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Stone Fox Oct 2015
Looking back,
In your previous attractions the role playing usually involved more than a pretty target.
Although it was unknown to you at the time, with each new growing experience, your perception as well as reality began to find you less subtle while betraying your most important values.
Making you cloudy as you forget that you are the one who decides if you will continue, a most clever rouse.  
Notice her perfected strategy, Notice her ultimate prize-but take heed and do not get ****** into it.
Instead use her for yourself, reverse the roles made by society created in nature as you become the prize.
Soon the unspoken secret will become clear as you are educated in the most difficult yet elementary concept of all:
Attraction is not a choice.
Maddy Van Buren May 2015
good boys can wait their turn
have me when I'm dead and ready
right now im physcotic
only care about narcotics
this raging traffic inside my head
symphonic, I'm overdosing
always going
catatonic
because I'm a doll hooked on adderall
you wish I'd fall
I know you wanna see me off the ledge
but I'm 6 feet tall
in my fur coat stillettos golden halls
turning gray alleys and we can't breathe
we can't breathe and death's a tease
******* thief
if you ask me
and what I wouldn't give
for a bad boy to just be good
treat her right, one night
to hold a hand with no claws
kiss a face, no bite involved
all these boys from outta town
already dead, and out of ground
giving me heartache, fade in, blackout
it's too **** late
just wanna sleep
take another pill, live-in hell
it's all you ever wanted
la princessa fell
Leroy J Harris Mar 2014
Blackened beyond resemblance to that of a living girl.
Andulan was delivered to a cold hard slab of vile witchcraft.
Only this wasn't a witch's coven.
Nor was any witchcraft actually involved.
That was merely what she screamed once she realized where she wasn't.
Lying face down leaking into snow beneath her ruined corpse.
Andulan demanded her throat be cut immediately.
My death was why you came by the thousands to our castle right?
For what other reason did your forces come for the throne held by my father?
If not to see us all stacked and burnt atop a stripped down column of humanity?
Tell me! But they owed her no explanation.
That was when silence reached for song's hands.
Hidden behind her skull.
A simple gesture freed her from her thoughts.
Replaced a girl with a monster.
Ransom'sTake01 Oct 2016
I had to let some out,
I'm an emotional person without a doubt.
I don't see crying as a bad thing, an outlet literally for the bad things to come out.
I'm serious, it's an outlet.
It's no okay thing to let those bottled things make you hollow.
Upset and sorrow,
one can last a night and the other could carry on tomorrow.
You could either refuse your pride to chew or take your dose of pride and swallow.
I don't believe a tough person never goes through the motions,
For toughness is the willingness to bend but not break from the emotions.
And crying is to bend, freaking out is to break.
Freaking out is waiting too long to accept what you couldn't take and keeping straight.
This is a point, it's firm and sharp belief of mine,
A rule of life clearly defined,
A bright and bold crossing line.
And others may not see it, that much I know already.
And yet I notice those ones often become unsteady,
this is a life issue, something that we each need to resolve,
something for each of us to handle and even get a friend involved.
Or at least me, if not that I don't know what I'm here for,
that's at least what I think of a friend,
please note that I'm still yours.
Olivia Kent Aug 2014
THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE.
The best day of my life,
the day my son he took a wife.
The bride,
she wore ivory and lace,
there were no elephants involved.
As she brimmed with natural beauty.
She was shining like a holy diamond.
My daughter's they were beautiful creatures,
dressed in pink, as goddesses came,
Goddess bridesmaids.
My son developed a tail for the day,
it was attached to his jacket.
He wore no hat,
for,
it would have spoiled his hair.
The registrar spoke tales of legends
of wedding rings and other things,
My goodness what a day we had.
As she pronounced them man and wife,
God willing, for eternal life.
The bridegroom,
In his speech,
he spoke of family values,
and then we had a laugh,
with tales of swapping shoes with homeless chaps,
in the land of regency.
upon his night of stags and bucks.
The best man,
well, he obviously delved deep into Mark's little black book.
We had fountains full of chocolate,
with strawberries and fudge,
we had roast beef and Yorkshire pud,
Goodness me,
it was so good.
A great big day was had by all,
The music played we had a ball.
Congratulations to you both.
(C) Livvi
Amanda Kay Burke Mar 2021
If life was simple you'd still be right here
In a parallel universe I'm holding you near
Black and white would be so much easier to understand
Than the shades of grey blurring distance between where we stand
My world used to be colorful and bright
Since you left I'm surrounded by darkness of constant night
You made things easier with just one caring touch
In your absence I find my problems are too much
Clearly you love me or my messages you'd ignore
But lately I wonder what you take the risk for
You are currently involved in a blooming romance
That's why I am reluctant to give you another chance
You've made each moment together feel better than heaven above
There is nothing on this planet as unique and strong as our love
We express our emotions in our own individual way
Believe we are meant to be at the end of the day
I wonder why fate has forced our fingers far apart
Maybe I need to accept that your presence can only exist in my heart
We are bad for eachother
As toxic as cyanide
We were made for chemical reactions building up inside
As soon as your kiss is deposited onto my lips
The scale balancing our desires suddenly sags and then tips
Yet we are drawn in hopelessly despite inevitable explosion
Our world only shaped by resulting corrosion
I look forward to the damage you inflict without second thought
I'd choose to live without you if I could but I cannot
The beauty in the chaos created is something no one can deny
I embrace not just sunshine but the storms that grace our cloudy sky
Because I've learned that the intense highs come with equally low lows
It's a fair exchange and it's just the way it goes
But the ecstasy delivered makes it worth the disappointment and heartache
I'd go to hell and back for you as many times as it takes
A million times if I had to
Simon Oct 2019
Stinging with rage! The skeleton would say. Not figuring out anything if never having layers is a good thing. Why must I have an upkeep in social deficiencies, if I can’t learn myself enough? The skeleton contemplated extensively. I’m too gray! Too…Tooooo… Poised! Being poised is a dampening effect. One revolutionizing logic without circumstance. Circumstance without valid reasons to erupt circumstantial balance. Deeming to involve constraints upon your own systems processes. Strife filling into those processes. Putting a bony skeletal hand to its bony chin. I’m a skeleton. I’m all strife! My bones don’t just sting. They rust! RUST!!! It said yelling with two skeletal arms moving clenching bony fists in the air. Try having rusted edges without completing desirable functions! Releasing edges without rust involved. I move one step, and SNAP! OOPS! Edges be screaming my velocities down the rut! Velocities pit my joints moving with other joints in an unbalanced poised expression. Poised is great. Having good flexible positions in the making. Except for the fact I sent the rusted edges. Which once again, is a catch of being too POISED! Maybe I should have asked for layers when wanting to become poised? But without favor. Favor of not having to worry about any deficiencies. Self deficiencies? It said opening it’s mouth wide. More like social deficiencies! I can’t go anywhere feeling my form is off completely! Skeletal arms in the air while staring up into the atmosphere. Mouth still open wide. What do I DOOOOO???!!! All the sudden, the skeletons stinging edges started to rust more. Huh?! Looking down at its skeletal body. Surprised and a little alarmed. The skeleton notices it wasn’t thinking. Since you sometimes don’t realize you just started thinking without one’s volition. The rusted edges were thinking. Or something sizzling with charisma? Charisma with claim, purpose, and factual statements. I don’t, UHHHHHHHH!!! Pausing deeply. Feeling something burn with rage! The stinging…! It’s getting more intense. I-I, I can’t stop myself from feeling it too much! It wants to envelope me. Wait? The skeleton stops. The stinging stopped all together. Not feeling the burning rage anymore. Whoa! Weird. W-what just happened? Sizzling effort of rust kept on thinking with sizzling charisma. OHHH! I get it now. The skeleton retracting its movements back to its original posture. I’m freaking out! Calling for what it seems to be. I’m detracting my own surface from its original desire. Bony hand against its chin. A claim without focus. The skeleton snaps it’s bony fingers. Feeling the sting rupture between rusted joints sizzling with claim, purpose, and factual statements. Away from the thinking. The skeleton seeing it’s joints become more flexible as two of it’s bony finger tips made contact with one another. Seeing is believing after all. It said smiling wide. Feeling the rusted edges absorb it’s smile into it’s thinking base. More stinging raised multiple alarms along the entire bone structure. The skeleton shook violently! Not feeling despair, concern or fear. But warmth. Warmth giving it an excitability it never sought out before. Probably because it never had to. Until now. I think my social deficiencies will start disappearing now. Feeling calmer. Along with my perfect poise that only existed in this bone structuring stage. I’m awaiting something newer. More affordable now that I’m beginning to understand.
How I would feel when moving without contempt for my own volatile commands. Making myself think being stuck in a rut for too long, was actually a good thing. How wrong was I.
She believed he would make her a star.

Sixteen and believed his false lies.

He was fifty and only looking for fun.

Cast her aside when he had what he wanted.

Now she is too ashamed to go back home.

Plays tricks just to make money to live.

A victim of one of the dark city tales.



He wanted to part of the gang and belong.

Tried too many drugs and ******* up his head.

They gave him a knife and laughed behind his back.

Like an idiot he thought it was big to rob.

Eighteen years old and destroyed his young life.

A cop with a gun was forced to end it for him.

He became another victim in dark city tales.



She waits for him to come home drunk.

He lost his job and takes it out on her.

Very quick to use his fist to lash out.

Another black eye she tries to hide.

Says she walked into the door once again.

Neighbours shut their eyes not to be involved.

Both are more victims in dark city tales.



Young fourteen year old girl throws her baby away.

A drunkard night of unplanned emotions was the cost.

She never knew what her life would have in store.

Hid the baby as she felt it growing inside her.

An unwanted pregnacy she had to face all alone.

A new born baby left to die in some unknown dumpster.

Another twisted story of the dark city tales no one knows.



copyright Chris Smith 2009
Max Neumann Dec 2019
my past is filled with oedipal encounters:
many men i needed to rival

today i unintentionally travelled (really?)
today i involuntarily travelled (no way)
today i travelled into my past:

memories of many men that i needed to rival.
due to my fatherless childhood i didn't have
a man to compete against; that's why i JUMPED at countless chances to do so. none of these conflicts happened by chance.

i picked strangers to compete against.
but then there was this day. a certain day. a secret night.

since then, i have gradually and later on gently overcome my need to compete.

i was bewildered today because i competed against another man. why?

out of the dark, i developed an affection for a woman younger than me; a brief moment of ****** interest. the competitor involved walked her home after a meeting the three of us had been together.

while they were strolling down the street, i followed them. i wanted to see what they were doing. i wanted to observe how they observed each other's attraction.

did so for a couple of minutes; they didn't take notice of me; or they were playing dead while their mouths were overfilled with squishing sounds of saliva.

and then ––  as promptly as old patterns of rivalry had emerged ––
i lost my affection for this young woman.

affection left my soul like a spirit leaves a dead body. the affection vanished into thin air since it couldn't find a shelter in my soul. so this wired affection went on a quest for another creature.

i didn't say goodbye. just wrote something down.
Inspiration for this poem gained from YouTube: "Native American Flute Music: Meditation Music for Shamanic Astral Projection, Healing Music"
judy smith Nov 2015
NNEWI—TRADITIONAL marriage is a popular event in Igbo land. Young ladies and men who are getting married use it to bring their friends and well wishers to their homes, to showcase the families where they are coming from unlike before especially in the early 1980s, when it was not as popular as it is today, because at that time, young ladies would bring their suitors to their parents and kinsmen who drew up a list of things to be done, including the dowry to be paid, other expenses to be incurred as well as going to the church to solemnise the marriage.

However, traditional wedding cannot be done today in Igbo land without traditional marriage being performed between the parents and relations of the bride and suitor.

“What is actually celebrated as traditional wedding today in Igbo land, is actually the traditional marriage right that has been performed earlier before the eating, drinking and dancing that precedes it, by friends and well wishers of the couple, who are normally not part of the traditional marriage rights that has earlier been done and is most times not celebrated .

South East Voice witnessed the traditional wedding of Chidinma Ezenwaobi, daughter of an Nkpor and Onitsha, popular market leader, Chief Sunday Ezenwobi, known as “Seeman,” who is the Chairman of New Tire Market Nkpor, which attracted who is who in Onitsha Nkpor and Anambra State business and trading community, including politicians and traditional rulers, some of whom ha the following to say about tradtional marriage.

According to Chief Victor Umeh, the immediate past National Chairman of All Progressives Grand Alliance, APGA, who also hails from Agulzigbo in Anaocha Local Government Area of Anambra State, where the event held, “Traditional Marriage in Igbo land is giving out a girl that has matured to marry, to the suitor when the suitor comes to the parents, and the father and mother of the bride will hand the girl over to the suitor who is always accompanied by his parents and well wishers after doing the traditional things that are involved”.

Chief Umeh further said “traditional marriage cannot be neglected in Igbo land, what people call traditional wedding today in Igbo land is actually the celebration by friends and well wishers of the girl and her husband after traditional marriage rights that has been earlier done or part of it done before the celebration through eating, drinking and dancing that follows it.

“If you do not do traditional marriage in Igbo land, in the eyes of the kinsmen, men and women, the girl is not yet married, you must do it to put a seal to the marriage,. Where you don’t perform this traditional rights of payment of bride price and the rest of other things, the girl in the eyes of the kinsmen men cannot be given out for marriage.”

“The implication is that if she bears a child, that child belongs to her father’s home, if you did not pay that bride price, any child she bears does not belong to the husband, but when he pays, the child can now belong to the man.”

He debunked claims that the Igbo charge much on their daughters, before they give them out for marriage. “That has gone out of fashion, it is no more obtainable, people don’t collect exorbitant dowry these days, in order to give out their daughters for marriage, this is because in Igbo land, we do not sell our daughters, so we collect just a token to show that they are coming out from a home, and with time those things are beginning to change, people now take N100, N1, N5, as a symbol that the girl has been betrothed to the husband, you must pay something before the girl is handed over to the husband,”.

The traditional ruler of Akwaeze, Igwe Christopher Ndubisi Okpala, has a similar view, about traditional marriage, with Chief Umeh, but brought some element of spirituality to his view,apparently because of his position. He said “traditional marriage is a very important event in Igbo land and if you have not done it, it means you have not started marriage, it is that time the human beings and the spirits in the community where it is happening welcomes the two people involved in the marriage to be one”.

“White Wedding was brought by white men, but traditional marriage is where the agreement of being husband and wife is sealed, in some white weddings, if the traditional marriage activities have not been conducted, some priests do not accept to conduct white wedding.

“Some Priests will tell you, go and conduct the traditional marriage first, another thing is any man that grow to marry and have children, and it happens that the son or daughter is performing this ceremony, it gives joy, it is a thing of joy in the life of the man and woman who are giving out their daughter, and when this happens, and in few months or years, he gets a grandchild, he starts answering grandfather while the mother becomes grandmother.”

read more:www.marieaustralia.com/vintage-formal-dresses

www.marieaustralia.com/mermaid-trumpet-formal-dresses
Even sweetest muse
cannot carry the burden
which singing of you
drops on pearly gates.

Given the choice between
heaven or hell,
you have chosen the path
that leads to a better place
for everyone involved.

Demonic swathes attempt to
steady themselves
for the barrage of good fortune
that sight of you brings
to the condemned and their kin.

I hate it when you do that;
the way you dissolve a
malignant thought
with some melodious sentence,
whatever it may be.

Your voice
is the judgement in my mind's courtroom
that breaks the shackles
holding my ego hostage,
where flowers do not bloom
and hope is six feet from reality.
(wasted breath)
preservationman Mar 2014
The Commissioner has summoned Batman and Robin
The Bat signal had just came on
It was a night being long
Batman and Robin came in a flash on the scene
The villains will all eventually come clean
It seemed there was a big plot becoming an act
But when it comes to crime, it gets a big smack
The villains trying to get Batman and Robin dissolved
They wanted the crusader’s out of the way, and not involved
High above the Thrift building overlooking Gotham City
To the citizens below it will be a pity
Sleeping gas has been spreading to knock the city out
However Batman and Robin are trapped in a trunk being no where about
Every citizen has fallen asleep
Are the Gotham City citizens in a song of my soul to keep?
Will Batman and Robin escape being ocean deep?
The Bat channel continues on far as long
Batman was holding his breath, and suddenly broke from his bonds and cut Robin loss as well
They immediately headed for the Thrift building
When Batman and Robin arrived, all the villains were shocked in surprise
The question came up with how did you escape?
I’m Batman, and what saved me was my cape
Robin replied, “Let’s put these villains to their own sleep in jail deep”
POW from Batman to the RIDDLER
BANG from Robin to the JOKER
YONK to the other villains
Batman and Robin stated to the villains, “Crime truly doesn’t pay and you now received our relay”
Good Bat night and Batman and Robin turned crime into a justice sight.
DARK NIGHT AND ROBIN THAT ARE A TEAM, AND TELLING ALL VILLAINS YOU BETTER COME CLEAN
Ariel Taverner Dec 2013
You know what i hate the most
Well not really
Its impossible to know what you hate the most
But anyway
What i hate the most is that i cant be crazy
I cant use the 'back door' as tge joker describes it
I have on countless occasions imagined myself freaking out
Storming through the house breaking things
Grabbing my mothers wallet
And leaving the house
Surviving off the streets
And my mothers credit card
I have imagined
That i would get involved in drugs and alcohol
Start hanging with the wrong crowd
Doing anything for the next dose
I have imagined immersing myself in a world of lust
Constanyly searching for ***
The newest *****
And then doin anything to enhance the experience
I have imagined myself having a mental breakdown
Becoming crazy
Doing things that can onky be excused by madness
Being given a straight jacket
Being forcefed pills
Living in a padded cell unable to **** myself
Coz even if i starve myself they will make sure i survive
I have imagined cutting myself
Living in a world of private torment
Until the pain becomes too much
Then i spend three weeks writing my suicide note
Because my emotions are so hard to peg
Coz i have spent my entire life hiding and running away from them
And so far i have succeded
And then i get the rope
Get the suit and spend three days 'gracefully defiling' it as my last piece of art
Then i burn it all because im too scared to do it
Then i restart
I have imagined that i sseek solace in violence
In crime

Stealing small things
Getting angrier and angrier
Ubtil i **** someone
Then spend my life in prison
I have imagined that i become a famous writer
Feeling empty and lonely
Fi ding the woman i love and wishing i hadnt
Because i end up killing myself and hurting her
I have imagined tgat i stop ****
Become a nobel peace prize winner
Become famous
Then die without the right woman
I have imagined that i am a gamous singer
But end up killing myself coz the fame is too much
And the attention drives me over the edge
I have imaginex that i go to sleep and not wake up
To go peacefully
Coz thats wgat i ****
Peace
I have imagined that my family throws me out and i fend for myself
I work hard
Survive by washing cars
Or working a petrol pump
I have imagined that my whole family dies
Then i choke up coz i love them so much i cqnt continue with this ******* illusion
And i  the end i cant do it all
In the end im just a ******* little boy with depression
In the end i want to cut but am so scared that i cry myself to sleep
In the end im a little boy that refuses to take medication
Because tgat is his way of defying this disease
In the end im a boy that says things like 'this is my way of defying the disease' but actually im just so scared
In the end i lie fo myself to make it better
In the end i know im lying but i still do it
In the end i still believe .it And i wish this was the end but its not
Coz ill probably die
Married to a woman i love
But never being able to do what i love
Because I care about other people so much I would give them anything for them to be happy
Sam Knaus Dec 2015
he's 24 years old.
he's 24, he's 24, he's 24
and you were 27
and i'm 17
and what the **** is age anymore.
casual flirting and joking
back and forth
turned into his hand twisting in my hair
and him pinning my wrists above my head
and his breath in my ear
and suddenly I can't breathe
because he feels like you
he feels so **** much like you that I can't think
because I have a boyfriend who doesn't know
because he's 24
and his arm feels like yours as I grab at it
and I moan and I giggle
and I almost whisper your name
because he and i
never even kissed,
no clothes came off,
it's just his lips on my neck
and his hand in my hair,
he spanks me so hard i have dark bruises
but i consented-
teasing me, he calls it
but I still
can't
breathe
and i'm wishing that i'd gone out
with his fiance for the night
when she invited me.
when his roommate walks through the door
it takes everything not to heave out
a sigh of relief
and i never thought i could feel this way
but he's 24
and he almost reminds me of you
but he's not you and he's on top of me
and i'm moaning and giggling
but i still can't breathe
he's autistic, he doesn't pick up on cues
he doesn't get rules
he was involved with another 17 year old
a while back, he says
because he's different and that's what i liked about him
and then his lips are grazing my skin
and i giggle and i moan
but i still
can't
*******
breathe.
for magus- again.
There is no easy way to let go, no shortcut to say goodbye for a really really long time. I guess you had been practicing in the mirror what you'd tell me if you ever got the chance because you took it. It was like we were in the fighting ring but i told you so many times i wasn't strong enough to defeat you. But over and over again you had your way with me. Pulled my hair like we were in the bedroom but i stopped falling for that when you told me the key to your heart was locked inside my very own thighs. Said if i opened them enough for you to slip in you'd grab the key and let me wear it on a string around my neck. The cops found it when i was hanging from the ceiling. Said i climbed too high. That when i jumped my parachute didn't open and that's why i got caught on the ceiling fan. The coroner stated there wasnt enough space between my heart and the ground and thats why it dropped repeatedly as you told me how worthless i am.
Twelve is not the time for sane people to be awake. Its the time for broken hearted people to weep over secret keeping sheets and a mattress filled with enough sharp objects if searched thoroughly could get an arrest warrant involved. It was 11:55 when you got enough ***** to tell me you weren't in love with me.
You told me you ached for my touch because it brought you to life but in reality you were just a ***** boy looking for a way to get off without actually doing any work.
I stopped wearing skin tight clothing afraid if i moved the wrong way another you would come along. I stopped wearing the clothes that hugged my curves like a blanket of snow because i didn't want them to see the bumps from the mistakes i made.
The nights are so empty without you but I've learned how to embrace the emptiness. I've been trying for countless nights to find the instruction manual on how to cope with saying goodbye to someone who isn't even there...not anymore at least.
The first day without a single wake up call from you was only then i got my wakeup call. I cant have you. And i deserve better. You will always be that glue i tried to peel off as a kid and once im done pulling off the majority, only specks of you will be intertwined in the divets in my palm. keeping you close but only as a distant memory
It was one in the morning and i wanted to be so drunk i couldn't even remember the sound i love you made because you mistaken it for my name every time i let you find your key.
Joshua Penrod Feb 2017
The Magic of a Miracle is
That a Miracle is no part Magic at all
For a Miracle of course could not be a Miracle
If Magic were ever involved

"Magic of a Miracle" -JP
Cece Sep 2018
nothing like going back
to the golden days
when getting up 20 minutes earlier
was a fun thing
to put on a bit of mascara
and lipgloss;
the blush was natural.
now 20 minutes of sleep
seems like a treasure,
worth everything
and never to be given up.
back when laughter was sunflower yellow,
music was neon blue,
and friends were a sweet purple,
their smiles like lavender
addicting and easy to find.
nothing like going back
to the golden days
when choosing the font for a paper
was an hour long experience;
the funnest part of writing anything.
now no writing matters
to anyone
unless it's 12pt font,
Times New Roman,
double spaced,
and with a heading in the top left corner.
back when school was light,
homework was a breeze,
and the only thunderstorms
were those that involved
coffee shops, window seats,
and copious amounts of hot chocolate.
nothing like going back
to the golden days
filled with warmth
and honey
and a whole lot of butterflies.
Marieta Maglas Dec 2011
...The thing with no name,
Surrounded by sadness,
That kind of sadness
Penetrating  its silence,
That kind of silence
Searching the tears,
Those tears
Becoming cubes of light,
Those cubes  wondering
On their situation of their becoming,
Being involved in a movement
Apparently anarchic,
Needing, ''a priori cognoscible'',
Synthetic truths
And empirical postulates
On the shape of their inner dislocation,
Their shear looping into unstable equilibrium,
Needing a stable equilibrium,
Becoming emblematic symbols
Of the diminishing boundary
Between real and unreal,
That cubic thing withdrawing itself,
Slowly becoming
Memory....
Matt Kukulski Mar 2010
My eyes wander the land before me,
Mind new and refreshed from years of slumber.
From above the land, I’m able to see
Rows of flowers too many to number

Under the shelter of infectious gloom,
Crawling low to ground not knowing they hide.
Nature’s avenging shadow will bring doom;
Lost recurring message of those who’ve died.

I come down to their familiar land,
And with a closer look inspect each one.
White they are clean as they lie in my hand.
Dark red stripes appear untouched by the Sun.

Some stripes slim and slender, yet some were wide.
Each unique together always the same,
Few rise tall to sky and refuse to hide.
They reach for more and shall never be tame.

Roots dug deep in ground hold something profound,
With not many reaching out to the rest.
From Nowhere there comes an advancing sound
Of power and way I truly detest.

‘Twas perpetual sound of upright men.
Evermore this human crowd leads forth life,
And rage overcame me the moment when
They cut down the free plants with scathing knife.

It is a sight I couldn’t stand to see.
How could people do something clearly low?
Emotion I burst out, “Don’t cut down thee!”
“Never, no! For we mustn’t let them grow.”

Enraged but captivated I observe
The way they care for the other flowers.
Down to their foundation stems bend and curve,
While forth comes misled creative powers.

The split men search left and right to please all,
And they do it with a chemical spray.
Destroys inside; leaves bitter taste of gall,
But gives the plant an outer shining ray.

It takes over. Deluded roots became
Distorted as all of nature weeps woe.
Emotion I burst out, “You are to blame!”
“Never, no! For we mustn’t let them grow.”

The plants yearn for chemicals and justice;
Can’t have both what men have done they don’t know.
Emotion I burst out, “You must stop this!”
“Never, no! For we mustn’t let them grow.”

The light and glimmer are nothing but fake.
The ruin within I could not ignore.
The lives of these plants they surely do take.
Turn away I want to see it no more.

I walk their reverse, way out of the dark.
Forever be their ways I cannot change,
But can only hope to leave minute mark;
The world behind out of visual range.

Walking I consider ways I condone.
Ideas bring my wits to this world’s edge.
Break from emotion otherwise alone.
Shatter the shackles I forever pledge.

Sanity saved by a radiant light,
Distant, coming open away from shade.
Relieved, I find a plant with immense height.
Simple but improved beauty gods have made.

Plain and yellow, innocent as a child.
Unrestrained from scornful stripes, I believe
This vita with temper and anger mild
Will prove I discovered genuine Eve.

Below lay weeds confining the bold soul,
Encompassing, trying to overtake,
But in its structure you can find no hole,
And its roots and foundations cannot break.

Wanting its inner smile to be evermore
I search myself for water deep inside,
And give it to the pure light I adore.
Earning affection and trust I confide.

When thirsty I’m there with water to drink,
Guiding with assent and comforting hand,
While flower and its hope never will shrink.
It must accept my gifts and understand.

Show the world to my prayers and wishes solved
As it grows in my presence, life of joy.
I’m pleased and jubilant to be involved
With this light that weeds can’t hide or destroy.

For the first time it holds someone that cares.
Gave it natural and beautiful rise.
Life and life plentiful nothing compares.
Desire turns out to be more than surprise.

The men come by, couldn’t handle the sun.
They finally take note my plant’s great height.
What sinful and wrong act could I have done?
The look on their faces is that of fright.

With delight I smile at their ways amiss,
And look deep into the eyes of my foe.
Emotion they burst out, “You must stop this!”
“Never, no! For I must let this life grow!”
Meena Menon Apr 2021
The eruption beatifies the magma.  
It becomes obsidian,
only breaks with a fracture,
smooth circles where it breaks.  

My mom was born on the grass
on a lawn
in a moss covered canyon at the top of a volcanic island.  
My grandfather lived in Malaysia before the Japanese occupied.  
When the volcano erupted,
the lava dried at the ocean into black sand.  
The British allied with the Communist Party of Malaysia—
after they organized.  
After the Americans defeated the Japanese at Pearl Harbor,
the British took over Malaysia again.  
They kept different groups apart claiming they were helping them.  
The black sand had smooth pebbles and sharp rocks.  
Ethnic Malay farmers lived in Kampongs, villages.  
Indians lived on plantations.  
The Chinese lived in towns and urban areas.  
Ethnic Malays wanted independence.
In 1946, after strikes, demonstrations, and boycotts
the British agreed to work with them.  
The predominantly Chinese Communist Party of Malaysia went underground,
guerrilla warfare against the British,
claiming their fight was for independence.  
For the British, that emergency required vast powers
of arrest, detention without trial and deportation to defeat terrorism.  
The Emergency became less unpopular as the terrorism became worse.  
The British were the iron that brought oxygen through my mom’s body.  
She loved riding on her father’s motorcycle with him
by the plantations,
through the Kampongs
and to the city, half an hour away.  
The British left Malaysia independent in 1957
with Malaysian nationalists holding most state and federal government offices.  
As the black sand stretches towards the ocean,
it becomes big stones of dried lava, flat and smooth.  

My mom thought her father and her uncle were subservient to the British.  
She thought all things, all people were equal.  
When her father died when she was 16, 1965,
they moved to India,
my mother,
a foreigner in India, though she’s Indian.  
She loved rock and roll and mini skirts
and didn’t speak the local language.  
On the dried black lava,
it can be hard to know the molten lava flickers underneath there.  
Before the Korean War,
though Britain and the United States wanted
an aggressive resolution
condemning North Korea,
they were happy
that India supported a draft resolution
condemning North Korea
for breach of the peace.  
During the Korean War,
India, supported by Third World and other Commonwealth nations,
opposed United States’ proposals.
They were able to change the U.S. resolution
to include the proposals they wanted
and helped end the war.  
China wanted the respect of Third World nations
and saw the United States as imperialist.  
China thought India was a threat to the Third World
by taking aid from the United States and the Soviets.  
Pakistan could help with that and a seat at the United Nations.  
China wanted Taiwan’s seat at the UN.
My mother went to live with her uncle,
a communist negotiator for a corporation,
in India.  
A poet,
he threw parties and invited other artists, musicians and writers.  
I have the same brown hyperpigmentation at my joints that he had.  
During the day, only the steam from the hot lava can be seen.  
In 1965, Pakistani forces went into Jammu and Kashmir with China’s support.  
China threatened India after India sent its troops in.  
Then they threatened again before sending their troops to the Indian border.  
The United States stopped aid to Pakistan and India.
Pakistan agreed to the UN ceasefire agreement.  
Pakistan helped China get a seat at the UN
and tried to keep the west from escalating in Vietnam.  
The smoldering sound of the lava sizzles underneath the dried lava.  
When West Pakistan refused to allow East Pakistan independence,
violence between Bengalis and Biharis developed into upheaval.  
Bengalis moved to India
and India went into East Pakistan.  
Pakistan surrendered in December 1971.  
East Pakistan became independent Bangladesh.

The warm light of the melted lava radiates underneath but burns.  
In 1974, India tested the Smiling Buddha,
a nuclear bomb.  
After Indira Gandhi’s conviction for election fraud in 1973,
Marxist Professor Narayan called for total revolution
and students protested all over India.  
With food shortages, inflation and regional disputes
like Sikh separatists training in Pakistan for an independent Punjab,
peasants and laborers joined the protests.  
Railway strikes stopped the economy.  
In 1975, Indira Gandhi, the Iron Lady,
declared an Emergency,
imprisoning political opponents, restricting freedoms and restricting the press,
claiming threats to national security
because the war with Pakistan had just ended.  
The federal government took over Kerala’s communist dominated government and others.  

My mom could’ve been a dandelion, but she’s more like thistle.  
She has the center that dries and flutters in the wind,
beautiful and silky,
spiny and prickly,
but still fluffy, downy,
A daisy.
They say thistle saved Scotland from the Norse.  
Magma from the volcano explodes
and the streams of magma fly into the air.  
In the late 60s,
the civil rights movement rose
against the state in Northern Ireland
for depriving Catholics
of influence and opportunity.
The Northern Irish police,
Protestant and unionist, anti-catholic,
responded violently to the protests and it got worse.  
In 1969, the British placed Arthur Young,
who had worked at the Federation of Malaya
at the time of their Emergency
at the head of the British military in Northern Ireland.
The British military took control over the police,
a counter insurgency rather than a police force,
crowd control, house searches, interrogation, and street patrols,
use of force against suspects and uncooperative citizens.  
Political crimes were tolerated by Protestants but not Catholics.  
The lava burns the rock off the edge of the volcano.  

On January 30, 1972, ****** Sunday,  
British Army policing killed 13 unarmed protesters
fighting for their rights over their neighborhood,
protesting the internment of suspected nationalists.
That led to protests across Ireland.  
When banana leaves are warmed,
oil from the banana leaves flavors the food.  
My dad flew from Canada to India in February 1972.  
On February 4, my dad met my mom.  
On February 11, 1972,
my dad married my mom.  
They went to Canada,
a quartz singing bowl and a wooden mallet wrapped in suede.  
The rock goes down with the lava, breaking through the rocks as it goes down.  
In March 1972, the British government took over
because they considered the Royal Ulster Police and the Ulster Special Constabulary
to be causing most of the violence.  
The lava blocks and reroutes streams,
melts snow and ice,
flooding.  
Days later, there’s still smoke, red.  
My mom could wear the clothes she liked
without being judged
with my dad in Canada.  
She didn’t like asking my dad for money.
My dad, the copper helping my mother use that iron,
wanted her to go to college and finish her bachelors degree.
She got a job.  
In 1976, the police took over again in Northern Ireland
but they were a paramilitary force—
armored SUVs, bullet proof jackets, combat ready
with the largest computerized surveillance system in the UK,
high powered weapons,
trained in counter insurgency.  
Many people were murdered by the police
and few were held accountable.  
Most of the murdered people were not involved in violence or crime.  
People were arrested under special emergency powers
for interrogation and intelligence gathering.  
People tried were tried in non-jury courts.  
My mom learned Malayalam in India
but didn’t speak well until living with my dad.  
She also learned to cook after getting married.  
Her mother sent her recipes; my dad cooked for her—
turmeric, cumin, coriander, cayenne and green chiles.  
Having lived in different countries,
my mom’s food was exposed to many cultures,
Chinese and French.
Ground rock, minerals and glass
covered the ground
from the ash plume.  
She liked working.  

A volcano erupted for 192 years,
an ice age,
disordered ices, deformed under pressure
and ordered ice crystals, brittle in the ice core records.  
My mother liked working.  
Though Khomeini was in exile by the 1970s in Iran,
more people, working and poor,
turned to him and the ****-i-Ulama for help.
My mom didn’t want kids though my dad did.
She agreed and in 1978 my brother was born.
Iran modernized but agriculture and industry changed so quickly.  
In January 1978, students protested—
censorship, surveillance, harassment, illegal detention and torture.  
Young people and the unemployed joined.  
My parents moved to the United States in December 1978.  
The regime used a lot of violence against the protesters,
and in September 1978 declared martial law in Iran.  
Troops were shooting demonstrators.
In January 1979, the Shah and his family fled.  
On February 11, 1979, my parents’ anniversary,
the Iranian army declared neutrality.  
I was born in July 1979.
The chromium in emeralds and rubies colors them.
My brother was born in May and I was born in July.

Obsidian—
iron, copper and chromium—
isn’t a gas
but it isn’t a crystal;
it’s between the two,
the ordered crystal and the disordered gas.  
They made swords out of obsidian.
This is the next part of Lava.
LightfromWithin May 2010
You brought it up jokingly, thought it wouldn’t hurt
It was just an aside, nothing big
I guess you don’t know why and what it meant
It’s just a hole you’ll continue to dig

I laughed it off cause that’s what I do
I could tell that you were relieved
I sat there, mind buzzing, going insane
You were fine because you were freed

Free to flirt and not feel pain
Free to act stupid and not seem insane
Free to not ruin your so-called plans
Free to make a 3rd of a crush your man

Of course there’s jealousy, I found him first
Obviously we didn’t get involved
I still wonder about that moment and shame
It’s called respect until his problems are solved

They say. . .
Lets set her up, lets play a game
Were getting our fix
Everything’s the same

Oh she’ll be fine
It’s nothing new
We’ll take them all
And leave her a few

It’s not a game anymore; I’m starting to want
Why is that so hard to conceive?
It’s not so much of an aside my friend, it’s now becoming a need.
SøułSurvivør Sep 2014
I walked a lonely street
I heard the church bells chime
I felt out of rhythm
I felt out of rhyme

Then all of a sudden
a purse thief ran by me!
He took my slender purse!
All my money for the week!

Then as I walked farther
by a puddle lying there
a semi rushed right thru it!
Water everywhere!

Then as I continued
walking up the way
a mugger came up to me
wanting me to pay!

I had zero money
as the thief had snatched my purse
I thought, this is horrible!
It couldn't get much worse!

But, my friends, it did.
The mugger was enraged!
That I had no money
thought to put me in the grave!

So he up and shot me!
Yes, I tell you true.
He shot me in the chest
so a crimson flower bloomed.

The people all around me
would not help a whit!
Didn't want to be involved
so I had to sit

With blood flowing everywhere!
Then a man he happened by.
He heard my desperation
and listened to my cries.

He had little money
but what little he had did give
that I could find a taxi.
That I at last could live!

I was so very grateful
for his help that day
I asked him his name
and told him I would pray.

For he was a homeless man
I'd seen him around.
Always bright and cheery
never with a frown

He said, "Pray not for me my sister,
for I am not in need.
You pray for the others
For their dishonesty and greed.

They need your prayers, my sister.
Yes, they surely do.
Not only will it help them out
It will comfort you.

I never saw the man again.
He came 'round no more.
He was never at his daily haunts
by the old church door.

I did as he suggested
It was release to pray
I believe he was an angel

and I found Love that day


SoulSurvivor
Catherine Jarvis
(C) September 27, 2014
1 Corinthians 13
Also called The Love Chapter
I just read a poem by Weeping Willow
It inspired this

I really do pray for the people
Who hurt me. I get angry
At times and vent.
But generally I'm pretty happy.
I don't hold the
bitterness in my
HEART
Paulina Jan 2014
We live for one moment
And I would give up that moment for you
My brother, have I forsaken you
Have I deserved the terror of your neglect
Do I have no affect on you

Perhaps I am too weak to see hatred
For what I seek is love
A penetrating feeling of searing pain
Where only those involved have something to gain

And yet here I lie
As a broken kite, undignified
Unsatisfied by petty answers
I look up and see chaos
In your eyes laced with pathos I see regret

But the sky is blue
And my tears are clear, untainted
I am pure, though my skin has been scorched
By an  ugly torch called jealousy

Your childhood sins have been pardoned
I have seen the void in your eyes as a void remains in my soul
Together we are a whole
You are forgiven, breath easy

For as long as the moon guides us at night
shielding us from terrible fright, and
The sun sheds its light, you know that
For you a thousand times over.
jad Jul 2013
The lizards sip tea on saturday afternoons
and discuss the bourgeoisie
and the effects of the French Revolution on their political stability.

Rabbits sniff their butts and eat their ****
because the sake of science calls for it,
they know that better than humanity.

The monkey's choice to live without clothing
was conscious and
involved their understanding of their roles in the delicate ecosystem.

Ants live without emotional attachment
Because before they evolved
Too many died from broken hearts
and they realized it wasnt worth it.

Trees dream every night of the places that birds whisper about in their branches
and cry at the corpses that go unburied at their feet.

As humans go,
they live lives climbing not to the sky
But social ladders leading only to unhappiness
and unfulfilled lives full of ignorance
and baths of political corruption and suicide.

Yet they say they are the superior species...
I argue the point and take a stand.  How is eating food and sliding a fork in and out of your mouth so much different than a kiss?  It is a sensational thing to be fully present for either but if I cannot be kissed I will eat like it is my ***!
A hard chair.  Sit upright.  Dress right..or undress just right.Heels of course.  No Tv.  NO PC.  Silence or the Cocteau Twins Treasure.
Treasure is the third studio album by Scottish alternative rock band Cocteau Twins. It was released on 1 November 1984, through record label 4AD. With this album, the band settled on what would, from then on, be their primary lineup: vocalist Elizabeth Fraser, guitarist Robin Guthrie and bass guitarist Simon Raymonde.
The album reached number 29 on the UK Albums Chart, becoming the band's first UK Top 40 album, and charted for 8 weeks.[9] It also became one of the band's most critically successful releases, although the band themselves have expressed dismay at it.  Know your ******* music!
Sit proper and nice.  Make a nice table setting-IMPRESS YOURSELF!!!!  I mean **** who is in your mouth??  You have more sensations all over than you use..I might spank you if you do not do a nice setting and snap a photo..you know I want to sea green IT!!!
Now take the time to feel the complexity of the flavors built, skill involved-maybe a ******* KILT!
Feel the sliding of the FORK IN AND OUT..little strokes in your pout.
Let is slide so slowly out..feel the edges..nice and smooth..let it slide feel that tine groove.
Chew so succulent and slow..feel the textures and LET THOUGHTS GO
Feel the flow, taste everything within it sink below.
Belly warm, food is desire..imagination and being present is all that is required~

The best way to treat myself is some fine dining.  Living watercress & Italian parsley- balsamic vinegar salad on the side of a tempting dish of white beans with sun dried tomatoes, mushrooms, onions, celery, cilantro,orange peppers and some garlic and chili paste with a lemon slice I ate right away and dashed the whole thing with a drizzle of balsamic.  I did not taste test anything.  I know what a good balance is.  My meal was a 5 star worthy dish.  I ate everything on my plate.
judy smith Feb 2017
Leading fashion stylists and casting directors have been directed by clients to avoid doing business with Trump Models, a company that promotes itself as “the brainstorm and vision of owner, Donald Trump”, several sources have told the Guardian.

Trump Models refused to comment, but according to its Twitter feed several models had made it on to the catwalk. News of such directives comes during New York fashion week, days after the president used Twitter to condemn the retailer Nordstrom for dropping his daughter Ivanka’s clothing brand, claiming poor sales.

According to one leading casting director who spoke to the Guardian on condition of anonymity, directives to avoid using models represented by Trump Modelsbegan last fall, before the presidential election. They then spread by “word of mouth”, the casting director said.

The effectiveness of any de facto boycott is hard to gauge. Trump Models, founded in 1999, is not considered a big player in the fashion business.

“It’s not a great agency, so it’s not such a big loss,” said the casting director, who was not authorised to speak on behalf of their client.

A French fashion stylist, who also requested anonymity, said she was reluctant to engage with a business that would put money in the pocket of the Trump family. When asked if they would use Trump models during fashion week, she replied simply: “Nooo!”

“People certainly look twice if a Trump model comes for a casting,” said another leading American stylist. “But a boycott wouldn’t necessarily be a big loss to the business.”

A third stylist, a prolific veteran in the industry, said he hoped there was a boycott on the Trump agency but added that “if there was a girl I wanted, I wouldn’t mind if she was represented by Attila the ***”.

On Thursday, the fashion website Refinery 29 reported that hairstylist Tim Aylward had vowed to stop working on jobs that involved “talent” from Trump Models.

Trump Models once represented first lady Melania Trump, and currently represents dozens of models from all over the world. It also runs a division for “legends”, including Paris Hilton and Carol Alt.

The agency, which claims to be at “the forefront of cultivating a wide range of innovative and vibrant talent which personify the trends of the fashion industry”, has faced claims of mismanagement.

Last year, Canadian model Rachel Blais told CNN some managers at the agency had encouraged her to skirt US visa laws. “As a model, one of the things you learn quite quickly is that … you shouldn’t ask too many questions,” Blais said. “If you want to work, you have to do as you’re told. Yet you’re kind of aware that it’s not legal.”

Last year, Canadian model Rachel Blais told CNN some managers at the agency had encouraged her to skirt US visa laws. “As a model, one of the things you learn quite quickly is that … you shouldn’t ask too many questions,” Blais said. “If you want to work, you have to do as you’re told. Yet you’re kind of aware that it’s not legal.”

Blais was also one of four women who described their experience with Trump Models to Mother Jones. The women said they were forced to live in squalor in a crowded apartment in the East Village of New York City.

The women said the apartment contained multiple bunks, for which models paid $1,600 each, and housed up to 11 people at a time. “We’re herded into these small spaces,” one former model said, saying the apartment “was like a sweatshop”.

The then vice presidential candidate Mike Pence told CNN he was “very confident that this business, like the other Trump businesses, has conformed to the laws of this country”.

In court papers filed in 2014, Trump model Alexia Palmer said she was promised full-time work and $75,000 a year. She sued after earning just $3,880 and some modest cash advances for 21 days of work over three years.

“That’s what slavery people do,” Palmer told ABC News in March 2016. “You work and don’t get no money.”

Trump attorney Alan Garten said allegations of being treated like a slave were “completely untrue” and said Palmer had simply not been in demand. The suit was dismissed. Laurence Rosen, a lawyer who represented Trump Models in the case, told the Guardian his firm “is not handling any other lawsuits or claims concerning model representation, nor am I aware that any such lawsuits or claims have been asserted” against Trump Models.

Shannon Coulter, of the Trump boycott movement #grabyourwallet, said Trump Models had not been added to its list of Trump-owned or affiliated businesses because it was not a consumer-facing business.

“What we’re seeing is that the Trump name is becoming truly toxic,” she said. “It seems that people can’t get away from the Trumps fast enough now. I think those casting directors and stylists are making the right call not doing business with them.”

Coulter rejected the suggestion that a boycott of Trump Models might end up hurting the working models it represents, rather than the owners of the business.

“When you chose not to do business with a company,” she said, “you chose to do business with other companies that do have employees, too, so I don’t put stock in that.”

Amid continued questions about Trump’s relationship with his business empire and how it fits with federal ethics regulations, Trump-owned fashion interests have suffered adverse publicity.

On Saturday, retailers Sears and Kmart removed 31 Trump Home items from their online product offerings to focus on more profitable items, a spokesman said. The collection includes furniture, lighting, bedding, mirrors and chandeliers.

Last week, retailer Nordstrom followed Macy’s and Neiman Marcus in dropping Ivanka Trump products. That prompted a furious response from Trump, whotweeted: “My daughter Ivanka has been treated so unfairly by @Nordstrom.”

Nordstrom justified its decision, reporting that online sales of Ivanka Trump products fell 26% in January year on year.

Within the fashion industry, there is speculation that while the performance of Ivanka Trump’s line was disappointing, it was not enough to merit being abruptly dropped.

At least part of the reasoning, they speculate, was pressure from other brands and labels carried by Nordstrom.

“We would not base a decision on that. Our decision was based on the performance of her brand which had been steadily declining over the year. We had discussions with Ivanka and her team and shared our decision with Ivanka personally in early January.”

However, Coulter said it was likely Nordstrom had faced pressure from other suppliers. “The Ivanka Trump sales were down but it’s possibly not the whole truth. There are studies that say boycotts work at the brand level, not the sales level, so probably both forces were at play.”

White House counselor Kellyanne Conway later urged the public to buy the Ivanka Trump brand – and faced widespread criticism that she had overstepped ethics regulations. The White House press secretary, Sean Spicer, said Conway had been “counseled”.

On Saturday, Trump said on Twitter that the media had “abused” his daughter.

In New York, protests against the Trump presidency have rippled through the fashion industry’s market week. Calvin Klein played David Bowie’s This is Not America and a Mexican immigrant designer for LRS Studio showed underwear that carried the message: “**** your wall”. Public School’s Dao-Yi Chow and Maxwell Osborne sent out red Trump-esque baseball hats spelling out: “Make America New York.”

Senior industry figures, including Vogue’s Anna Wintour and LVMH chief executive Bernard Arnault, have, however, held meetings with the president. Vogue plans to feature Melania Trump on its cover.

Designers including Dior and Ralph Lauren have dressed the first lady. Others, including Marc Jacobs, have said they will not.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com | www.marieaustralia.com/cocktail-dresses
Hal Loyd Denton Feb 2013
The day had entered the twilight time I heard an old train whistle I surrendered to the call of far
Away and I found myself back in time it was Saturday the family was going to town to the
Weeks shopping we parked in the alley past the feed store it was the way we started out we
Walked past the entry where we kids would go in on Easter to get the two free chicks then
You would go back to the bins and buy the fifty cent bag of pellets the fun involved the box with
The light the fruit jar that turned upside down with the lid fixed with indentations that as the
Chicks would drink and throw their heads back the water would bubble down like a water
Cooler little yellow fur ***** what a treat and delight but we would go in the big wide door that
Held the giant stand up scale with the great face and the smell of grain with a thin dust film on
Everything all of that and get your weight to how great was that back out in the sunlight dad
And I would go to Jims for a hair cut we all practiced cutting through stores you could go up the
Alley right beside Woolworths but what fun was best was parking behind Ben Franklins walking
In through the outer supply era and at the back of the store were the fiber barrels with the pink
And vanilla wafers they were a penny and I always got one of each at the barber shop the comic
Books were stacked high and the men were always having a talk fest and Jim whistled a tune
That was just as good as the theme of the Andy Griffith show we did a little bit of Mayberry all
Of us standing in the dark alley beside Rudow’s grocery waiting for them to do the weekly pony
Raffle I never won but I had access to the laker’s pony it was a good thing we had hard enough
Time feeding ourselves and the dog well we did have twenty seven at one time on the farm it
Was the A&P; for groceries run back home put them away and then go out across the drive set
In the shade as a family and eat A&P; Jane Parker Apple pie you would think it was desert at the
Green house restaurant on Market Street in Frisco where all the waiters wore tux’s know this
Was the time of grape Mogen David wine that was fairly priced in the family size jug but there
We set with a five gallon white plastic bucket with blackberries fermenting well dad must have
Already been tipsy that bucket had weeds other debris I won’t hazard a guess of what it was
But let me tell you the cloth on top didn’t help much I used to make a joke about espresso and
That strong Cuban coffee my complaint was it tasted like Wan and his mule was still inside well
This homemade wine hot long brown weeds I don’t care how country you are some things are
Better left alone like going out to our friends and have a meal they would put the milk in this
Big blue greenish half gallon right from the cow there would be lines moving around an oh yes
Don’t forget the snapping turtle we ran over and almost knocked me off my seat and those cars
Were heavy well quick as a country cook could do it turtle stew yum wants some excuse me
Folks As long as these people have a front yard full of grass I’m good you eat a while then chase
Lighting bugs now that’s what belongs in a jar and Like Dan Ackroad said in the movie and their
Butts light up well I didn’t have time to mention Tanners show uptown Sad Sack army show
With Jerry and Dean Gordon Scott as Tarzan they didn’t give the warning don’t try this at home
Or on the way home because in bums jungle where the bums all hang out between trains yes
There were vines on the trees but I don’t think Tarzan let go and rolled in the undergrowth that
Was filled with poison Ivy well Gordon never got to go from Tarzan to the mummy all white
With Copperas lay in the car across the street in the car like a dog with flees while your family
Is in the Home town café eating and the best part getting thrown out of the pool but I have a
Season pass well least climb a tree watch the fun and then a scene from the horror flicks of
The Day a little kid and his mother walk under the tree mommy mommy there is a monster in
the Tree and you wonder why I write I tore out of the tree like a cat possessed I ran over and
Hid in the big pavilion with the invisible man well that’s my home town how about yours
eb Jan 2014
Dear stranger,
I want to say I like you.
I want to say I like you
like no one I have ever liked before.

Dear stranger,
I want to but I won't.

Dear stranger,
I can't be sure it's you I like
or the thought of you
that just won't leave my mind.

Dear stranger,
I just can't
let myself hurt again
after what she did to me.

Dear stranger,
You & I are
in limbo.

Dear stranger,
You and I are
at different stages in our lives.
And many more excuses
of the impossibility of us.

Dear stranger,
I can't be
just another girl
for you.

Dear stranger,
I won't because I shouldn't

Dear stranger,
I shouldn't
be involved with you
when you just had a break up.

Dear stranger,
I shouldn't
love you this much
when we just met.

Dear stranger,
I shouldn't
feel this way
for another girl.

Dear stranger,
I won't
because you probably
don't know I exist

Dear stranger,
I exist
**I think
Of the many strangers:
each one different,
all the same.

— The End —