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"murphy" poems
For he's a jolly good fellow, adorned in yellow and love, it was hard to see his face through the smoke of a three blunt rotation, but I could feel his heart beating from across the trailer. Worn out eighties music was the unofficial theme of the night and I think we lived up to the expectations Eddie Murphy set for his.
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Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 1:43 AM UTC
Marijuana, Alcohol, Video Games and an Eighteenth Birthday.
Quote#1- Seventy-five years. That's how much time you get if you're lucky. Seventy-five years. Seventy-five Winters. Seventy-five Springtimes. Seventy-five Summers. And Seventy-five Autumns. When you look at it like that, it's not a lot of time, is it? Don't waste them. Get your head out of the rat race and forget about the superficial things that pre-occupy your existence and get back to what's important now. Right Now. This very second. And I'm not saying, drop everything and let the world come to a grinding halt. I'm saying that you could become a seeker. You could be loving more. You could be taking some chances. You could be living more. You could be spending more time with your family. You could be getting in touch with the part of you that lives instead of fears; the part of you that loves instead of hates; the part of you that recognizes the humanity in all of us. And I tell you, That's where you're fortunate.. Quote #2- Your good is Better and your better is Blessed!...
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Jul 20, 2015
Jul 20, 2015 at 5:48 PM UTC
Holy man movie ( quotes by eddie murphy playing character named G)
A secret society founded as a dark, heavy rainstorm loomed menacingly one night in November of 1888 over Boston University;      Sarah Ida Shaw, Eleanor Dorcas Pond, Isabel Morgan Breed &   Florence Isabelle Stewart sneaking in their nightgowns into the dusty attic where Florence swore she had seen three black cats sitting in the rocking chairs talking; to humor their friend, the others followed her up into the dark attic: meaning only to frighten Florence,   Eleanor pulled a kitchen knife; the uncomprehending Isabel & Sarah forcing the terrified [so they thought] Florence to her knees; while there, eating the ***** of the knife-wielding Eleanor, who raising her stiff nightgown told the others to do likewise until they all were satisfied, shouting - meow meow meow meow - old lady Murphy hollering up the attic steps: 'who's up there?' the three girl giggling their little heads off running past her down the stairs;   Florence nearly tripping, coming down a few moments later,    also grinning but silently to herself.     'what are u girls doing up there?' - 'playing w/ the cats,' said Flo,    slipping past her; 'Cats! Cats!' shouted the old witch, rushing up the stairs raising her broom [from that evening Delta Delta Delta (ΔΔΔ) has met to lick talking black cats in secret college sorority rituals]
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Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 12:28 PM UTC
Delta Delta Delta (ΔΔΔ)
I Stacked green crates by the futon, records sealed as buried letters, each sleeve longing to be drawn out into daylight by her small, thoughtful hands. I just want to play that Nick Cave again teenager’s resolve in her voice, she drops the needle on "Tupelo", traces Peter Murphy with her thumb, holds Kate Bush to the light like stained glass. She laughs at the ****** box on the speaker. I tell her it’s never going to happen. She grins, unbothered, says she only came for the vinyl. I watch her tilt each sleeve, never touching the grooves, brush the dust, lay the needle like a secret, slide the disc back without a wrinkle. Each time I’m surprised by her precision. It’s the third time she’s dropped by. She makes mixtapes. Pressing pause, pressing record, stitching songs into a spine of hiss. Once, to me, or to herself, she said her father wanted a tape. She’d mail it when he had somewhere to send it. She follows me across the bridge, talking about her brother, an ex-best friend, mimicking her professor, how he wags his tongue when he writes on the chalkboard. I haul a duffel: apron, uniform, boots heavy with grease. She skips in the rain, strumming cables, humming the last song played, still in the air. II I unlock the door, steeped in garlic and kitchen sweat, boots leaving grime on the boards. She isn’t there- only the crates, stacked neater, jackets squared, spines aligned, as if her care was meant for me. The room settles with her absence, yet holds me upright in its small, thoughtful hands.
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Sep 17, 2025
Sep 17, 2025 at 8:11 PM UTC
Crates
I Stacked green crates by the futon, records sealed as buried letters, each sleeve longing to be drawn out into daylight by her small, thoughtful hands. I just want to play that Nick Cave again teenager’s resolve in her voice, she drops the needle on "Tupelo", traces Peter Murphy with her thumb, holds Kate Bush to the light like stained glass. She laughs at the ****** box on the speaker. I tell her it’s never going to happen. She grins, unbothered, says she only came for the vinyl. I watch her tilt each sleeve, never touching the grooves, brush the dust, lay the needle like a secret, slide the disc back without a wrinkle. Each time I’m surprised by her precision. It’s the third time she’s dropped by. She makes mixtapes. Pressing pause, pressing record, stitching songs into a spine of hiss. Once, to me, or to herself, she said her father wanted a tape. She’d mail it when he had somewhere to send it. She follows me across the bridge, talking about her brother, an ex-best friend, mimicking her professor, how he wags his tongue when he writes on the chalkboard. I haul a duffel: apron, uniform, boots heavy with grease. She skips in the rain, strumming cables, humming the last song played, still in the air. II I unlock the door, steeped in garlic and kitchen sweat, boots leaving grime on the boards. She isn’t there- only the crates, stacked neater, jackets squared, spines aligned, as if her care was meant for me. The room settles with her absence, yet holds me upright in its small, thoughtful hands.
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57
Winter camp, snowbound bunch. Uncertain smile, what's for lunch? The forlorn hope is grim. Mrs. Murphy says to commence on Milt, and unceremoniously eat him.
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Feb 21, 2020
Feb 21, 2020 at 9:30 AM UTC
Donner Party
This looks very strange to me. I am from the Island, And... You never see it. This blue sky spreads a beautiful Calmness amongst everyone and everything. The birds chirp, the people do their gardening And speak nice things about their neighbours. And yet, In the corner of a dark room, There I sit. Alone. Alone and angry. The path has split and cracked And I stagger with drunken fury. All the way home. This endless rage burns, And burns through my words. But at who? What for? The sea is dark, blue and empty. The ship bobs in the churning water, As one man pulls endlessly at fishnets, But vultures circle above waiting for him to starve. GRAHAM MURPHY
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May 30, 2013
May 30, 2013 at 7:31 PM UTC
Sailors
Dragged out screaming, senseless from the hallows of martyrdom My father's mother's wayward brother Baptized in propaganda and searing lead Kamikaze death machine to paranoia fever dream A noble experiment in utter catastrophe Half measure, interstellar tourniquet Stem the free flow of blood like inconvenient statistical evidence Dripping down born-again ****** America's chin Vector-like, everything explodes outwards And on trajectories like these only friction is holy Murphy's law in ecstatic altercation A furious life lived under an anachronistic magnifying glass Truly the only thing worth decaying for
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Dec 23, 2014
Dec 23, 2014 at 3:38 PM UTC
Friction
I don’t want to perpetuate the produce – consume loop but when I don’t, I feel like such a lazy moocher Could I play guitar near after dark bars for $23 an hour? Victor and I did that once, for $11.50 each Untaxed, that’s better than my dour real job So, if I really made my place at a street corner, I’d be a smart earner But then I’d be a fixture, like the accordion man and the bums with PVC buckets The bar goers would soon hate me for chumping them out of their cash with three gritty “Heart of Gold” covers Then soon the mediocre bums would jump me and Riot, my guitar She’ll smash into the walk under a Irish flag in front of Murphy’s Law, while drinkers whoop and punch the air The bucket goes over my head and the accordion bellows squeeze round my neck
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Aug 15, 2014
Aug 15, 2014 at 4:16 PM UTC
Bar Busking
She's was sitting pretty with her long hair flowing, both arms were covered with brightly colored-sleeves, eating a burger & fries. She seemed intriguing, like a sweet fox, her jade eyes screamed adventure, her **** aura whispered, "Come & get me." I was going through the drive-thru & when I came back around, she was hopping into a pick-up truck with some other dude. That Murphy's is a crazy place. Who knew some fast burger joints had quick-women, too. Did you?
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Apr 18, 2014
Apr 18, 2014 at 10:08 PM UTC
Fast Burger Joints (& Quick Women)
Lost your *** and spent your gold Drunk all night and you were told The Murphy girls have brothers ninefold... So, have you an inkling this mornin'? Don't say you had no warnin'! Gee those Murphy girls sure are pretty But now your listening to this "told ya so" ditty Got a bit fresh and way too giddy... So now your hurting this mornin' At least last night wasn't boring! So next year's the same when put'n on the green Remember the date it's March Seventeen Kathleen, Maureen, Colleen do preen... Just to count your gold in the mornin' So don't be a leprechaun hornin'
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Mar 17, 2016
Mar 17, 2016 at 1:40 PM UTC
Ditty For Daft Leprechauns
By: Cedric McClester, On the basketball court Prince had to come up short At least that what Charlie Murphy and them thought So they went to his house Thinking they’d just get ****** And the basketball could wait But then they heard Prince state He asked, In his high heels and all Wanna play basketball? The shirts vs the blouses Now you may be six feet tall And I’m clearly small But I betcha You’ll lose your trousers Eyewitnesses say That Prince could play Better than any of ‘em knew He could shoot and defend Against the much taller men And before the game was done Charlie Murphy said Prince led two to one “No hard feelings. Let’s shake Would ya like some pancakes,” Prince is alleged to have asked? Nevertheless Who could have guessed They’d be the best Pancakes that they ever had He asked, In his high heels and all Wanna play basketball? The shirts vs the blouses Now you may be six feet tall And I’m clearly small But I betcha You’ll lose your trousers “No hard feelings. Let’s shake Would ya like some pancakes,” Prince is alleged to have asked? Nevertheless Who could have guessed They’d be the best Pancakes that they ever had Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2016. All rights reserved.
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Apr 24, 2016
Apr 24, 2016 at 9:10 AM UTC
BASKETBALL
Holding hands with Amber, As a sweet melody plays. There are bells in the distance, As her crafted face stares at empty space. I could point out a thousand stars, but none seemed bright enough. Her interest captured, by her own hands. Stuck in mud, that sound could not wash away. The beat intense, But events quite clear. Apollo has alined the stars and the planets stand still. Almost to attention. To the dying embers. GRAHAM MURPHY
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Jul 24, 2012
Jul 24, 2012 at 7:31 PM UTC
Oedipus The Punter
Alight me Paddies! Today the world is Green; I am in a mood, alas, to gnaw crubeen, To kiss my Irish lass, and cuddle her awhile, To hear the Irish Rovers sing their bonny Isle, To wear a shamrock, laboring o'er a stout: Murphy or Guinness, to me it matters naught.
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Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 5:50 PM UTC
Irish for a Day
Would you like some Opportunity?: Make the Opportunity inopportune!
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Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 6:51 PM UTC
Murphy's Law of Opportunity
One for the man bunkered down in the trenches sent in by his country as a henchman. He's laying in the mud, praying for safety, losing less blood than what's shed daily. In this hazy hell, a drug buzz is needed. Morphine seeps in, easing the beaten. And in no man's land, a man cries for mercy but his cries are cut off by the hands of Murphy. Early in the morning, he packs his bags. Rucksack on his back, heading back to base camp. There's a damper in the room, sunken like the marsh. Friends have fallen, it's clearly marked. And his heart aches but they can't be dead. Nah, he sees them every time he lays down his head. From time to time, he jolts up out of breath, but he never felt more alive, when he was close to death. It's not a sob story, no it's just old glory Two for the man bunkered down by the park bench, clutching a cup, praying for penance. He's laying on cement, waiting for change, and trying to stay dry from the ******* rain. In this day and age, a drug buzz is needed. Morphine tabs, tap in the defeated. Lungs splitting, teeth gritting, he's wishing for mercy. Two times the dose, he curses out Murphy. Early in the morning he packs his bags. Rucksack on his back, he heads back to PADs. He grabs a tray, sits alone, and says grace because there's no space open for the "nutcase". Arm's race to golden gates, he dragged a debt. He carried his country as heavy as regret. He carries his friends, they dangle from his neck. But the thing about memories is that you can't forget. It's not a sob story, it's just old glory © Matthew Harlovic
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Oct 11, 2014
Oct 11, 2014 at 12:25 PM UTC
Front Line Lullaby
One for the man bunkered down in the trenches sent in by his country as a henchman. He's laying in the mud, praying for safety, losing less blood than what's shed daily. In this hazy hell, a drug buzz is needed. Morphine seeps in, easing the beaten. And in no man's land, a man cries for mercy but his cries are cut off by the hands of Murphy. Early in the morning, he packs his bags. Rucksack on his back, heading back to base camp. There's a damper in the room, sunken like the marsh. Friends have fallen, it's clearly marked. And his heart aches but they can't be dead. Nah, he sees them every time he lays down his head. From time to time, he jolts up out of breath, but he never felt more alive, when he was close to death. It's not a sob story, no it's just old glory Two for the man bunkered down by the park bench, clutching a cup, praying for penance. He's laying on cement, waiting for change, and trying to stay dry from the ******* rain. In this day and age, a drug buzz is needed. Morphine tabs, tap in the defeated. Lungs splitting, teeth gritting, he's wishing for mercy. Two times the dose, he curses out Murphy. Early in the morning he packs his bags. Rucksack on his back, he heads back to PADs. He grabs a tray, sits alone, and says grace because there's no space open for the "nutcase". Arm's race to golden gates, he dragged a debt. He carried his country as heavy as regret. He carries his friends, they dangle from his neck. But the thing about memories is that you can't forget. It's not a sob story, it's just old glory © Matthew Harlovic
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35
~ "memory runs back farther than mythology." two years, two months, and two days, in a cabin they built near Walden Pond. on a mission of gravity, the heavens forming a spotlight on centrifugal force, abroad the hollow mind, chronically untethered. "I went to the woods to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms..." this ship's captain was an architect, but her starblazing failed to break ground, so this life is now a structure settled upon sand, and way out yonder, where there is no blade of grass, just weeds growing out from under the floor. but her daughters are grinning magnets, passionate machines. "copy that?...," asks Houston. she takes a long, hard swallow, the shadow of a bell inspiring the astronaut in her to shoot for incapable stars, but the bell she hears now is that of an alarm clock telling her it's time to wake up: shoulders straight. hands free. arms strong. fingers stiff. chronically untethered. she's not looking for new days, she is a new day, compacted out of water, tired of changing real estate and showering with other people's success. those loud kids, her kids, play down the hall, in the beehive. radio jargon's on full blast too and telling her where to buy and sell today's instant pleasure. she's busy now with self-stimulation, Betty Dodson Method, then mixing orange powder with 100 year old whiskey kept in the lunar module: it's a spacewalk to eternity, faster-than-light: she sees broken pool tables and backyard swings. she sees 'ordinary' checked off on the calendar. she sees 'happiness' hiding in an old photo of Murphy's Camp. she wakes to her husband, Houston, in a holding pattern, she feels him moving, whispering, and touching something far off inside of her, but not moored in a specific time or place. in search of where she now exists (if she even existed at all), her memories feel artificial in that she lacks the emotional attachment that comes with actually having lived them. there are no answers, no choices. only reactions. it is always going to be that broken state of things: these days of heaven, chronically untethered. "only that day dawns to which I'm awake. there is more day to dawn, I suppose. and like us, the sun is but a morning star upon being dreamed into existence..." ~
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Jul 25, 2022
Jul 25, 2022 at 9:19 PM UTC
Koinophobia (Days of Heaven)
~ "memory runs back farther than mythology." two years, two months, and two days, in a cabin they built near Walden Pond. on a mission of gravity, the heavens forming a spotlight on centrifugal force, abroad the hollow mind, chronically untethered. "I went to the woods to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms..." this ship's captain was an architect, but her starblazing failed to break ground, so this life is now a structure settled upon sand, and way out yonder, where there is no blade of grass, just weeds growing out from under the floor. but her daughters are grinning magnets, passionate machines. "copy that?...," asks Houston. she takes a long, hard swallow, the shadow of a bell inspiring the astronaut in her to shoot for incapable stars, but the bell she hears now is that of an alarm clock telling her it's time to wake up: shoulders straight. hands free. arms strong. fingers stiff. chronically untethered. she's not looking for new days, she is a new day, compacted out of water, tired of changing real estate and showering with other people's success. those loud kids, her kids, play down the hall, in the beehive. radio jargon's on full blast too and telling her where to buy and sell today's instant pleasure. she's busy now with self-stimulation, Betty Dodson Method, then mixing orange powder with 100 year old whiskey kept in the lunar module: it's a spacewalk to eternity, faster-than-light: she sees broken pool tables and backyard swings. she sees 'ordinary' checked off on the calendar. she sees 'happiness' hiding in an old photo of Murphy's Camp. she wakes to her husband, Houston, in a holding pattern, she feels him moving, whispering, and touching something far off inside of her, but not moored in a specific time or place. in search of where she now exists (if she even existed at all), her memories feel artificial in that she lacks the emotional attachment that comes with actually having lived them. there are no answers, no choices. only reactions. it is always going to be that broken state of things: these days of heaven, chronically untethered. "only that day dawns to which I'm awake. there is more day to dawn, I suppose. and like us, the sun is but a morning star upon being dreamed into existence..." ~
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84
There will be no service and no luncheon when you “now” becomes a “Then” Just a dignified cremation awaits at your Journey’s end. There will be no spoken eulogy By a priest who knew you not. No crying yapping relatives- For none had you begot. There are those of us who’ll shed a tear, to think the old Girl’s passed. but there’ s no need to wear a suit Or get the Limos gassed. You’ll have passed on in your sleep Having felt the needles pinch. A far more humane fate I think than dying by the inch. Brownie was a good dog And often gave me her paw. She always got excited when she saw me at the door. A better pet you couldn’t get, Nor meet a gentler soul. I’ll shed a quiet private tear when I put away her bowl.
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Apr 22, 2012
Apr 22, 2012 at 7:49 PM UTC
Brownie Murphy R.I.P.
I'm trying to write a poem, because that's what I do write poetry about me and you, you and I those guys, these kids... that time I choked on fireflies because every third word I'd say illuminated the sky and between every spark of light the shadows clenched my eyelids.  Or all of the times Elmer fastened them shut and I saw nothing but sticky, icky white glue poems about something true, like the genetic connect between my cats- they're sisters or the non genetic connect between me and my stepsister- i miss her poems about hating the way I destroy each building block I set aside poems about hanging on for the ride I could write a poem each and every day about the birth of the earth in may but when springtime arrives and lucious life thrives I can barely get out of bed poems about irony poems about the law of murphy There's a poem I've written too many times about the criminal I am and all of my crimes there's a poem I have not yet written in ink, about not knowing what why or how my thoughts think there's a poem I will write, and it fills me with fright yet gets me through the night because the beauty blooming from your eyes intoxicated me, like the hug from a drug pollenating You can't simply try to write a poem- upchuck the acidic thoughts you think they weigh you down like past and future hangovers molded like heavy boulders almost tipping off your shoulders- you can't simply try to write a poem It's like loving your cousin though you've barely known him like a conch pressed to trying to hear the ocean but it's really just your blood pumping in motion
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Dec 17, 2013
Dec 17, 2013 at 8:44 AM UTC
Ironically conducted
I'm trying to write a poem, because that's what I do write poetry about me and you, you and I those guys, these kids... that time I choked on fireflies because every third word I'd say illuminated the sky and between every spark of light the shadows clenched my eyelids.  Or all of the times Elmer fastened them shut and I saw nothing but sticky, icky white glue poems about something true, like the genetic connect between my cats- they're sisters or the non genetic connect between me and my stepsister- i miss her poems about hating the way I destroy each building block I set aside poems about hanging on for the ride I could write a poem each and every day about the birth of the earth in may but when springtime arrives and lucious life thrives I can barely get out of bed poems about irony poems about the law of murphy There's a poem I've written too many times about the criminal I am and all of my crimes there's a poem I have not yet written in ink, about not knowing what why or how my thoughts think there's a poem I will write, and it fills me with fright yet gets me through the night because the beauty blooming from your eyes intoxicated me, like the hug from a drug pollenating You can't simply try to write a poem- upchuck the acidic thoughts you think they weigh you down like past and future hangovers molded like heavy boulders almost tipping off your shoulders- you can't simply try to write a poem It's like loving your cousin though you've barely known him like a conch pressed to trying to hear the ocean but it's really just your blood pumping in motion
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22
Sit down, the nun says, bringing Magdalene into her office, pointing to a chair opposite her desk. The nun eyes her seriously, her face framed in a black and white headpiece, her hands on the table in front of her palms down. Magdalene sits and stares at her shoes. Do you know why you are here? the nun says. You asked me to come in here, Magdalene replies, lifting her eyes to the nun's face. The reason why I asked you to come here? the nun says firmly. Magdalene shakes her head, fidgets in the chair. The nun sits back in her chair and stares coldly. Silence fills the room and Magdalene moves back in her chair, crossing her legs at the ankles. There have been reports of you and Mary Moran being seen entering a toilet cubicle together, is that true? the nun says, head to one side as if her neck had snapped. Magdalene shakes her head, no, who'd say such a thing? What wormy **** would say that? Magdalene says. The nun eyes her colder. Sister Bridget saw you, the nun says. With or without her glasses, Magdalene says, she's a bit short-sighted, she often mistakes me for the Murphy boy. The nun stares and shakes her head and says, you should show respect to the nuns, and not try to score points off of other's disabilities. Magdalene looks at the nun's hands on the desktop, tapping away on the old wood. I was not with Mary Moran; I was on my own, and why would Sister Bridget be spying on me going to the bog? Magdalene says. The nun slams her hand down on the desktop, and says, DO NOT BE SO RUDE AND TELL THE TRUTH. Magdalene stares at the slammed down hand; once it had slapped her thighs as a young girl in R.E, for not raising her hand to leave the room for a *** now she just stares at the nun and says, that's the truth after all said and done, cross my heart and hope to die. The nun rambles on, but Magdalene no longer listens, recalls the kiss on Mary's lips, and the spark in the nun's eyes that glistens.
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Feb 26, 2016
Feb 26, 2016 at 2:50 AM UTC
ENCOUNTER WITH A NUN 1963.
Sit down, the nun says, bringing Magdalene into her office, pointing to a chair opposite her desk. The nun eyes her seriously, her face framed in a black and white headpiece, her hands on the table in front of her palms down. Magdalene sits and stares at her shoes. Do you know why you are here? the nun says. You asked me to come in here, Magdalene replies, lifting her eyes to the nun's face. The reason why I asked you to come here? the nun says firmly. Magdalene shakes her head, fidgets in the chair. The nun sits back in her chair and stares coldly. Silence fills the room and Magdalene moves back in her chair, crossing her legs at the ankles. There have been reports of you and Mary Moran being seen entering a toilet cubicle together, is that true? the nun says, head to one side as if her neck had snapped. Magdalene shakes her head, no, who'd say such a thing? What wormy **** would say that? Magdalene says. The nun eyes her colder. Sister Bridget saw you, the nun says. With or without her glasses, Magdalene says, she's a bit short-sighted, she often mistakes me for the Murphy boy. The nun stares and shakes her head and says, you should show respect to the nuns, and not try to score points off of other's disabilities. Magdalene looks at the nun's hands on the desktop, tapping away on the old wood. I was not with Mary Moran; I was on my own, and why would Sister Bridget be spying on me going to the bog? Magdalene says. The nun slams her hand down on the desktop, and says, DO NOT BE SO RUDE AND TELL THE TRUTH. Magdalene stares at the slammed down hand; once it had slapped her thighs as a young girl in R.E, for not raising her hand to leave the room for a *** now she just stares at the nun and says, that's the truth after all said and done, cross my heart and hope to die. The nun rambles on, but Magdalene no longer listens, recalls the kiss on Mary's lips, and the spark in the nun's eyes that glistens.
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104
naturally, after we leave, everything seems to get better. not that we took it for granted no, really, we didn't. we were:             test subjects                      guinea pigs                             a band of misfits searching for the positive yet somehow remaining apathetic. I somehow expected you to be like us a little less caring a little less bothered that's what I expected, not this.. subdued insecurity manifested in your eyes they keep darting around looking for answers in a scallop or in the bottom of a coffee cup silence where you should be laughing sits hanging heavily on your shoulders, making your natural slouch even worse         ...I wonder if you noticed that your eyes are getting bluer we learned once in english class that films use blue to represent anxiety that the churning sea is symbolic of a churning mind we never learned that you can spot that in a man so lost in his worry that he can't see         ...his eyes are getting bluer.
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Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 3:09 AM UTC
murphy's law
Poignant prose chucked out and recycled by morning. Turned out trick repeated til boring. The local band just started touring. Sonnet's blasted until the ladies are 'whooring'. ... Roxy Music dropped David Byrne. For Ellie Goulding and a remix of burn. Robert Johnson's been reworked. Ratatat rap as interest is perked. Dylan picked up the silent game. Making ambient noises which all sound the same. The Rolling Stones joined the church. After buying some of Hoosier's merch. Nicki Minaj claps her **** Laying down a tribute for Terry Fox's stump. Benefit concert soon to be run. By the played out Glee Club composing Fun. Beach Boys dragged in with the tide. ...And Stars Collide. NOFX has gone clean Fat Mike's gone and become a dean. Tom Waits stomps out to Kendrick Lamar. Hacking up bits of blunt induced tar. Bumping out in Steve Ellison's car. To Captain Murphy's karaoke bootlegged from a bar. ... Less than 10 good tapes a year Even fewer if referring to those others actually hear. Jack White's gone third eye blind Getting over run by his drug free mind.
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Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 2:39 PM UTC
Grammy Season! Time To Celebrate Mediocrity!
There are a lucky few of us, who benefit from the paltry services of the mental healthcare system. The rest of us, well, we are the ones who walk naked down the street with absent faces. We are the ones who sit alone and ***** on the street corners of your small town America. Your America. We mutter nonsense to ourselves, for the sake of a sanity that was denied us. Denied us, yes, as we sought and sought a solution to our degradation, but we never could grasp that golden ring. Mrs. Murphy trims her hedges. And we walk obtrusively through the park on your warm, sunny, sky blue happy day, seeking love and connection with our own humanity in the garbage receptacles that are scattered down the paths of our solitary confinement. And in your eyes? Yes, yours! We seek our solace, our redemption. If only a single soul would glance up, and connect with the eyes of our soul starved, 'yes, here I am, friend!' We seek the self same recognition that you do. We seek that opportunity to be. That opportunity to be loved.
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Jan 17, 2013
Jan 17, 2013 at 8:11 PM UTC
Those who are not so lucky
The TV people scare me sometimes. They are always saying bad things. They do so with an air of confidence and reassurance. They fill your head with narcotic gossip and Everyone salivates over the tasty words. The addicted watch with anticipation. Eating up every juicy bit. The worse the news, the tastier. The media is an all-you-can-eat buffet For the cynical lovers of catch 22’s and Murphy’s law They gag on the good news Altruism, the Golden Rule, honest to goodness people That doesn’t taste so good It doesn’t give us our fix You need the bad to have the good And we only like the good to emphasize the bad The audacity of the TV people; how dare they tell good news Good news doesn’t sell Bad news is good news
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Jan 3, 2010
Jan 3, 2010 at 8:30 PM UTC
Television People
Teeth chatter and butts raise above seats, Riding pickups atop the corduroy road, Thunder claps of rubber bass beats, Slapping the undercarriage's rusty odes. The tires rhythmic riffs are risky, Clavinet keys echo wood beams over muddy water, Walter Murphy drinks a Fifth of Beethoven's whiskey, Leaving superstitions for Stevie to Wander.
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Mar 21, 2018
Mar 21, 2018 at 1:26 AM UTC
A Fifth of Beethoven's Jack Daniels
The universe confounding, plans of mice, and men it's not confined to where, just events, of how, and when Fate throws a monkey wrench, into all cogs, and gears destroying the machinery, confirming doubts, and fears Murphy was an optimist, I've hear that said before offered up the obstacles, blocking all, and any open doors The wreckage and destruction, will never be forgot plans that yielded nothing, amount too, diddly-squat
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May 2, 2017
May 2, 2017 at 10:04 AM UTC
Monkey Wrenching