"phoned" poems
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
T'was the night before Christmas
And with everything done
The kids were all dreaming
Of Christmas Day fun
The tree was completed
We had wrapped all the toys
When from the basement below
We heard a faint noise
I sprung from the couch
Took off down the stairs
On my way through the kitchen
I tripped on two chairs
I slid down the staircase
To the base of my house
And there with my shortbreads
Was a ****** great mouse
My wife followed close
And then she let out a shriek
She saw me and the mouse
And she started to freak
He nibbled the cookie
and he ran past my nose
right down my torso
Then he stopped at my toes
My wife was still screaming
The mouse didn't care
He continued his running
On under the stairs
I crawled to my workshop
Grabbed the first thing I found
A mallet for pounding
That mouse in the ground
I limped to the staircase
And I swung at the wall
I again lost my balance
And again, I did fall
I put two holes in the riser
Two more in the tread
I was gonna keep swinging
Till that mouse was dead
I broke the one lightbulb
That lit up the room
Now I was worried
I couldn't see...found the broom
I stepped on one end
Squared my self in the sack
I then heard a noise
The mouse had come back
I heard his slight skitter
As he went past my feet
He was off to the larder
For more stuff to eat
I went back to the workshop
Tripping at least three more times
I would finish this mouse
He would pay for his crimes
I grabbed for a lighter
And my large propane torch
I would hunt down this mouse
And his **** I would scorch
I lit up the propane
And I aimed at the stairs
It caught light on the carpet
And I burnt both those chairs
The flames went on upward
The stairs were quite dry
I laughed in hysterics
That **** mouse would fry
My wife had recovered
And decided to run
but, after seeing the flames
She phoned up 9 1 1
The mouse left the building
In fact, he never was found
The house burned in seconds
It collapsed to the ground
And through the whole scene
I just stood there and laughed
At the wreckage before me
And I thought, **** I'm daft
I had ruined our Christmas
And I burned down our house
Over a **** shortbread cookie
And one little mouse
The kids, they got out
And were wrapped up and warm
While I was creating
My own perfect storm
The gifts were all ruined
The house ...all consumed
And over my head
One large question loomed
If I had gone for the shotgun
And shot at the mouse
Would I be still having Christmas
And would I still have a house
My wife came on over
And she gave me a swat
She said "look what you've done"
"you great stupid ****
I learned a great lesson
and folks ...it is that
Once I rebuild
I will then buy a cat!!!
Dec 1, 2013
Dec 1, 2013 at 5:01 PM UTC
the night I was going to die
I was sweating on the bed
and I could hear the crickets
and there was a cat fight outside
and I could feel my soul dropping down through the
mattress
and just before it hit the floor I jumped up
I was almost too weak to walk
but I walked around and turned on all the lights
and then I went back to bed
and dropped it down again and
I was up
turning on all the lights
I had a 7-year-old daughter
and I felt sure she wouldn't want me dead
otherwise it wouldn't have
mattered
but all that night
nobody phoned
nobody came by with a beer
my girlfriend didn't phone
all I could hear were the crickets and it was
hot
and I kept working at it
getting up and down
until the first of the sun came through the window
through the bushes
and then I got on the bed
and the soul stayed
inside at last and
I slept.
now people come by
beating on the doors and windows
the phone rings
the phone rings again and again
I get great letters in the mail
hate letters and love letters.
everything is the same again.
8.6k
You said you'd come to tea
so I made a cake
chocolate sweet; maraschino filled;
girdled with a satin blue ribbon;
set out the prettiest plates;
hand painted with forget-me-nots.
And from the darkest corner of a drawer
found a single candle to celebrate the day.
I'd understand if you had 'phoned,
but now the chocolate lends a bitter taste
and even the despairing posies have given up all hope
as the candle's flame flickers my ever waiting shadow.
Mar 10, 2010
Mar 10, 2010 at 9:01 AM UTC
Perfected spending ideal day off
Prepared a hot breakfast in bed
Procrastinated Java or Columbia
Perused the paper cover to cover
Perplexed prayer over crossword
Pampered by bath-time bubbles
Phoned almost forgotten friends
Purchased Murakami on Amazon
Polished off a lunchtime martini
Postponed exercise with siesta
Perambulated the beach slowly
Pushed the boat out for dinner
Preferred Barolo to Barbaresco
Panicked - work again tomorrow.
Nov 25, 2012
Nov 25, 2012 at 9:23 AM UTC
I ached for you last night,
and I yearned and I cried and I shaked for you last night.
I wanted nothing but to be near you,
to hear your heartbeat in your chest.
But I did not want to break you down,
or put this love to rest.
I dreamt of you lying beside me last night,
and I kissed you and I held you and I felt you last night.
I traced out the moon beams surrounding your spine,
and kissed every ligament, still hoping you're mine.
But before I could sleep, and before I could slumber,
I readied my mind and I phoned to your number.
I wanted you to come here to me,
and I wanted you to be near.
But with wanting and heartache I hung up that phone,
and I watched the blood moon appear.
(i.r)
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 1:03 PM UTC
The number you have dialed has been disconnected....
No one is here to take your call.
The reason why, is because you disrespected.
The last time I trusted you, I can't recall.
I don't know why you even phoned.
Unless it was just out of habit.
You must be alone, with no one at home,
for this you can take all the credit.
The number you have dialed has been disconnected...
I would prefer that you never call again.
I've moved on, but I'm not feeling dejected,
It's time for my new life to begin.
You can swear once again you will try changing.
Even promise, that you'll always be true.
But once you hang up, a new date you'll be arranging,
You'll no longer be making my heart blue.
The numbeer you have dialed has been disconnected...
That is what the recording kept playing.
But, I heard clearly to me, directed,
all that my love wasn't saying.
Jul 3, 2010
Jul 3, 2010 at 8:45 PM UTC
Jill. Fred phoned. He can't make tonight.
He said he'd call again, as soon as poss.
I said (on your behalf) OK, no sweat.
He said to tell you he was fine,
Only the crap, he said, you know, it sticks,
The crap you have to fight.
You're sometimes nothing but a walking *********
I was well acquainted with the pong myself,
I told him, and I counselled calm.
Don't let the ******* get you down,
Take the lid off the kettle a couple of minutes,
Go on the town, burn someone to death,
Find another **** giver her some hammer,
Live while you're young, until it palls,
Kick the first blind man you meet in the *****
Anyway he'll call again.
I'll be back in time for tea.
Your loving mother.
3.2k
Turn the kitchen sink on. Wait 36 seconds. Turn the sink off. Count the sides of the kitchen doorway. One, two, three. Put socks on, walk to the bathroom. Take socks off. Turn the bathroom sink on. Wait 36 seconds. Turn the sink off. Count the sides of the bathroom doorway. One, two, three. Put socks on. The whole procedure had been finely polished into a smooth six minutes. Exactly. Justin’s day can now begin. He finishes his normal routine and leaves the house. He checks the gutter. He’s not checking for anything specific, but it’s sixth in his morning ritual and must be done.
Today he found something. There’s a girl, passed out. She is wearing an excessively short turquoise sequined dress, with matching stilettos. Justin was at a loss. The gutter was not empty. Should he call the police? He took her shoe. He ran. Six blocks later, he stopped. He was In front of his favourite coffee shop. It was an intimidating place, with a tattoo and piercing service offered, while you wait for your coffee. He liked it because the address was 666. He was worried the police he hadn't phoned would be searching for the stiletto he had stolen. Who would have known he would turn to a life of crime? Just earlier, while the bathroom sink was on, he had been thinking of complementing the local parking officer (the one with the limp) on his ability to write tickets. Now here he was, holding the glittering fruit of his crime. Maybe he could return it to the young lady. She seemed nice enough, from what little he knew of her. But what if she questioned him? Best have an excuse prepared. He could say he saw a spider climbing into it. His chivalry had saved her from a nasty bug bite. No, he couldn't pull that off. He would pretend to be a poet, that’s what he’d do. Poets are known for being strange. So he set about writing her a poem.
*Turquoise like the rain,
off you go, down the drain.
With a dress, short like our fleeting existence,
that could really do with some more distance.
I took your heel to 666,
left you a poem in the mix.*
Justin was in fact quite proud of his apparent literary side. He rejected -yet again- a discount on tattoos, and left the coffee shop. He walked back to his gutter, Finding once again the girl, passed out. Slipping the stiletto back into place on her foot, he looked around guiltily, double checking the police hadn't followed him. He went inside. He went to bed. The next morning, he forgot to turn the kitchen sink on. He didn’t wait 36 seconds. Didn’t turn the sink off. Didn’t count the sides of the kitchen doorway. One, two, three. Didn’t put socks on. Didn’t walk to the bathroom. Didn’t take socks off. Didn’t turn the bathroom sink on. Didn’t wait 36 seconds. Didn’t turn the sink off. Didn’t count the sides of the bathroom doorway. One, two, three. Didn’t put socks on.
Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 2:20 AM UTC
...Our bodies,
clothed,
our souls,
naked,
our Selves,
exposed,
under the glow,
so sacred,
the glow,
of the deep red moon,
in it’s eclipse,
in our eclipse,
more than epic,
everything all of it,
love crazy as a lunatic,
this is honestness,
in all honestness,
all of us,
involved not embroiled,
incense,
and oils,
timeless heirlooms of pheromones,
undertones of unknowns future plans postponed,
the core of our chromosomes covered in ecstatic moans,
the world our throne ET finally phoned home,
emotions amplified no microphone,
thrown into our sensory’s cyclone,
zoning in the zone she shook me to my bones,
bones,
ashes,
dust,
memories,
amnesia memories,
for as quickly as she’d appeared,
she vanished in an instant,
gone like a forgotten prophecy…
from The H Trilogy Vol. 1
available worldwide
∆
Jul 24, 2016
Jul 24, 2016 at 6:08 PM UTC
I'm here
sitting on the comfortable chair
with all of my poems
waiting to see
what the words could describe you.
I'm here
looking the blank pages
that I so much hate
all the time when
I want to write.
I'm here
where the pain
I so much love
grows the roses in my heart
then you freely pluck me.
I'm here
where the night
letting the rain
pouring me from the sky
trying to **** every silence.
I'm here
where the shadows
become a crowd
burning my candle
showing me a smile.
I'm here
trying to phoned you
but you weren't in it,
I'm still here
to understand my loneliness.
Sep 21, 2021
Sep 21, 2021 at 11:21 PM UTC
well you've done it again
made me feel like ****
is that a natural talent or did you practice
(oh how you've practiced)
you
with your attitude to women
cos they didn't turn out the soft centred
sweets your so addicted to
so tired of these power games (is that what they are....?)
you go away then ph when i'm at work (you knew that)
then do the same thing AGAIN the next day...!!?
"between you not being home
and the computer"......
?????????
untrue
i've stayed offline
most of the time
in case you phoned..... "sigh"
i knew you would
do what you did
didn't
what is that
Apr 24, 2012
Apr 24, 2012 at 4:18 AM UTC
make complications, rebuke.
electronic mailings
back, forth, fourth
again. it is their responsibility,
arrangment, role, assigned post.
it is so very important, so difficult.
phoned the other one, he just
said yes.
job done.
sbm.
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 11:45 PM UTC
Doctor and Mrs Granger
took Mrs Thrift to the zoo
she was captivated by the antics
of the Zambian gnu
Doctor Granger took a photo of her
outside the lion's cage
he instructed Mrs Thrift not to upset
the lion as he'd go into a rampage
Mrs Granger was going to make a cup of tea
for all of them on their return
but she couldn't boil the water
as there was no water for the urn
the electrical pump on the water storage tank
had blown up
so there was no water at the Granger compound
to fill the tea cups
as soon as I heard about the water pump
at the Granger compound
I phoned Major Rogers
to bring his electrical repair kit around
he took a little over an hour and a half
to fix the ailing pump
so we'd be able to have a cup tea
whilst sitting on the tree stumps
next week there will be a recess
from the Granger tale
as the writer is going to take care
of her mountain load of mail
she appreciates the many good reviews
of the Granger series
and thinks that the fans of the said series
are a lovely lot of old dearies
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 8:51 AM UTC
i remember riding shotgun
between my ma and pa
mom had on the radio
dad chewed on his chaw
I always rode the middle
Every time in that old truck
I could feel each bounce and bump
Somtimes I had to duck
Ma would play the radio
Jesus music filled the air
Daddy, turned and looked away
Just like he didn't care
Daddy was in Vietnam
He met Ma when he got back
He lost two fingers in the war
From a sneak enemy attack
Ma grew up in Jamestown
A small town in Tennessee
Nothing there but the old mine
Nothing much for one to see
She went to church on Sundays
Listened to WCLC
Jesus music all the time
For the folks in Tennessee
Each Sunday after service
Pa would pick us up at church
He never went inside though
He didn't quite like Pastor Birch
Daddy only owned one suit
He'd had it since the war
He wore it to get married in
It didn't fit no more
The sleeves had gotten shorter
The chest was far too tight
But, since he didn't go to church
To pa....it fit just right
Ma would sit and listen
And I would watch my pa
He'd make faces out the window
Never ever to my ma
Pa had faith, but different
He believed in what he saw
And what struck his eyes in war time
He could never tell my Ma
So, we would go to market
After church, each Sunday morn
Ma would go in shopping
We rush her with the old truck horn
She'd cuss pa when she got back
He'd just smile, enough to say
Let's get home, daylights wasting
There's still chores to do today
When I was nine, well almost ten
Ma got sick, I mean, real bad
She was being called to heaven
And I remember that my Dad
Took me into town to shop
To get a suit and shoes
Before we went he sat me down
And told me the bad news
I cried, for near an hour
Funny thing, my pa did too
I'd never seen this happen
To me, well...this was new
He said, you're ma's a fine one
She's the best person that I know
Now, she's wanted up in heaven
That's all...we need to go
Ma died three days later
Pa phoned up Old Pastor Birch
He told him what had happened
And made plans to use the church
In all my life, I'd never seen
My pa dressed up so good
He said, I don't look perfect
But, I done the best I could
Pa's been gone for thirty years
And you know, I've got his suit
Not the new one that he bought that day
But, the one...he gave the boot
It reminds of the better times
When Ma and Pa and me
would ride out on a Sunday
I'd be shotgun, just to see
I remember riding shotgun
With Ma and Pa, and it was good
Jesus Music on the radio
As I think back...it was good
Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 3:07 PM UTC
‘There were icicles hung from the window-sill
At dawn, when I thought to peep,
And the snow’s built up to the top of the door,
It must be six feet deep.’
Diane was shivering under her gown
When she crawled back into bed,
‘You’d better go out and fix it, Phil,’
‘Too late for that,’ I said.
I’d peered on out of the window and
The sun was shining bright,
The birds were twittering in the trees
Awake in the early light,
There wasn’t a sign of ice or snow
At the door, or window-sill,
I went to check on Diane, because
I thought that she must be ill.
She lay, still shivering in the bed
I thought that she had the ague,
‘The ice is deep in your soul,’ I said,
But her eyes were cold and vague,
‘The ice is there on the window ledge
And the snow is piled at the door,
Go out and clear it away for me
Before it spreads to the floor.’
I stopped to look at the mantelpiece
At the picture of our son,
She’d cut him off with never a word
For some trivial thing he’d done,
We hadn’t seen him for seven years
And he never phoned or called,
She’d not shed even a single tear
And for that, I was appalled.
‘The cold is eating my very bones
I can feel it creeping in,’
She seemed so suddenly old and grey
(There are several types of sin).
‘Will you not go out and shovel the snow
For the wife that you used to love?’
‘I would if the snow was at the door,
But the sun is bright above.’
‘You haven’t loved me for years,’ she said,
‘You never do what I want!’
‘Love is a two-way street,’ I said,
‘Not a one-way covenant.
Before we take, then we have to give
So the feeling is returned,
But you’ve locked yourself in your tiny soul
And you’ve left me feeling spurned.’
‘I give you what you deserve,’ she said
‘Since you let our daughter go,
You let her marry beneath her,
As I said, ‘I told you so!’
‘You made our daughter unhappy, by
Rejecting the one she loved,
You wouldn’t go to the wedding, so
She said that she’d had enough!’
‘The ice has formed on the ceiling now,
Why can’t you feel the cold?’
‘The ice and snow that you’re seeing is
The ice cave of your soul.’
‘I’ve hated you for many a year,’
She spat, and she said it twice,
‘That’s sad, for I’ve always loved you,’
I began, but her eyes were ice.
David Lewis Paget
Aug 29, 2013
Aug 29, 2013 at 7:06 PM UTC
Hi how you doing
I’m doing fine, how about you
I’m okay, well I’m not really
Go on tell me about it, that’s what us ex’s are for.
It’s Joe.
Joe, that’ll be my replacement.
He doesn’t seem to want to do it.
When you say do it, do we mean ***
Yes, strange isn’t it.
I don’t know, I don’t know Joe.
He’s a man, what is there to know.
Why is he not chasing you around the house.
I don’t know, what happened to us.
You dumped me.
I know, but why.
Let me see now, oh yeah, you said you wanted a ring, marriage, children, house, and a pony. I said I didn’t like pony’s. You said that’s the last straw. I said, exactly, do you know how much straw costs. You said, shut up about the straw. I said, where would we put a pony. You said, shut the **** up about the pony, shut the **** up about the straw. Do you want to marry me or not. I sort of got lost for words, and by the time I got round to saying I would love to marry you, you were away with Joe.
You’re so full of crap, you ran a mile, actually you and that pony have a lot in common, you’re both mule headed.
You’re still with Joe, did he give you a pony.
No, he gave me something else.
Frustration
It’s not all about *** you know, he’s saving himself.
That’ll be the biggest coming this year then.
I don’t know why I phoned you, you do my head in.
You need to borrow me till Joe’s ready.
No I don’t, celibacy is the in thing now.
Well in that case, I just want to congratulate on your resolve.
Are you seeing anyone.
No, I’m going through a monking phase at the moment, new habit.
So we could meet as friends then.
I don’t see why not, a friend in need is a friend in need.
I think that’s a friend indeed.
Indeed it is friend.
Should I bring a bottle round.
That would be a friendly thing to do.
You won’t mention Pony’s will you.
I won’t mention Pony’s.
Okay, I’ll bring Joe with me.
What.
I need to send him back, the post office is on the way.
Ha ha, nice one.
May 29, 2016
May 29, 2016 at 4:43 AM UTC
Hey you,
Just got back to the flat, not the same without you sat at the top of the stairs typing away.
Reminders all over, showing me of your recent presence.
First sight at pile of dishes that you washed,
Empty grissini breadstick's box,
Still some tzatziki and houmous left though.
Need a **** can't deal with this already.
Ahh, that's better. A tooth-brush is missing,
Spa Covent Garden Sanctuary, Irish Meadow?
Will upstairs be any better?
Must pause, plug in interent hub. ****
Back to old self so soon.
Duvet squashed up to the back wall,
Can almost make out your imprint.
I'm reluctant to throw out the remaining *** butts,
Seems as if you're still here.
Half drunken mugs of tea, finished quiche,
Can't believe I was so sick on the last night.
Bad dreams yesterday, two in fact.
Both being hung over ridiculous heights.
No good with that, big fear.
A sign of pressure bearing down?
Held council to rights, no joy.
Start the whole drawn out claim again,
Lot's of boxes to tick and fill.
Toss pots, must bite tongue and get on.
Doctor’s waiting room has mags for women only,
Nothing to chill my nervous mind.
'But are you going to faint on me?'
I made it through allright, lost some blood.
ECG scan on Thursday, for what though?
Chest or heart? Probably heart.
Mid-life wake-up call come early.
Do I really want to know? I suppose.
Where's my lovely? I need her so.
A cuddle, a smile, all better.
Action time- phoned all bills, extra time.
C'mere money, pretty please?
What thong then? Suspicious...
I was right (kinda)! ***
So excited, so touched, wow!
We will work it out Dee.
Thoughts of wild horses scare me not,
Something feeling very right, not at all wrong.
Hardest thing ever has already been done-
Finding that special little someone.
Jul 16, 2010
Jul 16, 2010 at 2:52 AM UTC
Joel's ten month old only child, a son, had just started walking as Joel was sentenced to jail for three to six months for fighting, after charges had been filed against him. Each time a court hearing was set Joel went, but the dates were always post phoned. Joel meet Sena a tall dark skinned buxom twenty nine old French speaking woman, just off the coast of Ghana. They married and through mutual friends came to America,and settled in Germantown. Sena spoke French to her dacca. She was a devoted mother and wife. Each time that Sena dropped her child off at daycare, she covered dacca's face with kisses,before heading for the indoor fruit stand that employed her. Joel always cocky and prideful,all of his life,drove a black Lincoln with his girlfriend closer than a flea on a dog, and met sales quotas when required. Granted one phone call from jail, Joel spoke with his rejected wife Sena, asking for bail money, his once proud and sarcastic voice breaking. A lawyer informed Sena that since charges had been filed ,the conviction had to stand. Joel now sits in a shared cell occasionally looking through the steel bars in lock down, gazing up at stars that he once rode and walked under freely.
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 10:08 PM UTC
It has been almost 7 years since
We first spoke,
And your *** and coke has loosened your tongue.
"It is not your fault that I'm
in love with you,"
you said,
"I'm just an idiot, for letting it go
so far."
Like when, at 3am, you phoned from across the ocean,
Because you felt that something was wrong,
And the pills stacked up on my desk stayed there,
Useless.
I'm sure that that was careless of you, too.
If I had known I would have curbed it,
Because I know that
unrequited love feels like a
punch to the gut,
And you've saved me enough times that
I owe you in return.
But, as confessions pour from your alcoholic lips,
I freeze.
I'm not sure what comfort I can be, when
The word 'friendzone' has
left your mouth so often
That I sometimes think
you're the
enemy.
Now we are here,
And I keep expecting your finger
To send the blame my way.
Please don't be that guy
(I wouldn't be alive without you.)
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 6:42 PM UTC
Your cheek rested on my chest light
pressing the silence bright for a moment
in your dark porch feelings had weight
but I was reluctant to detach to speculate
about where we were and what we held
too secure to need to share talk at all
like the black cat blending into the explored
our world still unbound by word patrolled walls
the street lamp flickered with temptation
asking elemental questions on decisions
reason on or off proving only a distraction
illuminating your attractions from a distance
above us a curtain stirred
up against an open window
lulled by slight rain cloud
blurring the moon to slow
cuddle in love with a dream
seen sweetly on half show
to only a lonely lane
and me in the light kiss
you gave with all that's pure
from a girly whirly place
full of pink hats and allure
making the darkness shake
when I saw the look in your eyes
sure with what I couldn't mistake
as yet told only in storybook ways
I almost dared to try and speak
but you felt the twinkle of stars too
shyness fluttering your lashes
and passion escaped and flew
skies beyond intensity to catch
respite in what little sleep it could
before getting bedded by an au revoir
which l foolishly leapt into turning round
pulling up a collar against the late hour
leaving you a wave to hide my two minds
I notice you pull your curtains together
cold sheets made bearable
when you phoned
to see I was safe
to hear your voice
saved me from strife
and though not face to face
we spoke of what in our lives
was finally in place
behind your curtain of love
my fingers slid down the natural gradient
stretching the fabric all the more sensitive
felt as a soft moan might pad on a sheet
intent on some scheme or hunt secretive
Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 1:15 PM UTC
Today I woke up angry
And by the time I feel better it'll be too late to save me
While the voice on the TV sang the
******** reasons why they think I did it.
I got my snap back turned back
Ready to make a head snap back
When I let my rifle crack
Everyone will know I did it.
They will say I am mentally ill
When they were the ones who gave me the **** pill
Wrote depression as the cause on the itemized bill
Then send my *** out for another refill.
They turned the neighborhood into a war zone
When the cops came to my home
I would have come freely had they phoned
Instead they had guns drawn, ready to unload.
Hook me up to a gurney
Stick me with a poison needle to send me on my final journey
While a group of people look upon me
Never once believing my story.
The truth is, the bullet was meant for my own head
But I got scared and pointed it at the window instead
I shot a three year old girl as she slept in her bed
When it was my own life I wanted to end.
Today I woke up angry
Today is the day they are going to hang me
The death knell sings all around me
Life's final reminder of the ******** reasons I gave not to live it.
Jul 13, 2013
Jul 13, 2013 at 4:53 PM UTC
have the mumps and itchy lumps,
my tummy's awful sore.
I have a cough, my arm's fell off,
my throat is red and raw.
I have big spots and polka dots,
flashing before my eyes.
My legs are broke, no it's no joke,
as if I would tell lies.
I've got the flu, Atchoo Atchoo,
I'll just miss school today.
Of course I'm sick, no it's no trick,
oh what a thing to say.
I've got the shakes and my head aches,
it hurts so very bad.
And what a bind, I've gone night blind,
why are you laughing Dad?
I almost forgot about tooth rot,
and frostbite of the toes.
I feel unwell, I cannot smell,
because of my blocked nose.
I'm far too ill to take a pill,
for they just makes me gag.
I feel so sick, please Daddy quick,
pass me the paper bag.
No need to phone Dr.SawBone,
he is a busy man.
I need no shots or creams for spots,
just soda and a fan.
My speech is slurred, my vision blurred,
oh mummy I should rest.
Now that's not fair, as if I'd dare,
to dodge my English test.
You're not impressed, I should get dressed,
and stop this sad charade.
My Dads no fool, he phoned the school,
and said I'd overlaid
Sep 23, 2013
Sep 23, 2013 at 7:59 PM UTC