like a Walmart Super-center. Where's the effort? Where's that fighting spirit? It's taking a nap with all of the hypocrites. Those who spend their days feeling sorry for themselves. Those who left their aspirations in a a Mason's jar High upon the shelves, then claiming ignorance as to what happened to their dreams, like lost car keys. They know where they left them. Hanging on the seams of their memories, Abandoned when it became too hard To work to achieve. It's a sad state of affairs When a man settles for his second choice of lifestyle. Simply because his first choice was having an affair With difficulty. Making it fairly difficult. What is that man scared of? Failing? You only TRULY fail if you don't try. so instead he settles for second best, While his heart sits idle and cries. His heart cries: "WHY?! Why won't you try?" He is scared to lose, That's why. The sad thing is. It's not as hard as that man thinks. He simply needs to go out and do it, and he will know happiness for the rest of his life. But of course he's now too busy, ******* it all away. Sipping on his bottle of sorrow drowning firewater, somewhere when it's 5 o'clock. As the whiskey burns and numbs his senses, he attempt to consent himself with his settlement. Living out his days with his mind and his heart In constant battle. Wondering what could have been. What SHOULD have been... So I beg of you, don't choose to be another misfit or mishap. Be you and always be true. True to your heart and ideals. Don't ever be frightened by adversity, Be EQUALLY adverse. Do not ever lose your grip on what makes you, YOU. -Nathan W. Smith
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79
You have secrets Dark dark secrets Now you stay far away From my grasp not knowing that I have mine too You once slept with a god And birthed the star, Eridanus That night you cried. You cried a river but the river Was for the blood shed. Dark secret! Dark, dark secret. No one knew about this But now I do. I have my secrets too I once drove over a bird Its wings were broken But I didn't see it on time. A swerve to the left, a swerve to the right and there was blood under my tire and golden feathers became red. I became a murderer at 21. The most horrible feeling ever But now you know. See! Secrets. I have offered to wash this poison from off  your skin I have offered to wash my stains From off your chest But you say,'Darling, I have secrets". In your mind, each day I become thinner And thinner and thin Like the smoke from your last cigarette Each day I am trampled upon Like the **** from your last stick But in your heart, I am like your blood craving nicotine every night the rain falls every evening you hear the train hoot every morning you see your brother. i have secrets too. they are with you.
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Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 6:57 PM UTC
You have secrets; dark dark secrets
The best mistake I ever made Was opening that tattered black book There I sat in a pub On a mission to forget the world 6 or 7 drinks in and a bartender all to happy To pour what ever the roulette produced thumb, thumb, flip flip flip Stop Category is shots To the new friend next to me "why yes, I am to get **** faced" "oh, you came here for just an occasion" "well dear sir if you are brave enough next ones on me" "Hot **** he exclaimed As I close my eyes and say a silent prayer I slowly count 4 pages and place my finger on the page I call Gwendolyn over and request With eyes closed the item of my demise *** She cried "I love ya but I won't do that to you" I slurily open my eyes and focus MEXICAN BLACK JACK 1 part tequila 2 parts whiskey 151 floater "Double Shot" I think out loud whats a lil' ta'kill-ya? vhiskey? bah. 151 it's just a floater ppppssssshhhhhhh After a few minutes of convincing With many a hoot and holler From my new friends She takes my keys and reluctantly agrees Even kindly offers me a chaser and some limes I will not forsake the liquor gods Ever get a whiff of turpentine and diesel? Well that could be gardenias compared to this. I sit in silence sniffing it eyes closed lapping at it with my nostrils I look over at my new buddy "well chuckles it's now or never ready for this lil' endeavor?" "Well **** he muttered "I'm a man of my word" "to life" I exclaimed head back as that little bit of ****** started it's course over my tongue into the throat (why are my sinus' burning?) don't breath boy (you know better) don't you eyes pop and just on cue flame ever rendering flames I'm not blind I'm not blind I'm not blind ok I was just squinting really hard I look over and my new friend is now drinking my free chaser. my game my pain... Hey Sven leh's go again... It's a good thing she loves me I complain to no one if she hated me I don't think I'd drink here. 2 hours and 4 shots later I needed a nap good thing the loo was warm I salute you Sir BlackJack and when I call your name It's never in vain
0
Mar 14, 2010
Mar 14, 2010 at 11:56 PM UTC
Of the Mexican Blackjack
The best mistake I ever made Was opening that tattered black book There I sat in a pub On a mission to forget the world 6 or 7 drinks in and a bartender all to happy To pour what ever the roulette produced thumb, thumb, flip flip flip Stop Category is shots To the new friend next to me "why yes, I am to get **** faced" "oh, you came here for just an occasion" "well dear sir if you are brave enough next ones on me" "Hot **** he exclaimed As I close my eyes and say a silent prayer I slowly count 4 pages and place my finger on the page I call Gwendolyn over and request With eyes closed the item of my demise *** She cried "I love ya but I won't do that to you" I slurily open my eyes and focus MEXICAN BLACK JACK 1 part tequila 2 parts whiskey 151 floater "Double Shot" I think out loud whats a lil' ta'kill-ya? vhiskey? bah. 151 it's just a floater ppppssssshhhhhhh After a few minutes of convincing With many a hoot and holler From my new friends She takes my keys and reluctantly agrees Even kindly offers me a chaser and some limes I will not forsake the liquor gods Ever get a whiff of turpentine and diesel? Well that could be gardenias compared to this. I sit in silence sniffing it eyes closed lapping at it with my nostrils I look over at my new buddy "well chuckles it's now or never ready for this lil' endeavor?" "Well **** he muttered "I'm a man of my word" "to life" I exclaimed head back as that little bit of ****** started it's course over my tongue into the throat (why are my sinus' burning?) don't breath boy (you know better) don't you eyes pop and just on cue flame ever rendering flames I'm not blind I'm not blind I'm not blind ok I was just squinting really hard I look over and my new friend is now drinking my free chaser. my game my pain... Hey Sven leh's go again... It's a good thing she loves me I complain to no one if she hated me I don't think I'd drink here. 2 hours and 4 shots later I needed a nap good thing the loo was warm I salute you Sir BlackJack and when I call your name It's never in vain
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78
An owl hooting Right outside of my window Makes my heart beat fast.
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Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 11:46 PM UTC
Hoot
Down fickle street they ride jalopy's just for fun. Hoot at the  cyclist , gerrymander the  Vue. I spy grief hurtling down, plume grey from the exhaust. We're  no wiser, no leaner ingesting your  worn  speed pedals bravo.
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Apr 12, 2013
Apr 12, 2013 at 4:40 PM UTC
Pedal power.
Its silvery eyes full of blazing moon, Its stare as cold as death in brilliant glow, With sense sharply horned of familiar tune Of scared preys hushly scurrying below. With stealthy talons perched on silver bough, Rotating head do help view all round; Then by mysterious commands to strike now A rat in mouth dangle without a sound. This night is there to stalk and terminate; Its mission to **** get the ruffians off. As though allowed on terms to live to mate Under rooftops, barns, it soldiered aloof. You hear it hoot, hooting shadows at night, O'er fields beyond the moon's silvery light.
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Jun 24, 2018
Jun 24, 2018 at 9:59 PM UTC
The Owl; Sonnet #5
Stay home don't go out.. Its the full moon tonight Can't you hear the howling sounds from the woods... and the owls are hooting.. hoot.... hoot... hoot... What an eerie night I got goosebumps you see Its tonight, they say the night of evils clash...
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May 3, 2013
May 3, 2013 at 3:41 AM UTC
Full Moon
She's real smoochy She's my hoochie ******* She's my sweet little Koala Bear. She's so cute And she's a total hoot Keeps me smiling throughout the day. Nice and cuddly She's bubbly wubbly Soothes all my troubles away. She's kinda kooky She's my nooky wooky My little Koo Koo Koala Bear. She climbs my tree And she talks to me Ever so softly. She holds me tight Through the darkest night Quietens me when I'm afraid. Don't you ever leave me, will ya My lovely little sweet My sweet little lovely, Koala Bear.
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May 28, 2018
May 28, 2018 at 9:37 AM UTC
My sweet little Koala Bear