"shack" poems
A musical trance seance under control by the hand of a shadow
A "Du hast" to a "Loco" To a "beautiful people"
A fraction of symphony, Sent by the gods of rock
Spiderweb rooms an corridor covered with the entrance to darkness set in place with danger light's, Strobe lights, an a fog machine set on auto
A haunted feel to a shack left cold an abandoned.
Equipped with superior beings and extended solo's of 6 string guitar's along with drum's and distorted bass guitar, setting the rhythm for our soul's,Feeding threw 4 large kickers.
This shadow was me
Venom
Decorated in crow face paint, Along with black attire to match my attitude
People came and went and came again
Supporting my and there craving for sublime sound
But one, the one, my goddess, my angel of death came to my dwelling, she came with a message
To indulge in my love
But also to give me a message of misery
To break me free of this chaotic world i was fixed in, with a bite to my fingertip the purified pressure was on
She wore the same colors as I
Only more dragged inline's
More pain, More beauty than she could see
I stared into her crystal corroded bloodshot eyes
I seen deep within herself
I saw pain, I saw hate for her fire, I saw hate from others
I had seen everything and nothing
I arose from my slumber to meet her in the darkness or mothers sleep
To give mother a great vision, a great dream and it was this
My angel of death, Meeting face to face, Eye to misery, Cure to disease, Beauty to ugly.
The words rolled off her tongue like the greatest embrace to a lover
Her words were sweet and seductive
Sprinkled with tears of a suicidal mind and a scarred wrist.
Then in a perfect moment are perfect tender love met with crying eyes and black lipstick.
Within that moment i ingested her misery
I took it and gave her what she deserved
Beauty
After the release of this lover's choice
We met vision and from there i seen the truth
I could never release her from this insanity
Only pamper or even embrace it
This timeless motion of misery will never stop ticking in my heart
Not till it expires!
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 10:33 AM UTC
with an Apple Macintosh
you can't run Radio Shack programs
in its disc drive.
nor can a Commodore 64
drive read a file
you have created on an
IBM Personal Computer.
both Kaypro and Osborne computers use
the CP/M operating system
but can't read each other's
handwriting
for they format (write
on) discs in different
ways.
the Tandy 2000 runs MS-DOS but
can't use most programs produced for
the IBM Personal Computer
unless certain
bits and bytes are
altered
but the wind still blows over
Savannah
and in the Spring
the turkey buzzard struts and
flounces before his
hens.
9.8k
When the fire grabbed his body, it didn't happen by degrees.
There was no burst of heat before,
or giant wave of smothering smoke
and the feeling of a spare room one wants to escape to.
The fire held him at once
—there are no metaphors for this—
it peeled off his clothes
cleaved to his flesh.
The skin nerves were the first to be touched.
The hair was consumed.
"God! They are burning!" he shouted.
And that is all he could do in self-defense.
The flesh was already burning between the shack's boards
that fed the fire in the first stage.
There was already no consciousness in him.
The fire burning his flesh
numbed his sense of future
and the memories of his family
and he had no more ties to his childhood
and he didn't ask for revenge, salvation,
or to see the dawn of the next day.
He just wanted to stop burning.
But his body supported the conflagration
and he was as if bound and fettered,
and of that too he did not think.
And he continued to burn by the power of his body
made of hair and wax and tendons.
And he burned a long time.
And from his throat inhuman voices issued
for many of his human functions had already ceased,
except for the pain the nerves transmitted
in electric impulses
to the pain center in the brain,
and that didn't last longer than a day.
And it was good that his soul was freed that day
because he deserved to rest.
Translated from the original Hebrew by Karen Alkalay-Gut.
8.7k
A Mummers Funeral
Time slip't, a careless moment, words without thought or foment.
No smile, no glance, no touch, nor care
none of these things ever so fair,
was thought or brought to share.
I've gaps in my memory,
And holes in my shoes.
not enough time,
Too much *****
Nothing left of strength and toil.
The grapes of wrath? That wasted soil!
But for the Ghosts of Things unsaid,..
Shadows host the Deeds Undone.
Bare walls and plank't floor,
cobwebs of nothing more.
A Home empty; a house.. a shack,
a time-worn agent my soul to wrack.
Shadows flitting through
cobwebs in the corners of my mind, Have taken in my soul to bind..
I've holes in My memory,
And Gaps in my Blues.
Too much time,
And Not enough *****
Dec 31, 2016
Dec 31, 2016 at 8:54 AM UTC
—for Mariel
She sells 2 sole paltas beside street
vendors who whistle at crop-top-clad girls,
spewing profanities complete
with broken English. She has four girls
hungry at home. They dream of science, stars,
constellations that spiral and sparr
with particles that make us what we are —
interrupted by howling dogs, the 5
AM tamale man, and stray **** crows.
Amid dust-clouds of Zona D, the sun arrives
over the peak Luis claims once exposed
his innocent eyes to an angel: one
tale of faith raised on culture come undone
presently. Poet Andrea Gibson
writes, “I said to the sun, ‘Tell me about
the Big Bang.’ And the sun said, ‘it hurts to
become.’” At dusk, Mariel takes a Combi out
sixteen stops from Quince, up 302
steps to a turquoise shack and a red rose
garden, and plants avocado seeds at her toes.
Poco a poco, se anda lejos.
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 10:59 PM UTC
'tis a sad sad
tale of woe
of which I sing
of gods and godesses
and their lessening
how forlorn
the goddess Ceres
once loved by all
and wooed by many
when unprovoked
and unforeseen
a war was wrought
'gainst fair queen
caught unawares
her throne assailed
her forces scattered
'twas all unfair
cast down she was
from lofty throne
no longer crowned
no more beloved
pierced thru
with many thorns
belittled
and besmirched
her reputation
and now her station
lost far beyond
re-incarnation
silently
she slips away
lost
and near forgotten
wounded
and rarely seen
her sullen thoughts
of malice reign
shamed and bleeding
plotting her revenge
till time and chance
provide the proper
circumstance
then all the thorns
that pierced her thru
she shook as many blades
and hurled
those bitter barbs as one
'gainst Hades' mighty gates
shaken he
from his dark slumber
his rallied forces
armed in numbers
their banners raised
on solar breezes
as trumpets blare
thru breathless reaches
voices shout
in protestation
slide rules locked
in astrometric
calculations
oh see how Ceres
scorned and mocked
has wrought
her rotting vengeance
on Pluto's frozen rocks
"Oh woe to thee
my Persephone
flee thee now
to thy father's house
for thy husband's hearth
hath been broken
and Hades' home
now just a token
My lofty edifice
a shattered wrack
an' all that's left
'tis a humble
wretched shack"
Pic Poem
https://www.pix-star.com/media/cache_local/download/23fc881b88e812947b061094f5694d32/JPlutoThouHastFallen-e52.jpg
.
Apr 22, 2018
Apr 22, 2018 at 4:02 PM UTC
I'm no good at this
and my cabin doesn't help.
Decades of dirt and grime,
a decaying outhouse,
cobwebs and insects,
windows nearly opaque:
Cabin, you are lovely,
but you are filthy.
I am in urgent need
of a French maid
(uniform optional)
or maybe just
a compassionate
and tidy friend.
Or, probably, I'll just continue
not to look too closely.
Ah, the bachelor's life!
- mce
Apr 11, 2015
Apr 11, 2015 at 8:07 AM UTC
*I stopped by for a cigarette and to hear a story
He always told the tale of one eyed molly
She lost her eye
In a fight with a dog
The moral of the story was
Never trust something
Just because it may look harmless,
Even act harmless
But this day he told me another tale
The one of old Lumberjack Dale*
He was large like an ogre
Chopped too many trees to know of
Was stupid according to my uncle
This gave me quite a chuckle
He left off, on a normal morning
Hiked up the mountain
To where the clear dirt’s mourning
Held his axe and began to swing
The trees didn't have a prayer
He thought he was king
One fell down
He yelled "TIMBER"
Another smacked the ground
He Yelled "TIMBER"
Then another
and
Another
Birds were scattering
Squirrels were flying
The sounds were of a madman grunting through fire
"TIMBER"
The fifth hit the ground
The lumberjack ogre
Had to sit down
He swung one too many times, on this here day
The mountain swung back with a black bear, ok?
Protecting her cubs she wrestled the big man
Teeth in his arm and his axe in his hand
He squinted his eyes and flung the weapon
Missing the giant bear standing about 6' 11"
The mountain whispered to the lumberjack
"Leave and never come back"
He had ****** his pants and ran for the shack
"TIMBER"
The old black bear followed
Protecting her land
And the ones she adored
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 9:13 AM UTC
I recovered from the night again,
She had disappeared once more,
Was she using me as a ******
I was frustrated & also saddened,
My self-control got strengthened,
For I was not a tissue to be used!!!
I have my feelings & my emotions,
Presence and absence torture me,
Ego I had tamed got hurt by now...
I won't let that elusive Angel come,
Questioning I must be her realities,
Illusions will end this time finally!!!
I'll establish an identity of my own,
Dependent I'll not be on the angel,
Was she only a dream & no more???
I had duly asked the aged captain,
To search a lovely bride very soon,
Oh, so sure I am about afterwards...
I was tailed by the spirit-like angel,
So irritated by her dreary dreams,
On-off, came-gone, again & again!!!
I now would learn to catch angels,
With the plan, I went to the mage,
Should I now learn some spells???
I entered through a dark alleyway,
Was told to visit this strange place,
What comes across - I wondered...
I knocked the door & she appeared,
Very young she seemed to me now,
Just the age of the angel of dreams!!!
I noticed that she wore a long robe,
So shiny it was silvery like her hair,
Just like the angel of dreams wore...
I rubbed my tired eyes in disbelief,
"Who're you?" I asked very loudly,
"Are you the mage's daughter???"
I wondered for long & she replied,
"Your guess is correct, kind Sailor,"
She beckoned me into the shack...
I set my foot on the wooden floor,
I look for any sign of the mage,
I want to be set free of the cage!!!
I just thought & thought about it,
But the witch was not to be seen,
Curious I asked, "Where is she???"
"I am my mother," she said calmly,
Perplexed I couldn't say a thing,
My mouth opened once & shut...
I was now about to rise & go away,
But she stopped me with her arms,
"I must show you," so she did say!!!
I did not believe what my eyes saw,
How she changed into the old mage,
Then back into her own daughter???
O I had become confused a lot now,
Why would she transform like this,
I feared if it was actually the angel...
Apr 28, 2015
Apr 28, 2015 at 10:15 AM UTC
Took the 17 down nicollet
Passed the City Center
Passing time
Passing men on the streets with an open guitar case
Passed the kids with their skateboards
Passed the guys covered in ink playing fight night on the street
Fifth street
Yellow cord
Brake peddle
Bus stop
Sidewalk
The sharks fight the jets
Romeo goes to Juliet
Old men with canes talk on their cell phones
Nicollet and 4th feels a little heavy tonight
11:47 comes my bus
Down 4th ave
Passing time
Passing the former home of the Twins
Passed the cops with their lights on
Passed some kids in their visors
Red light
Doswell street
Yellow cord
Brake peddle
Bus stop
Sidewalk
Out on the street
Street lamps glow fluorescent
New moon fixed in the stars
Tilted, slightly
The tweakers stay in the shack down the block
They’ve got the rocks in their socks
And they’re sleeping on the carpet
Welcome mat turned over
Shades drawn tight
And an icy cold feeling runs in their veins
And they roll back into a dream
Apartment building
Stairwell
Door 10
Living room.
Sep 18, 2012
Sep 18, 2012 at 4:22 PM UTC
A milk udder lure between her thigh
though her chanty where bin nigh
as day her ungulate would stack
their jugs full in this wooden shack
while shop worn gloves did amount
a shine must replete but always count
only first total inside their raw clement.
Dec 12, 2016
Dec 12, 2016 at 7:25 AM UTC
The man stepped down from his horses' back,
As he swept to save the lady.
His eyes swept across the enemy's rack.
And it seemed too quiet to be shady.
He heard her cries and all her pain,
As the gunshots around him echoed.
He knew that to walk forth meant his life was slain,
His doom was all that beckoned.
He walked on past, to the enemy's shack,
And all he saw was the lady.
He took her hand and led her back,
His soul left to hades.
The day he lost, all fell was rain.
As they respected this brave old sailor.
And as he went, a smile retained,
And that was the smile of valour.
Dec 10, 2014
Dec 10, 2014 at 9:57 AM UTC
Outside the miner's shack Joshua trees stand silent vigil,
expecting his imminent return, or perhaps his ghost.
Horn silver, weathered by rainwater from volcanic rock,
no longer strews fallow ground to lure the miner back.
In lieu, small succulents feed tortoise and jackrabbit,
replace the metal which only men could value.
Nevada gains a confluence of life in the exchange,
dry-lake flora and fauna bartered for chlorargyrite.
Barren mountains surround this desolation,
where nothing more than fungi lie in vapid dissipation
before the relentless punishment of the sun,
a lattice-work of valleys dissecting their *****
I ventured here to purge my body of poisons,
exhale the vapors and biles of city living,
to rid the alien presence in my mitochondria,
and let it go the way of Silver State.
Feb 19, 2012
Feb 19, 2012 at 11:58 PM UTC
A baby sea turtle in my hands:
the outer islanders call him Wol,
he will be a nomad, if anyone will.
What will the world look like to him?
Will he dream of killer whales,
those Swiss Cake Rolls of the sea?
Of winning the three hearts
of an octopus?
See what the turtle sees,
and rejoice.
The sea turtle, like the human, cries saltwater
and the tears cover two-thirds of the earth.
He risks pirate ship, cigarette boat, Chinese net.
He mistakes bait for food. (Who doesn’t?)
But he can swim away from; swim towards:
India, Mombasa, New Zealand, Ulithi.
The world's a turtle’s home,
why is anyone a nomad if not for this?
See what the turtle sees
and rejoice, carrying only
the markings on your shell.
A jungle.
A shack.
Half a moon.
Islands sprinkled like tiny green beads
across the Water of the Sky.
A first tattoo—seven little turtles--
and it hurts in a good way
like the world does.
Dear Creator
keep me from evil
keep my life
keep my going out and my coming in
Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 4:39 AM UTC
I'm tired of all the Furniture,
starin' at me,
the lamp is up,
all **** night,
the books,
talk so loud the lice,
wake up,
go away,
December,
keep me locked up in a,
shack tower,
and all the,
walls,
say nothing,
while looking at the ceiling,
my spanish leather hand me down shoes,
sit,
in the corner,
with the smell of,
history.
Feb 10, 2013
Feb 10, 2013 at 1:04 AM UTC
This is an excerpt of exquisite letter that Kerouac sent to his first wife, Edie Kerouac Parker, in late January of 1957, a decade after their marriage had been annulled.
The world you see is just a movie in your mind.
Rocks don't see it.
Bless and sit down.
Forgive and forget.
Practice kindness all day to everybody
and you will realize you’re already
in heaven now.
That’s the story.
That’s the message.
Nobody understands it,
nobody listens, they’re
all running around like chickens with heads cut
off. I will try to teach it but it will
be in vain, s’why I’ll
end up in a shack
praying and being
cool and singing
by my woodstove
making pancakes.
Apr 12, 2014
Apr 12, 2014 at 12:43 PM UTC
Of Nannies ‘n houses ‘n Pink Flamingos
Cars ‘n clothes ‘n foreign lingoes
The rich hate the poor, the poor hate the rich
Did you see “Her” today?
Boy, she sure is a *****
How did they get here, a chauffeur you say?
‘Cause Mom and Dad are Always away.
They remembered her birthday
Or so said the staff
A party, a clown
Just make her laugh
The rich hate the poor and the poor hate the rich
Did you see “Her” today?
Boy, she sure is a *****
He stood on the corner outside a shack
Schoolbooks in hand, his lunch in a sack
He remembered his birthday
Or so said his mom
His dad wasn’t drunk
Just tired ‘n run down.
The bad hate the good and the good hate the bad
Did you see “Them” today?
Boy, they sure did look sad.
All the dreams and the dollars
Or missing of such
Builds a foundation or makes us a crutch
Better built on kindness, compassion and love
Understanding that all are the same from above
We all hurt the same deep in our heart
Forgotten, abused, life plays its part
Dressed up in spangles, bobbles or beads
A yard full of flowers, garbage or weeds
Under the crust is a person who bleeds
The bad hate the good and the good hate the bad
Did you see “Them” today?
Boy, they sure did look sad.
Aug 1, 2012
Aug 1, 2012 at 11:22 AM UTC
The devil's speech say they:
Rolling, clattering, frolicking, hungry.
Billows of charred skeletons embrace the air
Black soot pumped straight from the pyres of Hades
Congealing to clouds of evil intent wherever it roam.
That charred old shell so terse,
Black as sadness and dead as a hearse,
Darling to death as he brings on the rain:
The dry rolling thunder of the funeral train.
In the coughing desert
Not a thing dares roam
Neither wind nor creature
And neither stick nor stone.
But then the silence disturbed by a horrible shriek -
The railway screams in horror and the train itself speaks, saying
"Tell me, thou innocent,
Why feel you special and best?
For when all is done I take you
And return you to my nest;
Your world is bright and happy
Full of high spirits and song,
Though soon you too shall step aboard
And join my faceless throng."
Hot saliva on the heaving engines:
Weeping, groaning, ghostly, parched.
Rusted joints spewed onwards grinding resisting
Movement spat out like a violently beaded string of curses
Sloppily uttered as incantations of a malformed mouth!
From that charred old shell so terse,
Black as sadness and dead as a hearse,
Darling to death as he brings on the rain:
The dry rolling thunder of the funeral train.
That dark train cries out and all around
A mourning whimper rises like slumbering fog-
Bleak and yellow it obscures the land
Seeping out insidious in strange locales all:
The old lonely fisherman
Sleeping on his wharf,
The frustrated hawker's
Windblown barefaced booth,
Silent streets crying for attention,
Dark places hidden at the corner of every eye.
That solemn train cries out and all around
Her mourning whimper rises like harrowing fog
Calling all to upright attention and fear.
Looming like a spectre but a breath-span from your window
Slowly closing cold dread claws-
Naked numbness dumb as ice-
Cold dread claws upon thy waist.
And you,
You poor old thing,
Shivering in your pitiful shack of bones,
You never had any chance!
You were only human.
You were only human, you poor old thing.
Barreling on with brimstone slang:
Clang clang! Dang dang! Beelz Bub!
Sputtering an ocean of curses from turgid goat-flesh
Born of sadness to cause even more, yawning great maw
Jowls clanking with fresh hot oil drool steaming stark and lewd, and yet
That charred old shell so terse,
Blacker than sadness and slain like a hearse,
Is all that gives meaning to our every gain:
The dry rolling thunder of the funeral train.
Oct 4, 2011
Oct 4, 2011 at 12:10 AM UTC
Again the day had come
When I had concentrated on those coins,
That was all for mine but lost
And the cyclone rolled those dust with gust
Earn after born at my mother’s shack,
Penny to penny kept into my empty soul
Sounding low when filled with sorrow,
Blew all those through unknown hollow
The day had gone forever
And I am the Loser, lost more than I loss
Collect other coins that less than I lost
And the Lord will be paid the ultimate cost -
@ Musfiq us shaleheen
Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 4:01 PM UTC
Spending Nights cheaply,
television doesn't work,
rats or moths,
have chewed the wires,
now a black square,
sits quiet,
Monk like,
Enlightened,
reflecting me,
dust layer,
my plastic texas radio,
calmly,
oozes,
discharges,
Jazz,
my final cigarette,
silently waiting,
like the television,
like the *****
patiently watercoloring on red lipstick,
seducing not me,
but my lungs,
the ego.
And I fantasize being in an Italian cafe,
smoking,
with low eyes,
like a hill,
with a Gold hungry man
excavating for Fortune,
or bones of Glory,
and maybe a leaking pipe line,
dripping wisdom.
And a tall Italian goddess,
walks,
appears like a ****** magician,
into the cafe,
as the Italian Night,
dances ****
the stars like beauty marks,
and quaint street lamps illuminating,
sidewalk puddles,
like jewelry,
worn by an immortal belly dancing siren singer,
who lost her voice,
seducing Gods,
now mute,
cursed to ****** Man by her body.
And she sits down,
her legs dark like mud,
but glistens like the hot Sahara Desert,
and her scent,
is not of Cacti and Lizards,
but of Roses,
but of Rust Michigan,
over comes the roasting beans,
like a house burglar,
or a spider,
creeping up on its fly prey,
enters my nose,
and my recollection of beauty,
is warped,
simply by the way she lightly,
taps,
her fingers,
against her legs,
like a light drizzle,
on a tin shack roof,
after a century of drought.
Feb 5, 2013
Feb 5, 2013 at 8:06 PM UTC
...Sky Isa Love!!!!
THAT IS ALL!!!!!!!!!
BILL WITHERS - LEAN ON ME LYRICS
http://www.youtube.com/watch?NR=1&v;=JR0NZqu6igg
Lean On Me (Live) From a 1973 Concert
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Wpof8s5ZTg
Love potion number 9, The Searchers
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7rXhXLsNJL8
White Wine In The Sun by Tim Minchin
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fCNvZqpa-7Q
MOTOWN MAGIC!!!!!!
Sa Sa Go Go Go
BEST OF MOTOWN....BREATHE...Sky Isa Love
I Can't Get Next To You, Psychedelic Shack (the Temptations),
Bernadette (The Four Tops),
Everyday People (Sly & The Family),
I just Called To Say I Love You (Stevie Wonder)
Ain't Too Proud To Beg (The Temptations),
Back In My Arms Again (The Supremes)
Build Me Up Buttercup (The Foundations)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=--jWPzNNdN4
Best Of Motown Part 2 Video Mix of;
My Cherie Amour (Stevie Wonder),
I'm Gonna Make You Love Me (Diana Ross & The Supremes with the Temptations),
What's Going On (Marvin Gaye)
Love Child (Diana Ross & The Supremes),
Runaway Child Running Wild (The Temptations),
For Once In My Life (Stevie Wonder},
I'm Losing You (The Temptations),
What Does It Takes (Jr Walker & The All Stars),
Stop In The Name Of Love (Diana Ross & The Supremes),
Reach Out I'll Be There (Four Tops),
I Can't Help Myself (Four Tops),
Get Ready (The Temptations),
Dancing In The Street (Martha & The Vandellas)
I Hear A Symphony (Diana Ross & The Supremes).
https://www.youtube.com/watch?NR=1&v;=VTe06PrXwo4
Top Tracks for Earth, Wind & Fire....
Starts with;
"Fantasy" (1977)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kTQJ2QiK4QU&playnext;=1&list;=AL94UKMTqg-9AIdf-oDDL0ZRzIehPw5WY6
Top Tracks for Diana Ross & the Supremes
Starts with;
Love Child!!!!
Beautiful imagery!!!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_IluVWcNtR8&list;=AL94UKMTqg-9BkdB7ckbcLpD9AIriJX-5P
**The Power of Music & Images
Used On One Of The Most Popular
& Most Loved Ballads Of All Time, Enjoy!!!**
***Top Tracks for Chicago
Starts with;***
Hard To Say I'm Sorry
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zqq3tW3iACw&playnext;=1&list;=AL94UKMTqg-9ABX4lv1Ast8ZktnOYg-vpB
Okay so double triple down on this!!!!!!!!
LOVE CHILD Diana Ross & The Supremes
***~Sky Isa Love~~
What can I say my first album;***
LOVE CHILD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Gets me every time!!!!!!!
More Beautiful Imagery!!!
Afu Ra Ka ALL!!!!! (see note)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x2icqNPcNS4
EARTH WIND & FIRE-WOULD YOU MIND
...Sky Isa Love
very beautiful once again!!!!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2rInQEQ-yUc
A Motown mega-mix mashup: Motor City's biggest hits combined with classic Christmas songs, sung by your favorite Motown stars.
Includes....
"I Saw My Girl Kissing Santa Claus"
"I Jingle That Emotion"
"I Heard It From The Red Nosed Reindeer"
"Claus Get Next To You"
"Santa Was a Rollin' Stone"
"Ain't No Silent First Noel"
...as performed by....
Stevie Wonder
Michael Jackson
Smokey Robinson
The Temptations
The Supremes
The Mormon Tabernacle Choir
...and, of course, the Funk Brothers.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fNvoSf2389k
THAT IS ALL!!!
LOVE ALL!!!!
Sa Sa Ra!!!!
Dec 26, 2012
Dec 26, 2012 at 7:28 PM UTC
railroad yard in San Jose
I wandered desolate
in front of a tank factory
and sat on a bench
near the switchman's shack.
A flower lay on the hay on
the asphalt highway
--the dread hay flower
I thought--It had a
brittle black stem and
corolla of yellowish *****
spikes like Jesus' inchlong
crown, and a soiled
dry center cotton tuft
like a used shaving brush
that's been lying under
the garage for a year.
Yellow, yellow flower, and
flower of industry,
tough spiky ugly flower,
flower nonetheless,
with the form of the great yellow
Rose in your brain!
This is the flower of the World.
San Jose, 1954
3.4k
Watching her sit with her crossed legs
And her gaze upwards
Like the world is too petty
For her eyes to surrender.
She was magnificent, yes
But her looks feigned a lie
Her eyes could **** with intense fire
Her scent was amicable
For her preying hands
And if a being so unfortunate
Crosses her path
Or meets her eyes
She springs like a cheetah
And rips them apart,
Metaphorically, of course.
.......
My eyes wander off
.......
His frenzied looks
And unshaved face
Ruffled up clothes
Looks like he has had his worst day
Wonder what's got him so worked up
Must be a hangover
Must have had a drink too much
Last night
Yes, I can see a wife
Beaten up in an alcohol-fueled mania.
But those petunias in his hands
Beautiful
What a contrast to the man himself
A mistress?
Or an attempt to gain forgiveness
From his wife?
.......
Sipping the best local tea
Sit back
And let my mind have its spree
.......
Pick pocket
Such an adorable face
Blue-eyed, her tiny hands
Slipping in and out
Procuring knick knacks and wallets.
Life was never fair
Mother's sick and in a tarpaulin roofed
Shack off the main street.
Dad's a drunk
And she's had enough with that nonsense.
Her timed precision and skilled fingers
Workings its way for a loaf and
The extra change for her mother
Curled up like a ball
In pain.
.....
Change for the tea
And morning paper.
Picking up a stride
Take a left from the plaza
Into a throng of living bodies,
And to be one among
The many lives
Toiling,
Living,
Breathing.
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 1:38 AM UTC