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Harshit Joshi Oct 2014
My dog goes ring-o-hop,
He likes to do hip hop,
He looks so cool,
When he jumps in the pool.
Wearing a stud-type top.
Robin Carretti Jul 2018
The love pretty please
wait for my
Cherry baby on top
Not some love O-Oreo
I could scream beguiled
Both twirled in swirls
Bavarian cream

Love has torn at the seams
Bad dream hot hit
bounty hunter
Bunny ears of the hop heart
it skips divine lips like a light tower
No other apology cries the thunder

And wait a **** minute
O-Oh-Yes where's my tip

I am not your second
fiddle of stunts
The romance of philosophy

We can fly higher
than anyone
will ever be

The Outgaze O hearts
of symmetry
Being told about their love
or other peoples fun
Twilight apology Wolfin tie outrun

Love O Apology light my pleasure
O on Overdrive no time for the
S letter-word SOS seizure
How many love gestures
of psychology

Love word *O
love
to Outlive
your treasure
Being psyched for physiology
Feeling mighty good right now
Don't blow bubbles like their
stars* of trouble

A few in the A-New heart stays
ever so blue few Good Men
Perfect Zen thumbs up
His or hers how cute
the words up
The Buddha says
Love is a
spiritual existence

The herbs body rubs
Going to the Hubs
Behind all your apologies
Wearing the new Doctor scrubs
Love house of Labs resistance

The morning glory September
rise and stretch your
overworked wings
Believing never comparing
to another love
It's your love

Or very O for outstanding at the utmost
So incredible the feeling
       Loveology
There's absolutely no apology
The love surrender lion and tigers
So bearable

Her turn like a Turnup
Up close nose smells the rose
Picking love out pulling
the weeds
Her red  embarrassed face
of the radishes
The Shy bush compared
to the O outgoing love
A hint of red delicious apple
Buzzing around the
Mulberry Bush_
Big Ben London
O Sweet Lord of magic singing
*Rosebush* fresh lemons
George Bush Patriotic
Chilean Sea Maiden Bass
Love ******

VIP pass especially with love
Here it is his loves
A spinning wheel so dizzy
London foggy she is the
product of the  flower *****
Like a carnival cotton candy
What a head rush
Another apology and a big push
Those hummingbirds of sweet soul
But something ambushed
She got a lump of his
crab meat cheek crush

Getting over someone never to see them

*Picking out all the petals of the rose when she was with him*

How many apologies open heart surgeries
Apology on hold like a new series
*Wake up "O" my muffin*
Cheers to the world of Oats
Fingerpicking Cheerios
*Don't give in  get to know him

Giving/InWay*

New love *Caved In*
His way per click day
High payments to pay off

BMW Billionaire Man wilted
Love head Beamer
Be
_ My__ World the dreamer

That love pain injury, going faster
Strong love never to lose her
Like cancer Santas Deers love prancer

Fine tooth comb
Negative force to succumb

Capitulate
Artsy wings to meditate
She is destined for something
So articulate
Can this be a painful love of fate?
She succumbs to the time given in
To her O Lord temptation
Words stand alone planet of people
Hearing the real voice no recording
From here to eternity the blasted phone

The Love O not to outwit just sit
And lift your gravity of love
Round earth or your flat on the ground or above
someone knows your true love


*She is combing her hair Silkience Queen of the Divination
Love, there should be no apology lifted gravity that loves O went further than he will ever know her sexuality was smiles alive he couldn't learn his numbers.  Where is the love when your heart thunders world of letters and love writers never to apologize we are the real fighters
I

Said the Duck to the Kangaroo,
  'Good gracious! how you hop!
Over the fields and the water too,
  As if you never would stop!
My life is a bore in this nasty pond,
And I long to go out in the world beyond!
  I wish I could hop like you!'
  Said the duck to the Kangaroo.

II

'Please give me a ride on your back!'
  Said the Duck to the Kangaroo.
'I would sit quite still, and say nothing but "Quack,"
  The whole of the long day through!
And we'd go to the Dee, and the Jelly Bo Lee,
Over the land and over the sea;--
  Please take me a ride! O do!'
Said the Duck to the Kangaroo.

III

Said the Kangaroo to the Duck,
  'This requires some little reflection;
Perhaps on the whole it might bring me luck,
  And there seems but one objection,
Which is, if you'll let me speak so bold,
Your feet are unpleasantly wet and cold,
  And would probably give me the roo-
  Matiz!' said the Kangaroo.

IV

Said the Duck ,'As I sate on the rocks,
  I have thought over that completely,
And I bought four pairs of worsted socks
  Which fit my web-feet neatly.
And to keep out the cold I've bought a cloak,
And every day a cigar I'll smoke,
  All to follow my own dear true
  Love of a Kangaroo!'

V

Said the Kangaroo,'I'm ready!
  All in the moonlight pale;
But to balance me well, dear Duck, sit steady!
  And quite at the end of my tail!'
So away they went with a hop and a bound,
And they hopped the whole world three times round;
  And who so happy,--O who,
  As the duck and the Kangaroo?
Cedric McClester Apr 2015
By: Cedric McClester

Bang bang
***** die slow
There’s more to hip hop
Than that ya know
It’s more than the bling
Some ****** show
More than the cribs
The cars or the dough
The culture’s diverse
And you need to know
It’s more than the **** shakin
You’ll always see
On certain shows
On the cable TV
It’s more than the dissin
The fights and braggin rights

Bang bang
***** die slow
I’m only sayin
What ya already know

Bang bang
***** die slow
We’re checkin for content
As well as for flow
You’re pimpin the game
And the homies know
You’re talkin ‘bout places
That you’ll never go
Talkin ‘bout crimes
You never committed
And it’s about time
To fess-up and admit it
Here is the deal
You need to yield
Cos it’s gettin too real
In the field

Bang bang
***** die slow
I’m only sayin
What ya already know

Bang bang
***** die slow
Ya namean
Let me give ya the low
Some name themselves
After I-talian criminals
Sending public messages
That attacks the subliminal
Then start complainin
Once they get popped
And the uninformed
Blame it on hip hop
And it’s not fair
That hip hop takes the blame
For some of you out there
That I could name

Bang bang
***** die slow
I’m only sayin
What ya already know

Bang bang
***** die slow
It’s about to be a rap
For the rap game (yo)
Rap is spiralin further
Out of control
And the government now
Sees itself in the role
Of overseer or regulator
Ya knew it would happen
Sooner or later
If you go on trial
You won’t be around
That’s their way of keepin
The Black man down
All you have to do is jus look around

Bang bang
***** die slow
I’m only sayin
What ya already know

Bang bang
***** die slow
All it takes for you to be
Good to go
Is a mouth full of platinum
And a video **
There’s more to life
Than that you know
Don’t let me be the one
To say I told you so
Cos the seeds you’re plantin
Are kinda rough to ***
But you’re convinced
That you are it
And a ****** like me
Can’t tell you ****

Bang bang
***** die slow
I’m only sayin
What ya already know

Bang bang
***** die slow
There’s more to hip hop
Than that ya know
It’s more than the bling
Some ****** show
More than the cribs
The cars or the dough
The culture’s diverse
And you need to know
It’s more than the **** shakin
You’ll always see
On certain shows
On the cable TV
It’s more than the dissin
The fights and braggin rights


(c) Copyright, 2015 Cedric McClester.  All rights reserved.
Flower Scent Nov 2010
I wanna dance the mambo,the cubin cuba mambo,

I wanna dance the cha cha,hips movement with the cha cha!

or maybe try the salsa, deep ,sensual, is the salsa.

I wanna dance the samba,the fun brazilian samba,

or maybe the lambada,brazilian hot lambada!

My favourite s' the tango,intense ****** tango,

Lost in  the  flamenco,ardent spanish flamenco.

May even try the polka,high energy in polka,

the Czech bohemian polka!

I wanna go and party,good time ,dancing the rumba,

latino americano,cubano, africano.

I wanna do the hip hop,hip hop,hip hop,don't stop.

Dance reign  in the ballroom,

as I dance the Ball Room,under and above,

With you ,I dance my last dance,the classic dance of love.



Are you ready partner ?
This is one of the first poems i ever wrote..thought i share it with you,by reposting it here,thankyou :)  Lyrical poem
Jeff Gaines Mar 2018
Cardinal
Oh, Cardinal
You great scarlet bird.

You hop along my porch rail
But you don't say a word.

Defiant
So Defiant
Of nature's camouflage.

There is no way to hide
Your bright red entourage.

Orange
Bright Orange.
Your sharp pointy beak.

Gathers the worms and the seeds
All the meals that you seek.

Feed
Feed her.
This mate that you court.

Such a noble young man
You dance and cavort.

Sing
Sing sweet
You and your friends

I'll love your songs every morning
'Til winter comes 'round again.

Babies
Your babies
I'll meet them come next year.

When in the Fall, they'll alight on my porch
And bring my morning's cheer.

Cardinal
Oh, Cardinal
I'm so glad you're here, you see.

I knew your parents and now you have come
Singing just for me.
I live pretty far out in the country. The birds here are really awesome. I love to go out late at night and listen to the Barred Owl or spend an afternoon sitting in our back meadow to watch the breeding pair of Peregrine Falcons that have a nest in one of our Methuselah oaks.

But every morning as the sun rises and I have my coffee on the back porch ... the Cardinals always seem to be the early risers. Their songs begin with the very first crack of light. They seem to have gotten used to me, as they now land on my porch rail, pretty close to me.

They sing and court mates and sometimes, I swear, they just kinda bop around on the railing and watch ME!

They are simply beautiful and I LOVE having my coffee with them each morning!
Poetic T Sep 2014
The Frog was doing his thing
Hopping,
Croaking,
Splashing,
In to any water that he could see,
He happened upon
This Jigsaw of black and white
Morning sir, he croaked
The Cow looked down,
"MOOOOO"
Pardon I didn't quite get that,
"MOOOOVE"
Your on the tastiest grass
Below your webbed feet,
"Sorry sir,"
Didn't wish to stomp on your
Lunch with my feet,
So he hoped along, as Frogs do
Then turned around,
Hopped his best, speed built up
Leaping with all his might,
Over the Cow,
Then gracefully on to his feet,
"Cow turned"
Whhhat are you doing little thing,
As the Frog
Replied, I was seeing if I could
Jump over you
Why?
Would you do such a thing,
Well mum told me
A Cow jumped over the moon,
Yes we do
Replied Cow
Famously Are we for doing this,
Feat never seen.
"Frog replied"
Riibit, well I just jumped over you
So now I an the best jumper it seems,
Confused,
Thinking,
Laughing,*
Out loud with a MMOOooo
You aren't a better jumper than me,
We will see little Frog said
With that he did a
Bounce,
Hop,
Jumped,
Over the Cow once again it seemed,
Now it is your turn
As Cow looked on nervously
So he hooved his feet
1,
2,
3,
With that he tried
"FAILED"
Lost his balance,
And in to another's Cow pat
His face did meet.
Now the cow was not only
Black
&
White
But now he was
Covered,
&
Smelled,
Like poo, embarrassed
Was he
The Frog did laugh
Ribit, Ribit, Ribit,
Loud and clear,
Cow looked at frog,
Now Cow do you see,
Never believe what you hear,
Until you see it with your own eyes,
This is what my mother read to me,
And with that, Frog bounced off happily.
ryn Oct 2014
On this carousel
You and I
Ringing bells
Time passes by

Scorching bulbs
Ornate bobbing horsies
Enchanting music
Tell of magical stories

I am here
On this side
You are there
Same ****** ride

Opposite ends
Placed we two
We can't see
But each other we knew

Friendly peeks
Directed to you
All I could afford
Keep you in view

Still rotating
Ride goes on
Chasing each other
No closer we've drawn

Enjoy the ride
Soak in the sights
Hold at bay
Reality that bites

Thought about
Getting off
Don't know how to
Come to a solve

Can't hold still
It's eating me alive
Can't just stay
Have to strive

Hand still holding on
One foot dangling
Second thoughts play
But bent on releasing

Take the first step
Don't overthink
Take the leap
Step off the brink

Close my eyes
Time is now
Just let go
Fate I must allow

Ready now
Time came to a freeze
one...two...
three...release


Now off the carousel
Cloying uncertainty
Never been here
Unknown territory

In the music
Found familiarity
Unsure if here
Is where I want to be

What do I do?
Wait a little more?
Hop back on?
Or await what's in store?

Glad I waited
Glad patience I found
There you are...
Coming back round
Madness plays in loops...
A sick little spin on the carousel.
in Just-
spring       when the world is mud-
luscious the little
lame baloonman

whistles       far       and wee

and eddieandbill come
running from marbles and
piracies and it’s
spring

when the world is puddle-wonderful

the queer
old baloonman whistles
far       and         wee
and bettyandisbel come dancing

from hop-scotch and jump-rope and

it’s
spring
and

        the

                goat-footed

baloonMan       whistles
far
and
wee
King Tutankhamun Aug 2015
Yo
They say tell.me hip hop ain't dead
How come fools droppin'
More mixtapes than albums?
Bums out with balm tryna getting money in there palms
I aint mad at the hustle but this generation is nothing but trouble
Went from  socialism lyricism to materialism
Now fools rappin' about how cool it is
To spend loot and then doom for prison
Teachers of new school misguided by the old school?
Well Cuz at once we considered at same points
But at least there was social commentary
Seems like all the realist rappers are in the cemetery
Holding it down for the underground
Like K-rino he know they game done took many turns
But this ones for the worse its the hearse
Can't revive what ain't alive??
Unless there's a new savior me an imagery
Of my pops dark skin afro full of inferno
I look him.in his blazin' eyes then he reveled to me a sign
Start the revolution pick off where pac marley and others left off
Cuz the game is too soft
No fathers figures just a bunch of ***** acting like *******
Strategize your destiny no one has chains on you only ya brain
Can keep you from accomplishment
And when I die will dear lord hear my sentiment
Try to teach what I preach
Not for the bad but as well as the good
Look in every hood
I see poverty lookin up to these SIMPs
Nothing buts hoes to the recompany pimps
Hip hop is dead?!!!

Yea I know I made mistakes in my life
Buts that's part of life
Through obstacles to miracle
I drop the oracle messenger to the people
Ask me y they call me Yosef
Which means peace but an art of was mentality
Tell me about quiet storm deep as i swarm
Like a plaguin' locust
In ya brain make ya lose focus no need to cuss
But then again I gotta
Muthaphukkka!!!
Cuz brothers only commend what they comprehend
Followin' these rappers like a religion
Stuck lost as a stool pigeon
I'm.writing verses to break the curses
And keep ya out the spiritual hearses
Most can't understand me?? Saying I'm hating the game Cuz they not paying me??
When I can make more overseas
United snakes ain't nothing but a tease
Taming audience without the cognizance of knowing
A lighted hypnotist like Chris Wallace past through the palace
Ya see nothing but skulls and bones
Society prone due for an overload
And watch the system fold
Then where will the rappers be at? When there's a sudden collapse
Once the master plan is success they wont need u any longer to manifest
Stupidity ya guilty but ya pleas no contest
Join the system I say give me liberty or give me death
I'll take death instead Cuz you'll go stale tryna eat bread!!!


Jillian Jesser Oct 2018
Silly bunny burger boss,
hops through the flowers and the frost.
Sniffs a carrot,
maybe two,
Then makes up a gift for you!
A little song,
That goes like this,
"I am the bunny burger boss,
now, from me,
here is a kiss!
I do not always sing a song,
but now, I ask, you sing along!
I am the bunny burger boss
my heart is large and full!
My tail is small,
a ball of fluff!
On days like this, so cool,
I hop hop hop
up to your feet,
and sing and dance for you!"
Now and then
this burger boss
though gay and bright, it's true,
get's lonely and sits off on a stump
thinking of what to do.
On days like this
When bunny's sad
he hears a hum
from forest near
and turns and sees
a lark is perched
on a branch out in the clear
he hears the tune
a bunny song, it's true
about a bunny burger boss
who has a song for you!
So when you are so sad and low
and life's got you feeling blue,
Think of bunny burger boss
and the song he shares with you!
Brent Kincaid May 2015
See the Republican,
Hop, hop, hop.
Hack up the welfare laws
Chop, chop, chop.
See him getting wealthy,
Shop, shop, shop.
Watch all our forests go
Drop, drop, drop.

Teflon coated Republican,
Crook, crook, crook.
Put him in a prison cell,
Book, book, book.
Fine him for every dime he
Took, took, took.
Check out his finances,
Look, look, look.

Hear the Republican,
Lie, lie, lie.
Selling out constituents,
Sigh, sigh, sigh.
Writing up new voting laws,
Cry, cry, cry.
Cutting breaks for all the rich,
Why, why, why?

Smell the Republican,
Stink, stink, stink.
Defender and a patriot,
Wink, wink, wink.
Master of the magic trick,
Blink, blink, blink.
Hater of the common man,
Fink, fink, fink.
The latest in my line of infamous Worsery Rhymes. More are on my blog.
Antony Padilla Sep 2012
MC Lyte was lightweight
The Queen Bee was unseemly
compared to
this woman who shared you
and all you went through
And Queen Latifah wasn't half the leader
spoken word speaker
singer
soul seeker
that Oo La La
was
that Fu Gee La
was
Missy Elliot
lost her 8 stars
when she lost weight
(that's when she lost bars)
Lauryn
Lauryn Hill will always
always
be ours
she might be modest
but she'll always be
my Hip Hop Goddess
Cindy Long Aug 2017
I look at my purple and yellow flesh.
Smile at the memory of where you have been.
The harsh and heavy marks of our love.
I bite my bottom lip and press my thighs tight.
Stifle moans from the ache it brings.
Explosions raddle my brain and i wish to be with you again.
I trace the indention of rope along my wrists.
The thin line between pain and pleasure.
How we crossed it; played hop-scotch with it.
I giggle to the excitement of my battered soul.
The snap and crack of a flogger on my back.
Spiders crawl down my spine with the words,
"You are mine."
If I could I would write letters to the wind and ask for lessons on how to blow you away

If I could I would take a star out of the sky and put it in a ring and ask you to be it’s replacement in my life

If I could I would keep you between my second and my fourth rib, so they will tell you they’ve missed you.

The first time I saw you, I smiled with my mouth open to let go of the crickets I buried in my voice box so I could say hello

How else can I explain to you that our stories are God written guitar solos to the keys of our DNA, and I’m more electric and you’re more acoustic.

On some days you look like there are lingering pieces of a boombox etched in the framework of your spine. In simple terms your body speaks volumes.

On other days you feel like there are too many fault lines on the rail track of your spine

Those are the days I want to tell you I’m a pretty good conductor

Your voice sounds like an unfinished love song stuck in the throat of an ’80s jazz musician and I’m more of a hip-hop kind of guy, but I would make kissing you the perfect symphony.

I’m more like the odd boulder on a sandy beach and you're the entire ocean but I've drawn coastlines on the chambers of my heart

With you I could build sand castles in hourglasses, cos I wouldn’t feel time pass.

If I could I would write this poem on the wings of a butterfly and say to you “Here I think this belongs to you, I found it in my belly”
nosipho Jun 2010
Dance, Jump....fiddle your toes to and fro,
Hop ,Hop, HOp....smile to the air.
Sing Sing Sing...to the top of your voice let it go,
Spin Spin Spin...like a merry-go-round,
and around ,around and around,
Boof!****! to the floor.
laugh, Laugh, Laugh,Ouch You hurt yourself!
Scream!..no Smile Smile Smile smile,
life is worthwhile.
Fly and Fly, Come On, spread your Wings,
Yes You can!...Let the wind carry you.
After all is done, sun setting in the sky,
awaiting a new dawn, peacefuly laying in your sleep...
SUN IS UP!

smile, jump, Hop, LAugh, Spin...****, BOOf
to the floor, Come On stand,I know you can!

Life is worthwhile,life is because you are!
Andre Baez Mar 2014
The seductress on my mind
Lives in full on expression
Laced in the free confines
And platitudes of direction

The sequential confessions
A private march of signs
Lead aggressive regression
A spinal tap of times

Timid forms of prose
Do not impose, much
In the way of speech
Or the ways of preach

A dandelion blossoms
Fully under direction
Of gunfire and hellfire
Made in mans *****

A milk which is colored
A dark, rusting, crimson
For this is the gift adorned
An antiquated prison

A dream once flowed upon
The rivers that line my arms
Texts of pharaohs charmed
With distant songs sung  

Yet, not distant enough
Into a further realm of
Steak, salmon, wine, and
Pontification, a type sublime

Cardiac and stop and frisk arrests
Psychedelics and prophylactics
Insomniacs and chipper morn birds
Courage and numbing fear tactics

Topics are churned forward
As thoughts are yearned for
But are seldom rewarded
Without snide comments

Even if contorted to fit
Daily textbook definitions
A raindrop is precipitation
Not tears from eyes of perdition

Said a jeering member of an alley
A gatekeeper for all of Hades
A living reminder of what shape
Controls societies minions a plenty

I believe you are a queen lost in time
You are the seductress on my mind
The boom-bap of 90s street art hop
A collection of lives birthed caught

You are the desire of my epicenter
The freezing of my two lips together
A culture of desire and of fortune
A soft room with croons in tunes

I believe you are not pink matter
You are the color scheme in the sun
A serpent slithering within disaster
A tale of victory and woe as one

Tears sting the edges of my eyes
As shadows are cast upon my soul
A tree in mourning for it's seeds
As oil desecrates, dry, shallow soil

When did this become a love poem?
Atop the raft my dreams have flowed
Wordsmiths fashion sturdy homes  
To heal the word and to help growth

Inside one of these I fled and bled
In it I found fish, water, and bread
Self-hate and despair had spread
Until it was fully excreted in death

The seductress on my mind brought:
Dandelions with smoke from gunfire
Milk which was crimson in color
Pharaohs songs of golden charm
A conversation in full, and open arms
Arms that held my dreams with calm

Constructs of love and poetic meals
Heal the surface of darkness scorn
Feeding the soul of it's sullen needs
A return to an innocence unborn
Andre Baez Aug 2013
Everyone Has a Story… Here’s Five.


Part I: Cousin

I remember
That daze I felt those days
Those days that were fixtures
In my life at the time
But like all good stories
They come to an end
Sometimes abruptly

I was on the island,
At the very top,
Looking down from our mountain,
It was night time,
And the lights shined clearly,
Little holes from the bottom of heaven were penetrating the world,
As they did so I peered on,
Never truly understand what heaven was,
This was my element,
The curiosity which was placed in me,
Since the birth of my being,
Has never been one for being quenched,
Even if my parents tried to beat it out of me,
After a time they kind of hit a fork in the road and decided to go right,
But at the last second I side stepped and ran my behind to the left,
Because the right side isn't always the right way to go,
I felt that their minds died some time ago,
But I was a kid, in the hoods of Puerto Rico,
Only visiting, never witnessing,
The day to day realities,
That came from living so rapidly.

I met my cousin for the second time the days before that night,
He took me under his wing almost immediately and I was happy to follow,
He was a tall man, tattooed from head to toe,
I thought the second I laid eyes on him, that this was my role model
As a lover of Hip-Hop I thought this was how everyone should look,
He would cuss, and spit, and drink, and have several women on deck,
While rolling a couple of joints,
This was the MAN!

However, this view didn't last for very long,
Because on that night,
I witnessed the devil for the first time,
I crawled from beneath my covers,
That my mother had so carefully put into place,
As a safeguard against the realities of the world,
That would come true in my childish fantasies of the boogie man,
The only bad I knew was what was told to me by the news,
People falling left and right cause of wars and other endless fights,
But in my mind they could be brought back to life by the Dragon *****,
Unfortunately Goku wasn't here this night,
I snuck through the house silently,
As the noise would be drowned out by the singing of coquis,
My bare feet hit the humid pavement following the rush down the stairs,
I only wanted to see my view,
The view of heavens holes peering through the vast and dark sky,
It was located at the edge of a cliff that looked over a ravine and then the wilderness,
At the precise moment I stopped to realize my will,
My dream was disrupted by a voice,
Followed by a sound that sliced through my mind and deflated my childish intuition,
A sound that penetrates my adult mind and echoes in the silence to this day,
Muffled screams echoed out after I heard the gunshots ring,
Beneath the sounds of the forests singing,
My heart was pounding slowly,
I was strangely calm rather than panicky and fearful,
Not that I was a brave child, but I remained curious,
Until I saw the blood…
It was then that I saw the dimly lit lamp beneath the moon light,
Resulting in the two bodies casting elongated shadows against the dank Earth,
Followed by a larger body standing over them,
One body was completely still,
While the other one was rocking back and forth,
The terror that took me was shear and raw,
The only other time that I had witnessed such a fear,
Was through the appearance in a pig’s eye,
As my grandfather drove a machete through its heart,
I heard the second shot ring out,
In the same amount of time that it took me to blink,
The other man had been murdered just the same,
And before I knew it the gun was pointed at me,
I stared back and started shaking,
This had to be pure fiction,
But no, this was reality,
I turned to run, but stopped when I realized who it was,
Looking up at me as he exited the thicket and the shadows,
Was my cousin, my role model,
He cocked his head up and looked at me with concern,
But said nothing,
As I ran home breathlessly,
Under the holes into heaven,
That had been put there by bullets,
My childhood was finished…

And I'd never see him again.


Part II: Brother

I remember
That daze I felt those days
Those days that were fixtures
In my life at the time
But like all good stories
They come to an end
Sometimes abruptly

As a child,
I thoroughly enjoyed,
Playing around outside,
I enjoyed getting into play fights,
I loved feeling like I could overwhelm any opponent, but I couldn't.
My brother was way stronger than me,
He had the height advantage,
And best believe he had the weight advantage,
But still, I thought I could manage,
It never really crossed my mind that my brother was a bit off,
To me he was a big kid,
A quiet companion,
My best friend,
My heart.

That was more than enough,
Until one day I went too far,
See my brother had one toy that he loved,
It was string; he'd tear up clothes to make string,
He'd cry up storms at department stores if he didn't get his string,
He'd hit my mother and punch my father if he didn't get string,
I just always thought the exception was me,
I was his play mate, he smiled at me,
Something quite rare for my big brother to do as a result of his condition,
And the medication he was taking,
You see when a child has autism they kind of want to do their own thing,
They want to be on their own,
Enjoying whatever it is they enjoy doing on their time,
But I had a child's mind and a child's ego,
His toys were mine too,
Share with me,
Play with me,
Look at me,
ME, ME, ME!
So he punched me right across the face,
I went flying into a sliding paneled glass door and began crying,
When my mother entered the room,
She asked what was going on and tried to calm me down,
I wouldn't listen so she told me shut up before the neighbors called police,
And we were both taken away,
Being that my mother was a single parent, I believed her,
With that being the case, I closed my eyes and didn't look at my arm,
Nor the blood slowly dripping down it onto my fingertips,
Down to the floor below,
I didn't play much anymore after that,
I was too childish to blame myself,
So the fault was his.

The fault would end up being mine,
As this action being a culmination of things done by my brother,
Led my father and my mother to do what I thought was unthinkable,
They chose to let him go,
Giving him to a group home,
My young mind couldn't even begin to comprehend the pain they felt,
But to me all I could see was two adults giving up on their son,
I saw love and hope dissipate right in front of my eyes,
He was playing with his string in the back seat of the car,
While I sat beside him just watching him,
Saving every movement of his,
And his joy into my memory banks,
To be left to gather dust; because the pain was too much to harness,
But with respect I chose to re-open the chest,
And hold my brother in my arms once again,
Before he was ripped away from me,
And given away to the monstrous people,
That wouldn't let him hug his mother nor me,
I didn't care if this is what was needed to be,
I was losing my brother!
My blood!
My playmate!
My best friend!
My only friend!
My HEART!
It didn't matter that he hit me,
It don't matter if he hit my mother or father,
Because the beating my heart was taking was too much,
For my slim frame and still developing body to handle,
As such my growth was stunted and I gained heart problems,
On top of the asthma,
Autism meant nothing to me,
He was everything!

But it ended with me sleeping alone,
At home he was gone.


Part III: Father

I remember
That daze I felt those days
Those days that were fixtures
In my life at the time
But like all good stories
They come to an end
Sometimes abruptly

I never felt much towards you,
I was taught to love my mother solely,
As she was the one always there to heal my bumps and bruises,
The only memories I have of you from my childhood,
Are of you feeding me God awful food and teaching me to ride a bike,
But I forgot how to ride a bike,
And I could cook what you cooked on my own,
Burnt hotdogs, and pasta, and cereal never really fazed me,
Every other memory is a blur,
Your love was like a line or two painted upon a Mona Lisa of love,
That I had gathered from the various sources of inspiration in my life,
I could always gain appreciation for them,
But not for you.


As I entered my adult years,
You tried to make up for it,
I knew you had pent up guilt inside from not seeing me,
Yet you bought presents and rose up the seeds of another tree,
Seeds that I don't blame,
I only wanted to smell the same flowers that you gave them,
So you were trying to give them to me while I could still smell them,
But that sense was long gone along with my sense of sight,
Literally my vision was fading, but my mind was expanding,
As I was witnessing the world around me quite clearly, and the soul within me,
Just wouldn't release me, from the overwhelming feeling of needing you,
A father figure I could depend on,
A monument for what a man should be, and truly believe in,
As it comes to issues of morality, love, and loyalty,
Up until this point you had only taught me resentment,
Resentment leading to hate,
But I wanted to honor you in place,
So I hide the parts of me that you don't care to see,
I hide my relationships,
I hide my true feelings,
I hide my poetry,
Because if you found those things,
I would no longer be free,
And I refuse to submerge my soul into slavery,
Just for you to feel like you rose up the brightest son,
When truly the darkness is where I was brought up and where I belong,
Moonlight is the only thing I can touch with my pen,
As I compose the paintings residing in my head,
Of wordsmiths and demons battling,
Because words are my angels,
And they have always been there in every instance,
Whenever I've needed a piece of wisdom,
Or a calming presence that would come from the essence,
And recollections of stories of glory,
Stories that helped me forget you,
I love you, and hope our relationship can bloom,
But I no longer wish to speak on you.


Part IV: Mother

I remember
That daze I felt those days
Those days that were fixtures
In my life at the time
But like all good stories
They come to an end
Sometimes abruptly

I was taught to feel love towards you,
And it still remains as strong as ever,
From when I was a child,
Your sacrifice made my life exactly what it is,
Exactly what I needed it to be in order to grow and explore my soul,
To reach for my dreams,
You have always given to me,
Even on your last two cents,
Both would be for me,
You were my mother goose,
Even if I seemed like a young rooster,
Because we were always so different,
You always wanted to mold me into your vision of me,
While you instilled in me many things which cling tightly to me,
You've made someone completely different from what you expected,
I hold different views and truths that are separate from you,
Which is fine, but for a time it would keep me from being who I desired to be,
Because you could never cut the umbilical cord.

In fact, it was wrapped around my neck,
The death of me was coming slowly,
Due to the inhibitions of my creativity,
You loved that I would write, but you hated what I was writing,
Hip-Hop, home to me, was looked at as purgatory,
You couldn't see why I would want to listen to these stories,
Stories of struggling and hustling and juggling jobs, drugs, women, and friendships,
These ships were all sailing gallantly through my mind; the wordplay was so sublime,
And the fact that the words blended with their worlds were so unkind,
Appealed to me, but you were blind,
This changed my perspective,
However what really taught me to be a man,
Was when you began pushing opposing women out of my life,
I would be deep in love, buy-a-ring love,
But one thing would be enough to trigger a string of insults,
And a manikin-like regard for the person of whom I adored,
This was too much for me, you were systematically ending my dreams,
I thank you for your love and for everything that you continue to do for me,
But the cataclysm that was forming in this poets mind,
Was becoming too much to bridge,
If this feeling was to be ongoing,
So as a desperate act of love and care,
I left you behind,
But the love is forever there,
I'm a man because of you,
Your heart will forever reside with me on my journey,
You’ve no need to be frightened,
I’ve got you, I’ve got us,
My senses have been heightened.


Part V: Lover

I remember
That daze I felt those days
Those days that were fixtures
In my life at the time
But like all good stories
They come to an end
Sometimes abruptly

We met after a string of accidents,
Accidents that nearly cost me my life,
These were love losses, blood losses,
Things I’d never thought I could recover from,
The experiences had me going numb,
Until you found me… or did I find you?
It's hard to tell it just seemed like we were two lost souls,
Looking to quell our young hunger for the opposite ***,
Each and every day was spent together,
First on the stoop in front of your sister’s house,
The place where I first kissed your mouth,
Second on the park benches,
This is where hours flourished from minutes,
Third was along the streets of the world,
You were my diamonds and my pearls,
Indestructible and irreplaceable,
Once you met the paper you were there forever,
With that ink blood that flows through your veins,
A fellow poet whose love would stain my mental,
Instrumental in gifting my simple world with a new understanding,
It wasn’t how I imagined, but God laughs at notions of planning,
I finally found out what it meant to be in love,
I never had two people show me what it was,
Honestly the many descriptions of hate,
Is what would be seen at the gate of my consciousness,
As such, I believed this same fate would await me,
It was once the singular feeling with which I could relate,
But the euphoric hands you laid on me,
Made me lose an awake thought process,
As I was in a lake filled with your waters,
That would flow to rivers,
Followed by seas of your loving,
Seas consummating your body,
As I laid on the beach,
Believing it to be a dream.

But it wasn't, and it shouldn’t have ended,
In reality, love has ways of being reprimanded,
I was so lucid, and the picture was candid,
It was the simplest of pleasures that I'd ever been handed,
I learned right away the right things to do,
To flow from my heart and work my way into you,
To take care of my lips,
A rough kiss can't ******,
Nor find proper pleasure,
Along a woman's surface,
You’d allow me to peruse your mind,
Sending shivers up your spine,
As I embarked on my conquest,
Explorations of lustful aspirations,
Symbolizing and synthesizing,
Each and every stroke,
Representing a new letter,
In the alphabet of love,
Allowing our tale to unwind,
To combine the breathlessness of our exploits,
With our hearts desire for choice,
Which declined to lend voice,
To the greater work to be done,
The acquisition of newer positions,
Are symptoms of the journey,
Keep going, never surrender,
Be tender and conquer,
Mental foreplay is stronger,
Than any physical touch.

Love of a poet both bold and stoic,
Is a simplistic view of unfolded vibes and rhythms from the inside,
This could never subside to anything less than genuine spirit of heart and signs,
Among the winds, trees, stars, because you are the art,
You are Moses parting the red sea of my subconscious,
You are the dark sphere which encircles me,
You are the light that penetrates me,
You are harmonic melodies and sweet remedies,
You are rude symmetries and cool symphonies,
You are a lesson learned and an angel untouched,
With exception of me,
Hushed whispers or high pitched screams,
Mean nothing, without the mind following the body to finality,
The fluidity of our ****** motion,
Is a reflection of our mental state,
I seek not to pass through you,
I seek to become one with you.

That's how I feel about poetry,
That's also how I feel about ***,
That's how I feel about you,
You showed me the way,
You are my soul mate,
One with the words I write,
And the memories that I seek the convey,
You are the sun pouring through with the rain,
You are my miracle, one year my junior,
Fifty years older under the skin,
Deep within, your soul, my solar,
Not an eclipse, but a shimmering glow,
Always for my love and never for show.

I fall in love with people's honesty.
Their smile.
Funny jokes.
Tears.
Scars.
Passions.
Eyes.
Dreams.
Their spirit.

Word to Marley Soul.

Five steps in my growth,
Five indispensable cogs of my sou
there was a kangaroo he just loved to hop
he would hop for miles and never want to stop
one day when he was hopping  happy on his way
he saw his friend the wombat and decided they would play
they played  along together having lots of fun
then they had a race and kangaroo he won
they  played  along for hours  and passed the time of day
then they said goodbye and both went there seperate ways
Robin Carretti Aug 2018
Every* fine* detail*
Getting  flushed the
blues inside the
red I phones
The lonesome blue
Ring my Rolling Stones
Waking up in [Blue Oceania]
Mama Mia bluesy jazz me waterbed

Hazy, not one yellow daisy
*hurry up your driving me_crazy
          In love like the
Foggy Day in London Town
The saying *New York like no other town

Forget about it Brooklyn is my town

Wearing your face with frowns
like a vine of tomatoes

Is it your time for Victories

Those rotten movies and
throwing those forgotten
  Love potatoes
At the Villa looking
out he's the Captain of the blue sea
My Alaskan blue eye husky
Meet Charlie or the Bumble Bee
Tuna fish

Saw the fog getting stronger
The winter is hazy don't be
the chicken of the sea

  She was spinning her mind into the
vertigo love is crazy
The crazy love''Hugo"
Hers and his E- ecstasy twin-mail
Hazy is just the way you feel
His strings azure blues power tie
She felt other blues what lies

Workout blues hazy spirit greys
She prays hazy winters of blueberry pie

Hearing the blues rush of water
The waitress taking his order
Inside her tasty fingers
The blues "*****" lightly stir
How she met his brother
But why? Don't you love me, Sir

Eyes of blues flower irises
Her blues pour crystal sugar
She turned her head surprises
Swarovski crystal bead
What was said singing the blues
Shades of deep sensual gray
The shapes of things Godly pray
How many words could
you possibly say
When you catch your breath
His eyes are bluer than your
Heart intense red his iron shirts
Got badly burned

Pumpkin Head met sesame seed
flatbread in the modern flat world
Eating a blueberry muffin top
Who has the open mind
Her blues boysenberries
Doing Hip-hop
By her nook pulling the blinds
How the blood stain her lips
Fashion art Chanel cherries
The bloodshot eyes
Caught her fire candle

Wonka" Blues house Coffee Diva

Hazy blown out of
proportion blue
"Hazy Just So" how do you do it
Do you go through her dreams?

Another brainstorm little
boy blue like a fairytale
So inviting love true lights
Just so in her beam another
enticing clue its never what it seems
Just because there is so much blue
Life shouldn't trick you just kick
off your shoes


Just Relax meditate your body flex
The Gulf of Mexico the blue sharks
Take a bite any kind of fish the
whale of a blue wish
The weather so many changes
crazy or not
Everything feels right
when you tie the knot
So hazy the winter to the spring and the summer flowers bluish morning glory September trying to remember the birth of all shades of babies wearing little boy blue but this goes beyond anyone's spirit colors come out the way you seem to see it so live it singing the blues-rock your waves in those velvet shoes
Steve D'Beard Dec 2012
the pitch dark symmetry
of spiral engraved
glossy jet black
vinyl

the ***** claws
and webbed spiders;
graced with impeccable
scratch

words come back around
from dog day afternoon;
entwined in ritual
beatology

technique absorbed in prowess
dedication assimilated by passion;
human form and synthetic resin becomes
overlayed

polyvinyl chloride or
unsaturated hydrocarbon radicals;
a derivative by any other
name

I'll leave that nugget for the pub quiz
and relax, post-Christmas stress;
the street scramble bustle,
embrace a pint of
black magic
2aftermidnight Apr 2014
I’m turning to an ugly beast..A servant for the devil..A black slave with a lost heart.. who are tortured by his lord.. A torture have never been seen or heard.. a lord who let his servants choose a path between light and darkness.. servants are blind enough to dig in darkness to find light .. but is the servants are truly blind.. searching for Hop,promises.. But manipulated by the devil..
John Stevens Jul 2010
When Mom died in June of 1991 Dad was rather lost,
like the rest of us. I started writing little letters in
big print so he could read them. He would not talk on
the phone so this was the only way to make contact.
I found out later that he carried them around in his
bib overall pocket and pulled them out from time to time.
Occasionally they would get washed and when Sharon
let me know I would run off another copy and mail it.
It became a means for me to remember the past and help
Dad at the same time. My kids loved to hear stories of
when I was a kid so I would recycle the stories between
the kids and Dad. Now as I read them it is a reminder of
things that have become a little fuzzy over the years,
also a reminder that I need to fill in the gaps of the stories
and leave them for my kids before it is too late. So here it is,
such as it is, if you are interested.

=======================================

    Letter­s to Dad

    Nov. 14, 1991

    Dear Dad,
    Your grandkiddies, as you call them,
    send you a big hug from Idaho. Sara is
    five and in Kindergarten this year and
    doing very well. Kristen is in the forth
    grade and made the Honor Roll list the
    first quarter of the year. We are very
    proud of both of our girls.

    Do you remember when toward late
    afternoon you and I would get in the car
    and “Drive around the block” as you
    always said? We would go up to Cliff’s
    and go east for a mile then down past
    Cleo Mae house and on back home. I
    remember you would stop at the junk
    piles and I would find neat stuff, like
    wheels from old toys, that I could make
    into my toys. I think of those times often.
    It was very enjoyable.

    I will be writing to you in the BIG PRINT
    so you can read it easier.

    It is snowing lightly here today. Supposed
    to be nasty weather for a while.

    Bye for now.

    John

    ——————————————————–

    Dec. 3, 1991

    Dear Dad,

    Just a note to say we love you. I miss very
    much talking to Mom on the phone and
    having you play Red Wing on your harmonica.

    I remember quite often when I was very
    young, 4 or 5, and we would go out to the
    field to change the water or something.
    The sand burrs would be so thick and you
    would pick me up on your back. I would
    put my feet into your back pockets and
    away we would go.

    These are the things childhood memories
    are supposed to be made of. Kristen and
    Sara love to hear the stories about when I
    was a kid and what you and I did
    together. I try with them to build the
    memories that they can tell their kids.
    Thanks Dad for a good childhood.

    Bye for now.
    Kristen and Sara send you a kiss and a
    hug.

    Your son, John

    —————————————————–

    Jan. 12, 1992

    Dear Dad,

    We went to Oregon for Christmas and
    had very good traveling weather. Do you
    remember when you and Mom went with
    us once to Oregon at Christmas and
    there were apples still hanging on the
    tree by the Williams house? We made
    apple pie from the apples that you
    picked. Turned out to be pretty good pie.
    There weren’t any apple on the tree this
    year. I thought of you picking the apples
    and bringing them into the kitchen in
    your hat if I remember right.

    We have had some pretty good times
    together. I was thinking the other day
    about a picture that I took of you about
    12 years ago. It captured you as I will
    always remember you. If I can locate it in
    all the stuff, I would like to get it blown
    up and submit it to the art section at the
    Twin Falls County Fair this year.

    I hope this finds you feeling well. I love
    you Dad. Kristen and Sara send you a
    kiss and a hug.

    Oh yes, I would like for you and Tracy to
    sit down sometime and talk about when
    you were a kid and record it on tape. I
    would like to put your remembrances
    down on paper.

    Bye for now.

    Your son, John

    ———————————————————

    Feb. 11, 1992

    Dear Dad,

    Happy Valentine’s Day!!

    Spring is on the way and soon you will be
    85. Just a spring chicken, right? I hope I
    can get around as well as you do by the
    time I am 85.

    Thanks for the letter. I will keep it for a
    very long time. It is the first letter I have
    received from my Father in 48 years.

    Talked to Ed the other day. He said he
    talked to you on the phone and that you
    were wearing your hearing aids and
    glasses. Great! Mom would be proud of
    you.

    Talked to a guy last week who is
    president of the John Deer tractor group
    here. He invited me to bring my “M”
    John Deer to the County Fair and
    participate in the tractor pull contest.
    Might just do that.

    Well the page is filling up using these big
    letters but if it makes it easier to read it is
    worth it.

    Bye for now Dad, I love you. Pennye,
    Kristen and Sara send their love too.

    Your son, John
    —————————————————-
    April 13, 1992

    Dad

    Though the years have past and you are now
    85, you are still the same as when I was a
    child. The memories of going with you to the
    field, when you were “riding the ditch”,
    surveying in a lateral, loading up the turkeys
    in the old Ford truck and taking them to the
    “Hoppers” - is just as if it were yesterday. I
    think of you playing Red Wing on the harp. I
    remember when during the looong cold
    winters we would play checkers. You would
    always beat me. I learned to play a good game.

    Not much has changed except we are both
    much older now. The values you did not speak
    but lived out in front of me has helped make
    me what I am today. I pray that I will be a
    good example before my children to help them
    on their way through life.

    On your 85th birthday, I want to wish you a
    Happy Birthday and thank you for being my
    Father.

    Love
    John

    April 13, 1992

    ————————————————–

    June 10, 1992

    Dear Dad,

    I hope this finds you well. The Stevens
    family in Twin Falls Idaho is having a
    busy summer. Kristen just finished the
    fourth grade and was on the Honor Roll
    for the entire year. Sara will now be a
    big First Grader next year.

    The other day we went out to eat and
    Kristen had chicken and noodles. She
    said, “This tastes just like Grandma
    Nellie’s noodles.” I hope they can keep
    these memories fresh and remember all
    the good times we had back in Nebraska.
    It is difficult to accept that things have
    changed and will never be the same again.
    We miss the weekly phone calls to Nebraska.

    It is clouding up and we might get rain
    this week. It is very dry around here.
    Some of the canals will be cut off in July.

    Bye for now.

    Your Son John

    Love you Dad. I think of you often.

    —————————————————-

    June 22, 1992

    Dear Dad,

    Hope you had a good “HAPPY PAPPY”
    day. This note is to wish you a late
    “HAPPY PAPPY” day.

    I was thinking the other day about the
    times you would take me roller skating
    out at the fair ground on Sunday
    afternoons. I really enjoyed those times. I
    remember how you could give a little hop
    and skate backwards. For me staying on
    my feet was a challenge.

    Sara will be 6 years old June 29. Seems
    like yesterday when she was born. Time
    has a way of passing very quickly.

    Love you lots Dad. The family sends their
    love too.

    Bye for now.
    John

    —————————————————

    Aug. 11, 1992

    Dear Dad,

    Just a note to let you know that your
    Idaho family love you. It was good to talk
    to you for a minute or two the other day.
    I miss the harmonica playing you would
    do over the phone.

    We are all well even though the place
    was covered with smoke from all the
    forest fires last week. It got a little hard
    on the lungs at times but the smoke has
    moved on now. Probably went over
    Nebraska.

    Talked to brother Ed the other day. He
    had just returned from from Nebraska.
    Ed said you looked good for 85.

    Bye for now.

    John

    —————————————————–

    Sept. 10, 1992

    Dear Dad,

    I am sending a copy of what Mom sent
    me a few years ago of what she
    remembered about growing up. I wish I
    had more. How about sitting down with
    Tracy and Sharon and telling them some
    of the things you remember about
    growing up? They can record it and I will
    put it on paper. I would really like that.

    We are ok here in Idaho. Summer had
    disappeared and it is school time again.
    Kristen is in the 5th grade and Sara is in
    the 1st grade. The family went to the
    County Fair today for the second time.
    One day is enough for me.

    I think of you often and love you Dad.
    Thinking of the good times we had
    together while I was growing up always
    makes me happy. You and Mom raised
    four pretty good kids.
    God Bless you Dad. We love you from
    Idaho.

    Bye for now.

    John

    —————————————————–

    Oct. 11, 1992

    Dear Dad,

    We are fine out in Idaho. We are having
    beautiful fall weather. It has not frozen
    enough to get our tomato plants yet.

    Kristen and Sara are doing very well in
    school. They brought home their mid
    term report cards and are getting A’s
    and a B or two.

    Remember when we would go out in the
    corn field and pick the corn by hand? I
    would drive the tractor and you and Ed
    and Wayne picked the corn and threw it
    in the trailer. You guys kept warm from
    the work and I was freezing on the
    tractor. Before that we used the horses
    named Brownie and - was it Blackie?
    The one that kept getting out up north by
    the ditch was Brownie. He figured out
    how to open the gate.

    I remember the times that you were
    hauling cane or sorghum from the field
    east of Mercers and I would ride behind
    the wagon on my sled.

    I had a very good childhood really.
    Thanks for being my Dad.

    God Bless you Dad. We love you from
    Idaho.

    Bye for now.

    John

    ——————————————————-

    Nov. 10, 1992

    Dear Dad,

    It is snowy here and cold. I have a hole in
    the back of the house I must get sealed up
    to keep the cold out. We are redoing this
    part for the kitchen.

    Kristen and Sara made the Honor Roll
    this quarter in school. Kristen’s teacher
    said he wished he had a whole room full
    of Kristens to teach.

    Sorry the phone connection was so bad
    when I called the other day. It was good
    to here you say “hello hello….” any way.
    Glad you are feeling better.

    Your account in the credit union is about
    $34,000 now.

    I was just thinking back when we were
    cultivating corn with that “crazy wheel
    cultivator”. The one that you drove the
    tractor and I rode on the cultivator and
    used the foot pedals to steer it down the
    rows. I remember sometimes it cleaned
    out some of the corn row. Cultivator
    blight, right? It was kind of hard to keep
    straight. Those were the days.

    I keep remembering little bits of things
    while growing up. Sometime I will put
    them all together for my kids to read
    about the “good ole days”.

    God Bless you Dad. We love you from
    Idaho.

    Bye for now.

    John

    ————————————————
    Dec. 17, 1992

    Dear Dad,

    The snow has fallen and the kids stayed
    home from school today. The wind is now
    blowing so it will begin drifting the road
    shut. Besides that the whole family is sick
    with a cold.

    We are putting together a Christmas gift
    to you but it won’t be ready for
    Christmas. It is something that you can
    watch over and over if you want. So
    Merry Christmas for now.

    Last night was the kids’ school Christmas
    program. Kristen started playing the
    flute this fall and played with a group for
    the first time this week. She did very well
    and I got it on video.

    Time to get this in the mail. Love you
    Dad.
    Bye for now.

    Kristen and Sara send you a kiss and a
    hug.
    Your son, John

    ——————————————————

    Jan. 11, 1993

    Dear Dad,

    We have a lot of snow on the ground
    now. I was telling the family about the
    winter of 49 where the snow covered the
    door and you had to scoop the snow into
    the house to dig a tunnel out then haul
    the snow out through the tunnel. That
    was a 15 foot drift wasn’t it? It sure
    looked big to this 6 year old. Then the
    plane flew over the house for a few days
    until we could get out and signal an OK.
    Those were the days! What I do not
    remember is how you took care of the
    cows and stuff during this time. I
    remember being sick and Wayne took the
    horse and rode into Broadwater to get
    oranges and something else. The big
    white dog we had went along and was hit
    by a car. Wayne had to use a fence post
    to finish him off. I remember feeling very
    sad about the old dog.
    We haven’t had this much snow in 8
    years.

    I trust you are feeling well. Our prayers
    are with you all.
    Bye for now. Love you Dad
    The family send a BIG Hi!!!!

    Your son, John

    —————————————————-

    Feb. 9, 1993

    Dear Dad,

    When the kids go to bed they say “Tell us
    a story about when you were a kid on the
    farm”. So I tell them things that I write
    to you and a LOT that I don’t write to
    you. The other day going to school we
    were talking about one of the first snow
    falls we had this year. I spun the van
    around in circles in the parking lot and
    they thought that was GREAT fun. Then
    I told them about the time that their
    Grandpa cut some circles in the Kelly
    School yard and hit a pole with the back
    fender. Do you remember that? I
    remember Mom bringing it up every now
    and then. Then there was the time you
    got a little close to the guard posts along
    the highway just west of Broadwater and
    ripped the spare tire and bracket off the
    old Jeep. Of course none of US ever did
    anything like that. HA.

    It is good to remember back and tell the
    kids about the things we did “in the old
    days”. They find it hard to believe there
    was no TV and I walked through rattle
    snake country to go to the neighbors to
    play. It WAS a good time for me and I
    had a GOOD Dad to help me grow up.
    Thanks again Dad. You and Mom did a
    very good job on us four kids. Sometimes
    we don’t show it often enough but I for
    one thank you and LOVE you.

    Soon you will have another birthday.
    Before you know it you will be 90. I
    should be so lucky.

    I trust you are feeling well. Our prayers
    are with you all. Bye for now. Love you
    Dad
    The family send a BIG Hi!!!!

    Your son, John

    —————————————————–

    Mar. 9, 1993

    Dear Dad,
    Time has a way of disappearing so
    rapidly. I was going to write you a note
    two weeks ago and now here we are.

    It looks like spring is just about to arrive.
    I am ready for it. I’ll bet you are ready to
    get out side and do something. Do you
    miss not farming? I think often about the
    farm and the things we used to do. The
    kids always ask for stories about being on
    the farm. I tell them about raising a
    garden, rattlesnakes, floods, the BIG
    ONE in 49, anything that comes to mind.

    The family went to Sun Valley about 70
    miles north of here Sat. with Kristen’s
    Girl Scout troop for a day of ice skating.
    Pennye used the VCR and played back
    their falls and no falls. It reminded me of
    the times you would get your old clamp-
    on skates on a cut a figure on the ice. I
    never was very good at it. You could hop
    up and turn around. I couldn’t stay of
    my back side and head. I still have a big
    dent in the back of my head from the last
    time I tried. Nearly killed me. So much
    for that.

    Next month you will have another
    birthday. 86 years! Before you know it
    you will be 90.

    I paid your insurance for another year
    I trust you are feeling well. Our prayers
    are w
samantha Sep 2014
Spare me my pride hip hop
Let me get lost in you
Swallow the conflicted emotions I carry
Your artistic touch humbles me
I think……. "Dear you....with love ...from Poetry
***** over the mere sounds of a pounding heart
To the drums and cellos that caress your eardrum

Brothers and sisters confide in you
Fell in love from the roots to souls of mischief
Nomadic as he busta a rhyme
Evidence of a bigger common dream
What he did to get there

****** bleed, notorious hit boy
That’s how some find death in the hands of art
Medusa, the beauty that shattered the lustful greed
Vivek Dec 2012
For them who dwell in mindful wanderlust,
their love, the road; their home, the road,
To grapple their love, their home,
We dont give them their birth right,
cos we, the orderly chaotic,
they, allow me to rephrase,
say, keep order!!
To hell with the gatekeepers,
Let's hop borders shall we?
before all that's left to hop,
are landless latitudes!!
mark john junor Jun 2013
we lay in the sand
on the beach we call our home
with out rock crab dinner
fresh coconuts and berry's
our home has all we desire
including each other
entwined in her tender embrace
i find both the warmth of her gentle heart
and the heat of her sensual passions
we explore each other with tentative caress
but the fires our our bodies soon ignite us
and we become the deep kiss of ******* and release
the hot and swift grasping and sighing
sweating and panting flesh

far into the night
we tickle and play
laugh and whisper

she rises to dance in her bedroom
for me

because her body loves to move
ballroom or hip-hop
her every motion is fire to me
and i pull her to the sand
and take her again and again

we slip into sleep
as i awaken from this sweet dream
not far from the beach
we laid on in my vision of your beauty

lover
my writing has been rather lackluster this last week or so...im very off my game for obvious reasons
i hope things will settle down for me very soon
THE PROLOGUE.

THE Cook of London, while the Reeve thus spake,
For joy he laugh'd and clapp'd him on the back:
"Aha!" quoth he, "for Christes passion,
This Miller had a sharp conclusion,
Upon this argument of herbergage.                              lodging
Well saide Solomon in his language,
Bring thou not every man into thine house,
For harbouring by night is perilous.
Well ought a man avised for to be        a man should take good heed
Whom that he brought into his privity.
I pray to God to give me sorrow and care
If ever, since I highte* Hodge of Ware,                      was called
Heard I a miller better *set a-work
;                           handled
He had a jape
of malice in the derk.                             trick
But God forbid that we should stinte
here,                        stop
And therefore if ye will vouchsafe to hear
A tale of me, that am a poore man,
I will you tell as well as e'er I can
A little jape that fell in our city."

Our Host answer'd and said; "I grant it thee.
Roger, tell on; and look that it be good,
For many a pasty hast thou letten blood,
And many a Jack of Dover hast thou sold,
That had been twice hot and twice cold.
Of many a pilgrim hast thou Christe's curse,
For of thy parsley yet fare they the worse.
That they have eaten in thy stubble goose:
For in thy shop doth many a fly go loose.
Now tell on, gentle Roger, by thy name,
But yet I pray thee be not *wroth for game
;     angry with my jesting
A man may say full sooth in game and play."
"Thou sayst full sooth," quoth Roger, "by my fay;
But sooth play quad play, as the Fleming saith,
And therefore, Harry Bailly, by thy faith,
Be thou not wroth, else we departe* here,                  part company
Though that my tale be of an hostelere.
                      innkeeper
But natheless, I will not tell it yet,
But ere we part, y-wis
thou shalt be quit."               assuredly
And therewithal he laugh'd and made cheer,
And told his tale, as ye shall after hear.

Notes to the Prologue to the Cook's Tale

1. Jack of Dover:  an article of cookery. (Transcriber's note:
suggested by some commentators to be a kind of pie, and by
others to be a fish)

2. Sooth play quad play: true jest is no jest.

3. It may be remembered that each pilgrim was bound to tell
two stories; one on the way to Canterbury, the other returning.

4. Made cheer: French, "fit bonne mine;" put on a pleasant
countenance.


THE TALE.

A prentice whilom dwelt in our city,
And of a craft of victuallers was he:
Galliard
he was, as goldfinch in the shaw*,            lively *grove
Brown as a berry, a proper short fellaw:
With lockes black, combed full fetisly.
                       daintily
And dance he could so well and jollily,
That he was called Perkin Revellour.
He was as full of love and paramour,
As is the honeycomb of honey sweet;
Well was the wenche that with him might meet.
At every bridal would he sing and hop;
He better lov'd the tavern than the shop.
For when there any riding was in Cheap,
Out of the shoppe thither would he leap,
And, till that he had all the sight y-seen,
And danced well, he would not come again;
And gather'd him a meinie
of his sort,              company of fellows
To hop and sing, and make such disport:
And there they *sette steven
for to meet             made appointment
To playen at the dice in such a street.
For in the towne was there no prentice
That fairer coulde cast a pair of dice
Than Perkin could; and thereto he was free    he spent money liberally
Of his dispence, in place of privity.       where he would not be seen
That found his master well in his chaffare,                merchandise
For oftentime he found his box full bare.
For, soothely, a prentice revellour,
That haunteth dice, riot, and paramour,
His master shall it in his shop abie,                       *suffer for
All
have he no part of the minstrelsy.                        although
For theft and riot they be convertible,
All can they play on *gitern or ribible.
             guitar or rebeck
Revel and truth, as in a low degree,
They be full wroth* all day, as men may see.                at variance

This jolly prentice with his master bode,
Till he was nigh out of his prenticehood,
All were he snubbed
both early and late,                       rebuked
And sometimes led with revel to Newgate.
But at the last his master him bethought,
Upon a day when he his paper sought,
Of a proverb, that saith this same word;
Better is rotten apple out of hoard,
Than that it should rot all the remenant:
So fares it by a riotous servant;
It is well lesse harm to let him pace
,                        pass, go
Than he shend
all the servants in the place.                   corrupt
Therefore his master gave him a quittance,
And bade him go, with sorrow and mischance.
And thus this jolly prentice had his leve
:                      desire
Now let him riot all the night, or leave
.                      refrain
And, for there is no thief without a louke,
That helpeth him to wasten and to souk
                           spend
Of that he bribe
can, or borrow may,                             steal
Anon he sent his bed and his array
Unto a compere
of his owen sort,                               comrade
That loved dice, and riot, and disport;
And had a wife, that held *for countenance
            for appearances
A shop, and swived* for her sustenance.             *prostituted herself
       .       .       .       .       .       .       .

Notes to the Cook's Tale

1. Cheapside, where jousts were sometimes held, and which
was the great scene of city revels and processions.

2. His paper: his certificate of completion of his apprenticeship.

3. Louke:  The precise meaning of the word is unknown, but it
is doubtless included in the cant term "pal".

4. The Cook's Tale is unfinished in all the manuscripts; but in
some, of minor authority, the Cook is made to break off his
tale, because "it is so foul," and to tell the story of Gamelyn, on
which Shakespeare's "As You Like It" is founded. The story is
not Chaucer's, and is different in metre, and inferior in
composition to the Tales. It is supposed that Chaucer expunged
the Cook's Tale for the same reason that made him on his death-
bed lament that he had written so much "ribaldry."
Harry J Baxter Feb 2013
The closest I ever came to understanding poetry
was in that crowd, at that hip hop show
and I know you're thinking
"come on kid, rap isn't poetic"
but i could never forget it
the live band blending seamlessly
the predetermined rhythms a symphony
which carried me away to infinity
And when my savior
clutched that microphone in his hand
it began to dawn on me
save your understandings, be one in a crowd
the words flowed out from the mic like jazz
and I knew that i didn't have to worry about being seen as
an over privileged, over educated, over sheltered
white boy who would toy with the idea of fitting a scene
it's more than just a phase
I'll take every last E.P. to the grave
and I will always support
those who have something to say.

It was okay to be lost
nobody is born with a map
but through that rap
I found the pace I'd like to walk at
until I'm in a lovely place, free from my fat
where street preachers use their words
like hot air balloons
and carry me away into the clouds
it seemed certain that I had found my crowd
Shofi Ahmed May 2017
At last the sun is out and about
indulge in your piece of summer.

Today London in bloom
white clouds, white swans
roam out to the sky.
Welcoming the punters
the sun is rolling down.

Come never wonder,
for once, what they're worth.
Hop on, pop in, drop by
bask in London summer!
Poetic T Mar 2015
"Daddy" "Daddy"
"Watch me" "Watch me"
As she jumps hands on the settee
She jumps higher each time,
I want to be a cricket,
I want to
Hop,
Skip,
Jump

Bounce up and down
But they jump well, but not high enough
"Daddy" "Daddy"
"Watch me" "Watch me"
I'm a bunny,
Bounce, bounce, bounce*
I bounce higher this time,
But the whiskers make me sneeze
And I really don't like carrots,
"Daddy" "Daddy"
"Watch me" "Watch me"
I'm a kangaroo
Boing,
Boing,
Boing
Look at me go look at me
Fly through the air, and land
Once again on the ground,
"Daddy" "Daddy"
"Watch me" "Watch me"
I loved being a Kangaroo but it was too hot,
I want,
I wish,
I bounce
In to space, the biggest jumper in
The know universe
I want to be an astronaut
I want to jump from
Earth
To the
Moon,
I want to hop along asteroids
Like I was playing hop scotch
"Floating endlessly"
One jump, two jumps
Look at me float, look at me daddy
I jumped on the moon,
"Little lady"
"My little jumping bean"
"You must learn much"
"Do good at school"
Then you can use your amazing bouncing talent.
Use it to jump from here to there,
But my little princess your only five,
So much time to
Bounce,
Skip,
Jump
Upon everything you see, the moon
Can wait till you grow up,
*"My utterly amazing little jumping bean"
Based on how much my little lady loves to Jump :)
Honesty the lost art/
  Honesty is rare
it should cost a lot/
  It would be sublime if
We could find it/
  Honestly, honesty is the best policy/
We should treasure the
thought cherished engulfed/
  combined with
Loyalty
  till death do us part/
I yurn
The lies tiring
  like ones sleepy
lay down Suffocating to a corpse/
  Thought is boss
employ by it
  We're all guilty I guess/
Liar liar in court
  A sentient being-ness/
Troth be told
  I can't believe in this/
Question,
  Am I the only one seeing this?/
Or only me blind and ain't            Seeing ****/
  I try and **** it out
its epidemic, Chronic/
The remedy Poetry Hop
   Visual Sonnets/
**** naked in
  My correspondence/
Articulating articles
  Waiting for responses/
Is it a defense mechanism
  Of the conscious/
Honesty? Honestly/
  Seems like everyone's
Not doing it so its gotta BE/
  Non honesty
The ever lasting Prophecy/
  And were full filling it
The good succumbs
  To the villainous/
My willingness/
  To compromise my will
I guess/
  You could interpret as weak/
Most realize
the Inside scoop
  Yet everyone tells lies
non interested in truth/
  Me, a victim and a suspect
An on going cycle yet/
  I ask what's next/
as if I didn't know
   Where the L lies underlying Facts can't grow/
  HonestLy, we all lose an L to Honesty!
brandon nagley Jun 2015
Hippity hippity hobo hopped a train in mobo, whilst mobo and toe-do flowdoed  down dits bitsy mountain. She-ha and he-haw hast rode bikes to sleetah where burritos were bandits and bandista's on barnyard fence. Smoky and choky were high on mangozee and tis they loved posies of the same tilling field. Geuber and Gruber maketh infants as scoopers whilst dust is their slooper,
Slippery dipsy dask.. . uncle tis and Mrs tas. Tadpole Bennie, neon jenny, Mike and shunny.. Bunnies of two..honey's of few. Crick-crackle pop the hobo didst hop, as I caught him, as he fell, he bumped  his head and yelled...( Hobo forever)
As I smiled to his passions...
matilda shaye Nov 2014
that weather changes. I know, I know that's common sense or it should be, but when you're under a roof that you've always felt safe in things like that don't just click, so now it's getting cold outside and I have shorts that cover my belly button and shorts that, well, don't. that you can sit in coffee shops 3 times a week and feel FINE! she's right, you don't love her anymore, but it's FINE! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

that there's an 100% chance you'll get sick of writing about your own experiences and it'll take everything inside you to convince yourself that there will be someone who doesn't get sick of reading about them. like okay another poem about the time I ran away and got on a plane and broke up with her and realized **** I can do just FINE! all by myself, awesome good job my hands are typing the same stuff over and over and it ***** cause now they're bored? they don't care that this is a different city and you probably don't either. I'm finally leaving him! no one cares. except me, really, but I don't. I'm over it.

that decisions don't get any easier as time goes on because one second I'm like oh yeah let's turn left and then I read robert frost and think of the road less traveled and I'm like wait? which ones less traveled? what am I actually supposed to do with any of this?

that getting a medium instead of a large $5 coffee doesn't stop you from being ******* STUPID for wasting money when you're TECHNICALLY HOMELESS.
that you're toing to be TECHNICALLY HOMELESS.
but what the **** is a home? 'cause I remember one time I wrote that your smell and smile was more of a home than any house I ever lived in blah blah disgusting but last week when you looked at me and said some dumb ******* that I don't even care enough anymore to write about, I just wanted to go back and lie in bed until I get all these months back. because they were a WASTE.
that it's going to be different. you'll settle and then something will change and you'll miss it and you're a really very nostalgic person in general so you tend to look back on things but
that looking back on things is NOT a good idea. you're just going to get sad and want to lie in bed, but you're technically homeless so that ******* *****, sit your *** on that couch and shut up.
that one day, you're going to have to man up. and you think you've man-ed up and you're flexing and **** and you're ready to rip it to shreds, but nah. you're giving yourself too much credit. I'll see it when I believe it, just like everyone else.
that getting drunk off shots that your brothers girlfriend, who happens to be a bartender at that new-ish bar downtown, keeps handing you won't make ANY of it easier, you'll just laugh and drink the pineapple upside down cake shot and like really like how it tastes? so you'll drink three more and go to walk home and she'll hug you goodbye and make sure you're staying in this city for longer than you did last time (aka 16 years) and then you'll laugh and say bye and thank her for not ID'ing you because you've still got 4 years til that's legal and GUESS WHAT. NONE OF IT WILL BE EASIER. you'll just go home and lie on your god forsaken couch and worry about what the **** is next? and what do you do now? and then you'll try really hard not to make the same mistakes again and to stop your dumb lonely brain from going off on itself again and you'll listen to music until you fall asleep at 4 in the morning and you'll be like, ah..... the **** that they don't tell you but probably should before you get on a plane at 5 in the morning and run away from the people you've spent 16 years imagining running away from, but the city is cold now and they're angry at me and won't ship me any warm clothes..........ahhhhh.....serious **** man
idk, pineapple upside down cake shots
ps I'm not tagging her in this one because it's DONE and I'm OVER IT
ops THATS NOT A LIE
King Tutankhamun Feb 2015
Mic check one two I hope I'm gettin' through to you
It's a telepathic abuse I'm hittin' you
Like a semi truck road **** for thrills
I let my blood spills
And let the microphone iv me
Gave me respiratory and a creativity
I riggedy riggedy rhyme on the beat
Give these emcees cold feet
Get laid out like ramo on beat street
My styles unique old school blues fools
Hallows followed by extractin' ya jewels
Man hood strip from.the mic
I riggedy rip I can go back n forth
Like ping pong ring ding ****
In ya head Ya repetition of my words
On this song
And hey hey I make ya sing like Doris Day
Like payday I'm always nutty with the slutty
Me and buddy go back like flats on cadillac
Reminiscin' when hip hop glisten now I listen
Just a bunch of flops penchin' nerves
I throw straight curves
Cuz im unorthodox love to box
As I stick move with the bellow flow
mellow strip ya title now ya Six below
Under sound the thunder
Before I enter the square or ring I sing
A biggety beautiful melody
This real **** I bounce to the ounce
Like Roger Trout ya can't stop
Take it easy when ya approach with the real hip hopppppp



Odysseus needs a job he calls pima community college art department chairperson sends her his resume she does not respond after a week he catches her on phone she says he lacks proper credentials laughs to himself his whole life never worked lucrative or reputable position gets job working at thrift store wacky group of coworkers customers store frequently smells like public latrine job expires after 7 weeks he gets better paying job working at record exchange Odysseus always loved music everyday he learns new artist or band his coworkers are at least half his age they pester him about being slow on keyboard he never learned to type neither he nor his generation could have foreseen future would revolve around keyboard he plods on register keys people smile politely kids he works with fly fast making many keyboard mistakes November 29 2001 george harrison dies of cancer he is 58 years old Odysseus recognizes he is from past world different era of contrasting standards ‘80’s behavior is totally unbefitting let alone ‘60’s beliefs it is 2002 and one badly chosen word is sure to send someone flying off the handle he watches his language carefully co-workers mostly born in 1980’s grew up in 1990’s they live indifferent to hopelessness he struggles to bear none of them believe in higher power music is their religion he wonders what their visions concerns for humanity are? they seem addicted to consumption as if it is end in itself he questions what is hidden at root of their absorption? loneliness? despair? apathy? absence of vision? where is their rage against social conversion current administration? he warns them about homeland security act privacy infringement increased government secrecy power they shrug their shoulders why aren’t they looking for answers? why don’t they dissent? do they care where world is going? he realizes they will have to learn for themselves few coworkers read literature or know painters philosophy their passions are video games marijuana “star wars” most of them are extremely bright more informed than he often Odysseus needs to ask questions they know answers to right off the bat he is like winsome uncle who puts up with their unremitting teasing “hey you old hippie punk rocker get you fiber in today? stools looking a little loose! peace out old man” in peculiar way he finds enough belonging he so desperately needs they tell him stories about their friends *** addictions eating disorders futile deaths he is bowled over by how young they are to know such stuff job includes health insurance which is something he has not had since Dad was alive having some cash flowing in he buys laptop computer with high-speed connection cell phone trades in toyota for truck opens crate of writings he abandoned in ‘80’s begins to rewrite story sits blurry eyed in front of computer screen his motivation has always been to tell truth as he knows it he wonders what ramifications his labor will bring positive or negative results? he guesses his story will sound like children’s fable in stark brutality of distant future october 2002 3 week ****** spree terrorizes maryland virginia  district of columbia 10 people killed 3 critically wounded police believe white van responsible october 24 man and 17-year-old boy arrested in blue chevy caprice juvenile is shooter assailants linked to string of random murders including unsolved shooting of man at golf course in tucson Odysseus mentions incident at work speaks of prevailing terror madness in america co-workers kid tell him he is crazy “did you see a white van parked outside the store Odys?” they seem desensitized to increasing national atmosphere of anger panic or perhaps they are overwhelmed by weight trauma of modern life lie after lie prevailing  havoc slaughter make for dull numbness in world they know suicide is compelling option december 22nd 2002 joe strummer dies from heart failure at age 50 Odysseus’s eyes wet he adored the clash everything they stood for loved joe strummer and mescaleros he plays “global a go-go” over and over listens sings along with first track “johnny appleseed” march 2003 president bush launches attack against iraq united states seems drunk with “shock and awe” zealous blind patriotism many people politicians countries around globe question unproven line of reasoning saddam hussein possesses “weapons of mass destruction” Odysseus gripes “not another **** vietnam” record company allows employees to check out take home used product Odysseus stopped watching movies in 1980’s he has lots of catching up to do particularly likes “natural born killers” “american history x” “american ******” “fight club” “way of the gun” “******” “king of new york” “basquiat” “frida” “*******” “before night falls” “quills” “requiem for a dream” “vanilla sky” “boys don’t cry” “being john malkovich” “adaptation” “kids” “lost in translation” “25th hour” “28 days later” “monster” “city of god” “gangs of new york” “**** bill” list goes on perfect circle becomes his favorite band followed by tool lacuna coil my morning jacket brian jonestown massacre flaming lips dredg drive-by truckers dropkick murphys flogging mollies nofx stereophonics eels weakerthans centro-matic califone godspeed you black emperor magnetic fields fiery furnaces dresden dolls smog granddaddy calexico howie gelb sufjan stevens warren haynes dax riggs john vanderslice alejandro escovedo sean paul elephant man bjork p. j. harvey ani difranco aimee mann cat power sophie b. hawkins kathleen edwards mia doi todd kimya dawson regina spektor carina round neko case fiona apple nina nastasia beth gibbons mirah rasputina dr. dre talib kweli immortal technique murs slug atmosphere trick daddy eazy-e tricky list goes on october 21 2003 elliott smith commits suicide stabbing 2 wounds into his chest Odysseus thinks about music when jimi hendrix stood up at woodstock deconstructing national anthem on guitar it took courage when punk emerged with ugly screechy sounds attempting to divorce itself from melodious harmonies of 1970s complacent crosby stills nash  the dead kennedys and *** pistol did not pander to conventional commercial success what they performed were desperate gutsy songs trying to reclaim music rock’n’roll is no longer about inventing instead it imitates its glorious past hip-hop and rap come nearest to risking rebellion but are caught in gangsterism infantile self-adulation no longer does music offer vision of what is or could be instead it conjures looping escapism from hopelessness of modern life he continues working at record shop for several years store contains every genre of music cinema he grows weary of retail sales weary of higher-ups constantly changing rules dictating what to do head manager is manipulative drama queen thrives on crisis once in private admits stealing from company Odysseus nods not knowing what to say head manager works Odysseus hard keeps him down atmosphere of conspiracy betrayal hang at start of each day assistant manager routinely taunts berates bullies teases regularly calls Odysseus “dumb-****” or “****-up” other times laughs after goading Odysseus to flinch eventually bully backs off and they become friends retail pushes Odysseus to brink of misanthropy corporation requires all employees to exercise overt courteousness while serving a public of disrespectful gang bangers demanding “show me black market brotha lynch mac dre why ya godda keep dat **** behind da counter? dat’s ****** up hey old man i ain’t got all day” it always amazes him when shoplifter is caught with product stuffed down his pants thief blatantly states “i didn’t do it i don’t know how that got there” thanksgiving through christmas to new years is most swarming stressful he feels like automaton greeting customer scanning product looking at screen to see if price agrees with product typing money amount counting money into drawer counting money out handing change to customer handing customer product receipt next customer cockroach capitalism packs of masses line up in endless stream of needs stupid remarks job also involves trade appraising condition value resale probability of cds dvds video games tapes vhs vinyl news of  iraq war gets dismal mounting civilian casualties suicide bombers hostages beheadings beginning of 2004 reports of torture ****** psychological abuse **** ****** ****** of prisoners at abu ghraib prison guantanamo bay white house cover-ups denials growing insurgency increasing u.s. body count other costs he thinks about men and women who are so much braver than him then comes re-election and lavish republican parties parades cheney rumsfeld tom delay and whole regime smirk portentously on tv none of it makes sense anymore “we the people of the united states” what does it mean? the dreams and aspirations of his generation have long since faded away he is citizen of forgotten past current world is barbaric place he barely recognizes there are real pirates with machetes rocket launchers on the seas big drug corporations hiding harmful findings kidnapped children abandoned children crooked politicians corruption at every level of society horrifying stories daily ******* priests slave markets extreme heinous cruelties abruptly everyone is acknowledging society is worsening life is not the same he does not understand people and certainly does not understand america or the world he remembers when all could be so good modern existence has turned everything into madness what happened to lessons of history? it is as if Odysseus fell asleep and when he woke everything is changed he is mistaken about what he thinks he knows feels pity for people america pity disgust sorrow he misses his dog

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