"jfk" poems
I wrote you a poem and all you said was “I love you!”
and I need a whole lot more than that
Did you know Marilyn Monroe was borderline too
and what did that leave her besides a suicidal mess I do not look up to?
But I guess she did **** JFK so there's that
Today is valentines day and I didn’t say anthing to you about it
because I know you hate February 14
because 2 years ago you had that major surgery
You didn’t talk to me until 4:20 today
and that was only to laugh about the timing
and it's really hard for me to not tell you that I wanted to **** myself today but instead I wrote 5 poems and drank too much coffee
and **** I would really **** for a cigarette right now that
I have to use my charm to get
because im only 17 but somehow
I always “forget” my ID and wear a low cut shirt
and flirt openly with the 40 year old indian guy across the counter
just so I can get my illegal nicotine
I wonder what my mother would say about that
Feb 14, 2014
Feb 14, 2014 at 10:55 PM UTC
Magnesium strip
brighter than a diamond
Sierra Leon blood Stings like an eye-pin,
lobotomy,
JFK's sister,
but this is not democracy,
Vatican city,
oppression and atrocity
Iran,
What a theocracy,
Brainwash religion,
for the jihad, and crusades,
Rawanda Armenian, genocides,
aids,
killing a minority,
might gives authority,
but the greatest tragedy,
is the world wide apathy.
Aug 7, 2013
Aug 7, 2013 at 4:05 PM UTC
Wouldn't it be weird if
JFK was reincarnated
as Monica Lewinski?
Buddha probably
ate better butter
than Ghandi.
If we keep fighting
the divine fellows
we pray to
will be too afraid to return.
This isn't ******* Highlander.
Christ, what a hilariously insane movie.
They probably show that
to people who drink caviar & say things
like "pip pip!"
Either way,
we're all related.
Otherwise than that,
let's all be
LOVE.
Except for people
who commit genocide.
May they be reincarnated
as Hitler's final excretion
as he killed himself;
including ******
Jun 18, 2012
Jun 18, 2012 at 8:58 PM UTC
I am never not surprised,
when someone else has the courage to look me in my eyes,
to tell me bald-faced lies,
that say I am too dramatized
as a white girl trying to equalize
and see the world before me rise
to say we're not satisfied
to say with honesty we despise
a government who seems to tyrannize
its citizens into fearing they be deprived
of food, water, and electricity. So they have to believe in the guise.
That we are a nation paralyzed.
By lies.
I am just a twenty two year old, Caucasian female
addicted to the idea I can help you see we will prevail.
Our nation teeters on the brink.
Help me save our souls,
Before they take us out like MLK, Lennon, JFK
All with a blink.
Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 1:47 PM UTC
In a world where two people get down on their knees
Both in the business of selling themself
Both hoping to be blessed for the work they put in
One called a preacher
The other a *****
But only one is seen as a sinner
And one gets paid to say what anyone can read
I been around both so I'll speak for me
Ten percent seems high just to sit and listen for sixty minutes twice a week about a make believe world that nobody will ever be able to say it even exist for sure
I'd rather pay alittle more and get straight to point with the working girl
Sweaty men in cheap suits don't do much for me
Besides I need the relief of a release
Their worried because she has kids
Talking **** as they drop their kids off to Father Ben
Never noticing the nuns
That's mental and physical abuse showing on their face
She's trying to get paid
While the church gives millions to cover up their peodphile ways
Moving them from place to place
Making the devil take the heat
Wait
Is that why the devil even exist
So you religious sinners have someone to blame
Black people being racist
Then crying about slavery
White folks mad because they will soon be the minority
Campaigning for a white lives matter movement
The Spanish stay yelling P.R or NY
Not sure why they even moved
Straight people angry cause they can't go both ways
Gay people hating for still being blamed for creating aids
Old don't like the new
And the new to dumb to have a clue
It's all petty **** and a waste of time
Like voting for an election of any kind
They control us by keeping the hate between us
Because I bet if religion didn't make a dime
Religion would be gone faster then the evidence they had aboit JFK being shot
Look back and see the past got us here
Now look ahead with a different plan
Respect yourself to remove the label they selected for you
Give these kids hope for a bright future
Or might as well give these kids the rope so they don't suffer in the future
Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 6:50 PM UTC
If you're reading this I'm either dead or in Dallas
I have to catch a train and a plane all at the same time
L to the A to the JFK
My getaway
Like a cemetery I'm dying to get into that lone star state
I've missed the wide open spaces
My family and friends smiling faces
A bathroom to call my own and a home with multiple rooms to roam
From Dallas I extend my gratitude to the families I wasn't born to but made
My boys in Austin from 3306 who took me in when a woman sent me packin'
Dr Mills from New Orleans handin' out red beans, rice, and thrills
If it wasn't for the Rich I'd never have seen Florida or Vegas
The wild spirit, she who must not be tamed from Colorado
My California kin that took me in and fed me from your tables, so kind (of you) to let me drink your wine
All of you,
Thank you,
I am truly blessed,
For my families across the U.S.
Even though I'm here for just a week
I already miss my Brooklyn family deep in the Mes
They're making Thanksgiving happen without a kitchen
Cooking away their stress, making more out of less
Back to Dallas I came
I'm jovial to be home
But it's not the same
For I have grown
Because of the support
My new families have shown
I love you all
Wherever you are
Across the country
Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 2:52 PM UTC
Dylan is dead.
no, not Bob, you Philistine,
Dylan Thomas who implored us
to rage against the night;
so are a passel of poets
and penners, but not I
Emily heard her fly buzz,
well before her eyes shut; she
was a wee bit obsessed
with the reaper
Hemingway's also a goner;
guts enough to shove a shotgun
in his mouth--mostly I wonder if
he tasted blue gunmetal like I did,
and who cleaned his brains
off the wall?
nobody had to clean a red dollop
of mine, for the firing pin was askew
and all I got was a click, and a sense of shame,
and impotence more flaccid than
the one which put the barrel
in my mouth
hell, how hard is it
to **** yourself--I guess harder
than I thought, since I never bought
another rifle
so Dylan is dead
Em and Hem too, but you
are reading these lines without
contemplating your own demise
I suspect
after all, it's early spring
and a time of new things
clawing their way into the light
thinking nothing of the terminal
night -- but it's just a sun dip away:
ask Dylan or Hemingway, or even JFK
but I wouldn't bother the Belle
of Amherst
she would make parting
sweeter than sorrow, and she
never tasted the cold lead, or spoke
with fear or dread of the dumb
and the dead
she never murdered
men in black pajamas
in a forest primeval...
I didn't see their spirits
ascending, in ribbons of light,
only rivers of their red blood
soaking the green ground,
yet today ravenous
for more it seems
why would she rage
against the good night, when
her carriage waited patiently for her,
and immortality, her vessel bound
for a light Dylan and I
will never see
May 4, 2017
May 4, 2017 at 6:42 PM UTC
With a little bit of bleach and a rounded xss
they think they can be Marilyn Monroe
but never strive high enough to **** a JFK,
instead they're down on their knees for a Trump
refreshing their Instagram.
Apr 12, 2016
Apr 12, 2016 at 7:37 PM UTC
O, come a little closer - hear what I have to say,
I know that one piece of writing can be interpreted in so many different ways.
O, but do pay attention to my word-play,
To the picture I’m trying to portray.
O, I hope by the end of this you will understand the image I am trying to convey,
But do not get me wrong, the end of this is something I am attempting to delay.
O, it is saddening to know that sooner or later my rhymes will fade away
So I will replay, replay, replay.
O, how I pray that what we have will not decay.
Like all the flowers & bouquets that I watched wither/die a bit more every day.
O, but how pretty were they?
Sad to know that each & every single one was thrown out like the contents of an ashtray.
O, how you must have noticed the repetition of O’s - I think they are here to stay,
Unlike my pathetic, childish rhymes that I am struggling to hold at bay.
O, do not get me wrong - the rules to rhyme are so easy to obey,
They are so easy to slay.
O, like tray, cafe, puree,
For god sake, even JFK.
O, please tell me - do you see the problem on display?
Do you see what I am trying to say, what is coming my way?
O, it feels like a betrayal
No, no, no that’s not a rhyme.
I need to rhyme, I need us to be okay.
Ray, clay, Bombay.
Tray, fray, mae.
Ray, clay, Bombay.
Tray, fray, mae.
O, please stay
I need us to be okay.
O, I know repetition of words is not a rhyme,
Nothing more than copy & paste.
Ray, clay, Bombay,
Tray, fray, mae.
Ray, clay, Bombay,
Tray, fray, mae.
O, please I don't want us to stray
I hate how we went from white to grey.
O, please I don’t us to end this way,
I know I am barely rhyming but I will try my best, okay?
Look - ballet, allay, hooray,
Hay, weigh, olay.
Look - ballet, allay, hooray,
Hay, weigh, olay.
O, please stay
I need us to be okay.
O, I know repetition of words is not a rhyme,
Nothing more than copy & paste.
I’ll come up with more,
Dismay, replay, is-lay.
Tray, cafe, valet,
Delray, Alleyway, Chevrolet.
It is not that I don’t know how to rhyme,
I just need something to rhyme for.
Rhyming is synchronisation, it is compatibility
I just need to know we are.
Please, stay, stay, stay,
Don't go away, don't go away, don't go away.
Please, stay, stay, stay,
Don't go away, don't go away, don't go away.
Ray, clay, Bombay,
Tray, fray, mae.
Ray, clay, Bombay,
Tray, fray, mae.
I know I am barely rhyming, but I will do my best okay?
Please stay,
Don’t go away.
Jul 28, 2022
Jul 28, 2022 at 2:11 PM UTC
We meet by the lockers
at break
I'm still amazed
that this school
has Cheerleaders
that basketball
not rounders & netball
is the sport played
that we study
the Cold War
' Of Mice & Men'
& the War in Vietnam
that we have 'Hitzenfrei' days
that our German teacher
always forgives our mistakes
that boys & girls
hang out together
that we put on musicals
I've never heard of
That we celebrate the fall of the Wall
that we take school trips
to Concentration Camps
that there's no uniform
that the teachers
rarely explain anything
that the word ' rubber'
doesn't mean ' eraser'
here but something else
that there are stereotypes
like 'nerd' & ' prom queen'
that we welcome grafitti
that we believe in Love
above any kind of Study
that we have the freedom
to pick & choose our failiures
without being sent
to the Principal's office
that we read Kerouac
Carl Sandburg & Ginsberg
that nearly everyone
has lived in at least
two or three
different countries
that we rarely fight
that my crush
plays trumpet
in a ska band
that we go
to the nearby Lakes
on weekends
& the English language cinema
on Tuesdays
that we celebrate Halloween
bit by bit I nearly forget
my All Girls school days
in soggy Britain
where I had no friends
where we sang hymns
every single morning
where we didn't practice
the Love we preached
where our future
was crumbling old Oxbridge
where we had a coat of arms
where we had houses
named after the merchant ships
of our Founder from the 1600ds
where we didn't dream
of becoming Presidents
or Astronauts but Academics
forever lost in musty books
the flower of our youth, wasted
*Hitzenfrei days were days in summer when we were let off school because it was too hot.
Wall - Berlin Wall
Jul 3, 2015
Jul 3, 2015 at 1:03 PM UTC
"If you're the least bit sensitive, this world will eat you alive."
Is it any wonder then that so many of us want to die?
But I gave up a long time ago on suicide
Such an ignoble way to say goodbye
So if I must go, I want to be beaten by some ******* while defending a woman's honor
Shot by an oppressive father for attempting to liberate his daughter
Gunned down by the government for standing up for the rights of another
I guess you could say,
I have dreams of becoming a martyr
"Only the good die young"
Only through self-sacrifice can you become
Deeply ingrained in humanities' collective brain
I want to make a difference
Before I grow old and insane
Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
Lincoln
JFK
Jesus Christ
Gandhi
Joan of Arc
Tecumseh
And then there's Socrates
Somebody help me, help me please
I want so badly to die for the sake of a belief
But it's all so ****** up now
Twisted and torn
Sometimes I wish that I was never born
And there have been others who felt the same way
Vincent Van Gogh
Rothko
And Hemingway
I know it's not fair of me to say
They all lead lives wrought with such pain
Like Bradley Nowell
And Kurt Cobain
Some saw it coming
Like Mark Twain
Freedom really is a double-edged sword
After Jack Parsons blew up he left us his words
His mom OD'd shortly after having heard
Greatness can only last so long in this world
And what of Albert Camus?
Was it really unplanned?
And that poor old Nietzsche
Came so unglued at the end
And fate is really something
How can we comprehend
Some lives are surely doomed
From the moment they begin
Jan 3, 2014
Jan 3, 2014 at 1:20 AM UTC
The past 50 years in USA
In my teens it was the 60s
Now it's the teens and I'm in my 60s
Ask not what your country can do for you but rather let's salute the red white black and blue."
D. Clare
Opinions vary...
Feb 14, 2015
Feb 14, 2015 at 2:44 AM UTC
Ms. Cho is so, so sorry
for the unintended worry
and the dreadful social uproar
she created
when she rated
her airline’s services as poor.
But any self-respecting South Korean
would understand the shame
when the macadamias came
not in a china dish
for this salty snack delish
was placed calmly on her tray
the cabin crew would say
resplendent in their jackets
“The nuts are served in packets
vacuum-sealed to keep them fresh.”
Hyun-ah proud and haughty
wagged her fingers, called them naughty
and summoned forth the Chief of all the crew
demanding that he tell her if he knew
if the in-flight rules were being followed
or was it in anarchy they wallowed.
He stumbled and he stuttered
swallowed, then muttered
he’d never thought this matter
was the least bit earth shattering.
“Nuts in a bag, are you insane?
You must be taken off this plane”
True to her word the flight turned round.
Until they landed not a sound
was heard within the cabin of that plane.
He was dropped back at JFK
and after some delay
they made their way again heading east.
But arriving eleven minutes late
Ms Cho had definitely sealed her fate
Notwithstanding Daddy’s power
as the airlines CEO
relations turned quite sour
his daughter forced to go
She lost each and every perk
that accompanied her work
her executive pay
all lost – such is the way.
So, finally in sum
Beware of a Cho tantrum
when you see that charming face
remember she’s a nut case
who in shrill and angry voice
made a devastating choice.
Never change an airline schedule
Never let your plane be late
Never waste expensive jet fuel
Or suffer Ms. Cho’s fate
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 7:53 AM UTC
So I sat here writing a letter,
trying to recall events like the weather,
why red and blue have been fighting forever,
the kid in the newspaper with some new fever,
or that house that set itself on fire.
I wrote off the lines and on the back of the page
about a mother and father who abandoned their children,
a street that went up in a riot,
the telephone poles and the trees,
pipelines and the sewers, and their eventual decay.
I wrote, “Will you marry me,” one thousand times
Then I wrote, “I don't love you anymore,” one thousand and one.
I sat here
and I wrote a book that wasn't long enough
it couldn't explain the things I wanted to say.
An AK-47 sent through the mail.
The tower that fell with no plane.
Flower sales and drive-by’s,
what really happened to JFK?
Why wasn't it **** Cheney?
But I barely wrote half of what I could think.
A declaration of war, like it's a game.
I sat here, alone with my 90 degree angles
every night is a race to the bottom of the glass.
A prisoner to my own mind
which I cannot escape.
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 8:21 PM UTC
once a collage
hung on a wide white wall
with monochrome photos of
all creatures great and small
Dali juxtaposed with Doris Day,
LBJ atop JFK, and Joe DiMaggio,
grinning Frankenstein and frowning
Frank Sinatra, not far below
Hemingway, Groucho Marx, Marlon Brando
occupying three of four corners, the bottom right
a curious cat, in stretched repose
dead center, a cracked crucifix
and four Beatles all, Paul the biggest
with the cross crowning his frame
a Corvette,
and Stalin in his tomb
were also given ample room,
on this black and white piece of art
as were ****** Cleaver, with cap,
Jimi Hendrix with axe
another three score
and a couple more, completed
this cacophony of sight, but absent
were J. Bieber, Beyonce, any of the Simpsons
of Fox fame, revealing the artist of this gray masterpiece
was blissfully blind to cyber sacrilege,
Steve Job’s toys, and the lost soul
of Lindsey Lohan
Jan 17, 2015
Jan 17, 2015 at 5:21 PM UTC
2 am
Land,
luggage,
end reality.
Bad weather means
delayed flight,
glued in tonight
still, adventure
beckons
from glass pane
separating
airport
and
New York City;
Our escape.
5 hours till next flight.
Sheer immensity
of silver obelisks,
so cleanly cut
edges like razorblades,
have grasped our curiosity,
slicing binding adhesive
of bad weather,
anchoring our release
into the cold mist.
We wander beyond
our time limit.
Bright,
despite night.
City never sleeps,
still peaceful
on the other side of day.
Making way
street by street,
exploring what we can
while we can.
The amount of exploring
one gets done
with a time limit.
4 hours
Alleyways,
streets, parallel
zigzag back and forth
up and down.
Some lit,
others
bleeding darkness,
over pouring
with lost souls.
With a clouded sense
of direction,
one tends to find lost
at every corner.
3 hours
Like bugs at night,
we stick to the light.
We strive to make it back
before our time is up.
Nervousness settles in
as sight seeing
becomes partial.
New objective,
return to airport.
Mental maps being yelled
back and forth.
Still nobody knows
which is right.
2 hours left.
Familiar street
or frame of block,
memory shoots through mind
like lightning arcing through the sky
providing the route back
to salvation.
The Scarlet Speedster
known as The Flash
has never known speed
comparable to
my brothers and I
nervously rushing
back to JFK.
With our last hour
we check in our baggage
and board our plane.
Though not our destination,
it would be pointless to pass up
the late night delicacies
of New York City.
Feb 13, 2013
Feb 13, 2013 at 11:21 PM UTC
"Hello baby, how have you been
You know I'm coming back there soon,
I'll get to tell you of things I've seen
As we sit beneath the moon
I miss you so with all my heart
And till we meet again
It's been rough to spend this time apart
So, I will wait until then.
To hold you once more in my arms
And look upon your face
You know I'll keep you safe from harm
You make my heartbeat race
We;ll have our wedding in the churchl that
We were christened in as kids
You know there church where we once sat
And as children we once hid
We'll soon be one when we are wed
Our family has begun
It;ll be like we both said
We;ll be stronger now as one.
You know I miss you every day
But you keep me alive
A safe return to you I pray
It's the goal to which I strive
It's been three years that I've been here
In this hell hole of a war
But I've been strong and shown no fear
With your love at my core
My time is short and I must go
Our squadron has to part
But in two weeks you know I;ll show
The love that's in my heart"
As I look out upon the field
The green grass specked with white
I really think how beautiful
To see this scene so bright
There are those who've come beofre today
and stood here just like me
Of those who come for JFK
Who died in sixty three
You see I am in Arlington
To lay my love to rest
He died when he was fired on
With five more of our best
He wrote me that love letter
Post marked two weeks ago today
Our lives would be much better
When he got home from the fray.
His squad was taken quickly and
Not one of them survived
They're together now on sacred land
And my letter just arrived.
Hello baby, how have you been
You know I'm coming back there soon,
I'll get to tell you of things I've seen
As we sit beneath the moon
I miss you so with all my heart
And till we meet again
But now we're not so far apart
Now he's in Arlington.
May 4, 2012
May 4, 2012 at 10:29 AM UTC
Though the; core of the earth can be measured in Kelvin
What happens on the surface is a negative hell man.
Its a; cold world that we live in
From the government, law enforcement, and politicians.
Everything you do, where you go is like your swimmin’
Piranha on you tail take everything you've been given.
Through the gutters we roam in search of new beginnings.
Man; is this life we live really worth livin’?
Just to find out the when, where and how of your ending?
It’s a; cold world that we follow.
Pushers giving you pills and telling you to swallow.
The pills of conformity, we all had a taste.
Some just got addicted so they feigning for that 8.
Nose stuck on the internet searching for conspiracies.
Illuminati, JFK the whole entire industry.
The media’s agenda is the way we all proceed.
People tread the tail cause they all afraid to lead.
Probably afraid to bleed, to impede on the culture.
Well now it’s time to feed, swarm down hungry vultures.
It’s the; cold world that got us dying.
Fight for your beliefs and end up in an asylum.
You ain’t even gotta riot, to be quiet is a sin.
Yes sir, yes sir, yes sir. Amen
That’s the story that they preach.
Subliminal, under the surface.
Nobody knows the truth so it all seems perfect.
Well...
Does it all seem worth it?
Nov 20, 2011
Nov 20, 2011 at 12:49 PM UTC
On Tuesdays I dream of moon-soaked swims among bay-big moons
Silver saucered jellyfish that ripple through our hands
Wednesday nights are underground-
Straight whiskey at the Cantab beneath a canopy of Marlboros and Parliaments
(I’m imagining the cigarettes-
I’ve always romanticized death)
I only think of Sunfish on Thursdays,
Just a single sheet and us and the water
And the thought that we are propelled by more
Than the wind and less than physics.
Fridays are midnight walks through Central Square-
That tree on JFK by the metal gate,
The cab I chased after. Your jacket.
I awake early on Saturdays to your blue wall
And freshly made yerba, lectures on nonlinear differentials.
On Sundays we sleep late,
Wrapped in sub-letted sheets
Waiting for your lease to end before Sunday does.
The ground is gone on Mondays, the sidewalk on Sydney street has crumbled
I feel first-trimester-morning-sick
And the sky is dinosaur-ending dark, thick with resentment.
On Tuesdays I dream of moon-soaked swims among bay-big moons
Silver saucered jellyfish that ripple through our hands
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 8:52 PM UTC
#20 | 31 Poems for August 2016
I began writing this at exactly 03:58 a.m. on a Sunday morning while listening to Charles de Gaulle to JFK by Bas.
Lately I write my most honest pieces during the early hours of Sunday mornings while everyone is still fast asleep.
Wonder what the view is like from Charles de Gaulle to JFK, 30 000 feet in the air.
But anyway, you and I still got bad blood between us like sickle-cell anaemia.
Reminiscing back when I used to be close friends with a girl named Amelia.
Guess we drifted apart as soon as I moved back to Pretoria, maybe the distance dismantled our friendship.
I’ve decided to do this all alone and if anyone’s coming along then let them come along.
I wish I could drift way with the scent of this cup of coffee but a few minutes from now it’ll be colder than your shoulder.
Always wondered if you’d head to Cape Town to go study at that school of brand leadership we always talked about.
But you chose to stay at the Pretoria campus because of certain unforeseen circumstances.
In 2014 I got accepted but unfortunately the tuition was too high like Wiz Khalifa and my mother couldn’t afford it.
That’s why I may have the perception that dreams delayed will always feel like dreams denied.
I’ve been praying for three whole years for a miracle, adjusted my faith and became more spiritual but still nothing has changed.
Guess I’m just young and unlucky; my hands are freezing and my heart is bleeding.
Navigated through space and time just to find the time to give you space.
Words unspoken make way for a silent devotion, this whole thing hurts but I try my best not to let my emotions show.
Wonder what happened, we suddenly stopped talking several months ago.
Maybe you have changed, I just hope that you’ve changed for the better.
I am slowly falling apart and all I can think about is gathering the pieces of my broken heart together.
Maybe you have changed for the better, I guess no one works that hard to stay the same.
My hands are freezing and my heart is bleeding, this whole thing hurts but I try my best not to let my emotions show.
Aug 20, 2016
Aug 20, 2016 at 10:02 AM UTC
Texas 1959, And today Out of Time
Oswald... The CIA Admits As Role Prime
To Play Lee Harvey... Until the Time
He could be used... And hid behind
The Asassination of Castro He Failed
Still Playing Him along... to their Avail
The Victim of the Ruse.....
Never Realised his Use..... in the End
They Plied him with *****
Hookers and Promises.....
Trips to Cuba and Secret Meetings
A Snipers Rifle with Desperate Leanings
Keeping him fed with Lies
The CIA Cast the Die
Feeling Let down by JFK that Day
Over the "Bay of Pigs"
His Truce they regarded For
A weakness that Moscow
Would Subvert Somehow
For the President Folded
Then Came that Fatal Texas Day
In 1963, Lee Harvey at the Depository
Smiling Waving JFK in a.....
White Lincoln Town Car Parade
The Shot Rang out where he sat
Blood splattered on Jackie's Pillbox Hat
Jack Ruby ready was Very Fast
To make sure the Truth Didn't Last
The CIA Made Numerous Omisions
Of Evidence to the Investigation Commision
Keeping it all Hid away, Till the CIA Historian
Opened the file of Lies, from the day.....
The President Died....................................
All the Work here is licensed under the Name
®SilverSilkenTongue and the © Property of J.Flack
Mar 12, 2016
Mar 12, 2016 at 11:31 PM UTC
I returned from my second trip to Point Pleasant
much like the first
carrying back with me a feeling that I'd left somewhere I belonged
somewhere I had been before
not just once...but many times
perhaps I lived there
100...maybe 500 years earlier
things happen when I return home
the normal oddities that I experience
come rapidly and with more intensity
coincidences are rampant
and the spirit that makes itself known once in a while
becomes very active
a few mornings after my recent return
a glass light cover on the kitchen ceiling
managed to unscrew itself and crash to the floor at 5:00am
a few days later a 1990 ticket stub from a Paul McCartney concert
squirmed from the corner of a framed portrait of The Beatles
that I had hung on my dining room wall next to the table
it somehow bypassed the 6 inches of space between the edge of the table
and the wall...so it didn't merely fall...it leaped
and the numbers...yea, the numbers...111 and 1111
all the time...everywhere
I was watching a video on youtube about the JFK assassination
It was very well done and I was curious to see if it was receiving
a high number of views...when I checked...
his total views at that moment were
111,111
if you visit Point pleasant
stay at the Lowe Hotel
stop at the Mothman Museum
walk alongside the Ohio River and allow yourself to absorb the energy
that is Point Pleasant
and finally...say a prayer for the 46 souls that lost their lives when the Silver Bridge
collapsed in 1967
Jan 4, 2024
Jan 4, 2024 at 11:17 AM UTC
I moved to this country
when I was thirteen or twelve years old
My Dad was semi-proud, semi-sorry
"I've been promoted...
the only thing is we have to move to America"
but all of my friends
but then again... it might not be raining all the time
but I'll miss the rain
don't lie
okay but where in America?
".... Richmond, Virginia."
where?
What state is Virginia in?
"It is a state, near D.C. - the head of the south"
oh great the south,
it was like moving from a farm village
filled with fat xenophobic racists
only to move to an even bigger farming village
filled with fat xenophobic racists
"Well you don't have much of a choice."
So we went on a pilgrimage
to the land of slavery, cowboys, and McDonald's
they didn't have a monarchy
but there were a lot of kings around
JFK airport wasn't much
compared to London
and the traffic down from DC
was absolutely ridiculous
This many people can not possibly
find use out of a truck
why so many traffic lights
and raised cars
We got lost
and drove through a DC ghetto
where I saw TV depictions of "The streets"
for the first time up close
quick close the windows
drive drive drive
We made it to Richmond
in the dead of night
and even then
the skyline across the James
was like low hanging stars
and in the mornings
the James looks like a scene
from a Jack London story
and now I've been here for almost seven years
and the place has grown on me
it's a good balance
of obnoxious redneck republicans
and obnoxious hipster democrats
and some of the prettiest landscapes I've seen
and yeah I'll take Richmond on a summer day
over any other city
Because RVA creates
is on every street light banner
and the feeling permeates through the city
like electricity in the air
making your hair stand up on end
as if to say
Welcome to Richmond
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 1:45 PM UTC
yesterday,
our
calibrated
counting
made
your gruesome
death
an…
anniversary
Nov 23, 2011
Nov 23, 2011 at 5:47 PM UTC