"mitchell" poems
Life is a harmony to be achieved
Not by small trials, but by forthcoming
From all the antagonists retrieved
Our legs strengthened for running.
In unison, a remedy to the believers
A ringing of beauty piercing through
Captivated are the achievers
Who shed the blood of true
Friends and warriors alike strive together
Bone crushing blows to their hearts
Tattered and strained by the weather
They’re always around to pick up the parts
A rainbow of color to those who stay strong
Fearful thoughts often defer us from here
Whether we do what’s right, or do what’s wrong
Our minds remain clear, because we are here
And we sing our harmonious song
©Mitchell Frieler
Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 11:53 PM UTC
The 3 toed sloth
Rhymes with goth
Or is it oath
Moves slowly
Sometimes algae grows on his head
Joni Mitchell didn't mean him when she said
Wild things run fast
3 toed sloth, he'd come last
Once a week he climbs down from his tree
And that's to have a poo and ***
Now sloths get amorous
But *** is tricky up a tree
He moves too quick, he's not used to it
And hits the ground involuntarily
Randy broke his arm
Kind people fixed it with titanium
He resumes his slothful days
But now he's more careful with his loving ways
Dec 31, 2011
Dec 31, 2011 at 4:18 PM UTC
You, you only, exist.
We pass away, till at last,
our passing is so immense
that you arise: beautiful moment,
in all your suddenness,
arising in love, or enchanted
in the contraction of work.
To you I belong, however time may
wear me away. From you to you
I go commanded. In between
the garland is hanging in chance; but if you
take it up and up and up: look:
all becomes festival!
______
Translated by Stephen Mitchell
4.2k
Here are the names of my lovers,
The women I sleep with, whom
I use, like they use me.
Spent, they discard me, for when their pleasure needs
Satiated, they climb aboard another man.
What they do not know,
Is that in my mind, in my ears,
everywhere,
I did not let them, or you go,
We are still romping,
For I
Take them as needed.
I need them all,
For my pleasure needs, like my unshaped heart,
Addictive, endless.
If your is name is here, I do not
Apologize.
Pink
Adele
Lilly Allen
Anna Nalick
Bess Rogers
Beyonce
Brandi Carlisle
Cat Power
Colbie Callait
Duffy
Eva Cassidy
Evanescence
Alison Sudol
Fiona Apple
Florence Welch
Grace Potter
Ingrid Michaelson
You
Joni Mitchell
K.D. Lang
Kate Nash
Kate Voegele
Leona Lewis
Lizz Wright
Madeline Peyroux
Marie Digby
Mary Wells
Norah Jones
Regina Spektor
Sara Bareilles
You
Sara Haze
Taylor Swift and Tracy Chapman
Tristan Prettyman
Vanessa Carlton
So many others, used so long ago, I can't remember the faces,
Which can't be googled.
Use them hard, use them often, more than daily.
Bluntly, I tell you
Your name is on my list,
Even if I do not disclose it.
Aug 18, 2013
Aug 18, 2013 at 9:31 AM UTC
The three toed sloth
Rhymes with goth
Or is it oath
Moves slowly
Sometimes algae grows on his head
Joni Mitchell didn't mean him
when she said
Wild things run fast
Randy, three toed sloth,
he'd come last
Once a week he climbs down from his tree
And that's to have a poo
and ***
Now even sloths get amorous
But *** is tricky up a tree
He moves too quick, he's not used to it
And hits the ground involuntarily
Randy broke his arm
Some people fixed it
with titanium
So he can resume his slothful days
But he's more careful now
in his loving ways
Jul 1, 2015
Jul 1, 2015 at 5:39 PM UTC
has anyone ever heard of a historical place
it is in Alton Illinois
and been known as a scary place
it was built in the 18 hundreds
back in the Civil War days
back when there was slavery
which is now a disgrace to the human race
there's been some odd things happen
that I cannot explain
lights flashing on and off
And stereos that does the same
back where that I am sleeping
there is a slave that enters
but he is very harmless
oh what a weird adventure
I've tried and tried to communicate
but nothing has been said
but I feel a presence very close
next to my sleeping bed
Mitchell mansion I've been told
that there are many spirits
ready to unfold
many people believe in spirits
and so many that denies
but I am a firm believer
because I seen it with my very eyes
Mitchell Mansion has its secrets
that many will never know
but tell me friend would you come here
to spend a night alone
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 4:16 PM UTC
Discernment of facts escape a blind eye
Incalculable deceit fell upon naive assumptions of decorum
Virtues so easily replaced by a blanket of colorful chattel
Now, countless blankets dance about, as ghosts
on a paved route chosen with intent of endless future passage
And now, to escape the realm of falsities
every eventide is exchanged for repose and closed eyes
Pleasure, promises, and poetry she gave
only to have something to take away
In vengeance of a caustic past
Aphrodite unleashed artful malevolence into a fallen heart
Oh, how so much exists
where there is nothing
Emptiness can be full of such desire
And oh, the bitter taste of sweet words
from the unrestrained lips of a liar
An offering cloaked with savory fruit in cordial hands
Swearing to give it all in the big apple
and then seducing to her roots in the yard
Absorbing a soul
Only to create a martyr of forlorn cause
An abomination can appear so sweet
when emptiness needs filling
A demon from below,
delightful,
before killing
Nostalgia, a trail of footsteps in the mud
Like a fingerprint with an unquestionable owner
Arduous wails reaching the extents of one's universe
as a pawn and patriarch share reflection in the stagnant tide
knowledge of good and evil, once a desire, now a curse
yet, finally held
Gratefully numb with inescapable acceptance
Scott Mitchell
09 Dec 2012
Dec 9, 2012
Dec 9, 2012 at 12:18 PM UTC
I want to talk to you.
Driving over a fresh carpet of snow, this is a mix of belting Joni Mitchell
and shouting **** as I say a quick prayer
and slam on the brake.
Being an individual today.
Having an imagination today,
that took me so close to you that
it scared me.
I want to talk to you.
Today I described to somebody
the way you dance.
Laughing, I described to somebody else
how you make me smile
and to the same person
how ridiculous this is.
Girl I need an instruction manual to handle you.
I want to talk to you for no good reason other than that I do.
Today I worried and I clawed at my face
and a donation box outside of a Starbucks made me think of you and soften my eyes.
Easy
frightening
a little bit out of control
My legs felt weak in the shower today after months of flying me over to you.
I will give them a rest for a while.
I want to talk to you.
I climbed up a poem as if completely vertical while I was waiting.
It ****** It was hard.
Kiss me.
(I'm sorry, that was rather forward.)
You are a deep bass note hitting hard in the back of my ribs.
I will chase you down a side street, tripping on bricks,
Soaking in the rich autumnal breeze,
mouth aching from smiling too long,
and after I catch my breath from laughing
maybe I might
--not saying anything concrete--
kiss you.
But all I ask of you tonight,
all I can earnestly implore with a distant vision of clutching your hand
is that we talk.
Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 10:18 PM UTC
I HATE THE IDEA OF SUFFERING, BUT WITH ME THE WAY
I AM, I MUST SUFFER, BUT I SUFFER THOUGH BEING TREATED LIKE A LITTLE YOUNG DUDE
CAUSE I WORRY ABOUT GETTING TREATED LIKE THE ONLY ONE IN MY FAMILY
THAT WILL GET THREATENED AND KILLED, YOU SEE I BECAME A BUDDHIST
BECAUSE I WANT TO BE SAVED IN MY BELIEFS, EVEN THOUGH ALL RELIGIONS
ARE TRYING TO KEEP THE PEACE, YOU SEE I LIKE BUDDHISM, CAUSE, I CAN EXPLAIN
MY PREVIOUS LIVES, LIKE GREAME THORNE AND PATRICK DUNBAR, 2 8 YEAR OLD BOYS
THAT WERE KILLED, BUT I AM STILL SUFFERING BY THE CROWD UP IN THE HEAVENS
GETTING GHOSTS OF ED GEIN AND STEVEN BRADLEY AND TED BUNDY, COMES OUT
AND FORCES ME TO THROW MYSELF IN GARGAGE HOPPERS AND TIE MYSELF UP WITH
VINNIES ROPE IN MITCHELL, SAYING KIDNAP ME TO AN ADULT, YA SEE, I AM A MAN
WHO FOLLOWS THE PATH OF BUDDHISM, WHERE, I AM WILLING TO UNDERSTAND OTHER PEOPLE’S
VIEWS, I AM SUFFERING THROUGH PATRICKS COOL KID, BECAUSE I COMMITTED A CRIME
BACK IN 1990, HE CAN’T SEEM TO EXCEPT, TO LEAVE ME IN, WE ARE NOT AT SCHOOL ANYMORE
AND I DON’T DO WHAT I USED TO DO, I LIKE LEARNING HOW TO BE AT PEACE
UMMMMMMMM BRING ME PEACE
UMMMMMMMM FIND ME INNER HAPPINESS
UMMMMMMMM TAKE MY MATES OUT OF MY HEAD
UMMMMMMM ESPECIALLY WHEN THEY SAY, MY BROTHER’S NOT AROUND ANYMORE
UMMMMMMMM I WANT TO LIVE IN ADELAIDE SOME DAY
UMMMMMMMM CAUSE IT’S A VERY FESTIVE CITY FOR ME
UM,MMMMMMM TAKE DAD OUT OF MY HEAD, I AM NOT LIKE A YOUNG DUDE TO A ****
UMMMMMMMMM LET ME BE REFORMED
UMMMMMMMMM BRING ME PEACE, UMMMMMMM BRING ME PEACE UMMMMMMMMM BRING ME PEACE
I DON’T WANT TO TRY AND BE THE ONLY ADULT OUT OF MY OLD MATES
I DON’T WANT THAT VOICE WHEN ALL MY PREVIOUS LIVES MY FAMILY PATRICK AND DANIEL AND THE KIDS OF THE PAST
ARE FLYING AROUND MY HEAD
I HATE PEOPLE TEASING ME IN MY HEAD, UMMMMMMMMM I WANT TO BE A PEACEFUL BUDDHIST MAN
I AM NO LONGER A KID OR A LADY, AND I AM NO LONGER A MAN TO A FIGHT
I DON’T WANT TO BE A LITTLE YEAH MATE YEAH KID, UNLESS IT’S SHOWING OFF MY STORIES AND ****
I AM A BUDDHIST, ARTIST WRITER YOUTUBE ENTERTAINER AND COOL PERSON COMING TO THE MALL WITH HIS COKE
UMMMMMMMMMM BRING ME PEACE UMMMMMMMM BRING ME PEACE UMMMMMMMM BRING ME PEACE
ONLY YEAH MATE YEAH KIDS OR NERDS CONCENTRATE ON BUDDHISM , I KNOW I AIN’T A NERD
I BELIEVE BUDDHISTS MEND EVERY BLADE OF GRASS AND LIKE ME THEY BELIEVE IN REINCARNATION
Jan 11, 2015
Jan 11, 2015 at 4:57 AM UTC
JIMMY large nose natural hipster totally informed clever funny sincere yet aloof
JOEY tall tan lanky physique long thick brown hair in braid striking good looks yet self-unaware
SHANNON athletic build attractive brunette accomplished poet so good she doesn’t need to prove it emotional sensitive tough
ANNE Joni Mitchell good looks bohemian self-effacing impulsive submissive *****
ACT 1 scene 1
a deserted chic indie reception area somewhere present 8:30 PM
JIMMY (singling out Anne) you’re so beautiful i want you so bad
ANNE oh yeah you’re sweet to say that
JIMMY i mean it you symbolize hope inspiration in me
ANNE hope? oh god
Anne looks away runs fingers through her hair
JIMMY hear that song over the speakers?
ANNE yeah
JIMMY it’s “Home” Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes very cool check out rough trade east version on youtube
ANNE yeah right
Anne blows air out her nose looks away in Shannon’s direction
SHANNON (singling out Joey) do you read?
JOEY yeah some
SHANNON what are you currently reading?
JOEY uh a text about economic international relations
SHANNON hmmm interesting do you ever read literature or poetry?
JOEY nah not much
SHANNON like movies?
JOEY yeah sure some
SHANNON what’s you’re favorite movies?
JOEY “The Devil Wore Prada” “Eddie” “I’m Not There” i don’t know there are tons of movies i enjoy
SHANNON interesting
JOEY i need to ask Jimmy something excuse me
Joey walks across area to Jimmy
JOEY that western shirt looks so cool on you
JIMMY thanks yeah it’s a hip shirt what up dude?
JOEY oh god Shannon is hitting on me she’s way too full of herself way too available
JIMMY hmmm nice toned body bet she’s a tiger in the hay
JOEY not interested
JIMMY me neither but i could be persuaded honestly i’m blown away with Anne
Anne approaches Shannon
ANNE Jimmy is a conceited **** he thinks he’s so cool Shannon you look so beautiful this evening your hair complexion
SHANNON funny I felt so blah all day what did Jimmy say to you? he’s not my type but not so bad if only he had Joey’s looks Joey’s shy sweetness look at Joey over there his eyes lips he’s so **** I think I’m falling in love and yet i recognize falling in love requires a huge territory of untried tolerance
Anne’s fingers stealthily pocket Shannon’s tortoise-shell comb while Shannon observes Joey fawning over Jimmie across room
ACT 2
refer to ACT 1 scene 1
Jul 3, 2010
Jul 3, 2010 at 6:15 AM UTC
The color red, it's your favorite
The color white, your car, your house
Shakespeare, we were King and Queen
Choir, you sing like an angel
Gymnastics, you competed
Joseph, you directed
Laser tag, you destroyed
HIMYM, we watched as we cuddled
Your scent, it still lingers on me
Wine, I'd love to drink with you
New Years Eve, we talked all day and night
Mitchell's, we stayed for hours and conversed
France, we traveled together
Poetry, you got me writing again
My car, where we kissed at midnight
My basement, where we made love
It all reminds me of you
Sometimes I wish I had amnesia so I could forget...move on
But I love you so much
No case of amnesia could take you out of my mind
Although sometimes it hurts
I want you to know
That I love each and every one of those little things that reminds me of you
Jan 9, 2016
Jan 9, 2016 at 10:18 AM UTC
Here's to the friends who will drop anything to be there when I need them.
Here's to the friends who sit with the intent to listen,
not to speak.
Here's to the friends who fill my head with constant laughter instead of cold silence or harsh words.
Here's to the friends who know how terrible a home can be so they take me in whenever I need.
Here's to the friends who tell me right away if I've done something wrong.
Here's to the friends who know how to communicate.
Here's to the friends that watch The Golden Girls with me and don't ask me to change the channel because they know I've never had a grandmother of my own.
Here's to the friends who don't cancel plans because they get a better offer.
Here's to the friends who keep me going and child like while the world is growing into a cold adult.
Here's to the friends that dream with me and talk as if they will be a reality some day.
Here's to the friends that miss me when I'm gone.
Here's to the friends that understand my love for Shay Mitchell.
Here's to the friends who call me a ******* but join in on the fun anyway.
Here's to the spontaneous road trips,
the unplanned adventures,
the nights with too much alcohol,
and too little food.
Here's to the friends who come over to watch football even though they don't like it but they know you do.
Here's to the friends who don't exclude you on family days but invite you along because you are family.
Here's to the friends who kick my *** when they find a razor in my room because if I want to feel pain they might as well get some fun out of it all.
Here's to the friends that say I'm sorry and mean it.
Here's to the friends that tell me it will be okay and mean it.
Here's to the friends that say I love you and mean it.
Dec 19, 2013
Dec 19, 2013 at 1:15 PM UTC
Surely
your eyes smile like
sunflowers in August
dropping their seeds
from skyscraper heights
as you hang from your cross
nailed together by your own
rough-hewn hands
dropping their seeds
as the wind runs its fingers
through the weeds
windchiming like a
platinum-plated Joni Mitchell
and surely you touched mine
surely surely surely
and I wish like Christmas Eve
like a first junior high dance
like a death bed watch
that I could afford even
a bottle of you
but the demand for you is high
and the supply . . .
well, you know, there's never enough
and you keep raising the price and
surely surely surely
you know, there's never enough
so I lie here
among the weeds
seeking out your seeds
some small, priceless part of you
as you rise out of my reach
like a house with a seaside view
like a villa in Tuscany
like gold
which you are
surely surely surely
you are
with your sunflower eyes
and your Christmas Eve wishes
you pay for my sins
dropping your seeds and
surely surely surely
you know, there's never enough
Mar 19, 2012
Mar 19, 2012 at 8:57 PM UTC
The Joni (Mitchell) Collection
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/1692219/a-case-of-you-joni-first-datelast-date/
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/957041/write-like-joni/
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2185836/still-be-on-my-feat-for-joni/
Aug 25, 2020
Aug 25, 2020 at 11:34 AM UTC
WOODSTOCK
They came from The South, The North and The West Coast
450,000 together for peace and music, half a million at most
Richie Havens inspired all while singing his "Freedom" song
Country Joe McDonald dropped "F" bombs his whole set long
Carlos Santana amazed us, as he gave all and sacrificed his soul
Arlo Guthrie with Woody's **** packed his pipe and smoked a bowl
Canned Heat and The Bear asked us to work together united stand
Levon Helm pounded skins and sang "The Weight" with The Band
Joe Cocker warned us more than once that he might sing out of tune
One after the other, CSNY, Alvin Lee, Sha Na Na midnight 'til noon
Janis gave a piece of her heart along with a "Ball and Chain"
Jefferson Airplane sang about Alice out in the pouring rain
The Fogerty's sang about where they were born and two girls one proud
And for the life of me I can't figure out why The Who played to this crowd
Jimi capped it off with The National Anthem and "Purple Haze"
the perfect ending to four long daze of rock and roll blaze
So if your travels take you to New York Up State
Stop at Bethel Wood, the place where Rock History was written in Slate
"1969, when music was grooved in vinyl and carved in Rock"
inspired by the song "Woodstock"
written by Joni Mitchell
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 2:10 PM UTC
Tribute to my childhood hero
Joni Mitchell
The album covers beaten
The player old and worn
The needle barely tracking
From all the scratches borne
Upon the vinyl surfaces
Of albums that were stored
Unlocking wonderous worlds
Of music I adored
I would lie in cloistered darkness
To hear a voice so sweet
There I'd usher in the nighttime
To worship at her feet
Struck by earthy lyrics
But somewhat strange
Unearthly tunes
To trace with disconnected fingers
The most sensitive of wounds
How sad that good songs
Unsung heroes
Like "Morning Morgantown"
Wouldn't live forever
To "buy your dreams a dollar down"
Recall "Big Yellow Taxi"?
You can rest assured I do!
And "Ladies of the Canyon"
And her epic album "Blue"
Most folks recall a song
Entitled "Both Sides Now"
'Bout clouds and love and life
But they do not know
Her poetic expression
Unearthed deep jazzy riffs
Elitism. Hypocrisy.
And "Summer Lawns" that "Hissed"
At the pinnacle of greatness
Her album "Court and Spark"
Will always be a touchstone
For purity in art
A deeply troubled woman
At certain times in life
Loving truely... deeply
In the "Industry" meant strife
A versatile genius
Her lyrics resonate
Fot the very thing that scarred her
Also made her great
---
At times I'd sit and ponder
A self-inflicted crime
But I would postpone the act
To hear her one last time
Her songs touched me so deeply
Places only she could know
With her voice to guide me
I found a place to go
She became my inspiration
My metaphor. My muse.
Joni Mitchell told my heart
To write of its abuse
I aspire to higher standards
A perfection as it were
And should my work be recognized
I owe it all to her.
Though endlessly I search
For perfect sense of art
It's brought on by
INPERFECTION
But a kind and loving heart.
What I saw in her self portrait
Was a humble, gentle face
She was the greatest mentor
a human life could grace
SoulSurvivor
(C) 10/14/2014
Rewritten
(C) 7/17/2015
Jul 18, 2015
Jul 18, 2015 at 1:07 AM UTC
nobody gives a ****
about poetry
or books
charles bukowski
or siddhartha
nobody gives a ****
about the universe
or extra terrestrials
carl sagan
or that we are stardust
nobody gives a ****
about Led Zeppelin
or Pink Floyd
Joni Mitchell
or Nirvana
nobody gives a ****
except for me
Jul 19, 2013
Jul 19, 2013 at 12:27 PM UTC
somewhere between the
first date and the last date
Joni Mitchell,
she, me
encapsulates
I'm remembering well,
pounding the dashboard of a red Jag,
laughable now, mocking this fool's need
for a middle age conceit,
his heart to restart,
reactivate
in enthusiastic lockstep with the voice of the
Joni, the blonde goddess of his youth,
foot falling in love, with the accelerator,
speeding along
at a
joyous sixty five,
in places where the signs said,
"thirty five to stay alive"
this aged Rip Van Winkle teenager,
in reverse osmosis of Big,
an old buck, come back to antlered life,
singing along to the CD disc
set on
backdate
*I could drink case of you,
and still be on my feet*
and he could
rediscovering the champagne taste
of a great first date,
feeling the heated blood and fevered mind,
symptoms of the pleasures of a robust
anticipate
thinking she's the one
who will make him great,
happy greater, greater happy
than that one ever, ever,
he thought was roulette~wheel possible,
landing on the red of hopeful for a
floodgate
overture spilling
months, days, minute minute moments (tiny time intervals),
of the fated faded last date later, the next eve, next day
or the next of never,
comes the
deflate
but then,
Joni singing comfort words,
reminding him that he would be,
wisely, sadly seeing, feeling,
both sides now, and yet again,
getting his mind back to
straight
*I've looked at love that way,
but now it's just another show.
you leave 'em laughing when you go,
and if you care, don't let them know,
don't give yourself away*
a grown man punk'd, blasted,
dumb and dumber, dumped,
a feeling sorry sad sack self,
until he himself
reflates,
drink another case,
onto yet another
magical mystery first
date
pounding that dashboard once again,
believing it's not too late
that perfect roommate heart's to find and
captivate,
to attain, invade, acquaint and laughingly...
serenade
Jul 5, 2016
Jul 5, 2016 at 8:38 PM UTC
In the sky tonight hangs a perfect Half-Moon,
when I looked up above, I thought about you,
in your paint-stained clothes and all your artwork, too,
memories of our friendship flourished and bloomed.
With your hands so hearty and your talents unbound,
I saw close up how you artistry astounds,
I remembered our fights, disagreements and tears,
but we always remained close friends over the years.
I sure miss our talks about art over wine,
snacking on crackers and cheese every time,
yet the thing I treasure most about you, my friend,
is the respect and love that will never end.
______________
See Nolan's toilet here:
http://www.addictedtowalls.com/contemporary-art-paintings/graffiti-tag-art/Duchamp-new-contemporary-art.html
See Nolan in his paint-stained clothes here:
http://www.addictedtowalls.com/contemporary-art-paintings/graffiti-tag-art/Graffiti-MSK-nolan-painting.html
See all the amazing artwork of Nolan Haan here:
http://www.addictedtowalls.com/
_________
The "Half-Moon Inn" is the historic building/art gallery I lived in that Nolan had restored with the help of his partner-at-arms, Mitchell.
Read my blog story for all the exciting details and breath-taking photos of The Half Moon Inn and it's lush, tropical gardens!
http://dee-light-full.blogspot.com/
Sep 18, 2010
Sep 18, 2010 at 7:15 AM UTC
I’m always hearing music
so I must be listening too close
Seeking answers in the lyrics
Adhering to every word spoke
It’s said that insanity is surely defined
Doing the same thing over and over again
I always find myself wanting to go back
and again, I find the means to an end
If I tried to run away
there would be a repeated proof
The asylum is ineludible
and I’m clearly crazy for you
Trying every method to remove
what the conductor put in me
Binding strings of a puppet master
inspired to play this symphony
The end of days may not come soon
but someday, in that palace of the sky
I’ll look in the directory
for the one with celestial eyes
I’ll ask for only five minutes
I’ll try to explain in the short time
All I was never able to find words for
in the world of yours and mine
Love for only giving, could have been
but, was too often unforgiving
Broken hearts simply tried to survive
but, life without you was not living
There was no peace where there was pride
and I’m not looking for alibies
But always found myself asking why
even apart, your happiness was mine
We promised it’s unconditional
but didn’t survive dark times
Silence as our backs turned
to conceal the cries
Two things I’m sure I surely knew for sure
as I waited for a shooting star in the sky
What I gave to you is always yours
Till the end of time, this love abides
~
Scott Mitchell
Oct 26, 2012
Oct 26, 2012 at 10:25 AM UTC
Remember Mitchell Schumacher?
We all knew him.
Well, actually, his name wasn't Mitchell,
it was Michael,
but you know kids with their nicknames.
Playing video games until the sun comes up,
sleepovers, girls,
riding bikes all over town,
and down that old dirt hill;
it seemed the good times
would never end,
our innocence tying us
close together.
But now he's a cop
and I'm sitting in his jail cell.
My long hair and bag of grass
were no match for his
shiny, metal badge and shaved head.
I asked him about that Game Boy
I left at his house all those years ago
as he sat me in the back of his car
and told me to watch my head.
He looked at me
and laughed.
We used to know him.
Remember Mitchell Schumacher?
Nov 27, 2012
Nov 27, 2012 at 12:45 PM UTC
As a newbie, we are unaware
We go through life as if we care
Incompetent inept go here or there
Thinking that we know it all
Inevitably comes the fall
Then we slowly realize
As it begins, the End
of our demise
we didn’t compromise
However, it’s more
Than just the fall.
We thought
We were
Impervious
10 feet tall.
The older we get
The more we realize
The ignorant follies
Of the less wise
Pride before the fall
Comes towards us all
We paid no mind
To the warnings call
Greed, Lust,
A wild ride
Envy Wrath
Look inside
Gluttony, Sloth,
Our Guilty Pride
Don’t let this list
Be your guide
It’s OK not to know everything
It’s OK to be a teen in between
It’s OK to misread a panic scene
It’s OK to admit your wrong
Do the dance,
Sing the song
Don’t act wise,
Apologize
Pretending
you know it all
Inevitably
The jig is up
Never ready For the call
Will you learn the lesson
of the fall
knowing you don’t
know anything at all.
There is always
a lesson.
To endure
It’s OK not to be sure
we were all
once an amateur
The difference between
a young adult
Sprung on life
And a middle aged
Disillusion lost soul
Is our experiences
The lessons learned
When It’s your turn
To be on top
Oblivious
Ignorant
Acceptance
There will be a time
When you’re not
It’s not how high
You climb
It’s how you endure
After the fall
Wisdom
comes to us all
Will you ignore it?
Or answer Life’s call
Inspired songs;
My life 1978
Billy Joel
Don’t fear the reaper 1976
Blue Oyster Cult
Signs 1971
By Five Electrical Band
Bridge over troubled Waters 1970
By Simon and Garfunkel
Both sides now 1969
By Joni Mitchell
Foot note
This was written for a seventh grade grandchild going through life on stress levels. She creates herself. She says this to herself now it’s OK to be wrong. I don’t have to know everything.
I’ve always said to the grandchildren, you have two ears, and one mouth listen twice as much as you speak
May 15, 2025
May 15, 2025 at 3:49 AM UTC
We are stardust, we are golden and we've got to get ourselves back to the garden.
Joni Mitchell
November 7, 1943: Happy 70th birthday, Joni Mitchell! The Canadian singer songwriter had polio as a child—the illness weakened her left hand, which made many traditional guitar fingerings difficult to execute. It led Mitchell to develop her own signature tunings.
Nov 7, 2013
Nov 7, 2013 at 12:38 PM UTC
Those names you called me,
That shame I felt.
It's a cycle of fear,
And humiliation.
You put me down,
Then try to bring me up.
You're jealous, overzealous, and sinful,
You're just a beast in human form.
I try to run but just fall down,
For the path is rocky at best.
You chase me down,
And pull me back in.
Say you love me,
Think it will fix everything.
Make it all okay,
Just forget all the problems.
My life isn't my own,
I'm on your leash.
My decisions are yours,
My actions monitored.
You say I can't be friends with him,
That's not okay.
I can't go to the movies,
You're not there.
Lies, deceit, and broken promises,
Chaining you down in a pit of helplessness.
I can't leave you,
I'm scared to.
You threaten, hurt, and cry,
It's not your fault, right?
Right?
I'm not sure anymore.
You say you'll **** yourself,
If I leave you'll end it all.
You put that weight on me,
It's dragging me down.
I'm tethered to a pole, you're beating me down.
Sending me spinning around,
Just to send me the other way.
This needs to end,
The pain needs to stop.
I'm leaving,
I'm done.
Goodbye,
So long.
Mitchell S. Bartlett
Dec 2, 2012
Dec 2, 2012 at 12:52 PM UTC