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John B Aug 2011
Let me spin you all a story bout the sinner and the saint

Because happiness and sunshine in this world there ****** ain't

So the party and the running form are problems is the paint

On the tapestry In limbo were the gods and man embrace

In our land of independence we still fail to contemplate

That there's a ripple in the water radiating form the date

That you stepped into this world and began to find your place

But I digress my minds a mess

And making sense of all the rest

Has been a chore but I feel blessed  

So just ignore the ranting stress

His name is John and so is mine

For several years are lives entwined

He had no roof I had one spare

I scooped him up and put him there

He started off tried to improve

But he still had the need to use

His drug of choice a moral vice

Not a nihilist's first word choice

But man it fit him like a glove

We did our best to show him love

But it was pain that brought him here

So love to him was cash and drugs

That's not to say he didn't care  

He felt like crap he so bad it scared him

Maybe if he had a mother

She was there but 6 feet under

Same addiction kept her smothered

Not a drug, not one but many

Gravity just felt so heavy  

Anything to ease the weight

Until the day she couldn't take

All the love that she couldn't make

Never said bye to her husband and her son

Just coped out and left this place

So coming home one day from school

Cuz fates a ***** and life is cruel

He found his mom laying there dead

He shook her arm and slapped her head

She wouldn't wake but in her place

Were left the words she couldn't say

Like a tragedy incarnate god knows no one won that day

But he went on

His dad a wreck

He tried to scoop up the hole mess

And put the peace's back together

But I guess is dad was next

He talked A lot about his father

How he taught him all he knew

And how he hated that he left him

How he should have just puled through

What ever happened next

The peace's of his life turned to dust

There was no more need for tape

It blew away with just a gust

Alone and scared beyond repair   

Hopping one day not to care

And even though he keeps on living

You cant live never admitting

What he did he did the best

H and ***, ******* and ****

But when he picked up a guitar

His pain was clear beyond the eye

It filed the room

With sorrowed gloom that Erebus could not deny

But this was real not angst but fear

When yesterday was never here

Maybe he'd Play a song of cheer

If one day death brought peace to all men

And even now on present day

His sins are ghosts and sades of days went

But he was safe at least wile here

Tucked in my arm stead fast was kept well

God nor man could best me here

Because no strength was left we both fell

Like bullets, in bile the drugs were expelled  

In pain none see, not here, not in hell

We keep him up, we knew that he'd drowned

If life was left to keep him down

And so he moved on inch by inch

He kept in stride with every pitch

And of his life he makes the best

He's back in school, passing life's tests

I think one day he'll know there's time left

A saint of men still marching on

And I am blessed to sing his song

But who's the sinner here you coo

The same that made this world of blue
Its true.
Allen Smuckler Nov 2010
She disappeared
     what seems like eons;
I miss her everyday.
     Carefree... flamboyant
      reckless and tortured.
She grasped for solitude.

She disappeared
     for who knows how long;
but time is running out.
     Each day grows shorter,
      and I’m no smarter.
I wait for her return.

She disappeared
     from body and soul;
for no apparent reason.
      She flew up...grew up
       and found her airway.
She left me in her wake.

She disappeared
      I wailed and puled;
hey wait, it’s me you flee.
       But the look of her pain
   and the shame in my heart
were really both the same.

She left
and disappeared from sight;
her name scrolled in the sand.
       She disappeared
    and won’t come home,
til carefree days are here.
Written: April 18, 2000
with some revisions on June 1, 2010
"God made Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve."

But what if God did? What if I showed you
the lost book in that cramped hand some call Moses',
right to left (you read Hebrew, right?), the Book of Steve?
Stefan, if you're Orthodox. Esteban
if you also worship the ****** of Guadalupe,
but never mind those dark madonnas. The Book of Steve:
it's much like the rest of the Pentateuch, you'll recognize
the style, except that it was before Genesis 1
when Steve became a living soul. A lively, friendly soul:
when those animals came questing, Steve was thrilled.
He scratched their ears as he named them, puled
their ticks, asked them what they thought they should be called.
So he was scratching and chatting, naming away,
when up came Adam (Yahweh had been practicing men).
"Hey, dude." "Hey, Adam. You think this looks
like a crocodile?" "I dunno. More like a fox?"
They had a few beers (Yahweh's work of the day),
named five kinds of ants: Steve got carpenter,
leaf-cutter, sugar; Adam took fire and soldier.
Probably they made love, probably a lot (the world
Was young then), but the Book of Steve is demure;
Moses, or someone, drew the curtain of discretion.
When the curtain comes up, the snake
Still has brief feet, but Adam is changing the names
To better ones, and Steve’s not there. It seems
There were complaints. Stave talked to much, always on
About feelings, food, the slant of the light; sometimes
he wanted to be on top; he took the remkote, and didn’t
give it back when Adam glare. And his chest wasn’t nearly
enough like a pillow. It ws all too much.
The end of the book is torn out; there are marks of fire.
No one knows who defiled the Book of Ssteve,
But in some stories it is said that *Eden
has other quadrants
And that Steve is in one of them.
Stevek and the snakes with feet, and other people
Who missed the next book: the roc preening its iridescent plumes,
The unicorn lipping apples, the manticore haveint a dustabth.
They say that somewhere among the leaves of western Eden
was found a helpmeet for Steve, who was not fruitful,
who did not multiply, who had no dominion over the earth.
charlie Oct 2013
I slept with the weeping willow, She did not taste like sticky sap nor smell like dirt. I puled her between my index finger and thumb and I pinched her heart strings until they popped.
Her heart was a cavity that was far from rotting and, was far beyond that.
I could wrap her rib cage around my neck and burry it into thee earth and create something not so much like me..Because I wouldn't wish that on anyone. I touched her sorrow soaked cheeks and wiped off her brassy neck and left her with finger prints I never wanted to leave behind.
kfaye Oct 2012
(
and then i realized that i was from the future.
and then i realized that we are all from the future.
and we all know whats about to happen next. but we think we are the only ones

so we keep it a secret from each other
and play along




-
and on the busride, an entire lifetimes worth of existence-  the rain hitting the window and actively listening to the screech of rubber against highway. dissecting the beautiful low rumble of different hums. falling asleep in the carpet covered seat with my hat puled down over my eyes. waiting to reach destination. waiting to be halfway home,
Claire Cluck Dec 2014
The land lies in wait
Moist with the dewy air
The quivering knot in her throat
Grew dryer with each breath

With every step her hands shook
Her aching bones protruding from her flesh
Her pale silvery skin broke
Drawing color forth into the night.

She felt, she saw,
The color dropped from her hand
lept into the earth
she saw and she knew

she puled that thread from her hand
and spun it, quilted it
her bones shook
and a blanket, she draped around her shoulders.

It engulfed her black icy feet
Melting the gray around he
And the color spread.

The muted noise of the forest grew unaltered
The soil received its warm red rain
And the world was new.

— The End —