The hours go by slowly
My eyes are heavy with drugs
No one's around to see this
This hurt, this lying to myself
Please, can someone listen?
I'm finding myself underwater
In a cave where I can barely breathe
A quiet lucidity descends
And I rise
A pine tree lays fallen in a forest
The sky above is black
The air around is littered with a thousand lights
And a buzzing, pulsing
Alien electricity flows through my veins
The rhododendron leaves curve upward
The waterfall is throbbing
And I rise
A life force is hardly essential
In the ghostly barn on the second level
The tresses of her hair fall gently
No more ferns exist
The local bamboo stems from plastic bottles
Red mesh tape resides
And I rise
Pink combat boots melt in the fire
Rocks ring the mats
Wood and rice boil into each other
The old man's beard eats a mouse
Nails scratch a whiteboard
And I rise
Heya laddy, whatcha say?
We can't hear your songs
The red breasted robin weaves a nest
A broom loses its needles
And I rise
The train evades the tracks
White mesh bags float on the ocean
The flames are climbing higher
And I rise
Blue cherries are picked
Purple snails squirm
And I rise
I run up the driveway
And I rise

And I rise

here we sit in the moonlight
Pondering our last fight
Why is pain so hard
My heart needs a bodyguard

Your words hit home
As you ran away to Rome
It was over in seconds
To you my heart beckons

I thought it was all over
‘till she made me play red rover
I was up for repossession
Then I fought them with discretion

Everything started to go
I will never forget you though
She started the healing
Love I begun feeling

Is it wrong to feel love again
Your heart I must obtain

We sit here in the moonlight
Knowing we wont fight
She made me so happy
An Irishman woulda been ‘well done laddy’

So I thank you  for the pain
The sky cleared up after the rain
As if it was telling me
Letting you go was the greatest thing

I want you to kiss me
again and again
just to feel the delicious
love-scrape of your whiskers
against my neck.
Your half-lidded eyes just beg
for me
to desire your innermost dreams

Oh, pomegranate love
bursting with fire-
Let me taint you,
touch you,
give your sunshine competition.
Shudder-
because for me,
you’ll never know the like.

Feel me run inside your veins
Bewitched, you claim?
Oh, laddy love,
you’ll never know for certain
(except for
certainly, you will.)

And if you delight
in the fervor of insanity, darling,
there’s room inside of me.

Oh sweet Scotland
i hear
your fresh
bagpipes glowing
blowing wind
straight across
this quiet shore
keeping birds
in flight
once more
be yea
hornpipes
healing the
soul
listen laddy
this land
i know

they write me:

You know,
when I wrote my 1st poem,
at age 16,
didn't 'Love' it,
just felt it,
had to be said,
was the best way,
to write,
what I was feeling...

Today,
breathe Poetry
like its the only breath I can take,
physically hurt
when
I can't write...

cry, laugh, sigh, gasp
when read others works
but bleed internally
with words
that only make sense
inside a head that's
been bashed
against a wall repeatedly...

funny how emotionally
you can choke upon
a million words that
have no sound,
that can't speak...
It's funny
how you can't say the words
but upon a page they leak,
like a broken pen
in a pocket of a white dress shirt...
funny how the stain hurts...
for it's really not that funny


Reply

Take your message in both hands,
twisting it this way and that,
to the window,
to the spring morn light's clarity,
then to the mirror,
held to my chest,
where it's reversed,
murmuring 'hello old friend,'
this same message
in my files,
written when a
laddy boyo of sixteen

oh how came this message
back to me
so many decades later?

the answer simple,
some stains upon you
are bleach and time resistant,
for who you are,
decades later,
never changes,
and for
some stains,
I am grateful
that this is their,
and our nature too...

I was
the first
to cry
when daddy died
lying there
so peacefully
in his
sweet chariot casket
i give him
so much grief
being the
youngest boy
in the family
always competing
with my older
brothers for
daddy's affection
oh, what
laddy i was
mischief knows
me well
as long as i live
on the face of
this earth,
your son will
earn his due, first
yet prove his worth but
not deny that
i was the
first to cry

Galoot galoof galore
Open the magic door
Tell me
what you know laddy
Piffle twaddle dee dum
Take a good
look at me
Crambazzle and hobbledehoy
We made a magic boy

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                  James Bond Faces Aunt Agatha’s Inquisition

                   No, Mr. Bond, I expect you to REDACTED

                   Rewriting James Bond: Offensive references to be
                   removed from Ian Fleming’s 007 novels | Euronews

Ian Fleming’s novels are *******; that’s the point
Laddy boy books for laddy boys and laddy dads
An escape from duties and domesticities
With the weekly cigar and the weekly glass

The sentencing:

Assign him Jane Austen as his reading list
No car chases, gunfire, or bikinis
Henceforth he may drink only herbal tea
And breathe only candle-scented air

Reduce him to a weakling all pale and harried
And then complain that he’s not the man you married

I was
the first
to cry
when daddy died
lying there
so peacefully
in his
sweet golden casket
i give him
so much grief
being the
youngest boy
in the family
always competing
with my older
brothers for
daddy's affection
oh, what
laddy i was
mischief knows
me well
as long as i live
on the face of
this earth
your son will
earn his due first
and
prove his worth

Come on now run, before it's too late.
Hurry, you don't want to miss this.
Missing your own life, what a terrible fate.
Live forever in the empty abyss.

Run now fast, don't think of you nor he!
Don't stick around, don't worry.
You need this and that.
Oh no don't do that instead.

Run for it or you'll be sorry.
The courtain is up, you'll miss the story.
Oh look on stage, that lady's fat.
She's got barely any hair on her head.

Where are you, look at this glory.
However the part after it got gory.
She's pretending to be fine, with that pet
But what will she ever gain from a rat.

You're still not here, you need to hurry.
I'm coming I'm coming, but I'm seing blurry.
What about this play is so great is what I don't get.
It's horrible it's sad and it's full of dark and red.

It's about a girl that lived too soon.
She regretted every single step.
Dreaming of changing the world, going to the moon.
It's a typical story I'd rather take a nap.

Oh finally you got here, are you ready?
What in the world took you so long.
Always such a bored laddy.
How can you not like the play or the song?

I don't like it and never will.
Never when my own story is told.
It makes me feel like I was standing still.
While everything around me got to unfold.

I ran and ran and now I'm finally here.
But I just realised, it's only about to start.
I don't like long intro's I say with a sneer.
It's hard to set the story appart.

Are you ready for the rest of the story?
Trust me, it'll only get better, you won't be sorry!

galoot galoof galore
open the magic door
tell me
what you know laddy
piffle twiddle dee dum
take a good look at me
crambazzle and hobbledehoy
well well well
we made a magic boy

I was
the first
to cry
when daddy died
lying there
so peacefully
in his
sweet chariot casket
i give him
so much grief
being the
youngest boy
in the family
always competing
with my older
brothers for
daddy's affection
oh, what
laddy i was
mischief knows
me well
as long as i live,
on the face of
this earth,
your son will
earn his due, first
yet, prove his worth

Dry eyed poetry


The night I died I wake up early — 5am — and wipe my withered eyes of sleep —

I peep out the at the dewy green lawn now beaded with moisture —and feel like rolling in the lush flourishing foliate freshly

The morning rain creates crusts of hoarfrost as the sun rays sprays its gay day light bright — into the hot rooftop — top

Leaning over my window sill I smile at the crow barking at the piece of crust I hold tightly —
Windows here are non drafted — non sealed — cracking — leaking — creaking and

I see next door’s open back gate

A deer frolics its way across the parkland and into the forest badlands

Recently I saw a cockroach appear — jumping past quickly as if he knew I was enemy number one

I didn’t try to get it — rather let it go along the way — across the bench and up and into the cupboard — not wanting to assess the mess it might leave after being in there

Bush ‘Dread Zed’ said he would be in the brushwood after ten only he didn’t make it again
Decorated and funny he lacks punctuality and reliability — erasing points off of my mindful mentality tokenistic consciousness

He left a gas map — mishap — catnap — fat-snack for the girl with the large rap — *** — sat —in her lap — Cat — a friend of mine who I occasionally sleep with

Gyani and Tao exercises for the limber and supple take out the late afternoon not quite as rough as past classes

Little do I have left of my Iyengar yoga instruction I did for over ten yearsor over ten years

Agile as a jaunty kid of eight I stretched — up — doing the crab — better than everyone else in the class — down into a headstand holding for over fifteen minutes then pitch a perfect posture poised in plain sight for everyone to see

The instructor liked to push us

But that was a while ago and existing (time) takes on a different meaning as you grow older

It appears as an extra second of life that you must have had but can barely imagine nor remember doing or living

Or driving in — or dancing with— or gallivanting over — or jumping out of the box— or stuck inside the head— or in a blank space —
Maybe just around the corner and back —
Clued to be fed up with exhaustion and desire to change — sometime — when?

Tommy draws a picture of tomorrow evening at dusk— wild eyed and smart I like him a ton —
I feel his head slump on my shoulder and tears flow from his pretty face — ***** dawny fawny drawny — until morn — down his cheek — like salty sea anemone

Hanging for a hit
Gear is easy to come by here
Otherwise you would go
mad

Insane language is spoken by the tongue of Eastern Europe — Old Czech Republic — Croatians — mixed with cheap red wine makes crazed gloating girlfriends scatter — plot the data in a bottle and fly away

Some folk say things like ‘don’t change’ when they really mean
‘I wish you would alter your clothes’

Sam dances around me like a dervish
A special man who was at the *** end — break up — early of his laddy to go
Futile bit — **** of a little kiddie — exited

Poor sore raw roar furore More tears are fraught with gaunt ****** leanings — meaning seeming yearning — gone boyo of 15 —

Sam reminds me of an older woman — wise wizened—

Grown men cry too during a

Guffaw — **** taking falling off hopping laughter

The end of the story


Mimi Bordeaux February 11 2025

Missed the mark, aw
I can't verbalize a visual
if I nock and draw
comprehend this visceral vitriol slack-jawed
I can victimize individuals with knock knock law
utilize your futile lives to ask who's there, ****
ding **** ditch, upcreek, just missed, to whom it concerns
I am philosophically fluid, blue devils could reach into my pool of words and pull a charge through it, but I hide my true self in pieces, keep my voices eclectic, if you think you know who I am from Adam, why are you a fan, I'm already the Hoover Dam, I'm hydroelectric
my wiring is just that way, I'm cynical enough to inhale in a vacuum, ******* the life out of living just for the power to stay
I'm an educated typist, simple in all aspects, adamant that little things hurt longer inside like I swallowed Atom Ant, letting go isn't in my blood, I'll break if I have to, but give up? I just can't
arrows point for the oblivious and help the lost, bullseyes glaze over tiredly as they graze peacefully or glare intensely, arrowheads that follow horns, spring of battle in the ground, that follow the kicking, snorting, charging, and unrelenting sound
a feather in your cap, shoot an apple off a chapel, topple into a hungry laddy's lap, give a kite and key a light tap, wake sleeping minds up from their nap, do not sup, sip sap from sleepy roots of wisdom, applaud, do not clap for the conditioned cheers of genius in its kingdom
now, after you have held everything taut for so long, so strong and confident that you know, merely point it in a direction and let it all go.

I was the first to cry
when daddy died
lying there so peacefully
in his golden casket
yet, I give him so much grief
being the youngest boy
in the family
always competing with my older
brothers for Daddy's affection
oh, what laddy I was back then
mischief knows me well
as long as I live,
on the face of this earth,
your son will earn his due, first
yet, prove his worth