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“death everywhere, not age or ancient, just an infiltrated lack of life”

a puzzling, troubling line in a personal message,
instantly isolated for further review,
needy indeedy for a second medical opinion,
for it’s a description of two,
an actual place and a state of being

a place where death seems more commonplace,
not from agedness or honor,
but from a madness drunk from a special cocktail of
heat, guns and pseudo-rock stars, with beer chasers

imbibed by those who imagine themselves INRL  
in a movie genre of specialized urban cowboys,
subset horror flick,
self-appointed angels

part of a world view
so pervasive that it infiltrates the mental water supply
and modifies the pure children early on

demeaning existence, with a sense, a sendup,
life is unreal, cheap, so taking it-is ok,
justice delivered, for we angels,
are subset,
angels of death

in a country where
seven out of ten believe in angels,
and one in four confident that
the sun revolves around the Earth

look to blame
polluted water
the ever-overheated atmosphere,
bringing typhoon and storm,

I do not know

how be sun and water,
the essences, the originations of all life
today come to the planet days still
clear and warm,
yet can not infiltrate our personal mystery,
respire, re-spark the notion of the spirit,

the simple sanctity of life peculiarly human
call me by my other name
mystified momma
Tammy M Darby Jul 2013
It is said by smell
Impossible be detected
I am here to say they are quite mistaken
For it is as heavy as night blooming jasmine

The smell of white calla lilies
Heralds the coming of death
Announcing another soul from life taken
Despair  indeed has a scent

Lain on a headstone in reverence
The wreath of flowers
Posses a perfume of its own
Depression and loss infiltrate the heart
A cologne that permeates the air
There is I can assure you
A fragrance of despair

This poem is copyrighted and stored in author base.  All material subject to Copyright Infringement laws
Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright
Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3),
Tammy M Darby
Kathleen M Oct 2018
little white envelope
sealed with a promise
just like the others
open to find means to a better end
no bitter ends will you let begin
colourful notes meant to read
i love you
words not easily spoken
through clenched teeth
jaws locked
rusted with time
years spent unhinged
spoiled words spoken between lips
unforgiving winds
their destruction still left to rebuild
tension releases by passing annum
moments spent in silence
make way for healing
and days left to heal with you are unknown
days left are precious
words are simple
beholden to their potential
barriers thin but exist nonetheless
not in contempt
but in habit
detox made easier by bullet holes
of past attempts to infiltrate
your kingdom
of fatherhood
Jo Barber Feb 6
The leaves change,
and with them the smell
of August floats my way.

The sweet-sour memories
of summer morph into
something new.

Plants die, but they will return.
Fiery red hues infiltrate
old life anew.

Summer love fades;
it wasn't meant to last anyways,
but it bloomed for a time.

The flowers wilt more each day;
In the wind the petals shall blow away.
Earth will later create a new bouquet.

For now, change is all that stays.
I switch between descriptions of nature and life. Both are changing and the speaker is unsure of how they feel about both.
Julian Sep 2016
webbdoodle: decline of kinesiology because of technology
twatterclap: frustration with writing
grangull: witty yet naïve
dormitage: finding the best AirBnB and roommate
wayspaying: reckless neutering of men by feminism
wartle: a slow war by a pathetic guerilla enemy
tranception: communication of souls in eternity
rittle: a mind-teaser for dumb people
Minkumpf: a book on animal genocide
pregromanging: predictive programming about cool fashions in the future
Shilluminatus: a fake illuminati person
Ralphiesque: Someone on the wrong side of history
cognoscenti: real illumination
whasper: Ghostly contact with ghouls
frimple: folding your clothese every day
Treecheese: money to be made in preserving rainforests
tattermedalion: pretended poor person that lives in poverty to disguise his wealth
flocksturr: focuses on avionics of top secret craft
panejectifron: time-travelers exiting their cars
pancledes: time travlers that can be identified
covertthow: an attempt by spies to gain more power
martle: someone too slow to survive on mars
marstion: foothold on habitable planet
wibble-wabble: tergiversation in high pressure situations
flipsquire:99th percentile IQ
frankquibber: 98th percentile IQ
cloveryield: the earnings of luck on aleatory circumstance
actsequlade: quaint TV sitcoms
gimply: with a great gait
fourteenfive:genius level intelligence
qwence: the place for elite people to congregate
Bilderberg: the crownpiece of kapstone paper that selects comfort lazily based on nepotism that worships enough owls until the decided date and that foists roosters to meet with clement (exceptionally) and inclement fate
frohemian: black hipsters
Effrogallant: Bold non-linear flirtation
Sart: coffin for poor people
Ralsk: secret underground subway system
riniguss: landlocked prosperity
tryme: corruption in court for poor people
whyern: beginning of stardom
marzarratea: Ghoulish time-travelers who talk too often
Awgrudge: underwhelming emotional reaction
Virtualasis: long-distance non-physical romance
wikken: genocide of sentient but stupid humans
qwask: infiltrate the untouchables
rijuice: A preordained outcome of an important game
Lagonagria: The uncertainty of scores even with prophetic insight
wopper: someone who is permanently oppressed
axile: carefully being cut or carved
pruke: ***** that comes from nausea that is forced
pluke: excessive absorption of new knowledge
ghallitosis: Fear of the unknown in time-travel
jimpster: a contactee by liaison with time travelers
sessomotto: rocketship
whilded: anticipation of death (thanatopsis)
praken: Aeolian winds of mythical divinity
mustreacle: expectations that are unrealistic that ruins lives
klangquant: making enemies of the aristocracy
pyer: effigy of a dead person bearing no blood
crabwhisker: when two people have such different associations they have no emotional propinquity and therefore can't relate to each other
prull it: implode a building
wetringle: droplets of vaginal fluid
cravvel: people with VD that pretend celibacy
revdection: the art of inventing new words to gain an advantage
New English Words
Harley Hucof Nov 2018
You can feel it as i speak
By the way i write when you read
That it is weird to be in your shoes
To infiltrate your mind, to see the truth
To experience the unique existence of being you.

But it is sort of sad
That with each visit i get mad
And repulsed
By the lack of trust
And the hate we take to tolerate love.

And we love ,but not ourselves
And we explore the void in search for help.

But i say Empathy is a lie
We must depend on each other
For the future to be bright
Fellowship won't be experienced untill you unite with the other.

Words Of Harfouchism.
What you think might help
Nymeriari Dec 2018
Day passed, can't help my eyes not looking at you for a single time
but there you are sitting in a luminous light, innocent.
full of life, moving uncertain.
excitement crawls through my body
wanting to speak the unspoken words. 
There, we're both standing in the middle, strange I couldn't speak.

Yea, we might not speak 
during the day.
But in that night,
you infiltrate my thoughts 
sporadically throughout the day
and haunt my dreams
occasionally throughout the night.

Funny how
it used to be
so comforting
talking to you at night.
Diana Sep 2018
His words whisper
Against my flushed cheeks
Crawl into my ears
And infiltrate my mind
Causing all thoughts to cease
Until the only ones left
Are his

My senses have blurred
And they all have one source
My lips taste of his
My hands touch his
My eyes stare into his
My ears listen to the words
That fall off his lips
And drip with honey
Laced with wild lavender

My nose fills with his all-consuming scent
A scent that cannot be compared
To any other in the form of a smilie
Because it is uniquely his
And is unlike anything
That has ever been before

My senses have blurred
So all I taste is him
All I feel is him
All I see is him
All I hear is him
All I smell is him

My senses have blurred
And so have my thoughts
Because now
They only consist of poems
That describe him
And only him
Bijan Rabiee Apr 2018
I'm  free of religion, politics and law
The triad of corruption
The rein of my body and my mind
Rest in the hands of my spirit
I'm not above anyone
And no one is above me
I was born unique
Like everybody else
I've kept it that way unlike most
No superbly skilled mastermind
Can infiltrate my being
No cutting-edge mechanism
Can alter the course of my craft
I'm a drifter in the land of mystery
Magical birds shall sing my history.
Edith May 5
How can I infiltrate your soul through the lines of my notebook?
How do I seep into your mind with the ink of my pen?
I’ve been piecing you together line by line,
Searching for answers.
Fragment of a larger piece I’m working on
say Feb 23
touch me with your words
and let the syllables gracefully infiltrate my soul.

let your verbatum drown me in a delicate dance that
sparks and stimulates every sense.

without you.
as I wait and long,
for a conversation that never seems to last too long.
Staci Lee Oct 2018
There is a spark.
All circuits switch to on board.
Awareness & knowing floods your system.
You are now awake.
Shards of lighted pain infiltrate your mind and body.
Nervous system is raw
Joints ache to be flattened, to be healed.
Mind screams to be soothed;to be tended.
Your heartbeat storms like a thoroughbred in a race you never wanted to enter.
That sweet comfort,that you are so mad for.
That agreeable bliss, you held so high,it will not be found,it is not there.
With insides trembling and all help gone - You ask yourself,
“Is this the life that I must carry on?”
A descriptive poem about the intense pain that comes with the changes of ending dependencies and addictions.
Diana Sep 2018
You infiltrate my thoughts
Sporadically throughout the day
And haunt my dreams
Occasionally throughout the night

We might not speak
During the day
But boy by night
Let's just say
You come out to play

But now
You nauseate me
And frustration seeps through
The surface
Of my body
Permeating the air
With my "love" for you
As my nose recoils from the stench
And it sickens me
To my core

I wait for the day
Where you
My "boy"
become a
distant memory
that I have to
To remember
I use to have the biggest crush on this beautiful guy. I never talked to him, only in my dreams, but after awhile I got so annoyed that I didn't have the courage to talk to him, so I wrote this poem instead.
mia May 14
In the graveyard of dreams
fog whirls around your mutilated carcass
I have been in this state for too long
brittle nails & worn hair, my drawn-out smile

I open your grave to find Pandora's box
your words choke me
turning my teeth a deeper shade of red

scarabs escape
they bore into my face
infiltrate my deepest memories
I surrender
Anna Dec 2018
7 hours of tears
An incessant cascade
Swollen eyes and pale face
Deep blue crescents carved
With blunt knives
By 1 hours sleep and
All functions cease because
You don't want me

When your 3am text shot me
It hit my spine and I was paralysed
The deepest layer of hell is ice
And that’s where my body resided
Agony spilling over into numbness
As infection set in
I stood in front of the tsunami of misery
And let it smash down on my head

I think it broke my skull
I keep finding fragments of me
On the shores of my subconscious
Trying to gently piece them together
Dedicated to the hunt and
Giving them everything
But they don’t want to come back
They say they need time

I wanted to care for you
Until you forgot how to be broken
But it was muscle memory for you
That didn't leave on whim
You had to break me too
Until I became the floor
Under your feet
That couldn't stop supporting you

I gave you my existence
But you gave me half
And I was still thirsty after
Half a glass of water
On a warm night
During passionate ***
But I'm even more parched
With the nothing I have now

Now I have to erase
Your dancing tiger eyes
Burning holes in mine
And talking
Late into the night
Until we hallucinated
And didn't know who we were talking to

I just want you to stop leaving
Over and over
Like you do in my dreams
A thought loop I can’t leave
And even now you’re gone
You still want to play
With the wound in my chest
Picking off the scab when it tries to heal

If you had nails
You'd dig them into my brain
But you chewed them all off
Leaving unsightly stumps
So you resort to other games
Touching me tenderly
Then pushing me away
I hope you’re having fun

We were only alive during the night
You were nocturnal
And I wished the day away
So I could fall into your arms
And admire the contrast
Of our hair and skin
Rich brown on milky white
Gold on black

The sun always anaesthetised you
As it peered into your room
Stealing your essence
Leaving you a demotivated husk
But the night gave it back
And I was always grateful
That I could have the real you then
I gave up my day for my nights with you

I’d wait through all the smoking
Watching you try to fill the void
Hunting for a way
To try and straighten out
All your vicious insecurities
Too scared to deal with them sober
But you never needed to be high
For me to love you

I want my nerves to register
Your teeth clamped on my bare skin,
Pressure around my neck
And hands on my hips.
Your touch snaking all over
My fragile body
With locked lips
And your soft hair under my fingers

You infiltrate every memory
Imprinting your half smile
Behind my eyelids
I can still feel your hands
The lines they traced
I wish they'd trace more
Something to sooth
The hole in my chest

Sunlight shines through the hole but
Even as its edges become less raw
It's still punched through my chest
My heart’s missing
I hope you have it
Because I’d like it back at some point
Maybe we can plant it in the hole
And fertilise it with new flesh

I wish I could make more memories
And lie in bed with you for hours
But you won’t let me
You’re tidal, pushing and pulling
Until I disintegrate
In your sea of indecision
I’ll do whatever you want me to
I just wish it didn’t make me so sad
Leisa Battaglia Jul 2018
Slumber is sliding slowly away as wakefulness creeps in

Few hours remain before morning breaks, and I feel his arms around me pulling me back to rest

I feel the warmth of his body and the smell of his skin long before my eyes open to meet the day

I can hear his heart beating its soft steady lullaby against my face on his chest

This amazing man, so loving, so gentle, so kind, yet fiercely protective and loyal; a mixture of perfection

This is what I want, I think to myself, as I start trailing my fingers across his chest

He lets out a low growl in his sleep, his body responding to my touch even in its unconscious state

Does he feel my presence with the same strength that I feel his

Does it permeate his resting mind and infiltrate his dreams

His nakedness next to me is so primal and natural, everything about this feels so right

I study his face, the long eyelashes resting on his cheeks, the cut of his jawline, his lips not long removed from my own

I listen to his soft snoring and smile at its familiar cadence, a sound I couldn't imagine being without now

I wonder if he knows; does he know what he is to me

He is air, he is water, he is food, he is sunlight; nourishing my every need

I worry that I am not enough to fulfill all those needs in him, but I will live my life trying

This is what I want, this moment, this peace, laying on his chest, his arms keeping me safe, our bodies lazily intertwined

This is how I want every day of the rest of my life to begin

He starts to stir and his eyes sleepily open taking me in, he pulls me even deeper into his embrace

I melt into him; happy, peaceful, and content in this moment that I never want to end

Yes this is what I want; this man, right now and always

Good morning my love
Try Mar 8
that devil in-disguise
with fluent rhymes
able to infiltrate ones minds eye
indifferent to anothers life
paying a high price just to say a live
many say he is blind
to focused on their own grind
though they always seem to claim their prize
a vice to them filled with compromise
denial does not lead to the conclusion
yet brings new adventure
as eyes close
venturing off to the astrals
where conversations and meetings are held
violence is quelled
to wake to a new day with orders to follow
much more is possible when ones 3rd eye is opened
a portal to new opportunities arise
a new prize for this devil in-disguise
to become entwined within
thus is the way of

© Try
Caleb Hess Aug 2018
I want you to infiltrate my senses. Fill my ears with your voice and my head with your words. As I watch your lips move my stomach fills with chalkhill blues. As you move closer to me I choke on my heartbeat. Your hand is a burning flame and my skin is the fuse that leads to my gunpowder filled heart. Boom, my heart went as it exploded from your gentle touch. “Her, her, her,” I think as the moon is in the sky and I am surrounded by darkness yet I still see you everywhere I look. I am wrapped around your index finger and am always there yet you never notice.
A love poem about someone I'm in love with, just kidding I'm not in love with anybody but yeah it's a love poem.
Ken Pepiton Dec 2018
yes, it did.
Just now

right now,
the now that was a moment ago and left a mark.

Beastly meme-ish mark, a consonant glyph or a ligature,

an umph!

Right between the eyes.

right between the --- fit any jective noise ---ooof!


no cursem
no sworn revenge, mere wind knocked
from my sail

a seen monster blocking my sail with the shadow of his storm

Float, still as a pond on the Albatross killer's sea of green.

there never was a yellow submarine,
The one Krasner sunk in central park was fake. That was in '68.

March, maybe, ides of March keep signaling meanings
I never knew were clues.

This just happened.
I was telling a friend about the effect of seeing my first man die,
as I set the scene, March, '68…

tellin' him, it was the next day,  the next day after
we met in a chow-line at Camp Freznell Jones,

You axed, whatchewdoin here? I rolled my eyes.

You were a medic, you said if I needed
hope, you had dope…
(we had first met on the first day of first grade.)

I had shot him in the belly with a bb gun, when we were twelve.
He slugged me in the mouth for Alice Jones, when we were fifteen.
(there's a story, but it angles away from what just happened.)

We remembered a time.

March 1968, about a week after My Lai,
we were
nineteen year olds, schooled together  in good citizenship,
since we were six,
in the year 1954. when
President Eisenhauer,

personally, we heard,

had added two words,
under and God,
to the good citizen allegiance pledge
all first grade good-citizens-to-be
were learning again,

because the new pledge meant more than the old pledge had.
That had needed to be done.

Or the commies were going to get a cobalt bomb
and blow the whole world to heck.
Per Boy's Life, the scouting mag.

This was explained by the fact that there were no escapes
from prisoner of war camps in Korea,
the commies were at
war against God,

that was explained when a captured secret brainwashing plan revealed:

the lack of knowing why America was worth dying for in Korea, among
the U.N. G.I.  little brothers and younger cousins

of the greatest generation's victorious G.I.
warrior heroes, every one,
so steeped in esprit dee corp,
the ones who could would march in Parades for fifty years.

tweener losers twixt the survivors of first
wave greatest generation warriors and  us
(Talkin' bout my generation, we didn't die before we got old),

those guys nee-cess-it-ated,

Purely from lack of knowing, never having been taught

the Uniform Code of Military Justice and that our
allegiance is and was pledged to a nation under God.

Both which were new information
maybe our moms and dads didn't know yet,
we could teach them for homework
the new pledge and ask for dimes
for the march of dimes
at the same time.

The boom of babes
just beginning citizenship training for the war
they would fight, but right,
they would know,
because the commies,
could not infiltrate our schools and teach lies…

The boom of babes
just beginning citizenship training for the war
they would fight, but right,

like all the men in town who served and survived the real war,
the world war,
not a Po-lease action,
and who,
if they were shot down (no fault of their own, ****** Red Baron)
they escaped
in movie quality dramatic ways
from prisoner of war camps in Germany,

(Not many escapes from Japanese
prisoner of war camps,
but Islands account for much of that. Sharks.)

the boom of babes
just beginning citizenship training for the war
they would fight, but right,
that boom of fresh new cannon fodder for the future,

we needed to know
we were pledging, promising to pay with our life, no lie,

I pledged, we all pledged knowing, no mistake,
God is on our side,
we are, as a nation, as a citizen of this nation,
under god.
From now on.

We all stand.

--- that was all flash back---
What just happened was Doc Musgrove stopped my tale,
my telling of the first death
I watched

He remembered
He was a medic
He cleaned the mess I watched that left this stain.
He carried the bodies.

I walked away.
Then fifty years later, I figured it wouldn't hurt to tell.
But it does.
You, generations after ours, remember war
does not make better people of good citizens who know

allegiance means allied with, not ruled by.

Liege lords are things of the past. That's why the statues always fall.

We are free because truth, when known, makes us free.
Wars make no man free.

If you can't love your enemy, that's no excuse.
Set a standard, high as you can imagine,
based on the good you know is good,

{no this is not preaching it is sharing, so you don't suffer from lack of knowing and say nobody shared what he learned after becoming the definition of a heretic.}

exercise your self, discipline your self
become a disciple of good
for goodness sake
do what you know is good
as if it were being done to you

and enemies become others who maybe
you could see things like, if

you looked from a higher plane.

Yes, I dare, I was dared. An Indian kid dared me to prove
I inherited the wind.
While planning a pod cast we realized we were speaking of the same incident, fifty years ago.
OnwardFlame Jan 3
You said that
You wish you had time to sit down
And write me.

I circle among the wooden nymphs
Infiltrate fire on ice
And mend golden beams with
A little solitude
And an everlasting
Humble sadness.

I don't know that I can adapt anymore.

Mirroring lampshades, the wallpaper too
I drift among the water here
Submerging myself into the lake
When the water tastes just right
Or not great.

I quantify and qualify
And echo in and out of chambers
As you listen and reach for everything
All while wanting everything
But not all of it.

I wasn't supposed to mean anything
A choir of banshees sing
And in my writing to you
I don't know that I have anything new to say.

Will you think of the way people circled around me on the dance floor
Or how an all consuming radiance and freedom
Releases from the room when I enter it?

I'm still here while you go
Chipping and chopping away
With my golden axe in hand
The belle of the ball.

I can still taste
The comforting way
I've come to find your hands down my lips, down my throat
Down the grip
Of my heart that you tighten and sometimes
Toy with.

You flutter through like a winged creature
Through your own plights, your own jealousy
Finally admitting to me
As we both swirl in moments of turmoil.

You described a feeling in your chest.

I've always been someone who can take on a lot of pain
I've always been someone who
Finds some kind of weird ****** up joy
In feeling so completely
A *******, a pained artist
And so here, in the terrace
Where it's you and it's me
But not so completely
I can paint strokes
As my arm bleeds down the canvas
Because a part of me
Can somehow stand it.

I don't know what will happen here
I wish I could write more joyously
All I know to do
Is to set you free

And trust you'll come back to me.
Whenever you say no sometimes I'll take that as a challenge,
to infiltrate your mind with things you wanna do,
but you say there's no time to.
I look for the chinks in your disposition,
and I get inside through the tiniest holes,
penetrating your thoughts,
and inhibitions,
to push towards the naughty,
or just to the "I shouldn't",
but never towards the "I wouldn't",
cause I know you too well.
I know you'll enjoy it,
I'm just a slight push from time to time,
a little devil on your shoulder,
that can take a hold of you.
My whispers are subtle when needed
or blunt when I know you're in the mood,
but you'll fall for it eventually,
because I know what makes you tick.
That soft correction,
the subtle jabs at your self restraint,
and getting into what I know you want.
I'll make you stay up too late,
enjoying yourself as I take joy,
just knowing I got you doing more than you expected.
Luz Hanaii Apr 30
Be indifferent to the wicked!
They infiltrate all realms,
taking advantage of kind souls,
who think their love can heal them.
I was takin' a trip out to LA
Toolin' along in my Chevrolet
Tokin' on a number and diggin' on the radio
Jes' as I cross the Mississippi line
I heard that highway start to whine
And I knew that left rear tire was about to go
Well the spare was flat and I got uptight
'Cause there wasn't a fillin' station in sight
So I jes' limped down the shoulder on the rim
I went as far as I could and when I stopped the car
It was right in front of this little bar
A kind of a redneck lookin' joint called the Dew Drop Inn
Well I stuffed my hair up under my hat
And told the bartender that I had a flat
And would he be kind enough to give me change for a one
There was one thing I was sure proud to see
There wasn't a soul in the place 'cept for him an' me
And he just looked disgusted an' pointed toward the telephone
I called up the station down the road a ways
And he said he wasn't very busy t'day
And he could have somebody there in jest 'bout ten minutes or so
He said now you jes' stay right where yer at and I didn't bother
Tellin' the durn fool
I sure as hell didn't have anyplace else to go
I just ordered up a beer and sat down at the bar
When some guy walked in an' said who owns this car
With the peace sign the mag wheels and four on the floor
Well he looked at me and I **** near died
And I decided that I'd jus wait outside
So I layed a dollar on the bar and headed for the door
Jes' when I thought I'd get outta there with my skin
These five big dude come strollin' in
With this one old drunk chick and some fella with green teeth
An' I was almost to the door when the biggest one
Said you tip your hat to this lady son
An' when I did all that hair fell out from underneath
Now the last thing I wanted was to get into a fight
In Jackson Mississippi on a Saturday night
'Specially when there was three of them and only one of me
Well they all started laughin' and I felt kinda sick
And I knew I'd better think of somethin' pretty quick
So I jes' reached out an' kicked ol' green-teeth right in the knee
He let out a yell that'd curl your hair
But before he could move I grabbed me a chair
And said watch him folks 'cause he's a thouroughly dangerous man
Well you may not know it but this man's a spy
He's an undercover agent for the FBI
And he's been sent down here to infiltrate the Ku Klux ****
He was still bent over holdin' on to his knee
But everyone else was lookin' and listenin' to me
And I layed it on thicker and heavier as I went
I said would you beleive this man has gone as far
As tearin' Wallace stickers off the bumpers of cars
And he voted for George McGoveren for president
Well he's a friend of them long-haired hippie type ***** ****
I betcha he's even got a ****** flag
Tacked up on the wall inside of his garage
He's a snake in the grass I tell ya guys
He may look dumb but that's jus a disguise
He's a mastermind in the ways of espionage
They all started lookin' real suspicious at him
And he jumped up an' said jes' wait a minute Jim
You know he's lyin' I've been livin' here all of my life
I'm a faithfull follower of Brother John Burch
And I belong to the Antioch Baptist Church
And I ain't even got a garage you can call home and ask my wife
Then he started sayin' somethin' 'bout the way I was dressed
But I didn't wait around to hear the rest
I was too busy movin' and hopin' I didn't run outta luck
And when I hit the ground I was makin' tracks
And they were jes' takin' my car down off the jacks
So I threw the man a twenty an' jumped in an' fired that mother up
Mario Andretti woulda sure been proud
Of the way I was movin' when I passed that crowd
Comin' out the door and headin' toward me in a trot
An' I guess I shoulda gone ahead an' run
But somehow I couldn't resist the fun
Of chasin' them jes' once around the parkin' lot
Well they're headin' for their car but I hit the gas
And spun around and headed them off at the pass
Well I was slingin' gravel and puttin' a ton of dust in the air
Well I had them all out there steppin' an' a fetchin'
Like their heads were on fire and their ***** was catchin'
But I figured I oughta go ahead an split before the cops got there
When I hit the road I was really wheelin'
Had gravel flyin' and rubber squeelin'
An' I didn't slow down 'til I was almost to Arkansas
I think I'm gonna re-route my trip
I wonder if anybody'd think I'd flipped
If I went to LA via Omaha!
Lot Dec 2018
It has come to my attention that packing peanuts and unhappiness are one and the same.
But how is that so?
Well, it’s because they both seem to infiltrate everything, and have a knack for sticking to every little nook and cranny in life.
Problems seem to create excess static electricity, attracting all sorts of consequences.
Rumination helps me create weird analogies.
Mark Sep 10
Some say we are created from the big boss in heaven

Others say we just exploded from one big piece of rock

Did it only take him one day or nearly seven

Maybe it took monkeys first to open the human lock

Whatever happened, we all have to survive in this harsh place

Mankind will pray and animals **** prey

Animals can be cute and mankind can't refute

Holy men can preach and scientist can teach

Scientist want real proof and holy men, kneel under one roof

Whatever happens, we all have to respect this harsh place

Young kids are bopping, with no respect for others

Others are always mopping, cleaning up for the young

Society is lost in space, while men in black infiltrate

Black men are being gunned down, as Ferguson starts to gain pace

***** still happening, do we have to die on this harsh place?

We either yearn for a faraway place of paradise with our God

Or we just dissolve in dirt because we didn't earn his nod

Is this the paradise we should all be waiting for and so much more?

Some believe in reincarnation, coming back to this harsh nation

So many times, before they find Nirvana and are released from karma

Is this the paradise we should all be waiting for and so much more?

Others think they will have 72 new girlfriends waiting to see them

Does that mean there wives will also have 72 new gentlemen to please?

Is this the paradise we should all be waiting for and so much more?

No! Just live this life, right here, right now, on this harsh place I call paradise.

— The End —