"rethinking" poems
(and I cannot live
from with-out)
<>
a poem in appreciation to Rossella Di Paolo
<>
I, too:
- am an embryonic work in progress,
well into my seventh decade, with no ending in sight
I too,
live in the house of poetry, the address likely differs,
but suspect the innards of the houses differs little,
the decor, quite similar
- my house shrewdly requests a rethinking,
noting, it lives my artifice,
with in & with out
Then, we are a We:
- my cavities house her, She, Poetry is of Ruth (1) born,
- Poetry, She, reminds me, ”whither thou goest, I will go”
This duality:
- where the haunting of words providential,
emanate, both inhabiting & inhibits my breathing
She, a fearsome creature, a fearful-something,
for it tears me and shreds tears its demands be wrung
from with in to with out
She, Poetry:
- leaves me gaping, hollow, fills me with
depressurizing boreholes exposed to the elements of
externalities of an admixed atmospheres, that nature demands be refilled, fresh in, stale out,
for which the artifice trick is knowing which is which
when Poetry’s birthing:
- chest pounds, heart-rate beats heavy metal,
abdomen contracts, there then, no languid in my language,
no help untangling the alpha-bet jumbling,
product of the screams of pushing,
squeezing it forth*
*you’re hoping to quick-catch newly formed combinations,
for if you fail, a poem
noisily crashes to and through the floorboard cracks,
where poetry’s chaotic glinting etes
maliciously glimmer~winks at me
with a sarcastic thank you*
*“ah, too bad, another creation stillborn,
gone to rest, biting the nether dust,
without hope of resuscitation…”*
just another unfinished work in progress
periodically
a survivor clean caught, transcribed, edited to be finished,
amniotic fluids cleared,
poem resurrected
blessed with eternal life,
readied to be shared and delivered,
affirmed
and you say to no one and to everyone:
this poem will be our poem,
wither it goes, ascending, descending,
all live in the house of poets,
one house,
many apartments,
each poem a god,
and
my God will be our God,
your God, my God,
in the House of Poetry
Jun 21, 2023
Jun 21, 2023 at 5:55 PM UTC
20:00 - Dinner
Alone but entertained
I like it that way
21:00 - Skype calls
Not having talked for four days
I've missed her yet the occasional silence is nice
22:00 - Fillers
Scrolling through pictures and sharing thoughts
A pleasant and calm feeling
23:00 - Rethinking
The first hypothetical theories about the day
Laughing at the slip-ups to push them away
00:00 - Reflecting
Doubting choices throughout the week
Faking a small smile
01:00 - Endurance
A familiar feeling spreads
Downcast eyes and a facade of peace
02:00 - Creative
New ideas and thoughts fill up the space
Pick and choosing which ones would hurt the most now
03:00 - Idealistic
Reading stories about happiness, pain and change
Wondering what will become of me
04:00 - Closure
Horrible thoughts tearing down the last walls
Curling up and crying again
05:00 - End
Following a familiar routine before sleep comes
Cradling the broken mind
Jan 13, 2018
Jan 13, 2018 at 7:00 AM UTC
You've said and I'd have to agree
I'm
selfish,
*Because
I refuse to let you do anything to me,*
Selfish ......
*Why because
I refuse to spread wide & let you
**** me then leave?
You've expressed to others
how*
Selfish
*I can be,
because
I wont give in to your deceit,
I refuse
to allow you any sympathy
when it comes to
your fuckery
your an
infectiousness diseases...*
Selfish
*cause I wont be
subdued with all
the lies and ways
you mistreat me,
all the game playing,
trying to scheme
fake me out,
while you try to
make me lay out
my cards,
ya stupid cheat,
Selfish
because I've told you*
I Wasn't Ready
*I'm calling your bluff,
Your not so tough,
Ya sort of funny papi
Your always trying to knock me,
wishing to cause havoc and bring me down again.*
Selfish
*huh
really?
I'm so*
Selfish
*because I'll put my children
all of them before you,
I've placed my walls back up
wont allow you to climb em
I've changed my mind
more than once it's cause
of something you've done...*
*You've got me rethinking
being up on this pedal-stool
&
I'd rather you stop shaking it
so
I can get down
but you'd rather see me fall.
It's*
Selfish
*of me- right
cause
I'd rather not have to fight,
I don't like being put down,
Specially ya
small jabs
about my mental
the many excuses
you've come to make
time and time again
You've dismissed
my past and all
the bad that's trapped me,
You make fun of me
for having PTSD
& D.I.D.
You've said and I'd have to agree
I'm*
Selfish
*cause I don't want to do this,
I don't need another man's
to abuse,
or for you to
use and beat me
I'd rather be*
selfish
*then to take care of another drunk
or man with any type of addiction,
even if you're addictions me.
I'll be*
selfish
*While
I guard all that's dear to me
You've already
deliberately
tried to cause me so much pain
dressed it up and called it love
but I wasn't fool to your game.*
Selfish
*huh?
Is it because,
I didn't let you in
well not as much
as you'd like me to,
Naw papi
it's because
You
can't just pop into my life
then try to take it over.*
**SORRY MOTHER ******
*You can't mistreatment
and abuse me
than bring me flowers
cards or candy,
You can't rock my body
then dismissively
treat me like
I'm worthless....
But it's me
whose so *******
Selfish.
*I've said it long ago
Oh how he thinks
I'm*
"His Type"
*Well that's not true
because
baby you've made it
so **** clear
that
I'm nothing.
Besides
a *****
a **** & a ****
A *****
even though
You've apologized
each and every time
those
words left your lips,
not right away
but you've done it
&
I refuse to forgive you
over and over
each time you've
repeated ya crimes...*
*No way could
I allow you back
because
you showed you'd
do it
again and again,
and if
BIG ******* IF,
if I allowed it
which I wont-
not anymore and never again
its because
you've said it
right
and
if you cant
remember
well baby
I'll help you
out
its
because
I'm*
SELFISH!
*Always Me Ayeshah ™ ®
K.A.C.L.N ©
All right reserved ®
Copyright 1977 - Present*
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 10:20 AM UTC
Late night thinking
Unblinking and sinking
Rethinking my choice of words
It's absurd
Everything is so blurred
Fragments shifting through holes
I take on all these roles
What lost souls
Late night thinking
Tinkering with memories
I need remedies
These fragments slash through flesh
Fresh wounds fester
Exposing new memory holes
Late night thinking
Should I have said that
Combat of my mind
Memories become no mans land, blind
Confined within the crevices of my mind
I just want to unwind
Let's leave all this behind
Tomorrow, perhaps, you may find
Some peace of mind.
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 6:17 PM UTC
An art movement is a tendency or style in art
with a specific common philosophy or goal,
followed by a group of artists during a restricted
period of time, usually a few months, years
or decades or, at least, with the heyday of the
movement defined within a number of years.
Art movements were especially important in
modern art, when each consecutive movement
was considered as a new avant-garde;
According to theories associated with modernism
and the concept of postmodernism, art movements
are especially important during the period of time
corresponding to modern art. The period of time
called "modern art" is posited to have changed
approximately halfway through the 20th century
and art made afterward is generally called contemporary art.
Postmodernism in visual art begins
and functions as a parallel to late modernism
and refers to that period after the "modern" period
called contemporary art. The postmodern period
began during late modernism, which is a contemporary
continuation of modernism; and according
to some theorists postmodernism
ended in the 21st century. During the period of time
corresponding to "modern art"
each consecutive movement
was often considered a new avant-garde.
Also during the period of time referred to as "modern art"
each movement was seen corresponding
to a somewhat grandiose rethinking of all that came before it,
concerning the visual arts. Generally
there was a commonality of visual style
linking the works and artists
included in an art movement. Verbal expression
and explanation of movements has come
from the artists themselves,
sometimes in the form of an art manifesto,
and sometimes from art critics
and others who may explain
their understanding of the meaning of the new art
then being produced;
In the visual arts, many artists, theorists, art critics,
art collectors, art dealers and others mindful
of the unbroken continuation of modernism
and the continuation of modern art even into the contemporary era,
ascribe to and welcome new philosophies
of art as they appear. Postmodernist theorists
posit that the idea of art movements
are no longer as applicable, or no longer as discernible,
as the notion of art movements
had been before the postmodern era.
There are many theorists however
who doubt as to whether or not such an era
was actually a fact;
or just a passing fad.
The term refers to tendencies in visual art,
novel ideas and architecture,
and sometimes literature. In music it is more common
to speak about genres and styles instead.
See also cultural movement, a term
with a broader connotation.
As the names of many art movements
use the -ism suffix, for example cubism and futurism,
they are sometimes referred to as isms
Oct 4, 2018
Oct 4, 2018 at 6:54 PM UTC
The abstract, the obscure and the predominatly boring
the living, the insane and the dead
the flowers, the water and the bed
twisting the solid out of shape
rethinking the notion "of"
constantly paraphrasing what once was
who, what, why and when
them, time, tales and sin
redundancy is exploring us
Oct 6, 2013
Oct 6, 2013 at 2:25 PM UTC
Waiting a long time,
I can’t stop staring at the clock. Hearing it tick and tock.
Building up excitement,
for what seems like forever.
Trying to occupy my mind, checking every moment.
Thinking the time has come until finally it has.
I check and its not what I want.
I am disappointed in the moment.
I pause rethinking what I heard,
my eyes close.
For once I feel pure disappointment.
Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 11:05 AM UTC
Oh great
Now I can multitask
Playing the piano and rethinking
All my stupid actions
Oh how great
Daydreaming even while playing piano
Simply marvellous
What a handy talent right?
Who doesn't want it
You get to practice
And set the background music
While you replay your nostalgic film
Of how dumb your words have been
How insensitive they were
How over the top you have been
A lovely talent
For a lovely mind
Sep 6, 2013
Sep 6, 2013 at 3:39 AM UTC
.
I once was young on shores of pond,
Deep in clump grasses mossy, longed
By seasons that turned shining winds,
Older than years etched into tree rings,
I played at song in the rushes of marsh,
Danced to moon from my bedroom loft
And in the theaters of starlight shadow,
Wrote my fables after sleeping narrows,
Dreamed dreams as young boy should,
Rethinking Sophocles in hemlock wood
I named the flowers wildest within sun,
Built forts from the forest floors of ruin,
Burned in rashes of ivy, itching poison,
Swam by water snakes in mucky unison
Spring was tireless as nettles and bees,
A wide river glided into the seven seas,
Pond was lake and oceans uncharted,
Skies rolling thunder after lightenings
More gold than lots' aspirations prised,
All showers flamed, Promethean fires.
Jun 27, 2016
Jun 27, 2016 at 2:31 PM UTC
I close my eyes. Feel your words inside my head. Whispering carefully they say the sweetest things, on my thoughts they do tread. I feel the beat of your heart, it pushes from beneath my skin. Oh. My. Lord. My saviour. I cannot withstand this heat from within. I feel no breath to breathe from, no more. No ending, no beginning of my hand to your lips; from where the waves meet the shore. Tender music is made and formed from the shell of my ear. No-one will believe the symphony I hear. I crave the touch of your fingers. Thought I should let you know. You lie with me, myself and I. I am addicted to the very idea of you. You became my labyrinth, my torso, my rabbit hole. I tied you in a knot around my neck and left you there to hang.
And he held my head in his hands, looked at me and told me that he was at home. He took my eyes from the world and gave me a universe to see. It’s a miracle. I was blind, now I can see. Take my breath and I am still free, to breathe. Where does the time go when I am laid in your arms? I could be here forever and never know the sunshine, the air, the rain or the wind. No night will seem so dark. I watch you talk to me, and I am lost in your words. I forget myself. I forgive myself. We conquered the world that night. We made new revelations with our silence, and killed the silence with the laughter. Oh my god the morning after. La la laaaa la. Sorry do I cry tears right now. Do I look at you and make my vow?
Phe-nom-ne-nom. I sing along to you in my head. Reliving our moments. Rethinking what you said. Jefferson Airplane never said it so well. Woodstock was where this moment was born. I cut off my locks, I was reborn. Samson was not I. Running round walls I never thought were there, catching the moment before it was lost in the air. I listen to music before I never knew how to exist. To love, to cry, to believe, to fly; I was kissed. Traipsing my hand across your back, I listen to you. I try to hear what you’re saying. But all I can hear is myself. I revel in my wealth. I was lost, I was lost, I was lost. And , man, it feels so **** good.
Jan 19, 2013
Jan 19, 2013 at 5:17 PM UTC
Sitting in the bar just drinking
Tired of waiting for someone who will never come
My brain going overdrive rethinking
I will never reach an outcome
Throwing my glass at the wall
Remembering how it feels to be small
Thinking of where I went wrong
Drowning all of my sorrows and mistakes
Why do I have to be so fake
Looking back and remembering how it feels to have a real smile
Always acting as if I am on trial
But I can not I am too scared
Everything in my fantasy
Just sitting by myself drinking Hennessy
Sep 9, 2018
Sep 9, 2018 at 9:40 AM UTC
The night will **** us
Days haunt
Coffin open
What more could slaves want
The waters will lead us
Wade wade
As the songs say
Drug my feet
I swung
Tiptoed over oak
Couldn't catch ground
The runaway
They've found
John told Annabelle
Who whispered truths to Sally
Shovel heavy
Hand
Pouring sand over
Covering man
Coffin open
How often slaves taunt
Spoke
To an essence
Molded from clay
Adam told Eve
Gardens where all should have stayed
Haulted
Feet fell to earth
Simply rethinking life
Death births
I swung
Couldn't catch ground
Tiptoed over oak
Wade wade
Rivers flowed
To heavens gates
Waited till sun down
Till the soul escaped
Jan 7, 2013
Jan 7, 2013 at 4:12 AM UTC
Rethinking your curiosity. You really shouldn’t have inquired
Your craving for exploration satisfied,
You’ll get what you thought you desired.
No promises that it will fulfill your expectations, or grant insight to my motivations.
The sensations will be overwhelming, you’ll yield to stimulation.
At first it’s exhilarating, emotions climbing to peak, just wait 'til you see the drop beneath.
You’re afraid. I was too. Now the fear pulls you through. Cliffs and valleys, highs and lows,
Have you begun to wonder when this ride slows?
Oh; I apologize, I should have warned, you can’t walk away from this place; this time or this space.
You can attempt to gather your things and go, most don’t survive whole. If they find the way out they leave battered and bruised, ego sore, something torn.
Now you find yourself tangled. The buckle won’t release, you’ll struggle and squirm, but you’ll soon come terms.
I’m half strangled right beside you, you didn’t know ‘til you wanted to.
See, “I’ve been in here for years. I decided to enjoy the ride. I promise it can only get better over time. Think of it as the bite of the whiskey with the sour of the lime. You’ll be drunk soon enough... I know I am.”
Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 9:06 PM UTC
*I once was young on shores of pond,
Deep in clump grasses mossy, longed
By seasons that turned shining winds,
Older than years etched into tree rings,
I played at song in the rushes of marsh,
Danced to moon from my bedroom loft
And in the theaters of starlight shadow,
Wrote my fables after sleeping narrows,
Dreamed dreams as young boy should,
Rethinking Sophocles in hemlock wood
I named the flowers wildest within sun,
Built forts from the forest floors of ruin,
Burned in rashes of ivy, itching poison,
Swam by water snakes in mucky unison
Spring was tireless as nettles and bees,
A wide river glided into the seven seas,
Pond was lake and oceans uncharted,
Skies rolling thunder after lightenings
More gold than lots' aspirations prised,
All showers flamed, Promethean fires.*
Apr 11, 2015
Apr 11, 2015 at 4:29 PM UTC
Did you hear what that old man was thinking?
Morphic resonance is the experimental name,
I think we are served by nodes on a net
not spread in the sight of any bird,
a chthonic net of stone,
girdling the globe in granite, crystalline granite,
take it for granted, these boulders are the witnesses,
the scars of catastrophe,
causing us to wonder
how came this to be? Think Yosemite, Ansel Adams POV
Think Matterhorn und Mt.Blanc,
Old Rockytop, and
Dos Cabezas and Long Valley Mountain, all that granite,
old as earth.
Listen.
Time is the idea we share at the moment,
Earth's is the life we share at the same time.
This is Spaceship Earth, looping Sol as Sol loops Sirius,
and there is no mothership,
no resupply.
This is the only earth, it has survived several civilized
monstrosities. As you know, some mortals can't
imagine not surviving with it, so
we words of earthbound muse,
let slip the bands of pride in time to see,
we are the music,
we make beauty behave as will believes, voluntarily,
it seems,
we choose beauty with little de
liberation, no need to
unlock ledgers and boxes of known safe knowns,
we imagine ourselves
defying the
de-ified con instituted authorities warning,
given us, they swear by the very vicars of the oil:
We warn you…
hell's the price, they swear, that we,
the people, pay for heresy,
dare not think those-
no, no, nor hear and see, or never imagine thinking
a selfish thought,
one you find curiously comforting, for you, your idea,
but
stop…
one heresy breeds another,
soon we shall have a collective
of individual minds agreeing at once,
as all see a particular arranging of colors, in a sunset's
single effortless existence as a thing
with mortal mindable beauty,
did you belive the sunset, or may you, if you wish?
__ unravel, and re ravel to save the thread,
it has lead through the maze before,
I have a witness who tests ifies.
Great unquarried granite, but that forms another story
upon precepts as yet
unglued, un-coagulated, ah, curdled, precepts cultural
curdle and clump together.
Biomes are adjusting the rethinking of pathos,
ethos shall follow,
as night follows day, just wait.
Patience is formed from memes more than experience,
you bet the old man was not lying.
Slow and steady, wins the grace. Take it easy. Fade away…
Sep 19, 2020
Sep 19, 2020 at 5:03 PM UTC
this time different,
the crafting, the words knitted,
care taken, no quips or easy rhymes,
metaphors few, but the stitching is yet
rhythmic, disciplined,
beholden to its construct
~~~
yesterday,
spoke of the more and the ever less,
and the alpha seas restorative,
today,
*the ****** quick and the ever still*
the beating of jumpsuit orange fabric, wind-whipped,
musical homage to the terrifying
silence of a battlefield,
your utility belt,
body parts and soul silences,
a composition of what was
and what will now never be
you were there
you are there
witness-combatant,
no denying the voyeured carnage
of a human self destructing,
or being destructed in a way
**********turned you on,
worse, temptingly familiar
the horror meets you, it recognizes, locates
its place within that is stored close by,
where you keep it just close enough to surface
for quick retrieval
you postulate, pose, clap hands to heads,
make groanings awful, rethinking fearful pictures
I don't believe in free will
I don't believe in free
I don't believe in will
there is good and there is no good
there is the quick and the still
the still comes fast and stays longer,
the quick lasts longer, the obvious now
always seconds of too long,
all implausibly undenied and factually reversed
I hang myself crudely,
my throat slit quick,
and the still images that follows
everlasting and unerasable,
no matter how quickly,
how often temples hard squeezed
I see the images,
the quick and the still
they won't let go of me
text me that you know,
exactly what I mean,
know what I know
Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 11:27 PM UTC
what do u think the purpose of life is
I don't mean like humanity's purpose as a whole. just like the purpose of one persons individual life
I think the purpose of life is just to be happy
and even in like 4th grade ppl would like ask "what's the purpose of life" and have these intense conversations and I didn't understand what the question was
bc it was pretty obvious to me that you were just supposed to be happy
and everything that we do is just a step in reaching eventual happiness
but now I'm rethinking that and I don't think the goal is EVENTUAL happiness
but rather perpetual happiness
why should I suffer now? I mean
like love is a **** thing that hurts like hell
but ppl go through it bc they hope that it'll make them really happy for the rest of their life
but I've been realizing lately that while love is the answer to happiness, that love is not at all necessarily for another person
but rather love for your own life and the world in general
this sounds totally fake and cheesy but
like I realized the other day this is the first time in like 3 years that I've been without a girlfriend and I'm having to regain my independence and love for the little things in my life
like my friends and good food and literally just the thought of taking a walk before the sun comes up
and skype calls with ppl who I really enjoy with my window open and the lights off and forgetting that it's not summer
and not having to tell someone "I'll brb I have to go eat dinner I'm sorry I'm so sorry I'll be back soon"
and falling asleep whenever I want
and waking up without wanting to throw up
it makes you realize "what the **** was I doing"
and then another part of you answers the question.
"being in love, *******
"forgetting to love yourself"
"thinking, someone else will love me. I don't have to love myself"
I don't know what I thought a relationship was supposed to be before now but it was so wrong
that was toxic, and I am so much better off loving myself than loving her
May 3, 2016
May 3, 2016 at 1:00 AM UTC
we're sleeping in the sky
and eating the sun
our bed is Orion's belt
my pillow is the moon
we could run all day in the stars
and swim all night on the tails of comets
you keep galaxies in your pockets and i keep constellations on my fingertips
so ever collision makes gravity rethink itself
we've spent centuries ******* plasma out of nebulas
and playing jump rope with Saturn's rings
i want to be in constant supernova with you
and wrap myself in your universe
Mar 27, 2011
Mar 27, 2011 at 12:28 PM UTC
.
I once was young on shores of pond,
Deep in clump grasses mossy, longed
By seasons that turned shining winds,
Older than years etched into tree rings,
I played at song in the rushes of marsh,
Danced to moon from my bedroom loft
And in the theaters of starlight shadow,
Wrote my fables after sleeping narrows,
Dreamed dreams as young boy should,
Rethinking Sophocles in hemlock wood
I named the flowers wildest within sun,
Built forts from the forest floors of ruin,
Burned in rashes of ivy, itching poison,
Swam by water snakes in mucky unison
Spring was tireless as nettles and bees,
A wide river glided into the seven seas,
Pond was lake and oceans uncharted,
Skies rolling thunder after lightenings
More gold than lots' aspirations prised,
All showers flamed, Promethean fires.
Oct 28, 2015
Oct 28, 2015 at 6:48 PM UTC
listening to your dreams
it's inspiring
heart lifting
you're too good for me
it's intimidating
heart breaking
Jan 6, 2021
Jan 6, 2021 at 7:52 PM UTC
It's been a little while since I decided
since I started telling everyone who asked
since I posted it in every corner
since I declared my major.
But what if I don't want to be a teacher?
What if I go off to college,
and I suddenly have the courage to do
what I didn't want to do before?
I'm afraid that it won't work
afraid I can't make it work
afraid to let go and fall
because what if it falls through?
All I want to do is music,
and yes,
I'm minoring in music
and honestly
I could be a teacher
but I'm rethinking that.
I know I don't have to go with the career
that matches my major,
and that I could finish out a teacher's license
and then go on to music.
But I could be so much more prepared!
There's so much more I could do
if I majored in Songwriting, Music Performance, or Worship Ministries.
What should I do?
What can I do?
I can take generic classes now,
ones that can count for any major,
and choose later.
But how long can I wait?
I'll just have to be patient
and wait for His guidance
because He knows what I should do.
Jun 25, 2015
Jun 25, 2015 at 12:09 PM UTC
Her hands were small, pruned,
looked clammy, very cold perhaps
with purple seeping up through
her tiny nails.
She twisted the ring on her left third finger
round and round, deftly,
as if she had been doing it for years.
The small diamond awoke in the dim light,
like a beady eye from a dark forest.
What she rethinking everything?
She looked up suddenly,
pulled hard on the brake cord yelling
"Stop!"
and flew out into the night the second the bus
came to a pause.
Feb 24, 2011
Feb 24, 2011 at 5:02 AM UTC
Sorry, I'm not here right now.
My head is clear in the clouds
Rethinking how I hear all the sounds
Letting the beat pound, pound me down into the ground
6 feet under.
Sand turning to diamonds from the heat of my soul.
Buried in addiction, hopefully my seeds will grow.
All this pain can I use it?
Man **** this life, lets make some music.
Oct 25, 2011
Oct 25, 2011 at 3:01 PM UTC
Set me on fire
Insanity is what ran through me
Intensity plunging into me
Breathing is not wheezing but coming easily
Tingling reawakening
Space vacating me
I’m a vortex of for ever waiting
Playing on words, hoping to be heard
Spinning on this earth that is worth…
Nothing? Something? Maybe
Say to me the words that send guilt
Through sensations I have yet to word
Liking is a fighting, loving is despising
Wanting to be curious, how could I not with the words of his
Blister me with sincerity
Sending burning regret through every vain
Every way, in each new light
I fight and twist new perspective
To yell at me, to say to me everything is all right
And believe its true.
That me and you collided for some kind of real
Reeling going wild
My heart beats with the laughter of a child
Happiness is your contagious energy
I take it in and let it live in me
Your sweet scenic imagery
Watercolor paintings reflecting back at me
Beauty is something new and founding
Whirl pool of commonalities
Blasphemies of morals and value
But I cant help how my happiness swells
How you a smile into me
Chilling water not nearly as refreshing
Retesting, rethinking my boundaries
Seeing new towers, higher mountains and walls
Longer tunnels and halls
To walk, climb and crawl
How far the journey to a wanting place
To a unsure space in any case I hope your happy
That my presence is half as enchanting
Because your words they leave me panting
How can I not, with no words forgot?
Blister me with guilt’s hot iron
Set me on fire.
Or should we not?
I forgot the binding power of
A forever real friend ship
Set my ship on fire
And drown all hopes and desires
Feb 3, 2012
Feb 3, 2012 at 5:32 PM UTC
I have been swindled!
They took my bags at check-in but never gave me a room key
Now I'm back home mailing packages to myself
And writing a negative review of that place to put a blemish on their record
Back to headquarters
This it your last chance
I will not allow myself to get hoodwinked on this deal
This is an open letter
Dear Ocean Foam Resort,
When I stayed at your place of rest and relaxation the first time it wasn't that bad. I mean, the neighbors we're louder than anything. And the people above me aired out their ***** laundry on the balcony every morning while i was trying to drink my coffee. I recall hearing the wife confessing that she was cheating on her husband with a co-worker to her mother over the phone. I can also recount two God awful parents I saw by the pool, they let their children scream and run around disturbing the other guests. Actually they let the run around so much and I guess never fed them, because one of them got light headed and passed out into the deep end of the pool. One of your staff members had to save her because the parents we're bust sun bathing. Then there was the man below me, he wasn't a bad person. Far from it but he had to be the most unfortunately hideous people I've ever seen. He had skin tags on his eye lids, warts on his neck, boils on his legs and arms. Then there was the constant disturbances coming from the late teen- early twenty-something year old guests. They were on what seemed like a two week drinking binge. Blasting music all night, having too many people come to their room and having all night long ****** The head pounding music, the worrisome benders and the moaning that went on until the early morning was too much for me. I'm saying this as a guest who has been to your resort for the past seventeen years every year, the first chance you get tear down your place of business because it has become a rat hole where no one should go or ever be near. Now you've stolen my luggage and refused to give it back to me and you have refused to let me stay in your resort. But I'm happy about that after rethinking it, keep the luggage and go **** yourself. So, Ocean Foam Resort enjoy falling apart and going out of business.
Sincerely,
Ron Dempsacot
Jun 27, 2014
Jun 27, 2014 at 11:26 AM UTC