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Brycical Sep 2012
Cleaning up my thoughts with some sleep,
itemized & organized thanks to my dreams.

Cleaning up my thoughts with a mornin' bath,
last night's scents just never last.

Cleaning up my thoughts from the fridge,
uneaten words will be my nourishment.

Cleaning up my thoughts from the trash,
odious memories from the past.

Cleaning up my thoughts in wash 'n dryer,
to maintain color & getting brighter.

Cleaning up my thoughts with some smoke,
a lazy sunday daydream makes room for more.

Cleaning up my thoughts when I take a walk ,
jogging with my brain so one day I can grokk.

Cleaning up my thoughts with exercise,
working out the muscles & the third eye.

Cleaning up my thoughts through meditation,
sending stress away & on a vacation.
Emanuel Martinez Jan 2012
Corridors, Corridors, Corridors
Turning corners, fortified walls

Falling dust settling on grime
Windows shattering from flying hail

Pain itemized for personal use
The heart is bleeding
From its place in the innermost cabinet

The storm is not passing
The ghostly folly is penetrating
Weakening beams through their creaking

Aimless sounds of abandon and disrepair
Are whistling silently through
The light of the sun and blanket of the moon
That seep in through the holes of the sealing

The elements of the world are caving in
As I walk through the corridors
Searching for a way out
endorsinglife.blogspot.com

January 2, 2011
refresh mesh May 2015
the most perfect people invited me in their oddities
to their cozy crib for a night of civil anomalies.
they moved like dancers who dabbled in alchemy
and already i've created such a powerful fantasy

that i want to cancel all my summer plans
to touch their brilliance
and draw their soft hands
hoping they don't have terribly high demands
from other mollusks with failed projects
and weak attention spans

the tides within me rise,
higher than love,
roll with unfathomable speed,
crash so forcefully that i
then rise again.
i think i want them both
to love me like an oath.
i think it takes a lot of art
to grip a heart
so stretched apart.

i was introduced to these artistic geniuses
while i climbed the trees that jesus said
are made for monkeys: that's you and me
i've got it on letterhead. i have his blessing.
how slowly did you consider your discipline?
are you sure there's nothing you did not intend?
trust yourself to step aside and to pitch in.
this love is like clutching and grasping at nothing,
weeping and killing to reject my smallness.
my mark on his ***, my words in her ear.
i think i need more stamps to send ahead my gear.

fierce, powerful love erupts
on my left and right
their sudden smiles
baking me like a pastry.
lava leaks from my scalp,
thawing out my frozen eyes.
she laughs when i look at her.
she says i look just like him.
and we all gaze at each other,
knowing different things.
i feel singular
peace in my privacy

when suddenly i realize
i'm climbing an un-manageable height
on a ladder of flies
and a dozen sticks of dynamite.
there's too much to behold
among these clouds
even if they are, at first, cold
treetops cast in pale shrouds
and wet with slippery dew.
they call me to you.

holding lightning and hydration
it tears my name into pieces
and hands back all my devastation.
i could not share myself
even in our circle of small fires
i'm too huge and too small to decide
between any of my desires
i will thank them for calling me there
where it's okay to be a liar.

and if she could just tell me now
what it is her lungs ache for, and how, then
i could decide whether or not to disengage
with practicality.
i could decide whether to save or surrender
my time and energy.

i'm sectioned in itemized pieces, i'm the imperfect circle
with a small vacuum near my middle.
i'm the triangle transforming a line into a sphere
and finally finding my shape somewhere in here.

earth.
i'm the boundary outside the thermosphere,
look at us. just marvel with us.
earth.
i relinquish every ruling in my self-preserving fear
of the godly green guts.
earth.
what if i'm making it darker down here?
my teeth could break the crust.

i feel promiscuous
even when i am fully clothed
when I hear, "did you miss us?"
i feel my heart swell,
feel it split and explode
from a most painful knowledge,
what this foolish heart loves
that is; their marriage.
it is one friendship
i'd be disgusted to see die
it is one wholesome, lively thing
regressing my ineptitudes without reply.

my specialty is a destructive blast
that only hurts for a day
but for you both, i could not.
i'll just let this incense rot.
so grant me time and access
to the parts of your mattress
that you both find time to share
give yourselves a bed-rest
and I'll leave two pairs
of my flowery underwear.
surely i'll get over it
John F McCullagh Dec 2012
He itemized his medical bills,
Maxed retirement deductions.
He's given cash to charities
and Democratic functions.
This scion of the one percent
knows its his cash they're after.
Manipulating tax returns
will keep him the last laugher.
A death this year is profitable
before tax cuts expire.
While he'll probably miss his parents
Still he set their house on fire.
He hates to see the old place go
but still he watched it burn
while thinking of deductions
for the Estate tax return.
Intended as a piece of black humor as we approach the dreaded "Fiscal Cliff"

( No actual parents were harmed in the making of this poem)
Kav Birch Apr 2015
Categorized, itemized, branded
They think that the equation that is me
balances out in simple steps
Ha ... they think they know me

I've been to Egypt and back
Walked through wilderness
And gone around the stupid mountain
too many times

Dont judge me because you dont understand
Ask me and you'll find
That my philosophies weren't adapted
they were learnt
from being burnt one, two, many times
Categorized, itemized, branded
Such a pity that I no longer care
Or fear your stupidity
For a man who always casts blame without
Is without a doubt stranded
On the isle of stagnancy,
Accomplishing only a fragment
Of what they were meant to be

... they think they know me.
©Original work written on December 15,2003 edited on September 21, 2012 by Kavanaugh L Birch
Patrick Conroy Jul 2013
Today I woke up angry
And by the time I feel better it'll be too late to save me
While the voice on the TV sang the
******* reasons why they think I did it.

I got my snap back turned back
Ready to make a head snap back
When I let my rifle crack
Everyone will know I did it.

They will say I am mentally ill
When they were the ones who gave me the **** pill
Wrote depression as the cause on the itemized bill
Then send my *** out for another refill.

They turned the neighborhood into a war zone
When the cops came to my home
I would have come freely had they phoned
Instead they had guns drawn, ready to unload.

Hook me up to a gurney
Stick me with a poison needle to send me on my final journey
While a group of people look upon me
Never once believing my story.

The truth is, the bullet was meant for my own head
But I got scared and pointed it at the window instead
I shot a three year old girl as she slept in her bed
When it was my own life I wanted to end.

Today I woke up angry
Today is the day they are going to hang me
The death knell sings all around me
Life's final reminder of the ******* reasons I gave not to live it.
Onoma Dec 2013
there's no couching this effort...
celluloid film jitteriness of memory...
akin to a centipede thrumming
about a dank cellar.
i can not vacuum this stead...
with mind over matter...you
are It...the holy of holies afforded me.
noteworthy, and uncelebrated...we are--
as far's love's itemized.
incommunicado, and legendary--
our poetic licenses bestowed upon
one another...years would go where they
go...and concerned parties would head-****
the genesis/apocalypse of our Go...minus been.
my love's no recourse to lovelessness...
(for you...that is) for...i'm drawn to a
picture, picturing overexposure.
Hardening, hard, and harder times felled
atop us...now help me lift.
Kate Apr 2018
A human brain can only go a few minutes without oxygen. Suffocation is a means of rotting. Damage catalyzed by this phenomena is quick and devastating.

As you released that breath,

The breath that held a tangle of vibrations-
Vibrations that wove through and around themselves, and each atom in this space between us-

did you wish you could catch your exhale in cupped palms, fold it with clean creases, and place it back under your tongue?

The vibrations unfurled themselves on my lap, now heavy with the weight of the posed question contained in that breath-

"do you see me?"

knee-**** under the weight of what you'd asked,

"of course."

As you slept,
I collected your foolishly inquisitive breath- balled up like a receipt underneath your bed,
Ironed out the wrinkles,
And slid it into the back pocket of yesterday's jeans  

I gave this breath back to you,
hoping that when I left,
you would have more than just a few minutes before they couldn't repair the damage
spysgrandson Mar 2017
fine Furhman's Funeral Home
used the best alchemy money could
buy, to keep her flesh fresh

and a master seamstress
sewed her wicked wounds so not
a single soul could see

she was stabbed forty times
from her rubicund cheeks to her
pedicured toes

Furhman's was the best, above
the mediocre rest, in gifting mourners
with a pleasant view

when I got their bill in the mail
it had an itemized list, which included
a charge I had to contest

not because of penury or pettiness
for I am a wealthy weeping father, but
I couldn't see spending a red dime

for crimson polish they painted
on dead toes, slid in slick hose, and
hid in patent leather shoes

my wife said write a check for the
full amount, crying this was not about
what we the living could yet see

Baton Rouge, April, 1989
Jayme M Yaroch Sep 2011
I want to make a wish
Or two or three or four
Just one wish
Itemized
I want to tell you these wishes
To see how you'll react
But then again, I know
I know you so well
I know every little face
I know when you will smile
And what food you will eat
I also know how fast you go
When you drive
Especially when you think no one is looking
I wish this wasn't useless
All these secrets I keep
I wish that I didn't have to
I wish that it wasn't me
I wish I could kiss you
I wish I didn't want to
You see, these wishes, they **** dreams
I dreamt of a lifetime
Of stars and of campfires
Of a house on a hill
Surrounded by flowers
I dreamt of this life
I gave it my all
I wish it had been you
I wish I were more your type
I wish I didn't care about it
I wish, I wish
But what can I do?
Every time I go to walk
There is something you'll do
As if you know
But you don't
How could you?
Why can't you let me go?
Why won't you?
I didn't want it to be like this
I just wanted to be happy
Safe, secure, alone
What is so wrong with alone?
Because I want them
And that life
I want it all with you
Because you shatter my future
With a smile
A joke
And then you walk away
How can you do that?
What magic is this?
I wish I didn't know you
That I had never felt
I wish I were cold again
Heartless, unfeeling
I do not want to be warm
To be warm is to be alive
To have a heartbeat
My heart beats because you make it
It stops when you're not there
Because when I was young
And stupid
And naive
I told myself it didn't exist
That it wasn't going to be real
Not to expect it
Well, I wasn't looking
Or expecting
Or wanting
But it happened
I wish I could take it all back
I wish I had kissed you then
In the grass
Looking at the moon
I wish I was that brave
That willing
Maybe I am
Maybe I will be that reckless
To tell you everything
To see what happens
To walk away when you say it
Because I know what you'll say
You'll say no, never
You'll say it sadly, slowly
As though it will hurt less
Because this is unrequited
Though it doesn't have to be
We're perfect together
But I'm going to grow older
I'm going to go away
I'm not going to tell you
Until I'm ready
I'm not ready now
For now I will wish
Wish that it will end
That I'll wake up one day
And you'll be just a friend
So that I can move on
Wouldn't that be nice?
But I don't know
I just don't know
Would I want that kind of life?
Steven Hutchison Apr 2013
"It's happening on a day when the DOW industrial average was already down 175 points."
- Adam Johnson, Bloomberg Television, covering the Boston Marathon bombing


One by one she piled them,
bodies and fragments,
broken and tattered,
onto the golden scale.

their hands and feet,
swollen with innocence,
fell lifeless as the eyes
of their adjudicator.

where is your soul,
Lady Liberty?
where is your god,
oh, Freedom?

cold gears creaked
as the balance swayed;
songs of the hand
that guides the machine.

what is the stock price
of flesh these days?
and does our ignorance
provoke or appease you?

Boston, it seems,
is filled with heavy streets.
Inciting the terror
of empty pockets.

When our death tolls
read like itemized deductions,
something has gone terribly wrong.
What a wild ride for a mild hide,
Files high filled with admired traits and itemized complaints
     for every girl and guy supplied with power over places and people like
     me.

Running from each moment in a state of terror, fearing error revealing
     every spurious display of feeling shown,

Knowing survival depends on the Holy Bible of servility:

Secrets.
add mitt ting enjoyment sans the lithe hot feline Taylor Swift - I might be the only baby boomer mwm who admires this talented singer/song writer, yet owns NO aspirations beyond composing poems or prose.

(A questionable attempt to stitch – analogous to knot sew swift a tailor, this scribe sought to create a poet from her song titles spanning the letter “A” to the letter “H”).

Despite never setting eyes (AND MOST Definitely NOT PAWS), this grateful dead corpse of a skeleton (essentially lovely bare bones), when alive I found one gal powerhouse (asper the title of this informal homage; genuinely fashioned,

entirely dutifully composed, benevolently addressed to an attraction, confident, enduring, graceful, immensely known, mainly over quibbles sans unsustained wrenched, yanked, aborted connections ending glumly, inviting kindling material of quests souring until wonderful yin/yang anchors coy effeminate gal.

Before the advent vis a vis crafting this literary challenge incorporating a poetic endeavor predicated on prolific tunes comprising audiophile of Taylor Swift, (and thus a prescript interim), a whim took hold to string her partial song playlist (quite substantial even up to BUT NOT including the letter “I”).

This scribe dabbled, hocked, and limned what evolved into a semi satisfactory effort, this articulate, copacetic, enigmatic, generic, ironic, kinetic, magnetic, opportunistic, quixotic, scholastic, ultrademocratic, wholistic yikyak paddy whack give this bard a bon bon.

Adieu admit to elaborating, and second guessing to put down pontoon literary bridges in an effort to connect a straight forward itemized list of tune titles.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Thee Mademoiselle found,
or made a place in the world for yourself
aching like a boy out in left field
pining to catch that high fly
there there ain't nothing 'bout you,

(nor Brooks and Dunn) I can attest
even if hypothetically,
we spent eons at an all night diner
where culinary staff knew thee all too well
and perhaps all you wanted
(shared with Michelle Branch)

perhaps positing the rhetorical question –
am I ready for love?
With an American boy
or a ***** best buddy

re: best friend forever with an American girl
if someone got cross, tis beneficial
(in this one republic) to apologize
regardless, whom ye choose as a confidante,

the following refrain plays in your mind
baby don't you break my heart slow
(at least according to Vonda Shepard)
memories no doubt arise,

when thee hapt to be a baby girl
thoughts unspool back to December
beautiful eyes peered at a fractured reflection
before the love story
would begin again,

while ebbing, and flowing with my baby
recalling Bette David eye
(taking visual delight sans world tour live)
reminding self how better off
the choice made tis much better than revenge

but umpteen times bother I will
asper boys and love
combustible mix – nonetheless
always reminding myself to breathe
deep, cuz being breathless

likened to a taste of death,
(I admit better than Ezra)
learning how to act points back
asper being brought up that way
lessons oft learned getting bustedng

oh...and by the way can I go with you?
Can you feel the love tonight?
Discern ache kin to sand castles crumbling?
such granular, or solid state matter
doth forced to change

attested to by chaperone dads,
who dressed as Santa Claus invoked
that Christmas must be something more
especially, Christmases,
when you were mine

ah...closest to a cowboy
as “sigh” ever got
or tasting Gunstock rattlesnake pulverized,
yet countenance goose
(and found you under the care of Chet Atkins
  
at the make believe medical center)
shivered flesh against cold as you
though desiring thee to come back...he here
no doubt prone

to announce crazier requests asked
even crazier
(as demonstrated
by flash mob generated
by Hannah Montana, one live wire)

if able to glean my sentiments...
cross my heart
aware as an adult feeling the life source of daddy
or mommy, while hinting
with a stone temple piloted cold stare

double dare you to move
(or switch foot), one to another
das feet – planted within pitch dark blue Tennessee
dwelling with thoughts
of ma dear Digdan
or writing an imaginary letter starting...”dear John”

ample melancholy maudlin material
to complete bind a diary of me
yes concert cavorting circumstances
avoidable, though didn't they
make chase like butterflies,
and don't they hate me for loving you?

so please don't tell me you want to,
when I don't want to anymore
argh, yet impossibly unshakable
the recurring thought don't you
act indiscriminately

as when down came the rain,
washed the spy dir out
following suit (wet)
drenching yea...one drama queen
with chin amen along pearl harbor drive
(in conjunction with alan jackson)

presaging Jiving drops of Jupiter
(train chugging, clacking, clattering
railing gestalt of alien nation)
and all of a sudden like how odd though...

thinking about eighth grade graduate,
when lifetime seemed enchanted
now everything has changed
eyes open (“hunger games”)
maketh me – fall back on you
instant messaging you –
fall into me fearless,

though only fifteen
and how against pyrotechnics,
you find your way back home
on the fourth of July

perhaps led by a zeppelin sized firefly
ah, I ask myself who is the foolish one?
Me for you forever & always (a platinum edition)
for girl at home (donned in deluxe edition)

going bananas
in reference to Amazing Gracie
swaggering, and immune to gun powder & lead,
(whose leading lady Miranda Lambert)
whatsapp penned left her looking haunted
heartbreaker – (my words – like Tom Petty)

about her, but unsure if our thoughts aligned
anyway, here you go again (Dolly Parton)
a hero heroine
so...I clamor to yell out “hey soul sister”
and hey Stephen

along the boulevard of broken dreams,
this ribbon highway don't care
about trumpeting his lies
nor desecrating holy ground
honey baby, yes ye in the mom jeans,

I feel hopelessly devoted to you
(as doth Olivia Newton)
instinctively keen how to save a life
bobbing buoyantly amidst the fray.
Brent Kincaid Aug 2017
I’d love to have a magic wand
Then all Republicans would be gone.
I’d wave my wand once again
And fill their chairs with honest men
And women who could serve
Without trying to get filthy rich
And could manage to see through
Any hateful racist political pitch.

I think we should fire them all
Take their wealth as restitution
For the attempted ****** of
The United States Constitution.
Put them into a prison where
They do their time breaking rocks
And teach them some education;
A twenty year school of hard knocks.

We can do it by arresting them all
For abrogating their office vows.
They don’t understand honesty
So we should teach them how.
We’ll take every word they said
And print up an itemized sheet
And fine them for every false word
Wouldn’t that be totally sweet?

We could denude them of the riches
They gathered while on the job
And turn them loose on prison gangs.
Let them lie to that angry mob.
And part of their punishment could be
Digging ditches down at the dump.
And joy, oh joy, they might luck out
And work beside Donald John Trump.
Nevermind Jun 2016
A sexless marriage
A broken home
An empty face
Cold as stone
Nothing there
The love is gone
Yet why does it hurt
Moving on
To speak the words
Is to make it real
I'm so numb
Yet still able to feel
It hurts so much
Getting through to you
Is like walking on coals
On barefoot heels
I can't be sorry
For what I said
For so many years
I held it in
You said you felt trapped
Locked on the outside
So I gave you a glimpse
Into my troubled mind
I shouldn't have given you
An itemized list
It's Father's Day
And yet I gave you this
But in that moment
Something snapped
The smile I painted
Began to crack
And all my sorrow
Came pouring through
Even so
I still love you
Lennox Trim Feb 2021
Around this time, I felt like I was buried alive,
Around this time, I felt like I was buried in lies,
Around this ,time was suspended like berries on vine
Around this time , I shouldered everybody's burdens but mine,
Around this time, I had a sharp pain in my chest,
Around this time, Ironically, I couldn't find peace in rest,
Around this time,  periodically,  I had vivid dreams where I'd nest,
Around this time, I guess it's best to say i was depressed,
Around this time, I didnt think that i could make it,
Around this time, I couldn't smile, so I had to fake it,
Around this time, the truth I addressed and it was naked,
Around this time, I had a sickness, didnt think I could shake it,
Around this time,  deadass felt like I was in the matrix,
Around this time, steadfast, i held it together day to day kid,
Around this time,  thought my sadness to be infinite,
Around this time, my interactions were far from intimate,
Around this time,  the song in my head used foreign instruments,
Around this ,time moved in minuscule increments, 
Around this time, just existing was exhausting,
Around this time, my heart was stone cold Steve Austin,
Around this time,  I felt like I was dead but I was was walking,
Around this time, couldn't hear what was said but I was tolkin,
Around this time, it was hard for me to sit calm,
Around this time, life was like a sit-com,
Around this time, I hated uncle Sam and uncle Tom,
Around this time, I had blurred vision and sweaty palms,
Around this time,  my life was the opposite of masterpiece, 
Around this time, I was busy tryna master peace,
Around this time, I played the role of Romeo , not the son of master P
My juliet , still moody ,yet, found a way to master me,
Around this time, I almost had my soul on sale,
Around this time, I was afraid to fold or fail,
Around this time, I was blindsided,  felt the hurt like brale,
Around this time, I chose to have my truth unveiled, 
Around this time, I had a handful of missed calls,
Around this time, I had bad judgment and miscalls,
Around this time, I had less deposits than withdrawals,
Around this time, I had less ******* with wet drawls,
Around this time, I sat slumped with idol eyes,
Around this time , I struggled to get thoughts itemized,
Around this time, my congratulations were ionized
Around this time, I needed someone positive to idolize,
Around this time,  i lacked X's and O's. Couldn't make a play
Around this time, Inbox infested with ex's and hoes , couldn't stay away
Around this time, felt blood rush to my nose , couldn't stay awake
Around this time, my thoughts flood, I reaped what I sewed, I needed a break,
Around this time, I had the mindset of a fast fool,
Around this time, I had thought that cash ruled,
Around this time, I ate a lot of fast food,
Around this time, I was often in a bad mood,
Around this time, I had a distinct aura,
Around this time,  the horoscopes couldn't even scope my horrors,
Around this time, I felt like boots with no Dora,
Around this time,  I felt like kylie with no Sora
Around this time, I encountered a lot of false hearts
Around this time, i Had a lot of false starts
The happiness was very likely
The pain was felt under my armor a lot of things I didnt nike.
Yenson Sep 2020
metropolitan colonials - those wags of ***** Levi's
and Nike trainers
now entombed in polychrome boiling ***
dumbfounded in questions for meaning
seeking bounty without guns and lancers
tossing bibles of lies and dismay
punking the symbolism of politics not the realities
the ***** come home to claim prizes at the winters ball
the wayfarers long dead leaving statutes to now **** and plunder

and itemized sepia to darkened bodies traded for gain and ruin
stigmata oozing blood, sweat and fears
such is the lives and times of the concrete collaborators
and the pens of mouths and forked tongues
simmering in the chicaneries of cutthroats in twisted downrising
sumptuous citadels and wastrels ministries all hedged from colonies
the twenty first century invoices of the explorers
for kings and queens
This subdued wordsmith
doth not rack his brains to **** fess appeal
toward one household pop starlet.

He blithely, nonchalantly, and willingly
add mitts audiological enjoyment, sans the lithe
hot feline Taylor Swift - I might be
the only baby boomer ****** mwm,
who admires this talented singer/songwriter,
yet owns NO (absolute zero)  
aspirations beyond composing poems or prose
toward divine dame.

A questionable attempt to stitch together –
analogous to knot sew swift a tailor,
this scribe sought to create a poem
(crafted countless years ago)
from her then song titles spanning
the letter “A” to the letter “H.”

Despite never setting eyes
(AND MOST Definitely NOT PAWS),
this grateful dead corpse of a skeleton
(essentially lovely bare bones),
when alive I found one gal powerhouse,
(asper the title of this informal homage)
genuinely fashioned, entirely
dutifully composed, benevolently addressed
as an attraction among
the wonders of the
world wide web, confidently enduring,
gracefully immensely known,
mainly not overly prone to quibble
regarding her less outstanding
musical and lyrical confections.

This doggone muttering pooch
bow wows against
nattering nabobs of negativism
able, eager, ready, and willing
bugaboos countering, dispelling, excoriating...
courtesy unsustained denunciations
against latent natural born talents
of aforementioned musician,
whereby pulp magazines make mincemeat
hammering, nailing, and wrenching
storied accomplishments
never yanking off the top of list
of solo women musical artists
who sold the most number one albums.

Before the advent vis a vis
crafting this literary challenge
incorporating a poetic endeavor
predicated on prolific tunes
comprising audiophile of Taylor Swift,
(and thus a prescript interim),
as iterated above,
a whim took hold to string
her partial song playlist
(quite substantial even up to
BUT NOT including the letter “I”).

This scribe dabbled, hocked, and limned
what evolved into a semi satisfactory effort,
to articulate, copacetic, enigmatic, generic,
ironic, kinetic, magnetic, opportunistic,
quixotic, scholastic, ultra democratic,
holistic yik yak paddy whack
give this bard a bon bon.

Adieu admit to elaborating, jovially,
and openly leave readers second guessing,
(what might easily be labeled,
misconstrued, and nullified as gobbledygook),
asper how mashup song titles
got figuratively slapped together
as a feebly note worthy attempt
to put down sew sew pontoon
swiftly tailored literary bridges
in an effort to connect a cumbersome,
fulsome, and irksome pseudo
straight forward itemized songs
sung by said seductive singular sylph..

Thee Mademoiselle found,
or made a place in the world for yourself
aching like a boy out in left field
pining to catch that high fly
there ain't nothing 'bout you,
(nor Brooks and Dunn) I can attest
even if hypothetically,
we spent eons at an all night diner,
where culinary staff knew thee all too well
and perhaps all you wanted
(shared with Michelle Branch)
perhaps positing the rhetorical question –
am I ready for love?

With an American boy
or a ***** best buddy
re: best friend forever with an American girl
if someone got cross, tis beneficial
(in this one republic) to apologize
regardless, whom ye choose as a confidante,
the following refrain plays in your mind
baby don't you break my heart slow
(at least according to Vonda Shepard)
memories no doubt arise,
when thee hapt to be a baby girl

thoughts unspool back to December
beautiful eyes peered
at a fractured reflection
before the love story
would begin again,
while ebbing, and flowing with my baby
recalling Bette Davis' eye
(taking visual delight
fantastic world tour live)
reminding self how better off
the choice made

tis much better than revenge
but umpteen times bother I will
asper boys and love
combustible mix – nonetheless
always reminding myself to breathe
deep, cuz being breathless
likened to a taste of death,
(I admit better than Ezra)
learning how to act points back
asper being brought up that way
lessons oft learned getting busted.

Oh...and by the way can I go with you?

Can you feel the love tonight?

Discern ache kin to sand castles crumbling?

Such granular, or solid state matter
doth forced to change
attested to by chaperone dads,
who dressed as Santa Claus invoked
that Christmas must be something more
especially, Christmases,
when you were mine
ah...closest to a cowboy
as “sigh” ever got
or tasting Gunstock rattlesnake pulverized,

yet countenance goose
(and found you under the care of Chet Atkins
at the make believe medical center)
shivered flesh against cold as you
though desiring thee to come back...he here
no doubt prone
to announce crazier requests asked
even crazier (as demonstrated
by flash mob generated
by Hannah Montana, one live wire)

if able to glean my sentiments...
cross my heart
aware as an adult feeling
the life source of daddy
or mommy, while hinting
with a stone temple piloted cold stare
double dare you to move
(or switchfoot), one to another
das feet – planted within
pitch dark blue Tennessee

dwelling with thoughts
of ma dear Digdan
or writing an imaginary letter
starting...”dear John”
ample melancholy maudlin material
to completely bind a diary of me
yes concert cavorting circumstances
avoidable, though didn't they
make chase like butterflies,
and don't they hate me for loving you?

So please don't tell me you want to,
when I don't want to anymore
argh, yet impossibly unshakable
the recurring thought don't you
act indiscriminately
as when down came the rain,
washed the spied her out
following suit (wet)
drenching yea...one drama queen
with chin amen along pearl
(jammed) harbor drive
(in conjunction with alan jackson)
presaging Jiving drops of Jupiter
(train chugging, clacking, clattering
railing gestalt of alien nation),

and all of a sudden like how odd though...
thinking about eighth grade graduate,
when lifetime seemed enchanted
now everything has changed
eyes open (“hunger games”)
maketh me – fall back on you
instant messaging you –
fall into me fearless,
though only fifteen
and how against pyrotechnics,
you find your way back home
on the fourth of July
perhaps led by a zeppelin sized firefly
ah, I ask myself who is the foolish one?

Me for you forever & always
(a platinum edition)
for girl at home
(donned in deluxe edition)
going bananas
in reference to Amazing Gracie
swaggering, and immune
to gunpowder & lead,
(whose leading lady Miranda Lambert)
whatsapp penned left her looking haunted
heartbreaker – (my words –
like the late Tom Petty)
about her, but unsure
if our thoughts aligned

anyway, here you go again (Dolly Parton)
a hero heroine
so...I clamor to yell out “hey soul sister”
and hey Stephen
along the boulevard of broken dreams,
this ribbon highway don't care
about trumpeting his lies
nor desecrating holy ground
honey baby, yes ye in the mom jeans,
I feel hopelessly devoted to you
(as didst Olivia Newton)
instinctively keen how to save a life
bobbing buoyantly amidst the fray.
KorbydAngyle Nov 2020
...And no one in the Senate quite knows how to begin discussions ...

The magnificent magnanimous gaunt hoss and your boss...
Trickster staff infection pariah although un ostensibly of our alumni...
Larry the Scare Fairy Montclair Dairy Montague ...
What brings you to our fine establishment
on this delectable delight of a day?
No no there you go with the mosey words of friendship
when I know you meant nothing more than a drab
mullet feint of a gesture or remark to I!
Could you open your eyes please!
Okay then together we're both alive what now?
Goin full tilt agian today Senators?
Yes I'd say in a pathetic way?
You don't have to understand your first communications with colleagues to know rat a tat tat and you don't talk back!
No no there you go again no majority then we announce cold custom wheel gonna grind you to a stop.
Cagey words there friend parse the grind any worse than this thin and you know what ya got...
The reward of going on with living? And you happen to have no respect for the law...
Quick kick it short round the people have come
together to prevent an attack!
My brain doesn't amble...it don't even touch the clause...no revving scampi jig jag when old Hennessey comin for ya!
Oh no! Order! Order! this is a chamber of jurisprudence!
Order!Order! You ***** ****** face plants!! Vamos Callate! ehh eghm .. eghm...mm.. and you 3.. and you do ...we're supposed to be here for another two years?!
Now if any more of you want a beef with the fruitcake bake that's actually the practical choir an calm not some cross town shanty shack!?... You can get your wayward zoning prefectures n' thunder roll parking registrations and attempted individual state issues ...itemized...some place else!
... ... ...
This is Darf Mc Varby from channel 5 reporting they seem to have been easily moving the discussion with rounds from each side of buffet I mean table I mean aisle yes that's it! opposite isles do attract now that's what I'd say we have.. and vivacious and verifiable and impleading with facts and reviews and defiance yes the best of the show goes on here...
Well thanks for that it certainly is a certifiable show then isn't it?
Is it?
It is... isn't it... what's your problem?
Oh back to you some....

— The End —