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Caroline Shank Jul 2022
Lineman

You ride the poles of my
electric memory.  I feel
your grip on the wires
of my need.

I mourne at last your
absence.  The pulse
Is faint now.  You will climb
the last time soon
to dry the lines, wipe
the torn wires

and stop the
pulsing
of
your

aching name.

The pounding code
of a life

overturned.



Caroline Shank
Chuck Jan 2013
Do not utter a syllable
For the reaper lurks at the door
Dim the lights as our eyes are widened  
Sit in a desperate, huddled mass
Feel the shivering, helpless creature on the left
Hear my traitorous lungs exhaling, surrendering my position
My heart pounding, screaming at my body
Ordering me to run, to fight, to ****
"Do not go gentle into that good night,"
As Dylan Thomas so elegantly stated
Yet it is not a time for romantic visions of heroism
Beowulf's idealism will not save us here
Sobbing, shivering, ***** stained American Eagle
Sweat drenched Under Amour Tees and hoodies
Feet ironically quivering in red and orange Nike Shocks
A 243 pound lineman blubbering under his breath
He wants his mother, his daddy, his pillow, to go home
Another boy, Darrel, clenches his fists, readies for attack
Cassidy sits silently, emotionless, statuesque, frozen in time
And I . . . What do I do? . . . What do I do?
Do I flinch like Sir Gawain in the face of death?
Or do I . . . . . . What do I do?
God, may I never discover the answer to this evil query
God help us stop the violence consuming innocent children
Render CODE RED obsolete
Yet, CODE RED will parish not
For society feeds on fictional fame
Fifteen minutes that Warhol never could have painted
Now it will be duplicated like so many Campbell's Soup cans
CODE RED    CODE RED    CODE RED   CODE RED  
And . . . What will I do?
What will I do?
Upon practicing safety drills in a high school
JJ Hutton Dec 2012
I'll probably go visit my parents on Thanksgiving. I'd hate to miss the way my father nods at my mother's sisters and brothers then steps backward into the shadows until he becomes them. We're having the mess at my aunt's in Seminole. Dad always drives separately. He makes his escape without saying goodbye. Leaving my mother, my sister, my brother, and I to explain the hermit.

I never ride with him. Haven't rode in a car -- just him and I -- since high school. I would lay my head against passenger window. Listen to tires press gravel deeper into the red earth. He never asked my thoughts on God, though a minister. He never asked about my classes, though a former teacher. He never asked about girls, though my father. Glen Campbell, however, he'd talk about Glen Campbell. Claimed I always looked like him. When I was a child, he'd even part my hair sharply and take pictures. What a good, little Glen Campbell. If he took his eyes off the road long enough to hone in on a power line, "Wichita Lineman" inevitably became the topic of conversation. That song would delta off into "Rhinestone Cowboy," "Gentle on My Mind," "By the Time I Get to Phoenix." Soon we'd be in town, knowing each other no better than before the departure. But we arrived. That's something.

To this day, no occasion could coerce me into parting my hair. With the exception of Mr. Campbell's funeral of course.

Tim will love your family. As I did. Still do. I thought he might only be a consolation, but looks like he's a trophy. Happy Thanksgiving, Ms. Anna Prine. I thank you. The fowl of the air thank you. The beasts of the field thank you. Tell them they're welcome.
Anais Vionet Oct 2023
It’s Sunday afternoon and several of us, Leong, Sunny, Anna, Lisa and her new BF Dave (well, he isn’t ‘new,’ he’s 26) and I are watching an NFL football game. The Eagles vs the Jets.

There’s a platter of wings, fries, celery and dips on the low-white table for grazing and everyone’s multitasking while watching the game. Leong, Lisa and I on iPads, Anna, and Dave are on laptops and Sunny has a book.

I’m rooting for the Jets, although they’re the underdogs and given little chance. Dave’s for the Eagles, he believes they’re SuperBowl bound and he may be right.

After every good Jets play, like a first down, or defensive tackle or a score, I start snapping my finger - like the dancing Jet hoodlums in ‘West Side Story’ and sing:

“When you're a Jet,
you’re a Jet all your life
all your kids will be Jets
and even your wife.”

When I did it the first time, Dave chuckled. Lisa patted his arm, saying, “You’ll get used to it.” I’ve only done it twenty or thirty times since then and everyone’s ignoring me.

“I could be a songwriter, you know,” I said, “just give up this life of college drudgery and hang with T-Swift”. No one denied my obvious talent.

A huge Eagles lineman bust through the Jets o-line, throwing QB Zach Wilson to the turf, “Jeez,” Anna said.
“That guy’s not an Eagle,” I protested indignantly, “he’s a condor.” I was hoping for a flag but none were thrown.

“I want some steak”, I announced suddenly, to no one and everybody, switching subjects as quickly as a brain synapse fires.
“Do you know,” I reasoned extemporaneously, “that a diet of nothing but healthy prime-rib or ribeye steak can practically eliminate the chance of coming down with mad-lettuce-disease?”

“Mad-lettuce-disease?” Sunny asked, looking up from her book with a smirk.
“Middle America,” I began, Leong groaned and Lisa rolled her eyes at Dave, who smiled.
“That’s where all our vegetables come from,” I said, “the red states on the electoral maps,” I clarified even further.

“Well, how can we explain simple, decent, hard-working people falling in love with a lying, craven, reality-TV huckster like Trump?” I asked rhetorically,  looking around for an answer. When no answer was forthcoming, I supplied it:
“Mad-lettuce-disease!” I proclaimed, “Those people are eating the ‘vegetables’ they grow!” Giving the word ‘vegetables’ the same scorn I might lavish on ‘cigarettes’.

“If we all just stuck to a healthy, all-steak diet, ‘Mad-lettuce-disease’ would fade away and America would be saved.” I concluded, like a lawyer finishing a summation to a jury.
I expected applause, or at least a few “Amens” but there were only a few grunts and maybe a chuckle.

On the screen, the Jets defense broke through the Eagles o-line and quarterback Jalen Hurts, under pressure, threw an interception. I jumped to my feet yelling,“YES!” and begin snapping again:

“When you're a Jet
you’re a Jet all the way
from your first sorry breath
to your last dying day”

I love football, and the Jets won!
Sam Temple Oct 2015
how on earth
could steaming squash and Brussel sprouts
be as good as Doritos and a soft serve swirl…
sure, I desire to be a healthy old man
but my taste buds wish me dead at 45
they long for sweet wheat and extra large
portions of meat
indiscrete feedings at fried food buffets
all the while maintaining the look of a fella
only slightly over-weight
…..still, I feel poorly
headaches and joint pain
racing brain and an inability to refrain
from the foods that are doing this to me
I never thought after conquering
8 years of ****** addiction
and 15 years a tobacco ******
that candy bars would be my greatest foe
forget candy bars
let’s talk bread….
loaves of sourdough golden roasted
rye to die for
and cinnamon…rolls,
banana or zucchini
sprinkled on toast with a touch of sugar …
it is no wonder I am larger than need be
the BMI calculator says I am 84 pounds
from defeating obesity
so much for my professional lineman physique –
Thibaut V Jul 2014
Physics cant fix it
I need a chemist
I appreciate the limits
and entropy

chaperoning heliocentrism
I captured that cat
with whiskers painted on
like a football player
you are a quarter back
but either way a star
but I am a lineman
and take the hits.

this is all intentional.
and this isn't.

Is this seclusion or am I being seduced
I am Ostracized
but yet you move to the other side of the room
it easy to see how I am confused
when you make all the calls
and yet I’d be expected to call you.
There is love to be found in all sorts of places- and it all makes sense. And yet often I find the love I try to share with other people is always out of order- and never functions.

The first lines emphasize an understanding with physics- that it studies more or less how things work- but mostly constants- e.g. gravity- things that we cannot change (essentialism)- but in regards to relationships- people change and so chemistry would be a more appropriate science of love as it is about how things react. Instead I need a chemist (english pharmacist) to fix the "chemistry" between us. Chaperoning heliocentrism is a reference to galileo's theory of the earth revolving around the sun- something that he was punished for believing (to go hand in had with the line before). I chaperone this thought- in the respect that my previous relationship was one that I looked after someone I cared for - and in doing so even disrespected myself. To chaperone one- is not an equal or balanced relationship in my mind as it exemplifies the parent- child relationship - not one of a more intimate status. Typically in the united states a quarter back is known as the football star- this is referencing the previous line about heliocentrism as this girl to me was my star and my world revolved around her. The middle bit about intentions - offers an understanding of the previous lines- how love relative to sports-science- and other topics make sense (intentional)- and the last lines that are more explicit and emphasize how my love didn't make sense (unintentional)- also the randomness of the that line- suggest the "entropy" of how random people are in regards to which ways they will get along.

The last lines suggest how I feel currently about this situation with this person- are you angry with me- and never want to talk again? (seclusion) or are you trying to play hard to get? (seducing me). She ultimately told me to *******- and yet she has separated herself from me. In this relationship I had- I gave all the power of what was happening between us to her- and yet I was meant to make the proposition of something serious. Our love did not work out. There is thus love in every topic - except the the ones you want.
Eva Burke May 2014
There once was a *****,
Who had a cousin named Mitch,
And ate and ate and ate,
She ate so much,
She ate her clutch,
And pretty much everything else.
One day this girl,
Started to hurl,
And a problem did arise,
She puked and puked and soon she started to despise,
Herself and others, chickens and mothers,
Even her best friend Siena.
Years have past and turkeys don''t last long past Thanksgiving,
A ****, a *****, and quite a bore, how can she keep living?
Now you see, what a B---- she can really be,
This poems not about a lineman,
It's a about a horrible girl named Sam Steinman.
Sebastian VL Mar 2020
Super Saiyan like Goku
Japanese got Nobu
Got things to blow through
Soul searching eat soul food

Lineman said go blue
Know things I know too
Cough down got the flu
'Rona season ye they knew

Hit a lick and they rich now
Kobe shooting bricks now
Make music you call sounds
Shorty go two rounds

Henny Henny on the flip town
Jealousy they talk about
I don't really give a **** now
I just wanna blow it up now

Someone come roll spliffs
6ix God go views this
Air punching got no fists
I just feel so diff

Get rich and go dip
Pinking I go swim
Jelly jelly got no diss
****** like solstice

Don't want to lose connect
Dripping down like a faucet
I just want to be blessed
Late sleep feel too stressed

Situations go reflect
"**** my ex" is a reflex
I just want two things
Big money and respect

East to side to the rex
Play smart got no decks
Aces  up next
Need a queen be the best

Whip around in my X
Flex on my ex
Check time Rolex
Get "I miss you" texts
This poem is a rhythmic work of art that flows to the instrumental of "B.S" by Jhene Aiko Ft. H.E.R. It is a personal poem based on my past gastronomical, athletic, romantic, and impactful experiences. Constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated. Have a good day. :)
Ma Cherie Sep 2016
Like the changing seasons
    when you leave I fall
into the beautiful
Melancholy
of yesterday's rain
  as Red Cap
   by Louie Armstrong plays
in a dark mellow, yellow
smooth...or
rough sounding,
  yet lovely fanfareish finish
  sounds of a Witchita
lineman still
on the line
hanging on
lingering
 heavy on my mind
  reminded of
    smells down sweetened
         cigar smelling tracks
          tastes of honey & Whiskey
           forget a word said wrong
            a note not hit or played
             disregard word unsaid
            forgive a thoughtless word
            my imperfect mind
          I overheard myself
         or you saying
        as we're laying,
       playing
        in the sun
       Jazz....pizzazz
       Oh, ah...yeah,
        working
         on the chain...
          ohhh ahhhh....
         ewwwww ...waaaa...
      help me sing it
   bring it
   waaa..oooOo
  Oh yeah,
   one more time
  everybody
let me here you
better go now
you can
show me
how
  hey
    Yeah....
    Sam Cooke
      singing
        Gospel
        sayin'
       thank you
        for
          the
         beautiful
           and the
              bitter
                sweetness
                 of the
                 time we
                  shared
                  is leaving.
                




      Cherie Nolan © 2016
Random, this is supposed to be a big thank you to everyone at HP I don't know where my notes went!!! No idea where this came from truly inspired thank you to everyone hope you're having a beautiful day with love from the hills of my Vermont!
JP May 2016
walking on a railway track
her words and gestures
never understood my love
waiting for the lineman
to unite us …. to change
the nature of our life
for a minutes
to understand each other…
A ride today in Des Moines
that appraise law and counteract
any that country may enact
where Wichita lineman forthwith

and mackinaw shall really embellish
furthermore with Granny Smith
awhile down stream on a riverboat
that foregoing is never behind

where a river is always wide
and bourgeois with a paddle wheel stride
why his atropine smile
reach the delta with such desire
and let him take the home route

in an abode of parish shanty
where river dance makes day long  
a simple beast, a man

with chinchilla wrap round his neck
that sweep her off flourishing deck
these stratospheric ideals now  
for sovereign witness entail campaign.
MARK RIORDAN Aug 2017
GLEN CAMPBELL HAS PASSED AWAY
HE WAS THE RHINESTONE COWBOY
HE HAD STYLE CHARACTER AND WIT
BUT MOST OF ALL TRUE GRIT  



I WILL MEET YOU AT BONAPARTE'S RETREAT
I AM THE WICHITA LINEMAN
HIS MUSIC WILL STAY IN OUR HEART
BECAUSE ALL HIS SONGS WE LIKED THEM



THERE ARE SINGERS IN THE WORLD AND THEN
SUPERSTARS THAT JUST PASS BY
BUT TOO LOSE GLEN CAMPBELL
MAKES MY BEATING HEART CRY


A TRUE MUSIC LEGEND
ONE OF THE GREATEST SUPERSTARS OF OUR TIME HAS PASSED AWAY. GLEN CAMPBELL HIS MUSIC WAS HONEST TRUE AND MADE YOUR HEART SMILE. HE HAD TRUE GRIT  !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Charles Sturies Jun 2017
Sandt Amaro and Karl Spooner on the old Brooklyn Dodgers.

My 2 all-time favorite players of my favorite team the Yankees are
an putfielder acquired in a transaction Vernon Webb
and the Rookie of the Year for, I believe, 1957
an outfielder first baseman Norm Cisbern.

My 2 favorite all-time Illinois basketball players were sixth men Ed Perez and Joseph Bertrand.

My 2 favorite all-time Detroit Lions are Bobby Cayne and Pork Walker with Ces Bingaman a nice third.

My favorite all-time Cleveland Browns are Otto Graham and Frank Gatsby.

My all-time 2 favorite Chicago Bulls are Michael Jordan and Dave Corzine.

Mordern-day-wise, I like Parig of the LA Dodgers, Steven Aren who last I saw was with the Washington Nationals, and in modern Illini football I loved Monty Wilson. He hit so hard and the sound of a prize recruit who never got in on a game. D'Angelo McGary and I liked the sound of the name. Duane Brantley who was a large for the time offensive lineman out of Chicago wo dropped out before he had a chance to play.

This is just scratching the surface, I guess, since I'm not into the star system per se.
Charles Sturies
POSSIBLE Jun 2019
.


I’ll fast for the right word
I’ll stay still patient
yoga moving
mesa mental

I would give it all, sacrifice the self
take the leap take the fall
grasp the dream
curtain, rail, and all
falling like the rain
collected love is a blessing
but only when it’s given freely

holding on means I’m ever stressing
Always guessing,

only known :

no͓̰͍͠ ̭͔͙̥͓̤̺̕e͈͚̩̼y̪͞és̹ ̵͚͇̼̤͈
̫̭̟̲͚̞͝
̰ͅn͎͎̲̗̼̙̕ͅo̭̲̦͓͍ ̙̬͕h͉̼͎ear͏̩͓̹̥̰͕ͅt
͞
̺̕n̫̥ó̳̩̞͓̗̪̩ ̮̹̪̝m̢̭͖̟̳͖ͅḭ̪̼̪̦ͅn̘͞d̟̜̫͇
̲̟͚̖̼
̡̼̥n̜̩͕ò̟̲̼̩̻̲ ͡i̤̥̟̤͠

When we write are we fighting
against emptiness, Qi lightning
spreads through pages hand signing

Put it all on the line
like the Wichita lineman

Now you,
finished the entire line
Literate
like you the one who wrote it
Deliberate
like you the one who chose it
Free State
cause nobody can own it

Divine Griming it
trophy pwn the tone man
I admit
I’m a goofy grown man

life set to simple stages
meant to understand
here for truth nothing less
water solvent drip away fantasies

On a quest

I’m a stones throw from
ingesting strategies
breathing in breast
breathin' the best

Never miss
if you stay on point ,
laser made joint
pearled
like it’s late boy
3am
the left hand never rests
plates spinning
focus hard prayer breathe

Bhakti worship amidst the lair
screaming banshee just kissed my hair
divine shakti script the player
Pocket burning, better pay her

Direct pressure stop the bleeding

Lights appear
Lost in Meaning

....but then
just like that

the prayer stops.
James M Vines Sep 2015
The teams were matched up and the game had been hard fought. Both sides were tired and sweat poured off of everyone. Every piece of ground and every point had been earned with sacrifice and pain. There was 18 seconds left in double overtime and the next play would decide the game. From 40 yards out a tired you man took sight of the ball. This was it, this was the kick that would tell them all. If the tie would be broken or would the game end in a draw, no one new what to expect no one could make the call. As the stadium filled with a hushed silence, the lineman hiked the ball. The place kicker set up the kick and the kicker let it fly, but just as ball was let loose spiraling into the air, it came crashing to the ground and was running away from the field. For what had went unnoticed from the sidelines and what everyone had forgot, was a Golden Retriever named Alex, that was the home teams mascot. Doing what he had been taught to do a thousand times before, it was his favorite half time trick, with it the Hunter dogs would always score. So free from his leash, he rushed the field and true to his call, Alex stopped the game as he retrieved the ball. No one will remember the hard work that went into that game, but you can be sure that they will remember Alex's name. For in that one viral moment you can almost bet, that funny dog will forever be seen on the internet.
TOD HOWARD HAWKS Apr 2020
We had a special play for the game against Highland
Park. It was called 36X. After some razzle-dazzle in
the backfield, Mike Gentry got the ball and ran 65 yards
for the winning touchdown. Frank Sewell was a power-
ful lineman--the center, actually. I played linebacker
on defense, and I was lucky, because I played right
behind right tackle, Ted Melinick, who wound up
getting a full football scholarship to KU (the University
of Kansas). My best friend, Ralph "Sandy" Sandmeyer,
half the size of Melinck, but the most tenacious lineman
on the team, was elected co-captain. I was the other one.

It matters not at what level you play. What matters are
the memories that stay with you for a lifetime--the snapshot
memories of special moments that flash through your
mind for the rest of your days. The camaraderie of your
teammates, particular plays--tackles, touchdown runs,
interceptions, even injuries you sustain--all form an
indelible montage. My favorite memory was the one
where, as a wide-receiver on offense, I went into the
flat to catch a pass, but was intercepted by Loyce Bailey.
I jumped on his back to tackle him, but he rode me like
a saddle for 40 yards. Loyce happened to be black, and
therefore lived in the black ghetto on the east side of
Topeka. He was also the best athlete in all of Topeka.
Bailey, like Melinick, got a full ride to KU to play foot-
ball. He was their starting saftey.

Several decades later, I saw Loyce again, this time at a
reunion. I reminisced with him about my futile attempt
to tackle him. He remembered the play, and we both
laughed loud and hard. We gave each other a big hug.
Another indelible memory.  

Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks
A graduate of Andover and Columbia College, Columbia University, Tod Howard Hawks has been a poet, a novelist, and a human-rights advocate his entire adult life.
Lawrence Hall Dec 2017
The Desperate Princewives in Toronto

On Christmas eve a lineman hoists herself
Far up into the blowing ice to mend
The power that keeps our children warm at night
While waiting for good Santa Claus to come

On Christmas Day a cop patrols the streets
Alone against snipers with ‘47s
Keeping us safe while we grumble about cops
She’s left her children with her mom to watch

The morning after Christmas another mom
Jump-starts her ten-year-old car so she can drive
The slushy streets to her shift at Dairy Queen
For her career ladder at the deep fryer

In a studio in Canada two men
Well-guarded by their secret services
Well-fed, well-dressed well-chauffeured in their ‘zines
Escorted, piloted, guided, scripted

Express their happiness that working folk
Are wealthier and healthier than ever
Bobby Copeland Sep 2018
I've never known a poet who didn't
Wish at least most of the time that he could
Be a lineman, say, or else a fireman,
Even better, rescuing animals
And people discovered in a bad way,
Or perhaps a musician, for whom words
Are always buried in a dying song.
But tonight I envy the sweeper, whose
New machine cost eighty grand and flashes
A yellow light at five miles an hour
Up and down Olive Street, where I abide.
I'd wear headphones and smoke a pipe, I would,
And the world would be cleaner when people
Awake. Instead i've lost the urge to sleep
And cannot be persuaded by the pills
Or longing spent earlier in the dark.
I'm settled in, content to mark the time
From sun to sun, while no cars pass this house,
With pent up language of a modest sage,
Renouncing what the night has said, just me
And this steely-eyed old man who's run his
Rig on every street in town, both up at
3 A.M. and he's the one getting paid.
ZACK GRAM May 6
Over sieze i **** in a bottle
Now we in the brothel
***** Gothem
Cant stop You
Beyone an Kim Kardashian
Ill Drop Big Bs
You think Diddy an Orlando
NICK CANNON
Nicelodian Epstein
Island Boys
All Just So Zack And
ZACK AND 10 MILL
tiny money
Lucas MLKJ
**** A Motel Ya
Richest King Mankind
Deadly Habbits
BACKGROUNDS
E5 5 star Retired
Tornado EarthQuake Hurricane
40 Deep G Sorry
IM NOT MAD
I WILL DESUNTEGRATE EVERY POSITION
COPS PAYED OFF
I VOTED NO COVID MASK
MO ****** MO HURDA
WEST CENTRAL BUILT
BUILT LINEMAN ROUGH
YOU ******* HIT DIFFERENT FISHES
M
O
B
B
Dont **** with me
**** me or killers die instantly
Trump 2024 drop
#Notes
Chuck Kean Apr 2020
I Couldn’t Stop The Tears

   Well it’s no secret, I love KISS
But that’s not all of me
There’s so much more that I love
So I wanna make my decree

I grew up in the seventies
It was the decade of the best
From my metal to easy listening and
Country and folk they all past the test

Yes I absolutely love my KISS and
Alice Cooper, Poison and AC/DC
My Nazareth and Stryper and DOKKEN
And Rush, good stuff I hope you agree

But there’s so much more music
I have in my heart and my head
Like Jim Croce, James Taylor, Dr Hook
Bob Seger  and America and Bread

I cannot forget to mention the
Beach boys and Beatles and Elvis too
And some country George Straight and
George Jones could leave ya blue

And last night I watched I’ll be me
Glen Campbell’s finale tour
A documentary about his struggle with
Alzheimer’s and the tears did pour

And now the lyrics are haunting me
I can still hear them whine
I’m the Wichita Lineman
And I’m still on the line

For the memories of it all came flooding
Back and reminded of those years
And yes I will admit I was just a big baby
For I couldn’t stop the tears

Written By:Charles Kean
Copyright © 04/25/2020
All rights reserved

— The End —