"mayberry" poems
I walk these streets,
of which, I don't belong
Ever carrying the scent of
Death,
and vintage whisky
A visceral and demented
MayBerry hell
Still,
It is here, in which I dwell
Everyone plays their part,
Pays their bills
Me?
A mere ghost
haunting these wooded hills
A house,
I possess
Home,
I lack
I wander
Alone
I belong no where
Everywhere
Just not here
And so.....
I wander
And belong to no one
A wanderess.......
~A
Mar 26, 2017
Mar 26, 2017 at 2:06 PM UTC
We need to quit seeing this world in a liberal or conservative view.
And adjust to a world better for the people.
Fools, which we all are.
Fall for this political stylizing conservative values.
Heck, they cheat.
They lie.
They racist more.
And dictated to by the church.
That's how they get you.
Women realize it's men perspectives being taught.
Which is why a woman might never be Pope.
It will shock the people.
Especially that religion.
Heck, Barack Obama shocked the world.
Then anything possible.
We need to stop seeing it from a liberal view.
Then it mainly because of liberals you able to do the things you do.
Conservatives not big on change.
They stuck on this Mayberry theme.
Still highly afraid of change.
But one thing for sure, they love to call out liberalism quick.
We need to halt seeing this world from and black and white view.
Yes, there are other hues.
The world only comes together when we try to make it better.
Sep 11, 2018
Sep 11, 2018 at 11:04 AM UTC
The stone Angel fascinates me
and repulses me
It stands about 8 feet tall in a fountain
Its made of white fake stone
It pees
He wears a gown and has wings
His white hands gather around his middle holding a far too small water jug
Unless your within 2 feet of it
You can't see the little stone jug
It stands at the Corner of Tennessee Avenue and Beech Street here
*******
in front of an ugly little strip mall
I walk by it and we smile together
That Angel and I
I said to it one day," How lucky you are to get to eternally **** on this MayBerry Hell"
He smiled back
He pees as the children play by
As temporary lovers hold hands
He pees as the old people hobble by with their canes
When giving directions, people here actually say,"You know, it's down by where that Angel pees." ***
Sometimes I wish I were he
Apr 19, 2017
Apr 19, 2017 at 11:35 AM UTC
No two people
ever conceived by God
could possibly be more alike than us
We live our lives in perpetual hope
of Country Time Lemonade commercials
and old reruns of “Leave it to ******
We hope that, around the next bend
on a dusty, sun streaked road
we will find our Mayberry
That place where old men
weighing down sagging porches
speak in parable of better times
That place where young mothers
perpetually in their Sunday best
push strollers edged in brick-a-brack
That place where little boys
have impossibly grass stained knees
at the edge of muddy fishing holes
That place where little girls
pick Black-Eyed Susan's in verdant fields
and play at getting married while the little boys flee in terror
That place where dapper fathers
mow lawns in their shirtsleeves
and tip their pipes to one another in the falling afternoon sun
Together, we dream of this place;
this ideal;
this America.
Together we dream and, together, we continue
down that old dirt road;
hoping to find Mayberry
just around the next bend.
Mar 15, 2010
Mar 15, 2010 at 6:54 PM UTC
My father always told me to do your best But what if my best isn't good enough
A good life is a goal I can't reach
Still from your glass houses you still preach
A stable family life and money isn't something you can't teach
You can hide your flaws behind logo jackets and the newest smart phones
I drag mine across this stage because of a shattered home and these destructive thoughts that keep me from holding my own
Desinger outerwear and a iPhone six can't heal scar or broken bones
A strong male role model or a caring creator would still leave me to roam
So **** the hypocritical south and **** whistling Dixie
I don't think church or pharmaceuticals can fix me
So **** your dreams of Mayberry and this town I'll never miss
So **** the weight I carry and **** my last childhood wish
I could overcome and get away from all of this.
Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 4:51 PM UTC
What if the town of Mayberry wasn’t
Exactly “white”?
Some of it would be of course
But what if most was “not quite?”
And whom?
They all look the same.
The same arms.
The same hands.
Creamy, milky blanched and not exactly pink even in soapy dishwater.
It does explain why there aren’t really any children.
That would give one away
That tawny skin
That curious hair and inky eyes
Aunt Bea, her nose is a little wide perhaps and yet...
Well Sheriff Andy sure can sing and his hair has just the slightest suggestion of a wave.
Otis’s lips are full and plump.
His face is round not square.
He is the most unassuming and
gentlemanly of criminals.
He locks himself up at night when it’s called for.
Sshhh
Is this why everyone is so frozen?
Not one foot put wrong even
in a solemn country way?
The secret getting out?
People wouldn’t understand.
And they’re out there far off by a stream
There could be trouble
And who’s who?
And who’s what?
We sit and watch the glow of quiet spectacle.
The pantomime of the solicitude.
The church raffle.
The apple pie.
The charade where no one knows the answer
If you were uninitiated maybe you would never know.
Imagine the stillness.
Now Opie you stay out of the sun!
But Pa!
I mean it. Now go do as you’re told and get ready for supper.
Oh alright.
They sit quietly around the table
Drinking iced tea and smiling
Nothing’s moving.
You sure know how make a fine piece of
Pie Aunt Bea!
Oh Andy!
No elbows on the table.
Why yes Sir.
Why no Ma’am.
Look, my hair is blond
And my eyes are a funny golden brown
I have a lot of freckles and when it rains
my hair does not know what to do
I wear it in a long braid down my back, tight
Someday I’ll meet a nice blond man and he’ll take me away from here.
I’ll stay out of the sun most days and our children
will be perfect.
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 5:34 PM UTC
a sudden Bonanza viz ****** abuse among
faux Green Acres within Mayberry RFD
now spells showtime for The Avengers, Batman
and Robin to Get Smart
take to heart (what haint no new bob bing beast),
those perpetrators to forsake their Good Times
yet, who determines what constitutes, and how to differentiate
mere kibitzing from unwanted overtures
though most people would concur when
definitive, tangible, verbal assault occurs,
spoiling future Happy Days, yet numerous incidents *** hide
from clear cut serious offences indeed)
rather when details appear nebulous, sketchy, vague,
et cetera defy categorization, giving benefit of doubt to
females or males in question claiming harrassment,
especially when minors testify as adults, asper
major gross indignties (such as pedofilia, date,
incestuous, statutory **** ******
et cetera committed), that occurred years or decades ex post facto
sans molestation, said time delayed contention
must be taken at face value without fail informing
a jury retroactive justice must be must be handed down
to the accuser blatantly, flagrantly, flaunting illegality,
hence fair sentence accordingly adjudicated
insync decreed capital crime abrogated child welfare,
defiling and permanently affecting emotional well being
of said underage youths, as best one
to compensate aggrieved subjects must purge
abominable categorical imperative
asper deliberate wanton (I soup pose), tricked, mislead,
forced to participate unwillingly
risking mental, physical and spiritual health of innocent kid
imposing unforgivable, horrible, execrable misdeeds
irrevocably damaging Lassie or laddie,
which indelibly foisted battering, whereby
even Doctor Marcys Welby M.D. unable to mend
condemning sufferer to psychological Mash pit
triggering Maude lin while Knot's Landing flooded.
Nov 19, 2017
Nov 19, 2017 at 7:59 PM UTC