"operator" poems
Well, I wish there was a telephone in Heaven.
Oh, how I'd love to talk to my Dad.
I'd tell him that I miss him and I love him,
And I'm sorry for the times we never had.
And I wonder if they'd charge me by the minute,
I wonder if they'd charge me by the mile,
I'd call up that ole Angel operator,
Could I please talk to my Daddy for awhile?
Telephone in Heaven
Well, I wish there was a telephone in Heaven.
Oh, how I'd love to talk to my Grandma.
I tell her that I miss her Sunday cookin,
I haven't ate like that since you went to meet Grandpa.
Well, I wonder if they'd charge me by the minute,
I wonder if they'd charge me by the mile,
I'd call up that ole Angel operator,
Could I please talk to my Grandma for awhile?
Telephone in Heaven
Well, I wish there was a telephone in Heaven.
Oh, how I'd love to talk to the Lord of mine.
I'd tell him that I love him and I'm thankful
For watching over all these loves of mine,
And I know he wouldn't charge me by the minute,
I'm sure he wouldn't charge me by the mile,
I'd call up that ole Angel operater,
And say thank you for this big long distance smile,
Telephone in Heaven.
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 10:28 PM UTC
The shopping channel calls to me
It wakes me up at night
To sell me things I do not need
Nor would buy, if I was right
But apparently, there's something wrong
My brain should be re-wired
I only purchase things on here
When I am really over-tired
I have a room specifically
For things bought on TV
I've ginsu knives and shredding blades
And juicers!!!...ninety three!!
For some reason the kitchen things
Just seem to catch my eye
Especially at three a.m.
That's the time I need to buy
I've magic bullets by the score
Processors, I don't need
But, if I ever put them all to use...
An army I could feed
I've got socks for diabetics
Things to make your ******* stand out
I've got exercise machines galore
I've got three things that help gout!
My credit card's at the limit
I know the numbers off by heart
The post man knows me by my name
I even have my own **** cart
To deliver all my purchases
They just load it and deliver
It almost comes here by itself
It's enough to make one shiver
I don't know how it started
I think the countdown clock...ah, yes
I thought it meant the game was ending
I phoned in and bought a dress!!!
I've got jewellery by Joan Rivers
George Foreman grills...they fill my den
I've got perfumes for the women
And lots of things that make you men!
My wife cannot contain me
She's sent me off to get some aid
But, if they sell it on the telly
I'll buy it sure as getting laid
I've bedazzled all my clothing
I eat dried fruit and jerky too
I get Christmas cards from Ronco
I'm a shopping ****** through and through
Each month we have a garage sale
I sell off some of what I've bought
But, then I go and buy it back again
Without a second thought
My friends have all but left me
I rarely go out of the house
I just sit here and go shopping
I don't even see my spouse
Set it and Forget it
That's a phrase I love to say
But wait, there's more...is another one
That helps me through the day
I used the last one on my wife
One night while having ***
She told me "Set it and Forget It"
I'm off to dreamland Tex!!
My shopping's an addiction
One I hope to beat some day
But now, the operator says...
I have to get my card and pay!
Jul 2, 2012
Jul 2, 2012 at 7:19 PM UTC
Somewhere there is a nurse putting clean sheets on what was once someone's death bed. Somewhere there is a police officer laying awake at two in the morning contemplating breaking his thumbs so he won't have to pull another trigger. Somewhere there is a body bag taking the shape of a person. Somewhere a warden has accidentally called a prisoner by their first name. Somewhere there is a man getting ready to pay for his glass of whiskey, his '1 year' AA token falls out of his wallet onto the bar counter. Somewhere the glass is completely empty, somewhere it's overflowing. Somewhere a therapist sitting in an empty session reading the local newspaper's obituary section wondering what she could've done. Somewhere a bullet has fallen in love with a heart, giving a whole new meaning to the 'kiss of death'. Somewhere the girl that never speaks is raising her hand but immediately putting it back down after the sound of her classmates' laughter bounces back and forth from the back of her mind to the front. Somewhere the silence at the dinner table is making a dent in a child's suit of armor. Somewhere a 70 year old man starts skipping instead of walking, he stops taking his medication. Somewhere there is a mother too drunk to sign her daughter's permission slip. Somewhere a man has stolen all of the flowers from a grave, so he can somehow feel as though he's being missed. Somewhere a child is asked what she wants to be when she grows up, she realizes ''myself'' isn't a good enough answer. Somewhere a mirror has been mistaken for a stranger. Somewhere someone is being loved by another person the only way they know how to love; whether it's through kisses, bruises, sleeping too closely to the other, or fifteen missed calls. Somewhere a man is falling in love with the automated voice inside of a voice mail because at least she will listen to him. Somewhere a 911 operator is walking into her house, hearing screams that aren't actually there. Somewhere these short stories are being broadcasted on the news, printed in the paper, whispered to a friend, or rotting in the back of someone's head. Somewhere I am whispering all of these things to a silent room full of people, none of them look up.
Aug 17, 2014
Aug 17, 2014 at 9:41 PM UTC
I don't think in linear paths
I think in images, not words.
I think through what I see
what I hear
what I feel
For instance, that night,
I found my sisters body
I saw her lifeless body hanging there
I saw my mother fall to the ground, a strangled mix between a scream and a gasp escaping her lips
I saw the red eyes of my father
I had never seen them before and I've seen them too many times since
I saw the strongest people I've ever known fall to their knees in the rubble of my family
I saw my family fragment, break and stumble under the weight of our grief
But I also saw my family stand up, rise, fight and pull the ripping seams together with our knuckles turning white
I heard my father's panic
I heard my mother's cries
I heard my own disconnected voice as my body and brain worked separately
I heard the voice of the 911 operator in my ear
I heard the sirens
the ones that now echo in my ears
I hear an unknown voice say "I'm sorry, we couldn't revive her. She's gone," as my mother crumpled into my father.
I felt my blood racing through my veins
I felt my heart pounding in my chest
I felt my muscles moving and tearing and ripping as I ran, fueled by adrenaline
I felt the loss
I felt the icy numbness blanketing my family
I saw a life end that night and dozens of others permanently altered
Her life ended that night and ours changed and came crashing to a halt but we got back up
I got back up
I only hope that wherever she is, she's finally happy
Happier than she was here
Apr 4, 2017
Apr 4, 2017 at 1:21 AM UTC
CATERPILLAR recognize me
BUTTERFLY (turning away glances over shoulder) excuse me
CATERPILLAR i’m you before you transformed
BUTTERFLY get away you ****** worm
CATERPILLAR you can’t be serious look at me i’m you
BUTTERFLY look at you? euwwwh you’re a sticky slug with too many legs (pause) i’m exquisite fluttering colorful poetry a celebrity with huge fan base wherever i fly people recognize admire me
CATERPILLAR (creases brow) what happened to you did you forget your past where you come from
BUTTERFLY my past is fiction i’ve always been this lovely luminary (turns profile to audience in exaggerated manner) can’t you see i’m busy go away please leave
CATERPILLAR (bluntly) you’re consumed in vanity drunk on yourself spectacle without substance you make me question my own growing will i become like you
BUTTERFLY stop talking i’m calling 911
CATERPILLAR (sharply) you’re a sickening disappointment another Paris Hilton spin-off i hope to die in the cocoon and be spared the sham of you
BUTTERFLY (speaking into cell phone) yes operator i’m being accosted violated attack in progress please dispatch police immediately
CATERPILLAR you’re pitiful over-reactionary spineless decadent
BUTTERFLY i have nothing more to say law enforcement will be here soon
CATERPILLAR quit fretting i’m out of here i need to find and warn other caterpillars this meeting is a bleak awakening
BUTTERFLY think what you like greasy maggot i’m late for a performance and need to skirt paparazzi
caterpillar trudges off stage left as butterfly ascends over audience
Aug 16, 2010
Aug 16, 2010 at 8:07 AM UTC
I've been around for centuries.
And will continue on.
I don't control my action.
I don't control my operator mood.
I just get accused.
When I lay a person down.
I didn't purchase myself.
A human purchase me.
I didn't load myself.
A person fulfilled that need.
I've been carried by the law enforcer legally for years.
And by the criminal influence a little longer.
When you have me in your hands.
You're the one in control.
Smith and Wesson some call me.
Other names seems to vary.
I'm protected by the second amendment.
And have the power to make a robber or burglar flee.
Yes, I am a gun.
Design to protect.
Design for show.
Create no problems.
And I lightly I won't be seen.
Except there's always one source that needs to meet me.
Jan 17, 2014
Jan 17, 2014 at 5:30 PM UTC
Dear Girl,
I really really love you, yes I do.
Not like it used to be, I'm no longer "in love",
It's something different, that I'd never felt before,
But I really really love you,
Dear Girl.
Dear Girl,
I really really mean it, yes I do.
Not "in love" like I used to be, I'm something else,
It's so strange, and I've never felt it before,
But I really really love you,
Dear Girl.
Dear Girl,
I really really mean it, yes I do.
Not like I used to be, I've changed a whole lot,
It's different, my heart doesn't want "in love",
But I really really love you,
Dear Girl.
Dear Girl,
This poem was a long time coming,
But I wrote the story when I didn't know how to be me,
Now wrote the poem when I grew some brains,
But I always really loved you,
Dear.
Sweet Girl,
You didn't deserve those late nights,
Where I killed your insides, when I made you cry and cry and cry,
They made you love me less, they made you numb, and you fell out of love,
But I really really loved you,
Sweet Girl.
Sweet Girl,
I've never been anything you deserve,
You had to pick me up off the floor, and it was more than you needed,
You pieced me together, but the person before you, she sabotaged me,
I had a destruct button you couldn't see,
Sweet Girl.
Sweet Girl,
Neither of us saw it,
We both thought I'd healed, from the awful things that happened to me,
You didn't get to see, but the person you were, you stayed with me,
When I became a nuclear disaster,
Sweet Girl.
Sweet Girl,
I try not to blame,
But you'll never understand how your mother was the Tsunami and Earthquake, and I was Fukushima,
We both didn't see it, but I was a nuclear plant, and meltdown waiting to happen,
The damage was too great, that June,
Sweet Girl.
Sweet Girl,
I never understood,
Even my own actions, because I loved you from the start, and I don't know what happened to me,
But in times before you, people built me, and you just became the new plant operator,
You didn't know I was so unsafe,
Sweet Girl.
Sweet Girl,
Nuclear plants are rather safe,
They just can't handle Tsunamis and Earthquakes, because they're made of materials that crack,
Under that kind of stress, I didn't just crack, I crumbled, I began melting down,
But you didn't know and I'm sorry,
Sweet Girl.
Sweet Girl,
You've been through a lot,
The Tsunami was hard, but you didn't know about the radiation, that it would destroy you,
You were mutated by the horrible conditions you had to live through,
But you didn't know and I'm so very sorry,
Sweet Girl.
My love,
You didn't know it,
But we were both reactors waiting to blow, disasters waiting to happen, to cause destruction,
We mutated each other until we didn't even know who we were,
I'm so very sorry, so so sorry,
My love.
Poor Girl,
I really really try today, yes I do.
Not like I used to try, but now I try to be strong, and not a nuclear reactor but more like carbon fiber,
But carbon fiber is brittle, since you killed me inside,
But I forever love you,
Poor Girl.
Poor Girl,
You've cleared your rubble,
Growing to be the most amazing and beautiful of skyscrapers, you're an inspiration for the world, you know,
You're so much different, standing taller than you'll ever know,
But skyscrapers can fall too,
Poor Girl.
Poor Girl,
You make yourself content,
Being alone, you tell yourself that alone doesn't mean lonely,
That you find peace in the solitude,
But solitude is an empty thing,
Poor Girl.
Poor Girl,
We can pick each other up,
You don't even know, it's not the same kind of picking up that we tried before,
This picking up can only go up,
Because we don't even care to feel sad anymore,
Poor Girl.
Poor Girl,
You don't even know, how much I want to kiss you,
But it's different than before, it's more like the kisses mothers give to children,
When their children are crying, the kind of kisses that make great statements and tell stories,
The stories only kisses can give,
My girl.
Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 7:26 PM UTC
For translational
invariant functions
The Lebesgue measure is an example of such a function;
In geometry, a translation "slides"
a thing by a: Ta(p) = p + a.
In physics and mathematics,
continuous translational symmetry
is the invariance of a system of
equations under any translation.
Discrete translational symmetry
is invariant under discrete translation;
Analogously an operator A on functions
is said to be translationally invariant
with respect to a translation operator
{\display style T_{\delta }} T_{\delta }
if the result after applying A doesn't change
if the argument function is translated.
More precisely it must hold that:
{\display style \for all \delta \
Af=A(T_{\delta }f).\,}
\for all \delta \ Af=A(T_{\delta
}f).\,
Laws of physics are translationally invariant
under a spatial translation
if they do not distinguish
different points in space.
According to Noether's theorem,
space translational symmetry of a physical system
is equivalent to the momentum conservation law.
Translational symmetry of any woman
means that a particular translation does not change her.
For a given woman, the translations
for which this applies form a group,
the symmetry group, or, if the women
have more kinds of symmetry, a subgroup of the symmetry group.
Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 1:53 AM UTC
An Open Letter to Really Important People
The Old Dime Box, Texas Statement
A Manifesto Made Manifest in Manifesting Manifestingness
We post this serious looking document
Bloated with long vocabulary words
Sodden with weak dependent clauses
Marshaled in numbered ranks, down, down they go
To the GossipNet all serious like
And everyone has to pay attention to us
Because it’s AN OPEN LETTER, y’know -
You may sign it if you’ve got letters behind your name
Signatories:
Apostle-Disciple Magic Dawn, DD., Non-Binary, Author of Green Polar Bears I Am, Co-Equal-Director of the Anti-Oppressionist Theatre Against the Occupation, Agent of the Revolution, Auteur, Guest on The Wheel of Fortune and Parent of Two AMAZING children of indeterminate Gender with Their AWESOME and AMAZING Life-Partner Sven-Marie.
Massive Ferguson, M.Ed., Poet, Rector of Admissions, The University of Where the Old Circuit City Use to Be
Poncy Tworbst, M.A., PUBLISHED Author, Seeker, Inspirational Singer-Songwriter, PUBLISHED
Heather-Mistee La’ Thwitte-Tworbst, Ph.D., Director of Library Resources at Saint Margaret ****** Homeschool Resource Authority Collective, Inc., Certified Ordained Consecrated Priest in The Worldwide Church of Me-ness and Pastor of the World-Famous Weddings ‘R’ Us Chapel of Rainbow Dreams in Magdalena, New Mexico
Lawrence Hall, HSG, Thinker of Thinky-Ness and, Like, Stuff, Endowed Chair he found at Goodwill, His Mark: X
(Sean Ian Johann Johnson, MBA, J.D., Chief Photocopier Operator at Donald Trump University and Fashion Editor at Gun, God, and Guts Magazine, was not able to sign today; he is sharing a cell with other White House staff and patiently awaiting The Day of Greatness.)
Aug 22, 2018
Aug 22, 2018 at 3:48 PM UTC
Mommy went to Heaven,
but I need her here today,
My tummy hurts and I fell down,
I need her right away!
Operator, can you tell me how
to find her in this book?
Is Heaven in the yellow part?
I don't know where to look.
I think my Daddy needs her too,
at night I hear him cry.
I hear him call her name sometimes,
but I really don't know why.
Maybe if I call her
she will hurry home to me.
Is Heaven very far away?
is it across the sea?
She's been gone a long, long time,
she needs to come home now!
I really need to reach her,
but I simply don't know how.
Help me find the number please
is it listed under "Heaven"?
I can't read these big big words,
I am only seven.
I'm sorry operator, ,
I didn't mean to make you cry,
Is your tummy hurting too?
or is there something in your eye?
If I call my church maybe they will know.
Mommy said when we need help
that's where we should go.
I found the number to my church
tacked up on the wall.
Thank you operator,
I'll give them a call.
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 9:42 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
Regardless of where my life is headed
No matter which wild path it is on
There are always voices that claw their way out
Sadness, Misery,Dripping desire, Torment, Gore...
Live inside of me
I have bubbles in my laughter
Sunshine sky ways in my smile
You'd never know from reading
That I could bake your pants off
Fix your camaro regardless it's issue
And clean your whole house all at the same time
Phone *** operator get you off with her voice kind of love
I make no apologies
Excuses don't dwell here
****** poet with a taste for flesh
An open book with banshee hair
The desire for more and more ink endless on my fingertips
May 23, 2012
May 23, 2012 at 12:17 AM UTC
Hey flossy! Don’t offer this smile anymore
Mysterious smile torments the heart
That smile raises up the thirst.
If you agree to surrender all your mysterious smiles to me
In return I will return your love with the usury of love
And with time’s compound interest rate.
If you turn down to surrender your smile
Then know the consequences of it,
Taking incalculable stars as my co – operator
I will abduct the celestial curve moon on the land.
Hey belle! Don’t turn your face away
Tell me,
You will be the reason of how many wars,
And the cause of scrimmage amongst the juveniles?
If you don’t pay attention to me today
Then know it, You spectacular lady,
In the theater of mysterious smile
I prosecute for the execution
Of your heart snatching smile….
Jan 2, 2013
Jan 2, 2013 at 9:12 PM UTC
Oh, Lac Operon, gene cluster great, you code for enzymes three,
but only if Lactose in the cell arrives to set you free.
Lac Z, Lac A, Lac Y: these genes would be expressed
yet a crafty protein from gene I keeps you so repressed.
Binding to the Operator, I’s Repressor keeps you capped.
Do not despair—Lactose saves you from this cruel Repressor trap,
for Lactose turns the Repressor off, giving you the space
to make galactosidase, transacetylase, and lactose permease.
Then Polymerase binds the Promoter, and the Lac genes have their day.
yet alas! They break down Lactose, taking your savior away.
When Lactose is gone, the Repressor binds and causes you to freeze,
so Operon, to live again, you must find more milk and cheese.
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 9:08 AM UTC
"Is there anybody there?" said the caller,
"Six ten eight oh one two four three nine?"
And his ears attuned to the empty hum
Of the long-forgotten line;
And an LED on the handset
Flashed, for a moment, red,
And he dialled the number a second time:
"Is there anybody there?" he said.
But no one replied to the caller,
No sound but the dialling tone
Came drifting into his waiting ear
As he held that haunted phone;
But only a host of phantom listeners,
Of spectres weak and strange
Stood hearkening to that human voice
That echoed around the exchange;
And he felt in his heart their strangeness,
And his heart was afraid and nervous,
With his hand on the final digit
Of that number not in service;
For he suddenly tapped the receiver
And spoke on that line of dread:
"Tell them I called, and no one answered,
That I kept my word!" he said;
Ay, they heard him replace the receiver,
And his mumbled cursing later,
With the usual subdued but enthused delight
Of the switchboard operator.
Nov 2, 2010
Nov 2, 2010 at 6:26 AM UTC
I'll fly out from this rollercoaster
Filled with disgust, with dizziness
The operator stands aghast
Amidst the turning machine
Above his heels,
Within his well-fed hands
It spins and turns
Like Big Brother's voice
On a broken loop
Creaking engine recalls
A sordid, mechanical taste
In the mouths of the trapped
They think it's so wondrous
To be on top of a flightless
Soar to the heavens
To see those ant-like buildings
Like a grain of dust in their hands
But they have paid the price
The people of the carnival only feeds them dreams
While they snicker inside the tents
Fairy godmothers on their breaks
Clouds darken beneath us
Rumbling, rumbling, roar the
Blue-violet crack in the sky goes
As we rode along to the earth's tremble
The view matches not what they promised
But everyone must go on till the ride stops
I sniffed the steps of rain in a small stairway to my senses
I knew right then that ride wasn't what we all thought
Jul 11, 2015
Jul 11, 2015 at 9:04 AM UTC
This is where we cross paths
Is it meant to be?
When you speak the hooks sink deeper
Echoings inside of me
Eyes of pure desire
Masked by double-meanings
I saw her say she loves me
But I was only dreaming
I will light your house on fire
If you do not give me your name
I trace the length of your fingers
The grace of hips leave me insane
I still do not dare touch you
Your coy smile slipping on and off
Your words hint at love and grandeur
The joy of simple life
As if the Norns have snipped a thread
Bony fingers knot us together
I feel the hands of fate
Upon the tapestry eternal
Vibrations I know you must feel
Vibrations I know you feel
May 1, 2013
May 1, 2013 at 12:50 PM UTC
How is it that the body can be so sure of what to do
When the mind is clueless?
The blood in my veins returns to my heart,
I kiss you automatically,
Yet I am still so unsure.
I've never been one for clear cut precision,
In the making of decisions,
And now, more than ever, I doubt myself.
They tell me I'm not making sense,
That my thoughts are muddled,
That I am not making sensible decisions.
But, was it not those same sensible decisions
That have led me to where I now am?
I tell you assuredly, it was.
Though my mind is muddled,
My heart keeps pumping,
It is truly a wonder of engineering,
Effective machinery
With no use of an operator.
I will sit here for hours
Willing it to stop,
And it will pay me no heed.
Apr 21, 2013
Apr 21, 2013 at 6:15 AM UTC
Fierce is god impenitrable
glad glad glad there is a
Fire up the street called Heaven
There is
A woman wearing only one shoe who is taking
an exhaustive drag of her smoke in the
early morning where birds are
still heard in
!!!!!!cities
A hymnal a
heralded nest of savory berries A quartzstone is trapped in time a myth is made more ridiculous when proven real
Continents wither where the flies glue their
regal canvases on downtrodden earth (missing Pangea)
Or smiles everlasting smiles meanwhile
(Blonde tongues wearing fashioned wigs)
in constant state of beguilement
The Neanderthalic stones will be unforgiving to the REVEREND who has collapsed through his song the song of lead pipedream fantasies of sexless dogma YEAH monkhood yeah Ghat burning holes in twilit schools of thought or no thought at all
I can
hear the collective Faerie outcry that silence has presented itself HEAvier to their wicked careless bodies ok I am innocent of love I love your innocent love I am careless(of their wicked careless bodies)
ResemblingA swans actual duty to die
a swan lies a swan lay
like an even more beautiful swan
on even more beautiful swanny grass
To die by swanlightSUN and MOON white like the swan where we soon listen closely to the swansong a celestialLOVELY
rhythm of gilded forest (((((orchestrals
The swan leaves us in happiness of bright groggy light
O (of which in chaos of day I am again innocent)
The Reverend's desperate gaspings into a micro -phone for a macro - cosmic prayer idol o idol where is your capability for worship idol o where is my chinstrap o idol where is ****** youth or the romanticized eternal SUMMERS I sing
O bible O cloudland O where is your telephone operator is they deceased by their own fragrant holines? The church
Watches the Reverend neverend his television routine of clamoring death odes
Watches his senility come like an implorical shadow outline watches a demon lick its dreamless lips beyond the periphery of godless dreams
Watches
Reverend lose his sight in anInstant
HeWAILSheWAILSandWAILS can you hear it Thomas De Quincey can you hear the sandbeaches ringing more clearly than the ChurchBells or the ****** Pagoda for torture /
his soul is to sleep in the (mossy)mountain the fire of the (forever)street called HEAVEN the mountain column supporting the sky(swan)gate of heavenHeaven!welcome
to:
Mar 17, 2017
Mar 17, 2017 at 9:41 PM UTC
After a tiny nap I woke up,
And gave the curtain drapes a push-up,
Just to witness how they were torn-up.
I had no clue on who did it,
I doubted my brother cutting it a bit
Thinking it is a chit!
Then I had to spare him,
Because he was at the gym.
And then I saw my window open to view,
And suspected the squirrel anew.
Thus came the huge conspirator,
The squrriel, the top operator
Who tore my curtain drapes
Thinking they were edibles!
And now, I here my mother call,
Who is going to enter my room, so tall,
I don't know how I am going to tell her all,
For the squirrel tore my curtain; though small
Now I need to manage the brawl.
Jan 6, 2013
Jan 6, 2013 at 12:23 AM UTC
Oh sweet boy, Angel of God
on earth you have completed your task.
To other world’s you now must fly to,
we are keeping your feathers
as you begin your ascension .
Oh sweet child of God
Such clear vision at your tender age,
to serve and protect was your end game,
but now we are left…with a confused and hazed
apology to a shroud of teddy bears and lit candles.
The spilled wax is a reminder, that
deep inside we are all cowards
and we forgot that you were the prey
and needed protection.
The burning wick is not for you –
it’s to remind us of your light
and that humans by nature are dangerously dark…
I am sorry Junior, for we have failed you.
I am sorry that it was fear that came to your rescue,
I’m sorry your eyes witnessed the malice of creation,
I’m sorry people recorded instead of calling the operator,
I am sorry your cry for help did not connect…
You know mijo…the line was ringing-but the world is deaf.
!Oh, sweet child of God!,
Some called you Junior in life,
You were an angel with wings so wide
that in these concrete streets, you could not fly.
The Bathgate would be your access to heaven
you’ve left us your wings in a city corner,
so that we can remember to look up above
and find surrender and forgiveness in clashing clouds.
I don’t know what to say,
your departure causes so much grief and pain,
yet, you did not die in vain…I think you are still
working with humanity from far away;
You woke up a community that had been sleeping,
you woke us up from the anesthesia, the numbness
Is no longer acceptable, our youth need a BEACON.
A new door we must create so
that our youth’s future is not slain
in the mumble jumble of irresponsible adults.
Makes space for youth in the world,
So that every Junior in our lives,
can live without fear in their backyard.
Oh sweet child of God,
We are not there yet but with you..,we’ll RISE again.
Thank you for every day you arose,
for loving your mother so much,
for inspiring a movement of love,
for showing us courage and hope,
your sweet little face will live in our hearts.
Oh sweet child of God,
your name we will not forget
I think you set the stage,
we must act and rise again.
© LeydisProse
6/25/2018
https://m.facebook.com/LeydisProse//
Jun 25, 2018
Jun 25, 2018 at 4:38 PM UTC
Like two scorpions in a bottle,
The two wolves continue to fight.
One holds never-ending dominance
Relentlessly mocking and scolding.
The slanderous one, better known as the chief
The master, better known as my back bone.
The other wolf; the sufferer,
Facing the horror of the fire.
Like luscious, vibrant air filled with beauty and self-worth
With the intensity and beauty of a glowing golden sun,
Glittering as it beams among the surface of the waters.
The lustrous one, better known as my daydreams
The lovely one, better known as my pure naked self.
Like two scorpions in a bottle,
There was a fight between evil and good.
The winner; the one the operator chooses to feed,
The winner; a display of my blindness.
Blindness, lacking the sense of sight; sightless.
Blind to the naked beauty and worth of the lovely wolf,
The starving wolf.
Like two scorpions in a bottle,
The two wolves continued to fight inside of me.
The delightful became liquified into dark raw evil,
Leaving me drowning, gasping
Gasping the slightest bit of that air of self-worth.
(C) Emily Mckusker 2016
May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 6:30 AM UTC
I turned the corner cautiously
into the kitchen at work,
hoping for emptiness.
I just wanted a quiet sanctuary,
away from the gossip agenda.
Much to my surprise, I found out
I'm ******* the secretary.
"That's odd," I think to myself.
"I don't recall that."
In struts Justin, the ******* from accounting.
"So, how'd you get that play?"
A devilish smile crawls onto his face
**** you, man."
I walk to the breakroom.
Kaylie's there in a pencil skirt that could
be mistaken for skin and a sheer shirt
over a lacy bra that pushes up her ****
so much you'd swear she was suffocating.
She raises an eyebrow and I assume that's
a greeting.
But she speaks as well,
"Hello, *******
I gulp cold coffee down.
This talk is usual and never goes below two feet deep.
"Hello... what is it today? ****
"Very funny. I heard you're ******* the ***** up front."
"Yeah, well, talk is cheap, ain't it? Besides, I heard you're blowing Troy."
"What? Where did you--"
"Relax, red light. I don't give a **** if he's ******* you on his head. Just make sure I don't walk in on the fun, alright?"
"You think you're such a smooth operator, don't you? You know, you could write the book on being an *******
"Well, thanks for having faith, but you've got it wrong. I'm a smooth talker. And it would be a 10-step pamphlet. I don't have the integrity or patience to write a book."
**** you. When I'm a Washington big shot and you're a washed up ******* with a camera, we'll see who's laughing."
"When you're a Washington big shot, I'll set myself on fire and jump ship out of this ********* country, screaming "Kaylie the Cumbucket!" on the free fall down like the lunatic I am."
She grins, "sometimes I think you've lost your mind."
"Sometimes, red light, I know I have."
Nov 22, 2010
Nov 22, 2010 at 3:18 PM UTC
Waiting all winter here
For summer to arrive
So we can go on every ride;
So good to be alive.
No more cold weather
Summer’s here, so are we
From morning until night
Playing continuously.
Hershey bars, bumper cars
Popcorn and a coke.
Maybe the operator
Will go out for a smoke.
Leaving us up high again
Way up on the top
Making us wish this all
Will go on and never stop.
The Fun House is just that,
As is the Tunnel of Love,
And the parachute ride
Drops us from above.
The House of Mirrors
Shows who we are not
And distorts our views
Of the bodies we’ve got.
Hershey bars, bumper cars
Popcorn and a coke.
Maybe the operator
Will go out for a smoke.
But first stop it high again
With us up on the top
Making us wish this all
Will go on and never stop.
Throwing ***** at targets
Like famous baseball stars
Wins us some ugly toys
We take home in our car
For some goodnight kisses
And after a perfect day,
Wish as hard as we can
That it would never go away.
Hershey bars, bumper cars
Popcorn and a coke.
Maybe the operator
Will go out for a smoke.
Leaving us up high again
Way up on the top
Making us wish this all
Will go on and never stop.
Oct 6, 2015
Oct 6, 2015 at 3:37 AM UTC