"micheal" poems
You ask me if I'm okay
And I can't even tell you
Because the words break in my throat
Like waves crashing against the cliffside.
How can I look at something I knew
Like a scientific conviction
And believed in with a faith
Stronger than that of god,
And choke out the words,
"How could i still love you,
Through all this pain you've caused?"
I've always been broken,
Something that I've accepted
Like the knowledge that the sun comes up each morning
And goes back down at night.
I never asked for any of it,
And never asked anyone but God and Archangel Micheal
For help.
But you heard the echo of my plea,
And mistook it for a cry for your help.
I never asked it of you
Yet you acted as if I expected you to stop your life
To find and mend the pieces.
In reality,
All I asked for was your support as a friend.
But even that was too much.
Instead,
You ignored me.
Me and my pain.
Maybe you didn't want to deal with it,
And I can assure you that I did not.
But you made me a million promises
And broke every single one.
I suppose you did it to protect yourself,
And through everything,
I've learned that from you.
I've learned to fight for my soul too.
So now I begin writing my goodbyes
Which will probably come to you in a thousand fragments.
But this is it.
The pain and anger over the last 6 months was heart shattering.
I've come to resent you.
For loving you so much that I can't tell you I can't love you anymore.
And even though I cherish and love
The people who laid next to me when I was sick..
Who never left or judged or pitied..
Who were just..
There...
It will hurt every time someone mentions your name
Until the day I die.
And even when they shower me in the light of their smiles,
I will miss you like a bad habit,
And yearn to see your eyes
Like the steely kiss of cold metal on my wrist.
Aug 7, 2014
Aug 7, 2014 at 2:00 AM UTC
In toasting Mike I recollect
His steady watching gaze,
I recollect his calm
On a thousand stormy days.
I recall his jaunty humour
In his funny cockney style,
And the rationale behind it
And the pleasure of his smile.
And the quiet determination
In the steeliness within
And the love that emanated
When his Jules laughed loud with him.
When he held her hand and strolled
In the life they shared as one,
In the racket of the grand kids
As they shout and leap and run.
Through the years of hardy seamanship
From England's chalky reach,
Across the ocean's vastness
To far antipodean beach,
To the soft greens of New Zealand
And the promise of this land
And the shining eyes of Jules
When he offered her his hand.
And the life they shared together
Through the joy, the strain the tears
The utter joy of baby Kristin
And her beauty through the years.
The seamlessness of craftmanship
In tradesman's art supreme
And the pride of his achievement
In a sweet successful dream.
A chasm has appeared in life
Where old Mike used to be.
Dreadfull death has exercised
It's right to set him free.
But I can't feel bad for Micheal
For the brilliance of it all
Is celebration of his life well lived
And my toast to judgement's call.
Marshalg
@theBach
Mangere Bridge
10 January 2010.
Jan 10, 2010
Jan 10, 2010 at 6:51 AM UTC
I am so afraid of becoming White Collar Micheal.
He likes to act like his life is so hopelessly blightful, because his name is White Collar Micheal.
On the weekend, he throws on a tie-dye.
Goes from Business Man, to Mr. Nice Guy?
Deep down you know it's a facade, aka,
Your big life's a big lie.
He does so many uppers you may as well call it the tweekend.
He fills his mind with illusions of grandeur.
I look at him and think "you need to be a man first."
Instead of filling my head with candy and dreams, I face my demons.
And it's utterly delightful because I know I will never become a
White Collar Micheal.
Dec 26, 2018
Dec 26, 2018 at 5:48 PM UTC
A man with a big black eye strides down the street
People nearly come to a full stop when they pass him
The man keeps walking, head up, confident as can be
People whisper and stare, some even point
"Wonder what happened to him," one man whispers to his girlfriend
"He probably deserved it," the girlfriend says
Yesterday, the man came home from work
He didn't have a black eye then
He loosened his tie and made some coffee
And his cell phone rang so he picked it up
"Michael, you have to get over here," the desperate voice breathed
So Micheal put down his mug, grabbed his keys and rushed out the door
When Michael got to his destination, he rushed to the front door and knocked on it
He knocked and knocked but no one answered
Then he heard the screaming
So he lifted his foot and kicked the door in
His girlfriend was screaming
Her ex-boyfriend had apparently decided to pay her a visit
Her ex was a big guy, tattoos littered his massive arms
And he had Michael's girlfriend by her hair, yanking her down, dragging her around
Michael quickly approached, the ex swung his elbow around
Smacked Michael's eye and Michael hit the ground
But when Michael got back up, he brought with him his own limbs
And struck his girlfriend's ex until he no longer knew the meaning of sin
Dec 7, 2012
Dec 7, 2012 at 8:00 AM UTC
In January 2015, my country said Happy New Year in the form of an Oklahoma cop
that stopped my brother and I for driving while black
This is an open letter to him
I never thought I would say this to a real cop, but **** the police
**** what you say, you did not pull us over because we were following to close
You pulled over a family of black men that have proudly served this country founded on the belief that I can die because 1/3 of my life doesn’t matter
But I gave you the benefit of the doubt
and calmly placed my trembling hands on my thighs on the side of I-40
waiting for you to waste my time
You immediately asked my brother to step out of the car so you could explain why you stopped us
I immediately had flashbacks of hands up don’t shoot and i can’t breathe
I had open-eyed nightmares of skittles and black sweatshirts
I had an image in my mind of Emmitt Till’s open casket, and I saw my brother’s face
I saw my brothers blood caked under your fingernails as you walked away
Because you always seem to get away
When I think of Trayvon Martin, Micheal Brown, Rodney King, Emmitt Till, and all the fallen members of my race
They are each reminders that I am never too far away from being one of them too
I am never too far from being made an example
However, you couldn’t find a reason to justify putting us in jail cells that are marked for colored only
You seemed dissatisfied that you found two black males that oddly enough, didn’t fit the description
You so badly wanted to put us back in our place when we never fell out of line,
none of us has ever fallen out of line
You may one day get this message and think there goes another angry *****
But mr simpleton let me explain
Being angry and being hurt have the exact same feeling
Make the exact same sound
And cry the exact same tears
So it's easy to see how you could get confused
Somehow you see my race as a threat to this image of a life you already live
White privilege is the health insurance plan that gave you coverage specifically because you have a preexisting condition
My people will continue to make strides in this most free of nations
Yet to you we will always be inferior
And for that i pity you
You see I could go on about how you were wrong
About how you are just another terrorist wearing the uniform of someone who is supposed to protect Americans just like me
But you will never be worth my time
May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 2:15 PM UTC
Music is my Muse
From the funky jazz tempo
To the sounds of salsa
From the classical rock
To the alternative basses
From the Opera Lady's bellow
To the Tenors solo
From the 80's slow jamz
To them 50's swinging bands,
To them country folk songs
To those old folks blues
Music is my Muse,
My inspiration,
Being Black&Puerto; Rican
I- A NuYorican,
I've heard the best tunes,
Bahchata's & Merengue,
Bailes La Cumbias,
Like Macr Anthony &
oh how he sang to me,
My wanting
to rock with you like
Micheal Jackson-
To Vanilla's
Ice Ice Baby,
It's yo thang do what you wanna do,
Candy coated Rain drops
By Soul For Real,
& When will I see you Again-
Babyface
Until I muse
in my amusement
When Tim McGraw
Sanged don't take the girl,
Reba "Asking Does
He love me like
he's been loving YOU",
To its my prerogative
Like Bobbi Brown said,
Let not for get
Johnny Cash,
Or what About them
O'Jays
Yeah my muse is musical-
Music and thinking artfully
coincides with one another,
with breathing and eating
Rhyme & Rhythm linguistics
even as we walk down the street
or cruising
while jamming in ya car,
LL Cool J said Cars drive
by with the booming Systems-
AH Push it was
My jam back in the day
R&B; Was mostly what I liked
But growing Up
I started listening to
Rock & Hip Hop,
Got drunk off those sweet
Monster Ballads
while Making love
to Sade,
Sung All Cried Out
at my graduation party,
Tony Toni Tone
Made Us-FEEL GOOD YEAH
at all them block parties
back in NYC,
Now
I listen to everything
going on 33
heard it through the grape vine
that YOU share
a likeness in this Musing?
Music is My Muse.
Always Me Ayeshah
Mar 8, 2010
Mar 8, 2010 at 5:02 PM UTC
Anthony and Mark reading a poem on Saturn
You see fellas we are both out of the problem planet earth
And I can tell you, that I am glad and so is my mate Mark
As soon as Mark died he went straight to Saturn
And said hi Anthony, how's it going
I said the medications got you to
Well, mate now you are safe away from people who can harm you
They will never get you again
I will make sure your safe, and you will feel safe
If not now, but in the future, I love you Mark
And I watched those people on earth
Refusing to Cuddle you, with the problems you had
Anyway, I live in this place in Saturn
And my neighbour is great cricketer Don Bradman
Every night, I sing to him
Our Don Bradman, we're just like you,,safe away from pressures that Earth has
Our Don Bradman, as an earthiling you were very good
But Don Bradman, you can succeed more because you are so great
You can average 100 here, and no one will stop you if your any good
Then I told Mark, I know you like cricket, and you love music
And I have the great Micheal Hutchence play for me once a week
Yes, Mark, you don't want to come back to earth
You can stay with me, up here on Saturn
Where we can have a great time, enjoying every day life
And Mark I also have a St kilda player giving me Aussie rules pointers
And I can tell you, that Trevor Barker opened my eyes
I can play Aussie rules, so Mark , I will sing to you
Our Trev Barksr, you showed how to play Aussie rules
Our Trev Barker, as a footy star, you know how the match is played
Our Trev Barker, yes, we'll win it so ****** easily
Mark went up to Trev Barker saying Marks my name
And me and Mark are travelling all over the solar system
Having a lot of fun, cause really the only way you can get here
Is if you really study the bible back to front
So let's have fun, Mark, and really show Saturn how to party
Mark said, yes, the voices have stopped, I am saved
And so is Anthony, both are happy
Sent from my iPhone
Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 5:28 PM UTC
You're called by the name I gave you
And look exactly as I said
I know all your smallest details
And the sort of life you've led
I know that you have ice blue eyes
And hair as dark as night
I know you're over six foot tall
And have a smile that invites
I know that you are popular
And can easily draw a crowd
I know you're not good at holding back
And often voice your thoughts aloud
I know you are romantic
And speak of love that lasts forever
I know you have eyes for only me
But still we are not together
I know that you are musical
You'd always sing and play for me
Piano, bass, sax, guitar
It is where you feel most free
I know that you are quite carefree
And make everything a game
You're bad at being serious
But I know you're not ashamed
I know that you're athletic
Different things keep you active
basketball, track and ballet
They make you quite attractive
I know you spent three years with me
I know you cheated twice
I know that you regret it now
But you still must pay the price
I know you have a sister
And loving parents too
You have a great group of friends
Always willing to support you
I know that you're in a band
You love being up on stage
I know that you're as old as me
But neither of us act our age
I know that you're a loyal friend
That can always make me laugh
You tell me I'm the only one you love
Your perfect other half
I know everything there is to know
All your successes and your strife
I know everything you've ever known
Because I dreamed you into life
Sep 17, 2012
Sep 17, 2012 at 2:56 PM UTC
You are my back up
Stick to the plan
No matter what
You are Wendy
and I'm Peter Pan
After I throw myself from the fifth story window
Of some ***** apartment in China town
Wait for the cops and tell them who I am
Tell them that I was trying to go home
To never never land
But I ran out of happy thoughts
Before I took to the air
And when they pull up my sleeves
Pointing at my track marks with a ball point pen
you tell them that was from shooting fairy dust
Straight to my brain
when they ask about my wallet
Any cash or car keys
Tell them their with captain Hook
he stole em' from me
When they ask where I am from
Say I'm a lost boy
And that's all
no mom and dad or sisters
Only John, Micheal, and teddy
Tell them I was best friends with the Indians
and the beautiful mermaids
And when they ask who you are
You're Wendy Darling
The girl who told stories
And kept my head full of dreams
Jan 12, 2012
Jan 12, 2012 at 7:03 PM UTC
the raiders show, full time report, 21 march 2015, we ****
as we draw the final curtain, the raiders **** again
it was a great start but then they faded away
just like they usually do
you see the raiders were woeful, especially in the 2nd half
no i am discusted oh yeah
it was the worst match, back to the old drawing board
johnny’ thanks and what a woeful performance in the end, by the raiders, and it actually is a hard
job picking the raider of the match, only one raider scored in the second half, but here is sue longways
with the raider of the match, horrible effort
sue’ yeah, johnny, it was a horrible effort but the raider of the match goes to brett austin, now brett what went wrong
brett’ well, sue, we were woeful in that second half, and the dragons were just too good
sue’ yeah, were you thinking victory, at half time, maybe too over confident so to speak
brett’ yeah, maybe we were over confident in the first half, but the dragons got 8 points before the break, and
then another 14, well, anyway, terrible match
sue’ anyway here is the raider of the match medallion, congrats and now here is bob from gordon
bob’ and now we draw the final curtain, the raiders **** again
it was a really terrible game, buddy a terrible match for the raiders team
yeah the raider, ya know they do **** it was a woeful game
what happened to the hopeless raiders, ya know the raiders ****
what is wrong with the mighty raiders, they didn’t look so mighty tonight
why couldn’t the raiders win it, i think it’s just that their hopeless
sue’ and now here is johnny brown with his jingle, not our johnny brown, johnny from duffy
johnny’ we are on the rocking horse caused by the raiders losing
you see we rocked all day long
they are sitting on the rocking horse, all day long, my love
i wished our raiders won
you see, the raiders had a bad match, good start, but hopeless finish
really the raiders faded, yeah, what a woeful effort, yeah woeful effort woeful effort yeah mate ****** yeah
sue’ thanks johnny brown, and now back to our johnny brown
johnny’ thanks sue, that was a terrible match and to make matters much worst, we play the roosters next game
and i say, we’ll lose to the roosters next week and here is micheal with his jingle
micheal, go the dragons, we kicked some ****** ***
go dragons, we showed some fucken class
yeah the mighty st george, oh yeah, yeah they were great in the end
go dragons kick some ****** *** go dragons, show some ****** class
go the dragons go the dragons, dragons won true blue, GO DRAGONS
johnny’ ok now everybody it’s beer o’clock and the raiders were given a football lesson, a rootball lesson
and we have the reason to give canberra much credit, except for the first 18 points
CATCH YA NEXT TIME raiders show fans
DRAGONS OVER RAIDERS 22 - 20
Mar 21, 2015
Mar 21, 2015 at 4:52 AM UTC
History's greatest psychic,
Micheal de Nostrademus prophesied.
He wrote and wrote.
Words on calamity
of terrifying magnanimity.
War leader after another,
battles and assassinations after the previous one.
Morality in all decisions was part of his plans.
Blood, death, waste and famine are quite familiar in our age
but in the end our century will be peaceful.
"Peace prosecuted by death
shall be achieved.
In one night,
green that have
been long dead
will grow green again.
After the war,
there would be a re-newed rain
and a Golden Age,
and a peace that would last
a 1000 Years.
Jan 7, 2014
Jan 7, 2014 at 11:55 AM UTC
Christmas
makes you realize
how lonely
and pointless
you are.
Everyone's at Jared's,
laughing with the overly made up
thirty-ish
forty-five year old
behind the counter.
Making jokes about
how
the bride-to-be
"lets him get away
with certain things,
but he knows who's boss."
While the groom-to-be stands beside her demurely
as she flexes that nice glinting rock.
"So when's the wedding?"
Or seeing people
going to Micheal's
for some string and
beads, and wood-carved letters,
to make a homemade
necklace
for her,
because commercialism
ruins love.
Real love comes from the heart
and necklaces made out of heartfelt twine
glistening with green and red beads
that enclose her name
in wood-carved letters
that have probably been chewed on
by a progressive four year old.
I think it's the whole idea
of togetherness.
This feeling of closeness brought on by the cold.
The need to be warm and vitalized,
while realizing
that you are rubbing your own shoulders.
you are shuddering against your own pillow.
you are curled up inside your own covers.
you simply are
and there is no one else around
to affirm
with love
and ***
and ingenuity
that
you are.
Dec 22, 2011
Dec 22, 2011 at 12:04 AM UTC
Compassion informs my outrage,
Skinny black kid,
super sensitive
playing the violin
for kittens,
pacifist vegetarian
tried to tell policemen
“I am not violent.
I’m an introvert.
I am different,”
as they choked him
then had paramedics
dose him
with ketamine.
Buds of pain
do not bloom
but burst, spray,
and sprain
my brain
that was self-trained
in the art of
kindness and reason.
It takes
less than five minutes
to break a mother’s heart,
to tare her world apart,
to shatter and claim
that they are not to blame
after unloading a full clip
on an autistic thirteen-year-old
who wasn’t mentally equipped
to do exactly what he was told.
Love and mercy
should rule the day
but cops make
violence great again.
Human suffering
is not magic
just unnecessarily tragic. cont.
Micheal Brown,
Eric Garner,
Tamir Rice,
George Floyd,
Freddy Gray,
Breonna Taylor,
Elijah Mcclain,
Linden Cameron,
Jacob Blake,
and so many other names.
There has to be a better way.
Nov 8, 2020
Nov 8, 2020 at 8:42 AM UTC
Slam dunk crash
Loud sound, a thunder dome
Intense clapping; it's time
Michael Jordan, save us.
Janus, my ****
In my pants oopsies
Micheal Jordan, slams and dunks.
Oct 23, 2018
Oct 23, 2018 at 10:22 PM UTC
Michael walked huddled through the valley of the shadow that followed him all night long,
Cast, fading then glowing, fading then glowing,
By the shine of bright halogen light meant to illuminate and show the way.
Micheal built a bridge. Michael burned it down.
Bibles on the tables at the last place he ate, with plastic knives,
Plastic forks and plastic spoons, cold canned chili never so delicious.
The rat stole the bread, wasn't that something to laugh about?
And he fought like a soldier for a blanket on the floor.
Cold wind pushed him forward to the Great Unknown.
Cold and shivering
Someone stole his coat while he was giving blood.
He kicked himself for leaving it in the lobby.
He said, "What kind of fool am I, how did I get here?
Was I so naive as to think someone wouldn't have taken it?
These ghosts are every bit as desperate as I am."
Michael built a bridge. Michael burned it down.
"I would have done the same thing cuz ******* it's cold,
This void of uncertainty, this sentence I've been handed.
Time drags so slow I cannot feel it pass.
Nowhere to go. Go to be going. It tires me."
He sat on a porch last night with grizzled, bent sages
The sweet sick smell of alcohol floating like fog from their mouths.
"In this world," the sober one said,
"You've got to learn to fight and beg."
He knew in his heart of hearts
He could do neither.
So his fate on the mean streets was good as sealed.
Michael built a bridge. Michael burned it down.
It wasn't quite so bad when he still had that coat.
It was torn and frayed from the frost of older days
But the pockets were deep and warm.
His hands belonged there.
It gave some comfort when the chill came on.
When his legs were getting sore, he had to stop and rest.
In the slate brick awning of the old Indian school
He'd lain down to nap but his eyes wouldn't close.
It wasn't time to dream of how things used to be
Or how they all wound up being tossed to the wayside
Or to prophesy a future somehow rising from these ashes
Of the bridge that Michael built, of the bridge that Michael burned down.
Now Michael wishes he had stolen one of those Bibles,
Onion paper pages hard to turn
But good kindling for a fire on this cold night
In the valley of the shadow
Without a coat.
Jan 5, 2013
Jan 5, 2013 at 11:09 PM UTC
As she uses her muse through her veins,
through her mind, oh how it sounds so Sublime.
So infectious with your souls write.
My mind wonders through the categories of Rock,
Pop,
and
Hip-Hop.
From Micheal feverish Moonwalk
to
Chris Browns Impervious Glyde,
From the **** walk
to
the C-walk,
from the Electric Slide
to
the slide of song to mix up the Casper slide.
Dance is a muse;
To dance,
to Sing,
To Rap, and
"Just Do The **** Thang";
Don't stop get it, get it;
Hey D.J. keep playing that Soul music to feed the soul,
to move the body,
to motivate the mind,
to inspire the time.
So Everybody get down wit ya bad self and use your muse.
"Whats Your Muse"?
Mar 9, 2010
Mar 9, 2010 at 8:58 PM UTC
I'm more Picasso
than micheal Angelo,
More the scream
than Shakespeares dream.
I'm more soda pop and candy bar,
than French champagne and caviar.
More British mini,
than Lamborghini.
More dandelion than red red rose,
more off the peg than designer clothes.
I'm more quiet nights in,
than goin clubbin.
More keeping it real,
than faking the deal.
So if you want more, but less is just fine,
then baby I'm yours as long as you're mine.
Dec 1, 2012
Dec 1, 2012 at 10:52 PM UTC
1.22.
Statistics of
statistics
The precise
revision of
demographics
non-existent
The strange
fabrication of
how polluted
and
misconstrued
thoughts
Is a simple
resolution
to every souls
confusion
Can you count
every written
faith?
Books on who's
opinion?
Individually written
by hands influence
by their brand
named wallets
The waste in produce
in mass production
Selling us ideas of
self-destruction
Spending less
on life lessons
Not saving up
for
self-reflections
Who's dime
pays for time?
Is it time
deciding time?
Or do dimes define
the meaning of time?
Who's time has it become?
What is time?
Time is? Time was?
Time never really
was ours
Watch the kids play
king of high risk
Compete to
defeat in the
depths of debt
Our inherited regrets
forget to check
on emotional scores
you can't get
a credit for
Give praise to high
interest rates
instead of banking
on your faith
Safely you deposit
selfish values
That lock you in
lucrative hate
Bankrup these
divided ideas
Start to believe
in the people
Let’s invest in
each other
again
Who's next in line?
Last in the back?
Who's at the till?
How do you pay
your grocery
bill?
Do you stress?
Depressed?
Do you pay for change?
Presidents and
Prime ministers
face paper electives
bills that select
how countries develop
Look for the Queen
working in virtual
streets
Trying to be a girl
seen in a magazine
Selling the tales
of fictional fascism
Stacked on the
ranks of fast
fashion
Blessed be
the ******
with their new
Micheal Kors
Losing themselves
in concrete stores
Designers that dictates
your direction
Consuming ourselves
we go off to
slaughter
Is there a refund
in the
death of a daughter?
Who lies?
Who plots?
Who puts capitol
value on gifts
from God?
Jun 11, 2019
Jun 11, 2019 at 4:56 PM UTC
Completed Jimmy Dean Breakfast
Sang to the tune of Micheal Jackson's original song Billy Jean-1983
Verse 1
With the milk poured-bowl of cereal, hash-browns and melted cheese
I said, "got coffee grinds, sugar and cream and a cinnamon bun-
a fried egg-on your toast golden brown.
Yea a cinnamon bun-with
a fried egg-on your toast golden brown."
Said "I just added sour cream, to the bagels with Philly cheese,
These pancakes almost burned, flip em' now-with a cinnamon bun,
a fried egg-on your toast golden brown."
Pre-chorus
Someone once told me, "be careful what you do,
Syrup goes terrible with salt... (Hee-hee)
And melted butter drippin' "be it food that's on the grill
And just add chives to as well, cold pizza's
Good breakfast to!"
Chorus
Jimmy Dean, Breakfast Frill's on,
Bacon and Chorizo-just put the Griddles on,
Ya' know-the Waffles are almost done...
I just put the Griddles on,
Ya' know-the Waffles are almost done...
Verse 2
For forty danishes and for forty pies, granola on the side
Choice of sausage or oatmeal with jam? Pineapple and ham
And a fried egg-on your toast golden brown.
So next some cream of rice
Some croissants should do just fine
(Yea, real nice) Do just fine! (A-hoo!)
I asked could we have blueberry muffins (please?) lemon cakes with whipped cream
Maybe even Frittata's and strawberry's on the side, they should do just fine (Oh, oh)
With a fried egg-on your toast golden brown.
Pre-chorus
Someone once told me, "be careful what you do,
Syrup goes terrible with salt... (Hee-hee)
Whatever kind of pasta you eat
Huevos Rancheros with chili's
Beef hash and sauteed mushrooms
Even got egg omelette's too
Chorus
Jimmy Dean, Breakfast Frill's on,
Bacon and Chorizo-just put the Griddles on,
Ya' know-the Waffles are almost done...
No-no-no-no-no-no-no-no-no-no-no
Jimmy Dean, Breakfast Frill's on,
Bacon and Chorizo-just put the Griddles on,
Ya' know-the Waffles are almost done...
Just put the Griddles on,
Ya' know-the Waffles are almost done...
(Break)
Woo! Woo!
Chorus
Just put the griddles on, uh
Ya' know the waffles are almost done
Jimmy Dean, Breakfast Frill's on,
Bacon and chorizo-just put the Griddles on,
Ya' know the waffles are almost done
No-no-no, no-no-no-no
Just put the griddles on,
Ya' know the waffles are almost done
(Outro)
Just put the griddles on
Waffles will soon be done
Put the griddles on
Yeah, yeah, Jimmy Dean, Breakfast Frill's on,
yeah, Jimmy Dean, Breakfast Frill's on, uh
yeah, Jimmy Dean, Breakfast Frill's on, uh
yeah, Jimmy Dean, Breakfast Frill's on, uh
Jimmy Dean, Breakfast Frill's on, uh
Jimmy Dean, Breakfast
Jul 17, 2024
Jul 17, 2024 at 8:50 AM UTC
We're all born in this river without knowing how to swim
And eventually we learn how to keep the water under our chins
Micheal Larsen a.k.a Eyedea
Aug 14, 2014
Aug 14, 2014 at 10:53 AM UTC
We all just wanna be tended to; us
women of the foliage want to be gushed over, not just because
we're pretty and smell nice--
no, we want stone-cold attention.
Us Foliage Women NEED fresh air
and sunshine; we don't need no
shade, no, no, no.
We come back year after year. You
don't want those fake flowers
you can buy at Micheal's.
We are all quietly pulsating with
life, our leaves rustling in the wind.
We smile sweetly at the sun because
we know it's our only sense of life.
Gardeners aren't that reliable,
you see. They think you're really
pretty at first, with your colorful
petals and such, but then the
gardeners realize that they have
to get their hands ***** they have
to uproot the past to move you
to a sunnier spot.
But, no. The gardeners forget to
water the Foliage Women; they forget to
let the Foliage Women into the sunlight.
Then they wonder...they wonder why the
women of foliage are completely wilted,
shriveled, gasping for air.
They relied completely on the gardeners.
The Women of the Foliage can stand
tall, alone, yet together.
We can tend to each other.
Gardeners are unnecessary, anyway.
We'll bend in the breeze,
and whisper in the wind,
together.
~~a.s.f.
Aug 24, 2014
Aug 24, 2014 at 7:48 PM UTC
There I was
Drunk on the move
talkin' it up
gettin into my groove
and along they came
four seasons in all
but who I met first
I can't seem to recall
summer was sweet
fall and winter were chill
but not until spring came
did I feel the thrill
we talked for awhile
she told me "wait here"
so that's where I sat
alone with my beer
it's all up to chance now
I can't do a thing
I could just be sitting here
waiting for spring
but shortly I saw her
come in through the door
stepping over a pirate
and "Micheal Phelps" on the floor
she sat with me there
I'd not waited in vain
I hope that this girl
lets me see her again
But a glassy eyed vampire
burst in wearing flip-flops
and said to the crowd
"better split, its the cops!"
and split we all did
had to make wing
now she's gone again
and I'm waiting for spring
days later on campus
I saw her once more
no costume or liquor
feet firm on the floor
we laughed for awhile
but she had to split
I asked all cool
and she gave me her digits
we kicked it again
now I wait for the ring
and once more I find myself
waiting for spring
Dec 21, 2009
Dec 21, 2009 at 8:41 AM UTC
At a time when i was the epitome of sadness
When my tears could sing the blues....
Tears no better than my cracked lips
The Herculean task of my agony trying to make love to beatitude...
And so they agreed to disagree
I was left to my own fate
But i whispered a prayer to GOD
For Archangel Micheal
He looked into my eyes,saw the terror
Why!!!! I felt him
Delving deep into my heart and life
Building up all the broken pieces
Fighting a losing battle: but VANQUISHED
A smile redeemed...
Angel Micheal; my gift from GOD.....
Jan 22, 2016
Jan 22, 2016 at 1:43 PM UTC
The art u are, Micheal Angelo is lured
I had a soul breached for which you are a cure
I only have words of my soul n heart to color you
you are my summer moon with an angelic view
Imprinted my mind is with your first sight i had
with my crazier life u might of course call me mad
Indebted my soul is for getting you here
my heart wishes to beat for u forever
May the bright day be yours ,dark night mine
may the rain be yours and the gloomy storm mine
Let diamonds envy u as u shine
I promise the shinning stones would never fill your role
the punishment u get for sneaking through my soul!
Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 8:13 AM UTC