"jacksonville" poems
People live forever in Jacksonville and St. Petersburg and Tampa,
But you don't have to live forever to become a grampa.
The entrance requirements for grampahood are comparatively mild,
You only have to live until your child has a child.
From that point on you start looking both ways over your shoulder,
Because sometimes you feel thirty years younger and sometimes
thirty years older.
Now you begin to realize who it was that reached the height of
imbecility,
It was whoever said that grandparents have all the fun and none of
the responsibility.
This is the most enticing spiderwebs of a tarradiddle ever spun,
Because everybody would love to have a baby around who was no
responsibility and lots of fun,
But I can think of no one but a mooncalf or a gaby
Who would trust their own child to raise a baby.
So you have to personally superintend your grandchild from diapers
to pants and from bottle to spoon,
Because you know that your own child hasn't sense enough to come
in out of a typhoon.
You don't have to live forever to become a grampa, but if you do
want to live forever,
Don't try to be clever;
If you wish to reach the end of the trail with an uncut throat,
Don't go around saying Quote I don't mind being a grampa but I
hate being married to a gramma Unquote.
2.8k
The tints of yellow and brown,
Tis' near the fall season now.
See, the parks so beautifully donned
With falling leaves and gentle wind.
So put on light jackets and get comfy
Gear up, set the bed and get ready
As we watch for the Jacksonville Fall Home & Patio Show
With a hot soup bowl, and waiting for snow.
Oct 12, 2013
Oct 12, 2013 at 10:27 AM UTC
The sun is out in Jacksonville
Me oh my goodness gracious alive
Now that the Richter scale has calmed down
I'm happy to say, we've all survived
Hoping from the beginning we'd go extra innings
And that our side would win
Between the Suns owner and the fans who are moaners
We are now the Jacksonville Jumbo Shrimp
So batter up you people
No need to be steamed it's just life
Though can you imagine the jokes from all of the folks
Might make us so boiling mad we could fry
And then there's the question of Southpaw
What's that mascot still doing here
I'm sure he can fetch but that's about it
Something smells fishy in this sailors beard
But I digress from where we should be
The theme is the name of the team
And I might be in hot water if I go any further
Without explaining what I really mean
Though you may not find
It very a-peel-ing
The way the owner did
In this fishy dealing
It might be to late but it's only a name
Try if you can to chow down on this
The teams still the same so come out to the games
No need for you to be so shellfish
Nov 6, 2016
Nov 6, 2016 at 4:41 PM UTC
My whole adult life,
I've been running into people
unexpectedly on street corners
and having somewhat profound
conversations in odd languages.
Consider the guy I spoke with in broke *** English
at the bus station in Jacksonville,
or the girl from Kiev I happened upon in
a very expensive gentleman's club in Seattle.
Herat was also a very strange place to find
oneself in, Dari and Pashto and Russian and God
knows what else might be run into.
The wonderful thing about all of the
ridiculous places I've found myself in at
one time or another over the very hungry years
is that no matter what language or background
we came from, if there was ***** we got along.
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 5:12 AM UTC
in the morning i leave for manhattan,
and you leave for jacksonville.
"you don't see stars like these just anywhere."
so just for tonight, would you mind...
if we threw our charade away,
just for tonight?
we can stop and pretend the stars are ours.
i'll point one out and call it, "octopus vulgaris".
and only you will know what it means.
please forgive me,
i know you can only say no.
i can't help myself but to ask anyway.
Apr 7, 2011
Apr 7, 2011 at 5:54 PM UTC
I smoked my first and last cigarette on your porch after consuming six nameless beers (that made me too drunk.) I thought: this is how I die. I thought: I’m not going to die. And I remembered that
I created this memory before it happened. You sang notes in your soprano my alto was jealous of. There was no grass, but cement and I had wished that you told me you
lived in the ****** part of town. A man came up and asked for our butts. I giggled, take the rest. There was a mason jar of damp butts and he stole them from you a week earlier. I
wanted to finish the eighteen pack but my body was so full and there was only one night to sleep on your mattress on the floor with quilted murmurs. Can I remember the ghost and the German Internet boys? I woke up still drunk and you drove me to Jacksonville.
Oct 13, 2012
Oct 13, 2012 at 10:33 PM UTC
This body;
This temple of one;
Cursed to some;
Sinister to many.
This body;
This temple of one;
Scarred by struggle;
Consumed by fear.
Conditioned to be wary;
Scavenging at the weakest links
Of destiny's food chain.
As the lions roam free,
Higher up.
Raising kin to be kings,
To break this body;
This temple of one,
With impunity.
This body was lynched in Montgomery,
***** in Rome.
Poisoned by Derby's dose
In Montego Bay.
And fed to bull gators in Jacksonville.
This body was stripped in Rio;
Feathered in Saint Kitts;
Beheaded in Berbice;
And tarred in Tennessee.
This body was shot In Chicago;
Shot in Charlotte.
Shot in Missouri.
Shot in the Bronx.
Shot.
Shot.
Shot.
Shot.
This body;
This temple of one;
This ******* child of the universe
Is sick of being
Shot.
Of dying young.
Of rotting in cell block 9
And sealed boxes underground.
While the lions roam free,
Higher up.
Raising kin to be kings,
To break this body;
This temple of one,
With impunity.
~ P
#This_Body
2/10/2017
Feb 10, 2017
Feb 10, 2017 at 7:36 PM UTC
Wonder if Santa ever comes here
bringing gifts and good cheer,
and I wonder if snow will fall
In this great city of Jacksonville
Dec 23, 2017
Dec 23, 2017 at 8:26 PM UTC
If you see her will you tell her I said hello
And that things haven't changed that much
I'm still alone down here in Jacksonville
And yes I'm still in love
Will you tell her I cry most every night
Because things haven't been the same
Since the wind blew her into my life
And that same wind blew her out again
If you see her will you tell her how hard I tried
To move beyond what it was we had
Perhaps I would not have given my all
If I had known it wouldn't last
You can tell her if she tries to look me up
I went and changed my name
I'm no longer Mr. Happy Go Lucky
I'm now Down In The Dumps Again
You Know What...
If you see her tell her I said hello
And that everything is fine
That I've been living life so care free
She's not even crossed my mind
If that appears to make her saddened
It might just break my heart
Because my friend you and I both know the truth
I've not been the same since we've been apart
Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 6:10 PM UTC
Empty promises and carefree living
Hazy nights and forgettable days
Chasing pleasure wherever it can be found
Never remembering those who once stood besides you
Bitterness is poison, a slow killer slinking in
But I can't help but feel as if you abandoned me
The first chance you got, without second thought
You'll never find someone else like this
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 3:40 AM UTC
and the ground is soft as it should be here,
eleven minutes past midnight on new years eve.
you've seen me for who I should be,
in all my sweaty palms, broken stars, and pillowed moons.
and I see you for who I could be,
a kind hearted, celestial, tall glass of admiration.
ending and entering more years that could be
more ours if you'll so thoughtfully see through.
and if you'll still smell your tropical breeze best
singing in the Honda with me as we will be
in the next years I can drive you to the airport
as you kiss me down where we should be,
humming old jazz tunes like we could be,
and I'm telling you that we will be
on the hard grounds again
in Jacksonville, Florida.
Jan 1, 2019
Jan 1, 2019 at 2:48 AM UTC
Life, four letters that mean everything.
Clearly, without life who would write?
Who would see? And clearly nothing would be.
This world would be empty, and boring.
It would be without color.
Does color exist if no one is there to see it?
There would be no action nor compassion.
Everything would be still and blatantly lifeless.
The bird would not chase the worm,
Nor would the caterpillar rest it's head upon the soft flower.
There would be no countries, no math, no science or sizes.
France the size of Texas, Jacksonville and Paris,
All would be nothingness, nameless, and void.
No fetuses to grow in to babies,
Naked without knowledge.
No balloons to fly at the end of the parade,
Let go by young Marry, with her father John.
No! Without life there would be nothing.
Nothing to evolve from nor too,
Fish to monkeys to me and you.
Four letter word, that means literally all of the above.
Oct 7, 2011
Oct 7, 2011 at 4:34 PM UTC
Road Trip
the days are getting warmer now,
the sun is staying up later in the day,
the trade are winds blowing, and somehow,
I have to find me another way,
I want to get on my bike and ride,
ride my Harley into the western wind til night,
down I-10 out of Jacksonville, my shiny Elektra Glide,
hair blowing in the breeze, muscles flexing, grip tight,
the road changes to route 90 thru old Baton Rouge, LA,
heading all the way to Houston by sunsets fall,
finding a place to rest my weary soul today,
tomorrow will bring the curtain call,
heading north on 45 up to Dallas, big “D” they say,
now its I-35 to the destination in my mind,
she does not know that I am arriving this day,
I hope in her heart, it's love I find,
we've been friends it seems, like so very long,
never thought this time would ever ever be,
I've written just for her, this very special song,
OK City it says on the sign in front of me,
now I pull up to her place, anticipation I can feel,
taking deep breathe, to gather up my self,
brush the dust off, hoping I can close the deal,
remembering her picture, on my shelf,
she opens the door, with that smile, cuter than a bug,
I stare at her in disbelief, my jaw dropping low,
I reach for her, with my arms wide for loving hug,
her sweet kiss on my lips makes my body glow,
and so this road trip ends with happy heart,
we spent all night talking about the future plans,
never again will we spend a night apart,
melting hearts, as we speak each others name
Gomer LePoet....
Mar 11, 2010
Mar 11, 2010 at 5:17 PM UTC
A mountain of light,
It seems to me,
Rests upon the ground.
And here am I
High up in flight
Up here looking down.
We rush beyond
That shining hill;
Inhuman speed.
Furthermore
Rivers of light
Upon the earth I see.
Mar 6, 2016
Mar 6, 2016 at 10:48 PM UTC