On the south side of kelso if it's there that ya choose to go
Well if its there ya go then ya just gotta know bout a man named tweaker joe
Now tweaker, he's a scrapper and if ya go down on his door
Don't you worry about wakin him up. He aint slept since 74
Well he's weird, weird tweaker joe
The weirdest tweaker in South Kelso
Weirder than a three toed frog
Stranger than a five eared dog

Now tweaker hes a scrapper and he likes his shiny things
And he likes to see what fun he has by the chaos that he brings
He got a custom BMX bike with a flashlight on the grill. He got 32 lb of brass in his pack, he got a dope bag in his shoe.

Well he's weird, weird tweaker joe
The weirdest tweaker in South Kelso
Weirder than a three toed frog
Stranger than s five eared dog


NOW Friday bout a week ago Tweaker scrappin cars. But at the end of the alley sat a cop named Thurman and ooh dat cop looked ******

Well he cast his light upon joe cuz Thurman had a plan
Tweaker joe learned a lesson bout messin with a future Sherriff man


Well he's weird, weird tweaker joe
The weirdest tweaker in South Kelso
Weirder than a three toed frog
Stranger than s five eared dog


Well the 2 men took to runnin and hes dragged down to the jail
Joey looked like a wrung out tweaker with a couple of teeth left

Well he's weird, weird tweaker joe
The weirdest tweaker in South Kelso
Weirder than a three toed frog
Stranger than s five eared dog

Well he's weird, weird tweaker joe
The weirdest tweaker in South Kelso
Weirder than a three toed frog
Stranger than s five eared dog

She does not own a fighter's body

But you can tell right from the start

That the thing they have in common

Is...she has a fighter's heart

For as long as I have known  her

A scrapper she has been

A lioness well challenged

She is cunning, though not mean

Her battle is internal

Her trophy is her life

Her body's full of cancer

She's tap dancing on a knife

She won't back down from any fight

Not this one...that's for sure

She determined like a fighter

She wants this fight...and one more

It's a battle for survival

She's as tough as old Ali

Her battle cry is awesome

"You will not be taking me"

I write this for my mother

The toughest woman that I know

And regardless of her cancer

Her pain...she'll never show.

What are you looking
for, little scrapper?

Behind these eyes
and words lies a
man you can't defeat.
His language beguiles
and deceives, like
the Opposer, and you
carry no flaming sword.

She yelled from the bottom of the stairs

"What the **** are you DOING!?"

My neighbor, Mr. Monroe with the mustache, ring on every finger and a parrot that talked, pressed his face to the glass to look down at her.

"What the **** are YOU looking at?"

Mr. Monroe quickly went back to his day time soap operas and corn flakes. He never left the house because he believed their was going to be a grand earthquake where everyone that was outside getting food, shopping or at the beach, would die. He told me he believed that his house was a fortress and that God or mother nature or what have you could never touch him if he just stayed holed up in his room with his corn flakes and bath robes and old Sunday newspapers.

"HEY GUY, LET'S GO!"

I gingerly stepped out of my place. I stared up at the sky which was blue spattered with white clouds that were inching slowly toward the ocean. It was a beautiful day.

"******* FINALLY. What were you DOING?"

"Just getting myself a little more ready then usual."

"WHY?"

"I'm nervous or something."

We were headed to a dinner with my parents. I was going to introduce them to Alice and wanted to make sure all my pampering was in order, my mother could always tell if I forgot to comb my hair or use deodorant, my father didn't care. I walked cooly and lightly down the stairs.

"Well you smell like a laundry mat people have been drinking and ******* in."

"Thank you baby."

I kissed her on the cheek, waved up to Mr. Monroe who had gently re-placed his face upon his living room window, and headed to my car.

---

"So what you are you gonna' say to them about me?"

"I'll tell them we have a lot of *** and like movies."

"Really?"

"I don't know. Why not?"

"Seems strange."

"Were strange."

"What if we get married and they say that at our wedding and its awkward and my parents get mad."

"I'm not thinking that far off."

"Well you ******* SHOULD!"

Alice opened the window and stared out at the ocean which passed by with blinking blue reflective lights, beach combers and sand dune cops. There were many surfers wading in the light blue water waiting for the NEXT BIG ONE. I thought it was funny how they could sit out there for so long, not doing anything, and call it some kind of religion. I liked the idea of doing nothing and it saving you, I wanted to join but I was afraid of sharks.

"Do you want to get married to me?"

"No."

"I wouldn't either."

We drove down the highway but hit a big block of heavy traffic. We were gonna be late.

---

By an instinct I acquired either by fate, magic or the hand of the GOOD LORD, I ordered a hamburger with curly fries. The waiter was a young kid fresh out of college with a messy head of hair and a slight limp stuck on his right leg, he said it came from a biking accident but the kid looked like a scrapper.

My mother was alone on the other side of the table while Alice intensely examined the menu. There were clouds in her eye not of insecurity but of determination for my mother to accept her and pull no punches, when she wanted something she got it, like me.

"To start I am so sorry about your father not being here. He didn't come home last night and I haven't heard from him all morning so I suspect he forgot and slept at the office to get an early start on this Friday morning."

"It's fine Mrs. Kindle. I just feel so BAD for you."

"No worries. It is sweet of you to say though."

"Very sweet Alice. Yeah, I'm sorry Mom. Dad's an *** like that sometimes."

"Yes he is."

The water was warm when the waiter brought it. I hadn't looked at the menu but everyone was ready to order. I was thinking about my father all holed up in his on-site construction office, sweating over blue print over blue print, re-examining every last comma, every last note until it was "perfect". He had tried to get me into the business but I always hated a path that had already been trampled and organized upon, I didn't see the point.

"So how did you guys meet?"

"We actually met at one of Joe and Abe's parties."

We actually had met at a hot bar with loud music and cheap drinks with the wind ripping men and women to pieces outside and the bar man said we looked like we would make a good couple but we had never even looked or talked to each other but because this one little bartender in this one little hot tiny bar gave us the idea that maybe, just maybe, we would be good for each other I bought Alice a drink and then, thinking it would be funny and how she hates cliches, she bought me a drink and we got very drunk within the dark heated bar with the people swinging back and forth with the loud quick hipster electronica madness that spun all around us invisible in the smoke and the liquor and the cigarette smoke and there, in that dark steamy bar, we talked and talked and talked until I got a little drunker then her and she took me home, which we laughed about in the morning after we had drank a couple glasses of wine and tried to have *** but were both to drunk to talk or have *** or even kiss for that matter, we fell asleep on top of each other's faces and both of our necks were twisted and hurting in the morning.

"We call it "Our Spontaneous Romance".

"Very funny."

"Alice, do you know what you want yet?"

Alice, keeping her eyes down on the menu not looking up for a second.

"Not quite."

My mother shifted in her seat, she was getting anxious because she wanted to eat and she was worried about my dad. He'd been "busy" with many "things" that he "didn't like to talk about" or was "too tired to talk about" and it made my mom shift and silently sigh after every conversation either about the subject or related too.

"I'm going to have the soup and the sandwich"

"Turkey sandwich and salad for me."

"Healthy."

"Have to be."

"One sec..."

"OK."

"No rush."

"Mashed potatoes and gravy and ribs, that's what I want."

"Very nice..."

"Very nice."

"Thank you."

Alice was nervous. She ate mass amounts of food when she was either nervous or in tight confined places where she needed to converse but had absolutely nothing to say, the large order was her scapegoat and she would later blame it on *******, anxiety and depression, half of which was probably my fault. Alice didn't want to meet the parents, she thought it pointless, a waste of time and pushing towards something that may not even actually happen. She believed being invisible in a phenomenal world was the only way to go through life and in some respects, I agreed with her but also, I knew deep down, she was a little crazy, as was I.

---

"Thank you for meeting Alice and I for lunch Mom."

"Not a worry at all, I'm sorry about your father."

"I'll talk to him later."

"It was very very nice meeting you, very nice."

Alice and my mother shook hands cooly and suspiciously underneath the 3 o'clock sun. They hadn't talked much at lunch and I honestly didn't know how it went at all, they spoke about their food and that was it. Perhaps they neither hated or liked each other, maybe they were simply indifferent towards each other's presence and what they meant to me at all. They smiled, Alice waved as did I as my mom drove away down the hot black top. Alice, still waving said.

"Horrible, that was just horrible."

"I thought it went right as it went, neither here nor there."

"We didn't talk about anything but the food."

"Maybe that's all there was to talk about, some people meet and have absolutely nothing to say to each other, happens more then you think."

"Sounds right must be right."

"Let's go."

We both walked to my car which was boiling hot inside, the kind of hot when you enter when one wishes they couldn't breathe. We quickly opened the window turning on the radio listening to an old blues station for a second. I but the gears in reverse and slowly backed out of the restaurant parking lot as Alice neatly put on her dark sunglasses and rubbed sun tan lotion on her face, leaving a small patch on the tip of her nose. I paused the car before entering onto the main road.

"Let's get married Alice."

"I was about to say the same thing."

I pulled onto the main road home, nearly getting in an accident with a road biker who shook their fist violently toward my gleaming fender. I lightly smiled, embarrassingly laughed to myself, merging on. We were off.

I want to first thank all my
supporters and readership.
I will read as soon as
I have the time and I can
give your work the attention it deserves.

I've been overwhelmed.
I have to make my presents this
Christmas. But I found out I'm in
excellent company...

FROM APPALACHIA WITH LOVE

Gra'ma Annie had a mission
to help children in need
she lives up in the hills
where they grow their food from seed.

They have no running water
no facilities indoors
still heat and cook with wood
don't buy much from stores
there are folk so destitute
they still have dirt floors.

Li'l Annie was a scrapper
90 pounds if soaking wet.
But her heart is just enormous
as big as one can get!

She found out 'bout a drive
for children overseas
in Africa and Asia
Haiti and the Belize

How the people in those countries
had no presents for to give
their children at Christmas
they could barely live!

She contacted the charity
and said she'd send some toys
as many as possible
to the poor girls and boys.

Annie had no phone
so she walked far and wide
and asked all the hillfolk
throughout the countryside
to whittle and to paint
toys in which to pride!

Those people got together
and carved ponies and dolls
that had joints that moved
and real hair that falls!

They whittled and sanded
painted with rainbow hues
and when they had delivered them
it made world news!

The children overseas
who got them still recall
they kept their homemade presents...

THEIR FAVORITES OF ALL!


MY FATHER "NEVER HAD A CHRISTMAS"*

My father was a child
in a place called Isle la Monte
winter's are quite brutal
in that part of Vermont.

His family were farmers
they lived off the land
they had gardens and stored their food
they worked hard with their hands

They had to really struggle
to make the frayed ends meet
dad walked 14 miles total
through the snow and sleet
to get to his schoolhouse
sometimes with frozen feet

Every year at Christmas time
his mom would be in tears
she would never say much
but stated that she feared

there would be no Christmas
no presents and no tree
it was always the same.
Grandpa would agree.
So the children went to bed
every Christmas eve.

But they weren't sad
because they always knew
that Santa was coming
and so they weren't blue.

Sure 'nuf in the morning
they'd tumble out of bed
and in the once-bare corner
there was a *tree instead!

There were many presents
most carved and painted things
grandma got the practical stuff
no perfume or rings.

But the Christmas meal was cooking
and all through the home
the smell... that sumptuous dinner...

well. That's another poem...!

But before the feast was eaten
grandfather said Grace
and thanked the blessed Lord
and ALWAYS SOUGHT HIS FACE.


SoulSurvivor
Catherine Jarvis
(C) 12/23/2015


MERRY CHRISTMAS HOLIDAY!!!

I still have presents to make...
see you SOON!


~~~<☆>~~~

Who Am I?

I am a boy and a man.
I am a son, a brother, a cousin, a nephew, and a grand child.
I was a boyfriend, a fiancé, a husband, and an in-law.
I am a bachelor.
I am surrounded and abandoned.
I am a family man and a loner.

I am a homemaker and a handyman.
I wear the apron and the tool belt.
I am a neat freak and a slob.
I am an amateur contractor and a contracted amateur.
I am a dumpster diver, a recycler, and a decadent waste.
I am a glutton, a scavenger, and a scrapper.

I am a friend and an enemy.
I am fun and an annoyance.
I am a lover and a hater.
I am creepy, cruel, and harsh.
I am tender, loving, and inviting.
I have a foul mouth and tender lips,
Drenched in jagged, soft-serve words.

I am a painter, sculptor, draftsman, sketcher, character designer, photographer, graphic designer, fashion designer, kitbasher, customizer, and crafter.
I am a reader, a writer, and a poet.
I am the Jail Baby, Ryan & Lisa, The Phoenix, The AntiFather, and The HEYMAN!
I compose symphonies of visual and intangible imagery.
I bring form to thought.
I destroy,
I create.
I am an artist.

I am a geek, nerd, freak, and otaku.
I have been punk, goth, prep, white trash, and metrosexual.
I wear glasses,
But only as a sick joke.
I am beautiful and ugly,
Clean and *****.
I am unique.
I am predictable.
I have changed, but am still the same.

I am a techie,
An electronic ******.
I am cutting edge and old school.
Digitally signed and sealed.
I am analog and obsolete.

I am an adrenaline addict.
I can chill, maybe slow,
But never relax.

I am blue collar, tradesman, and service industry.
I am peon and ****** on.
Oh, but I have done the ******* too!
I have been hired and fired,
Bought and sold.
I have worn the uniform,
I have said, “**** the man!”
I am the proletariat,
I am in charge.

I am a student, dropout, and teacher.
I am class clown and teacher’s pet.
I have learned, forgotten, and taught,
But never learned my lesson.
I don’t listen to what I’m told,
But always do what I tell.

I am a genius,
I am an idiot.
I have intelligence, but often lack the intel.
I am naïve, but wise.
I am right and wrong.

I have philosophies and ideas,
But no religion.
I have desecrated and blasphemed,
Prayed and praised.
I have lusted, envied, and coveted.
I am guilty and innocent,
Pure and soiled,
Good and bad.

I am a driver and a passenger.
I am an explorer and a shut-in.
I am wild and free,
Caged and stifled.
I was warmly wrapped in my blanket,
But burned through it.

I have rode, climbed, and conquered.
I  stood still.
I jumped in.
I have fallen and been defeated.

I have been abroad,
I have been nowhere.
I have drifted.
I have settled.
I have led and been led.
I have been in and out,
Here and there,
Around and AWOL,
On the run and trapped.
But, not everywhere.

I have applied,
I have procrastinated.
I have worked my fingers to the bone,
I have slept it off.

I have fought and fled.
I have quit.
I have endured.
I am a winner and a loser,
A champ and a chump.

I am fake,
I am real.
I have lied, cheated, and stole.
I have been honest, fair, and generous.

I am selfish and selfless.
I am a gift giver, gift wrapper, and gift taker.
I am a thief and a philanthropist.

I am insecure and confident,
Confused and absolutely sure.
I am proud and ashamed.
I am complicated and convoluted,
But simple to please.

I have blind faith and guarded suspicion
I have secrets,
But lie rarely.
I accept everyone,
I trust nothing.

I have pointed the finger,
Only to turn it on myself.
I have held grudges and forgiven.
I have trusted and misguided.
I have been Judas and Jesus.

I am a maniac,
I am sane.
I have been strong and weak.
I can keep it together,
But prefer to break it apart.

I have bled.
I have healed.
I have been abused and neglected,
Coddled and protected.

I have been kissed and punched;
Hunted, wanted, and arrested,
Ignored, overlooked, and invisible.

I have loved and lost,
Lived and learned.
I am a soldier of misfortune and opportunity.

I have blended in.
I have stood out.
I have stood up.
I have backed down.
I have been backed into a corner.
I have all the space in the world.

I have seen, interpreted, and perceived,
I have ignored, dismissed, and been blind.
I hunger, want, and need…
I am satiated and content,
But never at peace.

I have been misunderstood and underestimated.
I have been put down, put up, pushed away, and let in.
I have been known,
But never entirely.

I have raged, cried, smiled, trembled, and laughed.
I have been depressed.
I have been happy.
I have been suicidal. I have felt death.
I have been lost and found.
I have been broken, then fixed,
Stitched, yet glitched,
Scarred, but whole.
I am alive.


I took the chance,
I let the moment slip.
I walked the straight and narrow,
I ran down the road not taken.
I dream; some whole, some shattered.
I go with the flow, but don’t let the waves take me.

I am shards and reflections,
Machinations and reactions.
I am translucent pieces and parts,
Assembled and disheveled.
I am the big picture still focused on the details.

I am the sum total of heredity and experience.
I am not,
I am more.
I am everything and nothing.
I am a walking contradiction.
I am human.

I tried to be you,
But didn’t know what that meant.
I am me,
It’s all I know.

Who are you?

She looked at him with philia
As if she stood a chance
In her bedroom, she created a world
A dream of New York, Rome and France

All she wanted was him,
But she poetized her love on papers,
Like a child tells a pet,she wrote
"Darling,I will fight it like a scrapper."

She longed for a peek from him,
For, in him, her world dwelled
And when saw him beamishing,
All over again in love ,she fell

Then one day he went away,
Over the seas, over the bay,
She mourned ,lamented,
And finally gave way,

In her last breath she said,
**"I am strong and I could still fight,
I had regarded him as my life,
But I want to see him one last time."

A locking click
the clear is hall
a clocking tick
is hear I all
a rocking drop
the near is fall
a blocking chop
I fear the saw

a pampy crapper
I nose my hold
a campy happer
I clothes my fold
a fighty scrapper
that big is bloke
a lighty snapper
I cig my smoke!


©2011 Lyn

      'You said,  
     "Someday I'm gonna break your heart",
      the first time that we met--

     Were you warning me..

     ..or just seeing how close I'd get?'

If you didn't want to exist  in the heart
of a man like me, then you shouldn't have
allowed your scrapper little spirit  
    to write the way you do.

And I was so naughty--  so very intentioned  
in all of my obscenely-truthful lies..
I told you it was all your  fault
        that you got in so quickly

         --and   it  was.

I got you back, though
I knew it the moment you let on
that you had fallen  deeply  in love..   not with me..
but with the love that had so deeply  fallen
for every-thing about you

And so,  it increased..  but at such a strange distance.
But even then,  the years only perfected  

   and strengthened..

   until lately..  
                      until lately..

     'We lay down in a lover's sigh
     As a million years of time rolled by
     How can I be hoping that it's not over yet?'

     I wasn't done, young Andi..
     no..   no..   far from it

You see.. there's this shame-thing
I wanted to flood  with light.
I'm getting so close  to finding the words
     that have never been heard  
     in this world before

    (And now.. and now.. and now..)

     'I can't hold on to the night
     Things change, ain't nothin' ever stays the same
     You're gone as far as I can see

     If you feel like letting go
     Honey, I don't wanna be the last to know

    ( I wanna hold on tight to the sweet memory
        of you loving  me)'

Perfection doesn’t exist

It’s a non-existing standard we can define by nothing more than our desperation and pursuit of completion
It’s deluding and is painful to bare, in fact letting of go of it opens up so many pores of acceptance and contentment without hindering ones ambition of aspiration

One shouldn’t go with the other
Perfection is not meant to go hand in hand with ambition
In fact the healthiest more achievable form of ambition is that which exist without the ******* of perfection in its walls and foundation

Ambition is healthy, the idea of perfection on the other hand is dangerous and so mythological that it causes a great deal of inadequacy to those that still hold on to its empty promises.

Let us produce great results, great being the profound collective exchange between good and bad, happy and sad, what is positive and what is negative

These are not opposing forces, that’s what perfection has convinced us of, they are parallel systems of reality that make and break it equally, as one cannot exist without the other in specific instance

Belief in perfection is as dangerous in a mentally ill person’s conviction to jump off a sky scrapper believing he can fly, it’s becomes more damaging the more we believe in it.

Perfection is not peaceful it is stagnant, it’s monotonous and deceptive
In fact perfection is cruel because it convinces is of a reality we seek and pursue when we can’t even imagine

It has no beginning nor an ending because that’d process and progress
Meaning perfection in a reality of progress never was and will never be but doesn’t want you to believe that, in fact the only thing that brought perfection into conception and gave it the nerve to even exist in our reality as the theory it exists on is the falsehood it’s made a home of in our hearts and in our souls, that’s why it’s hard to imagine but even harder to get rid of and eradicate.

Better Than You

Anytime, anyplace,
I will kick you in your face.
Anyhow, anywhere,
I will leave you in despair.
You name the place, tell me the time,
there isn't a word I can't rhyme.
Not a chance, I will loose,
your words leave a mental bruise.
I'm gods gift to the pen,
you have smaller ***** than Ken.
Don't hate the player, hate the game,
by now you all know my name.
I'm not a poet or a rapper,
just a rhymer, writer and a scrapper.
I entertain you with my catchy hooks,
it helps that I have sensational looks.
You're nothing but a fudge packing **** pirate,
oh I'm sorry, was that supposed to be private.
You can't mess with the rhyme master,
what a shame you turned into a disaster.
I've taught you everything you know,
but I left out the part how to properly flow.
You were my pupil, you tried to go alone,
like Medusa, I turned you into stone.
The **** you write, no one reads,
to me everyone eventually concedes.
You're like Pepsi, I'm like Coke,
I'm an unsolvable riddle, you're just a joke.
As I stand here waiting for the duel,
the longer I wait, the more I fuel.
I see you lurking in the shadows,
you're heading right for the gallows.
This is your last chance to surrender,
I commend you for trying to be a contender.
But as I suspected, I'm better than you,
I left your underwear brown, and your ***** blue.

Roddy's Rooster, man! you couldn't
  oust her
Standing up there on his dunghill fair
Announcing to the whole world, to All
  everywhere
My ****! He's the greatest doodle doer
O! that Roddy's Rooster.

He don't need no booster, does
  Roddy's Rooster
He'd even go after the goose sir
Don't you fouster with this Rooster
You'd only lose sir
Now vamoose sir.

Very dapper and quite the scrapper
Patrolling his perimeter
Strutting around the farmyard pound
Invariably, henhouse bound
If you were to meet him
It'd be "Put up your dukes sir
Me! I'm Roddy's Rooster".

With his tail feathers all fluffed up
Like a feather duster
And his chest all puffed out
Quite the Dandy and always randy
What a Suitor that Roddy's Rooster
And O! what a Wooer, that wooey
  doodler.

                         I I

He came a cropper though one day
When he fell in the Hopper
Now he's a good deal shorter
And not half as cocky as before,
Now he sits on his wall lamenting his
  fall
Thinking of the days when he used to
  have a ball
Has Lady Luck that Grand Old Duck
  deserted him I wonder.

Sad to see, now he's a bit gammy
More Bandy than Dandy
He still South's in the Summer
But has doubts in the Winter,
Now he likes to crow his woes and
  lows away
Climbing up onto his dunghill, he
   greets the day
But now in a high shrill falsetto
  voice
He sings  in a whole different way
" I've been round the Ringer but I'm
  still quite a Dinger
**** a Doodley Doo"
Now... now he's a ****** Blues singer!

O! that Roddy's Rooster.
Roddy's Rooster Yeeaahh!

Remember...
When comic books were the real big thing
and kids everywhere waited eagerly
every week excited to start reading
the latest Beano or Dandy
Remember…
Enjoying Dennis the Menace and Gnasher,
Minnie the Minx and the Bash Street Kids,
Roger the Dodger, Scrapper and Basher,
Beryl the Peril and Billy Whizz.
Remember…
Thinking Bully Beef and Chips were so great;
the awful things that Bully would do!
Not forgetting Desperate Dan and Keyhole Kate
who were always fantastic too.
Remember…
When we used to read the Sparky or the Topper
or the Buster or even the Beezer
without of course forgetting the Victor
or Roy of the Rovers either.
Remember…
When they had the Bunty for girls too,
the Mandy and Judy as well,
which many boys would read it is true;
though all promised never to tell!
Remember…
Waiting patiently each year for Santa to bring
the Annual edition of your favourite one,
spending hours on Christmas Day just reading;
and reading was the best thing under the sun!
Remember…
When everyone joined their local libraries
soon after schooldays had begun
When you were sure to find a book to please
and reading was so much fun.
Remember…
When books transported us to another world,
each new book a revelation,
instilling in us a love of the written word;
really fuelling our imagination!
Remember…
How much enjoyment you got from reading
and what little effort it really took,
how the pressures of life soon began receding
when you immersed yourself in a book.
Remember…
To try and make time to read a good book,
to take time out every now and then,
and you never know, with a bit of luck;
You might fall in love with reading again.

Ok, doll eyes
Don't get all worried
I'm a nobody
Just a fly upon the wall
I have a face with only
Forgetful features
I'm a one night stand
Just some guy bumming smokes off fate
I never jump right in
I just circle the water
Testing it for ph levels
Testing for temperature
I stand up shaking the dripping thermometer
"Yeah go on in the waters fine"
I would rather be in the corner getting drunk alone
Watching God and the devil at war
Just an eye
Watching the goings on
I won't say that maybe
I test fate
Ok...I always do
Running off at the mouth
Saying too much
Listening too little
I don't sit there and watch the devil fight God
I jump in and lay into God's jaw
Breaking a chair on the devils groin
I'm a bleeder
A scrapper
A lover
A Mystic
A drunk
A scientist
A wizard
A thief
A warden
A friend
I just want to be everything for you
I can be all the right things
I can be all the right times
I can take a hint
Or leave it
One time I asked to pass on who wants to be a millionare
:.........on the one million dollar question
So here is your one million dollar question
In riddle  form:
What has two blue eyes
That see only good
Two white hands
That only show love
And one beating heart that wants nothing more than to tell you the truth

A funky, spirited patch work kite,
acting heroic like a resolute knight,
on an adventure to prove it's might,
across the tallest sky scrapper flew past.

The edifice, the true epitome of pride
of the city center,was clearly aghast!
thought itself as a marvel without rivals,
never would concede defeat even to clouds,
dismissing them flippent,not permanent,
was crest fallen,and dull, at once,  weighed down
quite a bit, then the panic button was switched on.

Selmhem Naise
  (02/2016)

I was so much older than you, but not enough to where
we couldn't be in the same school at the same time.
I watched you grow up throughout the years,  
and you attracted my attention in a way
that I have yet to find words to describe.

The first time I saw you, you were with your friends
stopping in the park on the way to school-
swinging on the swings,  even though you had
long outgrown that stage. It didn't matter to you
because at home you still had Barbie dolls that
you played with. You didn't care what people thought,

you just did what you did because it made sense to you.

As you got older, so did I and I grew in stature, yet
would still look towards you where you were at,  four
grades younger than me. I was tall, muscular, tanned,
long blonde surfer hair. You were a freshman and always
hung around with that messy looking nerdy-type kid
who had tape on the edge of his goofy looking horn rim
glasses. An upper class **** started ridiculing him,
and you jumped up off the bench  and literally climbed
up on his back and started punching him in the head
as he was spinning to try to grab you off of him.

I was close enough to run to the commotion, and told him
that if he laid a hand on you I was going to knock him cold.

Do you remember me grabbing hold of you
and lifting you off his back  and setting your feet
back on the ground?

   I looked you right in the eyes..
   and it was at that moment that you saw
   what I had carried of you for so long.

   You were still just a little girl at heart  and in body.

The end of that year I graduated and moved away.
I went on to marriage and family, work stuff..  everyday things.
When much of that crumbled, I found myself here;

   and there you were again..

I have loved you for nearly all your life, little scrapper
it has been well worth the wait.

Awakened and upsized
Macaques enclosed in plastics
Blown like a fainted paper

A ladder presents in heights
As the stamina builds to rise
The climb to the sky scrapper

Should we run to the utmost
Drag each other to ascendance
Hunt our vulnerabilities and nurse them

My love carry our load to paradise
These road of ours to hold and touch
Heighten us so we light the city streets

Feel my pulse throbbing for you
As the sun scorch and the wind blows
Darling, I will wait for you day after day

With rubble in a desert Town,
Flowers,
Roses and Cacti Grow,
and like mold,
slowly descending onto a painting of a family from the 20's
like a male lover,
descending on another,
kissing his Vice lips.
A.M. Holy
A.M. Cursed
A motel sings mutely on a braille guitar
oh lover
of Cleopatra
birth sister
beauty of mine is obscure and faintly ugly
like a smile
of a killer
or a sky scrapper
who is exhausted
looking over beauty
studying the divine words
of Neruda and his over coat
hiding his pistol of Words
and nymphomaniac disastrous love affairs of the beauty of the human mind
digging
and sweating occasionally dying for the hope
for the hope
for the hope
of something Pure

like the moon
and its Phase
of light,
shining down,
and a man,
too drunk to love.
He descends into a place,
the Rabbit hole of imagination
where everlasting is clear
like a good day in San Antonio.

Like the Stream
where a boy,
found Divinity.

PaulSN

I have been writing
   about you
almost since my
very first-ever   poem

It was your spirit  I
could feel--
   even  when I was  wholly
unable  to feel

You are  a b ra isi v e
in the most  t e n d e r e s t
  of ways
    my little scrapper

And I have  pulled you
  t o w a r d s   me
a  thousand  different  days

(yet, I have never touched you)

Little scrapper,  you are
  a d m i r e d
from afar
      by me--
the one who has been
    watching you--
all these years

Look up, beautiful-one
turn your face
      to  me
          and see that I am
                                     still here--
wanting just to  touch
the side of  yours
with *******

          just a touch

Yes,
silly spilly--
       yapper-lilly
I am right here..
   lookin   at you-  tenderly
                                              still--

              even after all this time

You don't need to pretend anymore,
Look at me,I've become so strong,

And I never wanted the sympathy,
Even in my worst nights full of misery,

You can't kick me down ,you see
I'm the sky scrapper,look at me

With just a little faith in myself,
I abandoned each letter on the shelf,

I no more want love from you,
I'm colouring my life with blazing hues

It all happens on the other side of midnight
There's a different moon
That shines in a different way
Depending on what side you're on
Music is smoking hot sweating in full swing
Poems are born through a slow dance
Lie's are left twelve hours behind
On the other side
Through a trap door
Dopers are craving to score
With legs intertwined
An Argentine tango has arrived
Giving way to a heat wave
Of girls in their sky scrapper heels
Working overtime
Pimps have branded their cattle
The moon has gone to bed
And so have I

Your scrapper is learning to be
Who she is,
She is learning to love
by loving you.

Pain might scare you but its my bestie
Turning my beats a bit dusty
Soon my lips will be a bit crusty
and my skin will be all rusty
My throat will be all dry
But I won't be thirsty
Soul will be gone back to its trustee
Nothing will be left only the memories starting to get blurry
Everything's been a bit too turny
Red is all runny
We all are just the dummy
Owner is the time
And it does not matter whether its the coffin or the mummy.
My life's been written from the blackest of the ink on the goldest of the paper
Thinking of jumping I've been on the highest of the sky-scrapper
Narrowing at the end it's the perfect taper
Skin so rough can not be penetrated by any dagger
Chained up legs, thousand of the drags and I'm the dragger
And I can not describe what is it like
Sometime I feel like abandoned by the life and rejected by the death
Not giving up is the talent of mine
Soul got murdered a long time ago
Culprit is the time
Every single memory is like unhealed wounds flooded with lime
Heart is still beating
Not being still is its only crime
Salt is too much and sugar is missing in my brine
My scars turned white now they shine.

lego is my paper queen 25.10.18

no matter how remix life hard
won't change my decision
from village gave red card
poetry is life not one vision.
pa pa gave me the tremor
that's why can not commit
thursday you mentioned the premiere
page 13 was connecting the remix man hit.
followed by 14 was no graces
familiar eyes were the sparkler
there must be more to life then oasis
might go out incognito in my  parka.
don't try so hard
appreciation shows i'm glad
but who ever gave me the red card
needs to reverse so i can drive highgate slightly mad.
love what your inviting
but you can not flatten me and be a scrapper
to show so much interest is delighting
lego is the love of my life my number one on paper.