"mover" poems
XXII. TO POSEIDON (7 lines)
(ll. 1-5) I begin to sing about Poseidon, the great god, mover of
the earth and fruitless sea, god of the deep who is also lord of
Helicon and wide Aegae. A two-fold office the gods allotted you,
O Shaker of the Earth, to be a tamer of horses and a saviour of
ships!
(ll. 6-7) Hail, Poseidon, Holder of the Earth, dark-haired lord!
O blessed one, be kindly in heart and help those who voyage in
ships!
13.8k
Writing for me is simple..
Lyrically ready to maximize my potential..
I have something to say I don't blow hot air like a inner tube...
Tell them liars they need to relax..
I am the type to push it to the max..
Switching gears and lanes until the governor snap ..
I cannot be contain..
Like the green hulk fighting the thing
I wish you could take a walk through my brain..
You would see different things depending on the time of day...
Like dead people, relatives that passed in my memories they live...
Times of my youth when I was a kid...
I didn't smile much.
I was a good kid I didn't wild much...
Pops sold crack so I styled much ...
Gun shots in Baltimore, my pops died once...
In my mind I question a ****
Like are they always ready to ****
Or does life have them Close to the edge..
Of a cliff a jagged hill
And they don't want to die in this dog eat dog world..
So they let blood spill..
I wonder if I was a G would I bang.
Red or blue claim a gang.
Be like Larry Hoover...
A young shooter...
In and out of prison I maneuver
Run the block like a ruler...
Be part of the the trash like manure
Be a coke runner a drug mover..
Corrupting the body of drug users. ..
Would I be known as a survivor
Escaping death more than MacGyver
Embrace the streets as truth knowing that's it a liar...
Nickname my gun human torch cause it fires
I wonder cause honestly I don't have a gun
This poetry is my weapon..
I am only gangsta through my lyrical aggression
Day 1 down...I am up to the challenge.
A poem a day ..to test my talent...
Jun 1, 2013
Jun 1, 2013 at 4:14 AM UTC
You are my morning cup of coffee,
My hot, steamy, caffeinated beverage made to wake me up,
I sip you,
Bitter,
Some sugar to cheer you up?
I dowse you in vanilla cream…
Any better my darling?
How come you are so nasty?
Not a morning person either?
Well I can't blame you,
Why do I think I drink so much of you?
Because I like you?
Well I do,sorta, the effects you bring to me are quite uplifting,
I shake,
Nervously,
Oh you startle me and delight me,
I feel comforted as you break open into my bloodstream,
My body on fire and ready to start my long and trying day,
Maybe we can get through this together,
Another cup is what I think I need of you,
Whether bitter or not we can make it through,
So my little cappuccino, so frothy and frilly,
I want you to know that I need you,
Like to start my morning, my every morning
Whether you are just black, or a venti latte with skim and carmel syrup stirred inside,
Or else I be stuck in bed all the time
There be no you to keep me awake or alive,
No reason to go outside and try,
No motivator, no mover, just me living my days on my own,
How terribly depressing I must add,
So I'll keep you company if you keep on stirring my brain with your caffeinated ways
Oct 17, 2012
Oct 17, 2012 at 10:55 AM UTC
You can assume what you want you're probably right
This is a never ending story
A special heart broke apart is the downside of favoritism
To live today with a awfully wedded wife
Can coincide with the upside to fablism
Can you stand up with or aside a revolution
It's still a time of movement
This is the start of a revolution
In the mind of a mover who constantly dreams of destruction
Fail or win
Now that's its over
You can become addicted to the fact that you want it back
Just that very dream or memory
Can leave you so high
That a skydiving crash would feel like a descent towards pillowed daffodils
Now histamines flare up
Now swollen about to pop
You've never been so high
The perfect quality to qualify the high you have
But quantity Is the one thing no one can grasp
Have none to share none
If you don't have it for yourself first
You can't give something you don't have enough for even yourself
This is the blank meaning for inspiration
For inspiring an unborn child
Maybe it's the missing meaning
Blank blank blank
It still means nothing when nothing is there
So why take this walk
Why write lines the continue to feel like nothing
Why scream on top of the mountain of the faintest echo won't reach the mightiest of ears hearing to tell the world of an achievement
That no one fortunately cares about
An empty sentient being
It's more interpersonal than that
Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 11:27 PM UTC
We are a global society
When we want oranges in the fruit bowl,
When we want out of our rut
Just long enough
To brown in a patch of Spanish sun.
We are a global society
When the Japanese car breaks down
And we are in need of a cheap fix
To keep food on the table,
Some Latvian mechanic
Who helps us find our way home.
We are our own nation,
An island nation,
When the zeroes run low
And there are spaces,
Foreign faces,
To which we can point
And blame.
We are a global society
With our sweat-shop chic,
American coffee chains
Selling Colombian ground beans,
Frappuccinos in plastic cups-
Made in China
And served by a Romanian barista
In Italian heels.
We are a global society
When the demand is high
And the payment is low.
We are our own nation,
An island nation,
When hands reach out for help
And our pockets are too shallow,
Our time, too brief
To commit to a unity
We feel is dragging us down.
We are a global society
When the football is on,
When the lager is Belgian
And the supermodel, Greek.
When we cradle that bag of Cheetos
After smoking too much ****
We are a global society
When oppression is overt,
Caricatured in bulletin posters,
Threatening to land
Upon our own front door.
We are our own nation,
An island nation,
When poverty seems contagious,
When we have to clean up
Someone else’s mess,
Still we scar the Middle East
Only half-interested in an exit.
We are a global society
When we get sick,
When we borrow another doctor
For our ailing NHS.
When cities of white people burn,
We are a global society,
When Africa is divided,
We are nowhere to be seen.
Prime mover of the commonwealth
Yet we fall beneath the breadline
And living easy is so rare.
We are our own nation,
An island nation,
Under the false flag
Of a golden age
We were conned to believe in.
Our nation, our island nation,
Lost amongst a sea of misinformation.
Jun 25, 2016
Jun 25, 2016 at 6:50 PM UTC
Her whispy straw-like hair
Strange green eyes that never rest
A smile no artist could ever paint
A frown to suicide a saint
Her voice fresh water that she never drinks
Her measured distance covers what she thinks
Laughter so human it inspires God
And sends Him back to work
Whilst she is unemployed
She's a taker; She's a mover; she's a doer
And what she gives makes charity cry
Her pride is rarely spoken loud
She's not comfortable in a crowd
But she drinks in others
As they drink in her;
She is blind where they don't care.
Her whispy straw-like hair transcends despair
Like only a Russian knows how;
Balanced compassion with a violent passion
But what light in those still hoping eyes
Jul 15, 2013
Jul 15, 2013 at 3:18 PM UTC
some folks got it better than some
some people got it better than none
count my money like i'm countin' sheep
one eye open that's how i sleep
i got a big house and a fancy car
both of 'em got a hell of a bar
when push comes to shove mister talk is cheap
my three dollar shovel runs six feet deep
i'm a smooth operator
what's yours is mine
i'm a mover and a shaker
the devilish kind
start my percolator won't a drop be weak
born to be a taker
i'm playin' for keeps
feels so good
i'm so glad
i'm so bad
my old lady says she needs to be free
but no woman ever gets far from me
my backdoor baby told me she don't care
long as she's able to get her share
well i don't know about you and yours
this life of mine's worth fightin' for
man over yonder sayin' it ain't fair
hey i don't make the rules i just bring 'em to bear
i'm a smooth operator
what's yours is mine
i'm a mover and a shaker
the devilish kind
start my percolator won't a drop be weak
born to be a taker
i'm playin' for keeps
feels so good
i'm so glad
i'm so bad
eye to eye and pound for pound
fist for fist and round to round
i'm the one that gets the doin' did
and it's in season to flip my lid
last one to try me is dead and gone
don't even think of what you're thinkin' on
been there done that is on my mind
worlds unravel when i unwind
i'm a smooth operator
what's yours is mine
i'm a mover and a shaker
the devilish kind
start my percolator won't a drop be weak
born to be a taker
i'm playin' for keeps
feels so good
i'm so glad
i'm so bad
feels so good
i'm so glad
i'm so bad
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 7:26 AM UTC
**Of all known phenomena
Birth is the most wondrous
And the most miraculous
In the assortment of life’s stunners
So you always are a miracle
One readily celebrated each year
As the sparkle of your smile
Dazzles the world
Like sunshine after a dark tunnel
And the fire in your eyes is a smelter
To melt iced hearts and smelt rock faces
So dance maestro dance
And never once forget the choreography
Of the poetry in your fervent heart
Where hopes and dreams are a lovely duet
Happy birthday mover of the spirit
You who creates joy in moments of magic
When configurations of rainbow futures coax your heart
To beat intricate rhythms from life’s score sheet
Happy birthday to you, child from eternal vistas
Let your dreams carry you forward to fruition
Till life is oozing and dripping with honeyed dew
And each early morning walk is capped with shower bliss
And that promise of tomorrow and the day after the feat
Of never giving up on the business of living, no matter what
Happy birthday to you; you of stardust and moon glow**
Apr 2, 2016
Apr 2, 2016 at 6:05 PM UTC
Nació
la palabra en la sangre,
creció en el cuerpo oscuro, palpitando,
y voló con los labios y la boca.
Más lejos y más cerca
aún, aún venía
de padres muertos y de errantes razas,
de territorios que se hicieron piedra,
que se cansaron de sus pobres tribus,
porque cuando el dolor salió al camino
los pueblos anduvieron y llegaron
y nueva tierra y agua reunieron
para sembrar de nuevo su palabra.
Y así la herencia es ésta:
éste es el aire que nos comunica
con el hombre enterrado y con la aurora
de nuevos seres que aún no amanecieron.
Aún la atmósfera tiembla
con la primera palabra
elaborada
con pánico y gemido.
Salió
de las tinieblas
y hasta ahora no hay trueno
que truene aún con su ferretería
como aquella palabra,
la primera
palabra pronunciada:
tal vez sólo un susurro fue, una gota,
y cae y cae aún su catarata.
Luego el sentido llena la palabra.
Quedó preñada y se llenó de vidas.
Todo fue nacimientos y sonidos:
la afirmación, la claridad, la fueza,
la nagación, la destrucción, la muerte:
el verbo asumió todos los poderes
y se fundió existencia con esencia
en la electricidad de su hermosura.
Palabra humana, sílaba, cadera
de larga luz y dura platería,
hereditaria copa que recibe
las comunicaciones de la sangre:
he aquí que el silencio fue integrado
por el total de la palabra humana
y no hablar es morir entre los seres:
se hace lenguaje hasta la cabellera,
habla la boca sin mover los labios:
los ojos de repente son palabras.
Yo tomo la palabra y la recorro
como si fuera sólo forma humana,
me embelesan sus líneas y navego
en cada resonancia del idioma:
pronuncio y soy y sin hablar me acerca
el fin de las palabras al silencio.
Bebo por la palabra levantando
una palabra o copa cristalina,
en ella bebo
el vino del idioma
o el agua interminable,
manantial maternal de las palabras,
y copa y agua y vino
originan mi canto
porque el verbo es origen
y vierte vida: es sangre,
es la sangre que expresa su substancia
y está dispuesto así su desarrollo:
dan cristal al cristal, sangre a la sangre,
y dan vida a la vida las palabras.
3.4k
Yes, mechanical leaf mover,
create the shrillest sounds known to man.
See if it doesn't just slowly make the world a ******** place
by taking away the joy of crunchy leafs,
which gradually become moist, squishy leafs,
then, after a long period, emerging from a snow covering
thaw and lie there, fully exposed, recumbent,
depriving the dormant seed of grass its sunlight, preventing grass,
freeing up water for infrastructure needs more urgent and rational
than supporting the most boring of decorative plants encompassing our lives.
I guess what I'm saying is that, not only are your sounds annoying,
they're just another of the short-sighted endeavors our present society insists on.
You are the "circumcision-for-hygiene-purposes" of our urban planning.
**** you, leaf blower. **** you and the excruciating environmental ignorance you represent.
I SAID **** YOU, LEAF BLOWER, YET YOU PERSIST!
You need to let that leafy-foreskin grow,
covering the shaft of ground.
Rid it of the pleasure-impeding growth of grass!
Let the earth cry out for the sensation of tiny points of pressure
moving delicately along its surface.
Let the ground erupt with wild flowers, or at the very least,
the trampled exuberance of plodded soil
and the desperate levels of human debris that would collect upon it.
Or are you trying to hide our wastefulness from us by removing something
which is nothing, a nothing, invisible barrier?
You've already succeeded in giving my apartment complex the ambience
of an industrial production complex
which I suppose it always was.
Maybe your attempt at concealment
has been a revelation.
Or maybe I just can't think straight,
because there's been a ******* leaf blower
circling below my window all morning
and now a heavy, riding lawn mower is coming to cut the grass
that hasn't grown since September
but has been watered every day
even though it froze last night
and it's almost November.
Oct 26, 2012
Oct 26, 2012 at 12:45 PM UTC
Lucifer, Lucifer
Black, rotting mind,
How can you live
With the lies that you wind?
Lucifer, Lucifer
You claim to destroy
But need God's permission
For what you deploy.
Black Lily of old,
Wrecker of worlds,
Mover of mountains,
Oil slick pearl,
The whorls on your forehead,
The horns on your head,
The eyes in your hands
As you dress your dead.
You desolate valleys
You eat up the land,
You grind a man's bones
To Sahara sand.
In my eye a beam
In your eye a mote,
The rampant *****
Of a rutting goat.
They grow in your belly
The flies that you spawn,
Maggots in multitudes
10 trillion strong.
Yes, out they spew
Through your spittle and teeth,
The lies propigated
From way underneith.
O, putrid rose,
Who has duplicate skill
To create "beauty"
To dazzle man's will.
But nothing you "make"
Is good on this earth,
No, nothing you "make"
Has any WORTH.
O, blighted star,
Constellation of hate,
Galaxy ghoul
Your strength is FINITE.
Who runs the show,
You aborted SOW?
When all's said and done
To whom will you BOW?
More sooner than late
Your end will come
In the pit ALONE.
With no one to ***
Who'll put you there,
Bound in your chains?
Why! GOD! Of course...
... for Jesus Christ REIGNS.
Soul Survivor
Catherine Jarvis
(C) February 2014
Mar 25, 2014
Mar 25, 2014 at 9:21 AM UTC
I am the furnace master
the pyromaniac
the keeper of the warm
inviting flame
I am the fire, you are my fuel
The world is my fuel
be not careless, lest the fire consume your mind
The flames rule all things
They make meaning from nothing
They are the mover, the pusher, the guider of all
Try to control it, and it finds a way around you
If it cannot move around you, it moves through you
If not through you, then it finds a new place to rage
The flame burns all, though few can see
The flame is everywhere, no one is safe
It has surely been in your heart, your soul
You felt it, And you knew it was there
The flame called you to life, and showed you the path, and you knew
But knowing how, and doing, are completely different
All have felt the flame, but not all know of it
Subtlety is the game, straight-forward strength, subtle motion
Surely all have felt the lovers passion, and the flame of life
Surely you have felt the flame of hatred, or of hunger
The fire of anger, of joy, of sorrow
Even those who, like me, spend their lives thinking they rule the flame,
Are only puppets, actually serving it.
Apr 10, 2012
Apr 10, 2012 at 6:41 AM UTC
When addiction runs deep,
Like the blood in our veins,
Its impossible to kick,
Unlikely to abstain.
For we are what we love,
And we love what we are;
It’s said that an apple,
From its tree won't roll far.
Her parents were junkies,
Generations gone by,
So deep in her blood,
It’d be cruel to deny.
I’ve found in resistance,
I beat my head on a brick,
So no longer at odds,
I embrace life as her fix.
“Honey, can you fix this?”
She says, smiling at the sale.
At the lamp I look closely,
It stands tired and frail;
It's brass tarnished dark,
Its wire is frayed.
In my head I say, “No," then,
“Sure babe,” someone else said.
Believing I’ve dodged one,
I breathe a sigh of relief;
We return to our Jeep, and
Drive away down the street.
Then I glance in the mirror,
And what do I see,
It’s that LAMP in my back seat,
Staring smugly at me.
*“This dresser will be cool,
In robin's-egg-blue;”*
Just describing the hue,
I see her almost drool.
*“Yeah, natural on top,
It's frame painted, then glazed...
You’re the best at glueing drawers!”*
She adds icing with praise.
*“Look, here’s a chair I found,
with pretty calico;
If you fix it's broken arm,
You’ll be my hero!
Cuz I am sure it will fetch,
Ten times what I've paid.”*
I’m a wage earner no longer,
She pays me in accolades.
That bowl with mustard yellow,
Picture frames of wood & plaster;
An old tin box, and this small broach,
A barrel chest with leather straps.
A jewelry box,
(A lover’s locket found inside)
Each purchase she makes,
Adds satisfaction, and pride.
Her addiction runs deep,
She’s my bargain-maker;
Not a corporate girl,
But she’s a mover and shaker.
Yes, she's my ******
And I am her fix;
Together we’re a duo,
"Can we peak in your attic?"
In my chair as I write this,
I feel something, turn and see;
And there pinned to the cushion,
Is a price tag poking me.
Now I’m nervous as a cat,
Wouldn’t want to fall asleep;
For fear I could wake up,
In the back of someone else's Jeep!
Oct 12, 2013
Oct 12, 2013 at 1:16 PM UTC
Let mans Soule be a Spheare, and then, in this,
The intelligence that moves, devotion is,
And as the other Spheares, by being growne
Subject to forraigne motion, lose their owne,
And being by others hurried every day,
Scarce in a yeare their naturall forme obey:
Pleasure or businesse, so, our Soules admit
For their first mover, and are whirld by it.
Hence is't, that I am carryed towards the West
This day, when my Soules forme bends toward the East.
There I should see a Sunne, by rising set,
And by that setting endlesse day beget;
But that Christ on this Crosse, did rise and fall,
Sinne had eternally benighted all.
Yet dare I'almost be glad, I do not see
That spectacle of too much weight for mee.
What a death were it then to see God dye?
It made his owne Lieutenant Nature shrinke,
It made his footstoole crack, and the Sunne winke.
Could I behold those hands which span the Poles,
And tune all spheares at once peirc'd with those holes?
Could I behold that endlesse height which is
Zenith to us, and our Antipodes,
Humbled below us? or that blood which is
The seat of all our Soules, if not of his,
Made durt of dust, or that flesh which was worne
By God, for his apparell, rag'd, and torne?
If on these things I durst not looke, durst I
Upon his miserable mother cast mine eye,
Who was Gods partner here, and furnish'd thus
Halfe of that Sacrifice, which ransom'd us?
Though these things, as I ride, be from mine eye,
They'are present yet unto my memory,
For that looks towards them; and thou look'st towards mee,
O Saviour, as thou hang'st upon the tree;
I turne my backe to thee, but to receive
Corrections, till thy mercies bid thee leave.
O thinke mee worth thine anger, punish mee,
Burne off my rusts, and my deformity,
Restore thine Image, so much, by thy grace,
That thou may'st know mee, and I'll turne my face.
1.8k
II
Donna leggiadra il cui bel nome honora
L’herbosa val di Rheno, e il nobil varco,
Ben e colui d’ogni valore scarco
Qual tuo spirto gentil non innamora,
Che dolcemente mostra si di fuora
De suoi atti soavi giamai parco,
E i don’, che son d’amor saette ed arco,
La onde l’ alta tua virtu s’infiora.
Quando tu vaga parli, O lieta canti
Che mover possa duro alpestre legno,
Guardi ciascun a gli occhi ed a gli orecchi
L’entrata, chi di te si truova indegno;
Gratia sola di su gli vaglia, inanti
Che’l disio amoroso al cuor s’invecchi.
1.7k
my skin
is thin and
swimmingly scrim.
the moonface
pushpulls me.
i am
moved
too much.
i am
not enough
mover.
i am *****
given,
all too often.
i am
not
me -
i am you
in your supine
palm.
i matter
little.
my
molecules
are
fast
becoming
transparent,
vibrating with the sound
of your voice, which
seems real
-so real-
real
like
when
the kitchen
sink
disposal
runs.
May 14, 2016
May 14, 2016 at 8:47 PM UTC
He is a mover and a shaker
And he’s certainly no Quaker!
Donnie Trotter from Chicago
is his name.
Whatever was he thinking?
This man from the
land of Lincoln.
When he tried to bring a gun
aboard a plane?
He’ll pontificate when pressed
(Just to get it off his chest)
How guns are bad
And people shouldn’t buy them.
His acts are against the law
He himself had voted for-
I wonder if the State
Will charge and try him.
Were he Conservative and White-
Not a Liberal, Black as night-
Voices would be raised
that we should fry him.
It’s Hypocrisy at its best
And this man has failed the test
In Chicago guns are banned
And for good reason-
If the victims could fight back,
What would be the fun in that?
Only criminals have guns
This hunting season.
Dec 6, 2012
Dec 6, 2012 at 10:15 PM UTC
I'm a rocker
I'm a talker
I'm a walk the walker
I'm a gamer
I'm a player
I'm a rule breaker
I'm a smile faker
I'm a mover and
I'm a shaker
I'm a questioner
I'm a challenger
I'm a game changer
I'm a grain of sand
I'm a past summer of tan
I'm a small helping hand
I'm a shower grammy winner
I'm a everyday sinner
I'm a life beginner
I'm a needer
I'm a pleader
I'm a leader
I'm a living room pj dancer
I'm a wiki search answer
I'm a hallway happy prancer
I am free
I am she
I am me
Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 10:19 AM UTC
I give my life to this poem
I give my soul to the words within
My emotion lives like an ocean
As its body of water that lives
And breathes like a sea full
Of tears of joy
Mixed with the tears of the
Lonely or lost now annoyed
I give my time and my all
No matter big in size or small
Sometimes a message doesn't
Need even 1 paragraph at all
I pledge to rise and then fall
Within these lines and not
Within the lines that confines
My mind until the line is crossed
I sacrifice myself as the cost
If it means others proceed
Cuz no matter how amazing u are
U gotta hope to inspire a breed
That will be better and supersede
Like our seeds were super
I wanna move u, and move more
Than a 9-5 career mover
It's a passion without ration
As it tends to limit length
Distance freedom of speech
And all that's meant to have strength
So I'm satisfied if I end
No richer but still liberation
Comes from the power held
When u expel true inspiration
Literary diarrhea no constipation
Feelings r condensation cuz
If its hot or cold enough it
Creates its own reaction with buzz
So I give all I am and ever was
To these sentences that express
The faith and hope I possess
Praying it has some effect
I give my blood my sweat
My experiences, my fears
So that it eases the next person
U thought they were alone here
I give myself to this poem
and leave it for those who need to
find courage, strength or hope and to
provide warmth as lifes cold winds blew
I give myself to this poem
so it can give me to you
And if I'm lucky u will carry a
Piece of it along wit u too
So I give myself to this poem
so it can give me to you .....
and i will live on as pieces of each
person i touched and got through to...
May 23, 2015
May 23, 2015 at 11:27 PM UTC
he wasn’t so much a peddler
(as many had quietly assumed)
more of a rural shuffler
or social inchworm
than a mover and a shaker
but boy
could he dish out those jabs
and ad lib on a whim
and draw sweet melodies
from that broken 6 string
all night long
carving out reflections
oh, those deep intuitive divinations!
steadily preaching
on the breathtaking joys
and fruits
of the vibrant land
*grow your own
seeds to be sown
clean and green
a nourishing machine!*
silver linings (straight from truth room)
clearly seen
from those uncompromised
garden views
casting his baited lines
from softly pebbled shores
(his nanna, and poppa
were there, years before)
giving grace…
and basking deeply
in the bounty of the fenua
his love of life was insatiable
moving from town to town
to nourish his soul
digging way beyond the deep
for that shrouded purpose
that soulful existence
that many spend a lifetime
looking to find
three boats settle
in the quiet harbor
a net shed basking in the sand
peaceful and serene
(with a hint of emerald green)
Sunset red
with crawfish (and lemongrass)
to keep us
bountifully fed
Nov 7, 2021
Nov 7, 2021 at 4:29 PM UTC
I am honest I am consistent I am human I am alive
I am anxious I am insecure I am sensitive
I am needy I am nerdy I am motivated
I am sane I am forgetful
I am a teacher I am a learner I am fast talker fast mover.
I am a piss-head I am a thinker I'm a writer
I'm a reader I'm an attention seeker
I'm a friend I'm an idiot I'm a child I'm a daughter
I'm a dreamer I'm a laugh I am a sister
I am complex I am agnostic
I am weird.
I am now
I am me
I am?
Apr 13, 2014
Apr 13, 2014 at 9:20 AM UTC
It’s the year of gloom and the day’s morbid
Never morning enough, clouds – they forbid
The mood is on the brink – of an imprecise dawn
Chugging on like a mundane mover in lawn
Sanity is in the black – grief is at peak.
All is fine with the world – not but with me.
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 8:30 AM UTC
I met a man today
and he did relate to me
that is was a mover
do you lift furniture
i said
he laugh
no man sell women Supernatural Fairy Tales
then move on.
Dec 8, 2012
Dec 8, 2012 at 4:51 PM UTC
When I'm with my baby
I know I'll always have a job
She keeps my life so busy
I'm never nodding off
Occupational hazard
Is what my baby breeds
I feel like Merle...always Haggard
If you know what I mean
Some days she is a walk in space
Guess that makes me an Astronaut
Other days a Florist
As I arrange her Forget Me Nots
I've even been a Farmer
When she leaves me standing out in left field
Also working in the Dairy
As she cries over spilt milk
This girls is definitely a workout
So add Body Builder to my resume
And some of the things I've found out
I'd put the NSA to shame
Don't forget Taxi Driver
As she runs me all over town
Also Professional Mover
With my heart continually moving South
I've become a top notch Surgeon
The times that my hearts removed
And a teacher of higher education
When each lesson learned is new
Yes, when I'm with my baby
I know I'll always have a job
As she keeps my life so busy
No way am I nodding off
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 7:49 AM UTC