"piggyback" poems
My little-lost friend
is that you I see
at times
sleeping on a park bench,
shopping carts
and effects anchored.
Homeless.
With your eyes holding shame,
brown and sad.
I can't help.
But see.
I see you inching,
inching along on the earth,
pitch black and poor,
weathered, severed
and dirtied.
Lost in time.
Mouth open.
Where open hands may be closed.
I do pass by you every morning,
thinking,
thinking of you.
As you drum your thumbs
to your own music,
in your own darkened world.
Where the albatross rest on your drooping shoulders,
as you piggyback what olive branches there are.
I can't help.
But think.
As you sit shrugging
in those same brown pants
and redshirt,
holding weeks of grime
and stench.
No doubt,
holding passerby's
casting eyes, thoughts
and conversation.
Sometimes,
I can't watch.
But hope.
Yes, hope and pray.
As you go looking into the pockets
of thrash,
digging for change,
literally,
hopefully,
three ways to paradise,
please,
yes, sir, please.
And maybe.
Just maybe.
You will find better
and parkgoers can use the bench again.
That would be a nice olive branch,
to give back,
my friend.
Logan Robertson
8/1/2018
Aug 1, 2018
Aug 1, 2018 at 6:18 PM UTC
The spiders have found the spot on your back you can’t reach
They grew into that monkey you can’t shake
But then you find The one.
There is she to identify that monkey
they all demand that piggyback ride your lower back can’t support
You thrash to frantic scramble then call them your own
We are a unit, let’s call it a family
We are now uncomfortable in our comfortability
Let’s call it love, call it what we know
Duct tape it together and say it’s fixed
Let’s call it love out of fear of the unknown
Smile for the photo, smile out of fear
Ham wasn’t happy, but we all saw his teeth.
Jun 13, 2018
Jun 13, 2018 at 2:08 AM UTC
I scurry to my hunting grounds
I eat anything, I eat it down
Gorging, hording, enjoyment from toiling,
what is gross is Sustenance from my playground,
I'll piggyback off of you
Here Piggy Piggy
let me have a chew...
I'm charged with saving a life?
it's going to cost you...
I'm no ****
just a rat for hire...
if you live on scraps
of the vile,
would you be gallant?
Not even for a while.
My dump is a sanctuary,
it will save your life Wilbur...
oink oink oink,
I'm Templeton the rat
the dump is my hero.
(I played the role of Templeton the Rat in a Theatre production of Charlotte's Web in December 2009).
http://www.elgintheatreguild.ca
http://www.robross.ca
Nov 14, 2009
Nov 14, 2009 at 11:01 PM UTC
People always equate jealousy to
A little green monster who rides
Piggyback throughout your life.
They’re wrong though.
Jealousy is a tiny, beautiful, parasitic seed.
It plants itself in the newly formed
Fissures of your self worth.
It fights its way through your aching veins
Before finally laying roots in your broken heart.
As it grows, you’re veins are slowly replaced
by brilliant green foliage.
Your heart begins to bloom
The petals so breathtaking that it lures in
Every inch of your soul until
The only thing left is an empty shell
Of who you once were.
Jealousy isn’t a monster.
It’s irresistible flora
That feeds on your inadequacy
In order to feed its opulence.
Aug 28, 2020
Aug 28, 2020 at 3:15 PM UTC
and who's to stop me?
management
have managed
their time productively.
shudder to think
they'd begrudge a
subordinate the time
to blast their feelings
off the clock.
leaning over window panes
that lack
balconies to catch
their workers.
my 1-1s have started and ended
with a heart in my mouth
making it harder for the words
'i quit' to get out.
can i just pivot off of can i just piggyback can we just swivel can i put a pin in you and sew up the wounded look that face carries to the coffee machine every lunch Oskar take some sick leave or just leave at this point we haven't identified your fit and our culture of inclusion excludes delays in action i just don't understand how personal problems seep into the workplace what its been five months which is half the time you were with him can't it
just be let go?
just let me go
you're being let go
i want to let go.
~ HR will be in touch. ~
Aug 19, 2022
Aug 19, 2022 at 5:52 AM UTC
He's giving her a piggyback ride across Harvey Avenue.
She's barefoot, her legs tightly wrapped around his waist.
In her hands a killer pair of heels click against each other.
She whispers something to him and laughs.
I want to know what it is--but to know would
unravel both space and time--it would make this
Monday night, in this anodyne, red-brick district
partly mine. Walking past, I let them go with a nod
and a "beautiful night."
Sep 17, 2014
Sep 17, 2014 at 5:17 PM UTC
Hot springs in the heart of the mountain
Evidence of living stone
Comatose giant
With stalactite teeth
And Niagara tears.
Piggyback my way to the heavens
Oh, ancient deity
Connoisseur of peace
Connoisseur of love
Ease the mind
Of the pine…
Ease the mind
Of the pine.
Apr 20, 2013
Apr 20, 2013 at 10:26 PM UTC
blue laser inhabits the space beneath wet eyelids
eyelids catch wayward wings
wings licking nerves in a paranormal
paranormal rythm
film formingashing - skin boils over soft
see the horizon line. freckles rise to meet, formal
japanese businessmen with
crazed expressions
the ease with which
a skull drops
puts the weight on your back: piggyback haunt, glamoured golden
his own raw red lids with their fixed tears magnifying parts of
spoilt milk pools ... depth
scream not; he will murmur you
to sleep
and in that sleep draw eights on your body
spirit of pressure and spirit of luck
search not; your ghosts will never
return your gaze
Dec 14, 2010
Dec 14, 2010 at 4:06 PM UTC
I buy the gluten-free protein bar, peanut butter and chocolate, because this is who I am now. This is me. This is me as a lighthouse of personal fitness, a man of discipline, of a principle or two. And I surf only the most densely populated dating apps, looking—somewhat feverishly, I must admit—for a likeminded woman, a scholar, a child of the moon, a frequent quoter of the Dhammapada, an insatiable and acrobatic lover, and I imagine her driving the dark streets seeking me. Polly in a Prius. My future muse, near but out of reach. We'll reclaim the arts district. She'll piggyback to the open mike, her ****** shoes clicking in her hand. We'll spend a year politicizing every ****** encounter. Consensual assaults in perpetuity. And she'll say I'm a white man. And she'll say I think this is my privilege. And she'll say she's into leather and she finds my *** offensive and she'll hold my head against the wall. And at the end, if there's an end, I imagine our naked bodies wrapped in a stained comforter, all of the desire spent. I imagine our minds sober and clear, wondering how we could have ever been so kinked out, so on fire for something, and yet so ******* unable to remember a single ****** or whether or not we transcended. I'll vacuum the apartment. Polly will take her Warhol prints, pack up the Prius, and go anywhere, anywhere not here. Seattle. Maybe Portland. A few weeks will pass, and I'll find a note in whatever book I'd been reading before she left. It'll say: I loved you to the max. I loved you to the max. I loved you to the max.
Oct 21, 2016
Oct 21, 2016 at 4:34 PM UTC
A hand around a cold, dead, arm
waning fragile and thin
Impressions of fingers on flesh,
twisted, crooked, bent
Across railroad tracks this sack is
dragged, heaved, yanked-
Like saddlebags;
you walk with dead bodies attached to your hips
You still have yet to question this
I wonder though, if you did,
would you see how much dead is attached to me?
Everyone has a Past
and like Death, it asks to stay
Asks you to hold it's hand along the way
To help it across mountain peaks and swamp trenches
This thing, it even asks to sit with you on park benches
There are a thousand empty wooden pews, but still,
you let it sit, and this,
this is where it will not quit
-Yanking still, across garbage piles and sidewalk cracks,
it even begins to ride piggyback
Again, you don't question
What do you see?
Nothing, darkness, it's numbed you,
blinded you physically
It builds it's palace atop your spine,
and evermore straddles between lines of harm and lie
Breathing in pure battle cry
DDD
(11/26/2013)
Dec 5, 2013
Dec 5, 2013 at 1:08 PM UTC
He:
Oh, how I beseech to woo
From the moment I laid my eyes on you.
Who wouldn’t wonder of such that Fate
Brought unlikely souls like bait?
Here comes Cupid’s arrows flying
To our innocent hearts as its landing.
It is not something I wished
And child’s play can be suppressed.
But the tempest had to appease,
So I made Poseidon to please.
Bacchus, enough is that merrymaking
That I may be spared by the king.
Far and wide I had to go,
Lo, I’m surprised my love is just here so…
Come, hold tight to my hand,
Let our musicality form a band.
She:
Hug me to your heart’s content
That warmth can be competent.
Go, you have me to carry,
Just don’t let your piggyback hurt me very.
Let us hither under the stars,
Wish to shooting stars that never scarce.
I hope you don’t mind my long hair,
Perhaps the wind can move it, not tear.
Can you smell the breeze of the meadow?
Oh, I like to lie on it like a shadow.
Make haste, for time is to burrow,
Kiss me like there’s no tomorrow.
Salute to this allegory!
Be this love’s hymn of glory;
Here’s for my boo long before I’ve met
From your dearest, the poet.
Jul 8, 2014
Jul 8, 2014 at 3:54 AM UTC
Let's piggyback off each other
Create our own reality.
Hide not from handholding
But from that which cannot overwhelm.
Let's get sick of each other.
Bear ourselves to the world unforgiving.
And after our pain has been shed
We'll nurse each other back to health.
Let's have our chance at the universe
And after taking it for a test ride
Decide we deserve so much more
Than just the infinite.
Your mouth starts
And ends
With mine
As mine does with yours.
Let's close our eyes
Become parallel instead of perpendicular.
Let's travel together
Lines in synchronicity.
Jul 10, 2017
Jul 10, 2017 at 5:32 AM UTC
Words come to you in silent strings
Then mingle and mix, go piggyback
Go ring-o-roses, round the garden
Then they sing
Go drumming barefoot
On clammy clay
In a far-off land
Oh where?
Just look
Behind your eyes
Inside your skull
There is
No-place
That doctors look
For
Years and years
But find just sliced brain –
Some body tissue, fat, and blood
And marvel gone.
Nov 27, 2012
Nov 27, 2012 at 6:23 AM UTC
I don't get where I went wrong
How was I supposed to know
That when we sat in the snow
Or when we shared food
Or cuddled at the basketball game
Or during all those piggyback rides you gave me
Or even all those times we spent alone together
That you were "in love" with me?
Mar 17, 2013
Mar 17, 2013 at 1:38 AM UTC
As protruding collar bones
and hip bones
and ribs
As hunger
and money
and happiness
As knowledge
and wonder
and sadness
As crop tops
and skinny jeans
and piggyback rides
As thigh gaps
and dainty hands
and jawlines
But
I am not beautiful
I do not have bones that push so far out of my skin
That they tower above skyscrapers
I do not have size 00 jeans
or 32 A cup bras
I do not have a scale that doesn't sigh
when I step on it daily
No
I am not beautiful
I was taught I am ugly
I am a pig
I am the definition of repulsive
Beauty is taught
And so is self hatred
Feb 16, 2018
Feb 16, 2018 at 1:48 PM UTC
I want love notes
I want big hands to fit in mine
I want our bodies to fit within one another like a puzzle
I want to know your fears
I want adventures
I want you to hold on to me and promise me that everything will be ok
I want sunsets and sunrises with me in your arms
I want to steal your gaze
I want to rant about my ****** or amazing day
I want breakfast for dinner
I want piggyback rides
I want shared hopes and dreams and aspirations
I want to be perfectly comfortable just sitting together with no need for words
I want music
I want picnics
I want them to be jealous of what we have
I want curled toes
I want laughter
I want you
Jul 17, 2011
Jul 17, 2011 at 5:14 PM UTC
In March 2001, Melania granted green card
asper elite EB-1 program
intended for renowned academic researchers,
multinational business executives
(linkedin with Uncle SAM)
or those in other fields, such as
Olympic athletes and Oscar-winning actors,
who demonstrated
“sustained national and international acclaim”
until...now, when (FAKE trophy wife)...
besieged with WHAM!
The Don whips to defense of
(legal residency status),
sans his third wife
imbroglio finds the president flat footed
regarding spouses' granted citizenry permission rife,
where details concerning former
in vogue Slovak model now cushy life
challenging her right to live in The United States,
the most Democratic nation
plus concomitant abrogation
afforded robber Baroness admission
dispensing hot button issue of CHAIN MIGRATION,
where sentiment underscored verbatim
"Some people come in,
and they bring their whole family with them,
who can be truly evil. NOT ACCEPTABLE!”
The above on record as authentic Trumpian tweet,
hence quoted with poetic license,
a prime example how two
(or more faced) president didst react to un seat
fairness, which November twitter
allowing parents with bearhug he did greet
legal residency of her parents,
Viktor and Amalija Knavs, as Elite
who received figurative green light
despite riding piggyback
Nsync with military beat
ting back pesky atop flimsy green card,
the freedom appetite got whet
scrutiny, and now a ironic Gordian Knot set
tilled and solved making mincemeat to pet
files, particularly equality
for those skeined alive in the DACA net
ready to boot innocent offspring
of supposed illegal aliens on the next departing jet!
Mar 1, 2018
Mar 1, 2018 at 5:55 PM UTC
Last night I was about to take a stroll with my three years
Old niece before we set out she said "Hold my hand"
Rising her little arm to me to take hold of it, before I
Did that I said "What is the magic word" she then said
"Please hold my hand" I smiled at her and took hold of her
Little arm in my strong hand and we left our quiet
Estate and head for the main road into town;
As we walk slowly my thought kept going back to what
She said "Hold my hand" as we near the
End of our journey we came across a woman that
Had two children with her, she piggyback
One and said to the other one "give me you hand"
Like a blind man that sees the light for the first time it
Dawn on me that as I stroll with my nice that I was watching out for
My nice all time for I had made sure she has not stumble or fall, her
Young leg did most of the work yet it was my hand that keep
Her safe and in this single moment like a flash of lighting
Across the sky it cross my mind that I too
Need God to hold my hand as I journey through life, in that moment I
Did one thing - I look up to the heaven and said "Lord please hold my hand."
Aug 16, 2019
Aug 16, 2019 at 4:55 AM UTC
A kiss on the forehead as you say good bye.
Not forever, just until next time.
You kiss me in the rain storm underneath the tree.
You kiss me when I trip and scrape my knee.
You give me piggyback rides in the park.
You kissed me under the fireworks when it got dark.
You held my hand as we ran through the fallen leaves.
I hope it is like this forever.
I hope you kiss me on my wedding day.
I hope you kiss me when we have our first child,
and our second, and third.
I hope you kiss me even when I am gray.
I hope you hold my hand on my last day.
Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 1:55 PM UTC
"We are sort of best friends I guess."
"Yeah, we totally are."
"Totally."
"This is all happening really fast."
"You're ******
"No, I never am."
A brief summary of
every conversation
we ever stammered through.
Besides the awkward first
I love you's
and the last good byes of the evening.
No preference or preconceived ideas.
Always as honest as we were brave enough to be.
Tirelessly battling the quirks that piggyback
a friendship in fast forward.
A terminal one at that.
"Do you think I'm weird?"
"You are what you are."
And somehow there are a million
stories I want to tell.
******* Boonville,
and Demon Bri,
and getting dishes with Minnie Mouse.
How did all of this happen?
We never even had the time.
"I'm going to be alone here."
"You'll find someone."
"I want you."
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 3:22 PM UTC
Head so deep,
Can't even speak;
The water drains,
Around my feet.
Got here how,
It's hard to say;
Can't reach that
Surface anyway.
I hear them coming,
For my soul;
Dragging chains,
Made of gold.
And, out they scream:
"Está lista, hombre;"
You had your chance,
Now sing ALL psalm praise.
Head so wrapped,
My heart goes wild;
When I think,
About the tile:
Spans the room,
And arches my mind;
Twitch and forget,
The concept of time.
Is this still real life?
What's happened to me?
I've seen how it ends,
And I hardly can breathe!
And yes indeed;
My Brothers and Sisters,
Are starting to scatter,
And spread;
They've nothing to do,
But bounce on through,
The opportunities seem,
to have fled.
I wish them luck,
All I've to spare;
I've left their plane,
Of saddened care.
And, on another,
I've beached my troubles;
Undertow,
Pulls the puddles...
...far up stream,
They shuffle.
You step in one,
At first, don't mind;
Then you feel,
The grunt and grim.
Wish you'd taken,
Smaller spite;
Just want your,
Attention tonight.
Was I out of line,
Asking tonight:
For you to always,
Be happy despite:
The very,
Scary,
Blood,
And,
Dairy.
A child is wonderful news,
To me dear;
Why would you ever,
Have such a fear.
I said that, "I love you,"
And, I'm sticking to it;
My opinion remains,
I'm ready, let's do this.
A life spent together,
Is something quite sweet,
You piggyback and cuddle:
Your fears and defeats...
...And leave your sweet,
Children:
A legacy to roam,
The spatial genuflection.
The noises go bump......
Bump.........................
Bump................
Bump........
In the....
Night.
Too far out for one session,
Too deep treading into heaven;
Too late now to turn back,
Too much line, too much slack.
Run, run,
My little demons;
While the coffee,
Brings the reason;
And the reason,
Brings the trick;
We float on,
Our coffee fix.
Chow y'all.
Oct 3, 2014
Oct 3, 2014 at 7:57 PM UTC
Eating alphabet soup--
with mind-bent spoons...
goosing bumps piggyback,
skinny dipping.
Spectatorship's: know thy shelf.
Ill-placed.
Scarlet letter bib, cold-footed
baby steps...vomitous nerves,
stage fright.
Pregnant pauses--flaccid
deflation, upon a falsely infirm
plane.
Dubbed drainingly impassioned,
by peer rear-views.
Mar 20, 2017
Mar 20, 2017 at 2:15 AM UTC
God, we grew up way too fast and we forgot it all
All the piggyback rides and swings so high it was nerve racking but exciting
Every, “make a wish.”
“Be home by sundown.”
Surprise Easter baskets and Christmas presents
Stalking stuffers
Even quarters for quarter machines
We grew up so fast.
We always took for granted what we came home to because we never needed to be our own homes.
Don’t you miss the time when it was “what do you want to do with your life.” Rather than, “why don’t you have one?”
Do you remember when a promise was a interlocking of pinkies and not something that would be broken left and right?
When a position of leadership could be a caboose in the back of the line?
All we had to worry about was if we counted to ten and stayed in the lines of our coloring pages
We all worried too soon
Have you ever made sure you said “I love you.” to someone but then forgot who always nourished your heart when they soon forgot to say it back?
Maybe it’ll be too late before we realize we need to shrink back down for a second
To go back to the moments when we were swinging and to say I love you to our moms and dads.
-A.H.-
Apr 2, 2018
Apr 2, 2018 at 4:35 PM UTC
DECEPTIVE CADENCE
( In Memory of June Dempsey )
her fingers
caress the keys
and music blooms
the dusty piano
sitting in a corner
comes alive again
eager to tell us
what each note
tells it to tell us
she places my hands
not on the keys
but upon her hands
a musical piggyback
my hands riding
the waves of music
and I living
the beauty of it all
tremble to the touch
the music enjoying
this shadowing
so much so
that it never wants to
let go
of us
but time
erases us and we
fade with the music
Jul 10, 2021
Jul 10, 2021 at 4:13 PM UTC