Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jeremy Duff Mar 2013
Every time, I pass by an In-N-Out I remember that night we went to a show in Sacramento.
You, driving your van full of people and hopes and laughs and drugs,
pulled up in front of the school around 5 o'clock on a rainy January afternoon.
I hopped in, immediately overwhelmed by the love I took the back seat to myself.
In front of me was Jena, wearing her blue and purple sweater that I always will remember by.
Next to her was Fritz, dressed in his usual attire consisting of a hoody and jeans.
Next to him was Shelby, a girl I had not had the pleasure of spending time with before that night.
She didn't say much throughout the whole night nor has she since then.
Riding shotgun was Dylan, another person I had not hung out with before. He was busy mixing shisha and hash oil and I don't blame him for not saying hello.
And you, Tyler, you were driving. And as we drove with the windows down, your hair whipped around.

Almost as soon as we were on our way, I was packing spliff, courtesy of Shelby into a pipe, courtesy me.
We got it burning, just as we reached the highway and not long after that the hookah, courtesy Fritz, was slowly burning the hash-shisha concoction, courtesy Dylan.
I remember not saying much, except when we sang along to some rap song that I could not tell you the name of now.
And at one point, after the spliff had all been smoked and quick hooka session  had concluded Dylan turned around and asked me something I could not make out.
I replied back to him with a what and he again asked an non-understandable question, only this time I said "Sorry, I can't hear you, I'm really high."
Everybody in the van laughed and Tyler said she loved me and Fritz patted me on the back and Shelby turned around and smile at me.
Maybe a half hour after we left we stopped at In-N-Out for some beautiful Double-Doubles.
Once we got our food we began to understand that we had ordered not Double-Doubles but regular hamburgers. Albeit we were very put off by this, it did little to ruin our night.

I can only remember brief portions of that night.
I remember being dropped off at the curb of a punk rock show Shelby and I were attending.
I remember meeting our friends Lukas and Dakota, who are dating, inside.
I remember standing watching the bands, thinking of God knows what.
I remember walking two blocks to a parking lot the van was parked in.
I remember getting in, again overwhelmed by the love and this time, smoke.
I remember Lukas and I went outside to smoke a cigarette.
I remember a local coming up to us and asking us for a light.
I remember talking to him about something. The weather, perhaps.
I remember hugging Lukas good bye and getting in the van.
I remember falling asleep.
I remember waking up at a gas station where the tank was filled, courtesy Fritz.
I remember getting home.
I remember the laughs
and the smoke
and Lukas
and Fritz
and Tyler
and Jena
and Shelby
and Dakota
and Dylan.
I remember the love.
Shelby Hemstock Aug 2013
I didn't do much today
I just laid around
I thought about cooking breakfast
But didn't
Even though the kitchen is ten feet away
I can't seem to start a fire
Internally or externally
Story of my life
Just laying around
Can't be found
Phone on vibrate
Mouth on mute
Can't function
Brain wont compute
I could be making easy money
Leasing out apartments
But I don't care about the loot
I just hold onto dollars until the eagle grins anyways
Comfort
I prefer sleep over money any day
Its free
And if you get lucky you'll get a movie in your head
So I lay
I lay all day
I lay to the point of decay
Burnt out
Edges frayed
Bed hasn't been made
In weeks
Dismayed, prefaced with failure
Examples set from forefathers
"Drinking away the part of the day I cannot sleep away"
Plays on repeat in my head
Followed by,
"I woke up this morning and I grabbed myself a beer"
I should really fire the DJ in my head
Next up on Shelby FM,
"I'm only sleeping"
In my bed
Vladimir s Krebs Nov 2015
that one night where we both hung over. from that unforgetable night when it was only me and you.
i have the feeling like i just need to start running on the beach with the waves crashing behind me. i cant stop laughing when i read your text you sent me.
every night i get waked out  on the energy drinks i cant live with out.
i set a huge fire spelling your name out pouring gasoline all over it.
every othere day i wach the world go bye.  i lay on the beach looing up at the blue sky day wondering will i have to live alone in this world. no matter ill just walk the nigh sky following every shooting star that fly's by. that one night we both had so much fun that i wish i could have again. i never knew you moved where i lived in this quiet sleepy littel town.

i listen the the wases crashing down making littel pools drown the small ***** that scurry to not posible drown.
the wet sand feels soft and makes my mind run lose with not fear of what will come to me next.

i never slept with out seeing the night sky with all the pondering memories that drive me crazy.
day or night the beach makes my heart skip abeat seeing every one frolik with energy  that never last with out a couples date.

i run every night i adopted a fluffy husky names shelby. every night the sky plays a great light show.
i set the fire on the ****** with drinks and my  guitar. every not i played touched your heart when you were finally moved in.

the song i wrote played out for any one to run out my heart.
i take my lighter and light the lantern that shows the way back to our small cozy house.
my dog has a big heart with no lilits to swimm across the oceans with me if i was stranded getting swept out the see.

that one night i finally feel asleep with sweet dreams making my frown turn in to a smile not a plaster fake.
i sprung up in the morning my phone started ringing out.
the caller id i read out was your name.
the day grew long with the most pretties sun set with red pink skys.
every fire i make in the night i set the fires to show no hate.

i went out at night with my husky shelby taking off running threw the crashing waves the water is cold but its all worth it.
i thought i saw you checking me out.
i dont think im going crazy.
my dog and me wresting.
i started looking right in your big kristsl clear safire blue eyes light my heart on fire.
when we meet again after years apart.you moved in with me and we started our lives to gather.

i gathered my bag with my guitar my pen and note book. with my mind open with thoughts.


i looked up and saw the dark side of the moon.

ill never walk this deslet world along.

evey night me you and our dog shelby light a fire and undress in to our comfei clothes.
we drink the night away dancing away threw the night.
with the full night sky with every star shining.
the night light show we run and dance till we both feel sick and fall down.
i had a feeling deep down ill be with you again some day when i saw you name id on my cell phonee.

that night where i was just wresting around with my husky i  never thought i would live life with out your warm heart exitment.

that night your text i read out loud has brought both our worlds to gather

i never knew when you told me you were searching for me.
now we are happily to gather till time runs out

i never knew that we both cross echotere  that bright starty night with shooting stars.

i never knew i would ever see you agin to be crazy.

i knew my future would be this amazing with tears of love.

i never knew we would pass echoter on a beach with waves crashing all over the shore line

i never knew if i would ever see you again

i live life with exitement .

i will break the limits to have fun weather were all wacked out on somthing

i never knew my wish i made on the shooting stars would make that night crossing us by
run wild free make life intresting with carles ideas be willing to try insaine games food or what you never thought of doing
Taylor Marion Jun 2014
"Back in my day," he began, swaying forwards and backwards on the wooden front porch bench, "we had to work for our cent. Traveled by foot and shoveled ****. Y'all kids have it too easy these days, I say!" I could not help but laugh. He always went on rants like this, it wasn't anything unusual. But usually, I never respond. Usually, I am hardly listening but today my blood stream was still so drunk from this morning's strong *** of coffee that words tumbled out of my mouth like *****.
"Hmm.. really? How'd you land that job?" I muttered sarcastically, desperate for conversation and painting cartoon flowers with faces and people and trees onto the driveway with chalk, my curly headed baby sister, Shelby by my side.
"Land? Kid, I di'nt land no job! I was forced the job! Family owned a farm, but o'course you already knew that!" He winced.
"Oh yeah.. I forgot." I returned apologetically.
"Yeah.. but everythin' was a lot less 'spensive those days. Got more bang for yer buck. Although, we never really had much buck anyway." Surprised, I put down the chalk and wiped my powdery, multicolored hands on my jeans, leaving a yellow and pink handprint just above my knees, but Shelby spoke before I could.
"You mean you were... poor?" She asked innocently.
Instantaneously, he stopped swaying and looked at Shelby and I blankly for a moment and then looked down at his bare feet. I wasn't sure, but I thought I saw his lip quiver. Feeling ashamed by my baby sister's tactless impulse, I picked up the blue chalk stick and stared at it, unsure what else to do. Many uncomfortable seconds passed when he finally spoke again.
"Poor? Naw. I was never poor darlin'! The size of yer wallet don't mean nothin' bout wealth. I had a roof over my head and shoes on my feet. Corn and bread and milk at the dinner table served same time every evenin'. My mama and papa tucked me in at night. I hated my brothas and sistas just as much as I loved 'em." He smiled to himself and fiddled with his fingers, hands in his lap. Glancing at the sunlit, open field view in the distance, it was obvious he was lost in retrospect. "Pfft! Poor? Never. And then I met yer grandmotha..." he giggled genuinely and shook his head. "That was it. She was like a diamond in a coal mine, that one. Her wit as fiery as her hair and a stare as sharp as her tongue. She had me at 'Get lost!'" He chimed, cackling. I couldn't help but match his laughter with my own and Shelby quickly joined, but once it died down, my thoughts did too and words escaped my mind. As well as his, it seemed. We sat quietly, silenced by the whirling wisps of wind that sung through the autumn air. Chatter wasn't necessary at that moment. Then, leaning back and resting his folded hands behind his head, he grinned and began to sway once again.
"Naw. I was the richest man alive."
David Huggett Nov 2012
I was sitting in the chat, with big dumb Mike
he showed us his mask, it was a terrible site

Boston Chickie was quiet and subdued
, Shelby, Cindy, Katie, Rachel, kind of set the mood

Ciggy came into the chat with his well well well
And Steve replayed to Ciggy you look like you are from hell

Raven had beautiful eyes and lips of wonder
Wolf Bracker was downing the sauce like a pirate in plunder

Tucker zone he was there as well
and Romeo, Ken, Robert and Al we all came out of our shell
Martin Narrod Feb 2014
The Checkout Line

I wish to speak with you
ten years from now, you'll be ten years behind.

The words and meanings you carry in your pants, the pick-pocket steals your hopes from time.
and the visions of empty trash receptacles
with their late evening drunken lovers' bouts, at restless end tables. And the bums with their ******* attitudes **** covered clothes, and soiled minds

the clarity of the curbside drunk, picking up shades of filtered cigarettes of twilight scandalous
pickup lovers in their evening best.

And to talk with you ten years from now, you'll be ten years behind.

They're Green Beret head ornaments
detailing the porcelain platforms of Delft
Lining up for one last line to carry them into another faded sunrise at dawn's forgotten memory of yester night
and they walk their gallows holding pride fully their flags of exalted countrymen.

The republic of teacups of literary proficiency.
Wearing the necklaces of paid tolls to an afterlife they find in the miniscule car crashes of engagement with a grinless driving mate in a neighboring car in its pass into the forethought of turned corners.
Where they befell the great disappointment of failure in the frosted eyes of their fathers' expectations.

Who carried the shame of their mother's incessant discontent through short skirts, and high heels.

Who disapproved of the **** whom wore the sneak-out-of-the-house-wear clothing line, and traveled by night over turbulent asphalt by way of sidecar through turn and turnabout hand-over-hand contracts of lover's affection, and slept in tall grasses of wet nightfall with views of San Francisco, and were trapped in the inescapable Alcatraz and Statesville of unconsenting parents and their curfews,

through trials and trails of Skittles leading to after school Doctor visits in the basement of a doting mother, whilst she sits quietly in her exclusive quilting parties with noble equities of partners in knowledge, listening to Edith Piaf and the like,

All the while condemned to time, trapped in the second hand, hand me downs of the 21st century, decades of decadent introverts with their table top unread notebooks, and old forgotten score cards, and the numbers of scholars of years past,

and to talk with you ten years from now will be my greatest pleasure, for you will be....ten year's behind.


They push the sterile elevator buttons, and descend upon the floor of scents flourishing from their crowded family rooms, only aware of distinctive flavors, in their middle eastern shades of desert gumbo,

Who speak ribbit and alfalfa until midnight of the afternoon, sharing fables of slaughtered giraffes and camels that walked from Kiev to Baghdad in a fortnight,

Who are aware the power is out, but continue to scour for candles in a dark room where candles once burned, where candle wax seals the drawers of where candles can be found. Where once sat gluttonous kings and queens in Sunday attire waiting for words of freedom from the North.

of Florence, Sochi,Shanghai
of Dempster, Foster, Lincoln
of Dodge, Ford, Shelby

Of concrete fortune tellers in 2nd story tenement blocks with hairy legs, and head lice, wearing beautiful sachets of India speaking ribbit and alfalfa.

On their unbirthdays they walk the fish tanks wearing their birthday suits to remind them who serves the food on the floors of the family room fish mongers tactics.

The old men wear gargoyles on their shoulders.

Lo! Fear has crept the glass marbles of their wisdom and fortune, blearing rocket ships and kazoos on the sidewalks of their Portuguese forefathers.

Where ancestry burns cigarette holes in the short-haired blue carpet, where Hoover breaks flood waters of insignificance across hard headed Evangelical trinities.

Who share construction techniques one early morning at four, where questions of Hammer and **** build intelligence in secondary faces of nameless twilight lovers, who possess bear blankets, and upheavals, finely wired bushes of ***** maturity. Eating *** and check, tongue and pen.

Where police caress emergency flame retardants over the fire between their legs, wielding the chauvinistic blade of comfort in the backseat of a Yellow faced driving patron.

With their innocent daughters with their nubile thighs, and malleable personalities, which require elite words and jewelry. Wearing wheat buns, Longfellow, and squire.

Holding postmarked cellular structure within their mobile anguish.

Who go curling in their showers, pushing afternoon naps and pretentious frou-frou hats over tainted friendships with their girlfriend's brothers with minimum paychecks'.

Through their narcissus and narcosis, their mirrored perceptions of medicinal scripture of Methamphetamine and elegant five-star meat.

Who amend their words with constitutional forgiveness, in their fascist cloth rampages through groves of learning strategies. And the closets, cupboards, and coins
with rubber hearts, steel *****, and gold *****,

Tall-tales of sock puppet hands with friendly sharing ******* techniques, dry with envy, colorful scabs, and coagulation of eccentric ****** endeavors, With their social lubricants and their tile feet wardrobes with B-quality Adidas and Reeboks gods of the souls of us. Who possess piceous syndromes of Ouiji boards in their parent’s basements.

When will fire burn another Bush? Spread the fire walls of Chicago, and part grocery store fields of food. Wrapping towels under the doors of smoke filled lungs, on the fingernails of a sleepover between business executives with the neoprene finish of their sons and daughters who attend finishing school, with resumes of oak furnishings,

And I long to talk with you ten years from now,
For you'll be talking ten years behind.

Who profligate their padded inventories breaking Mohammed and Hearst,
laying the pillows of cirrus minor
waiting for the rain to paint the eyes of the scriptures which waft through concrete corridors,
and scent the air with their exalted personas,

With the different channels of confusions, watching dimple past freckle, eating the palms of our tropical mental vocations to achieve purity from the indignation of those whom are contemptuous for lack of innocence in America,
this America, of lack of peace,
of America hold me,
Let me be.

Whom read the letters off music, blearing Sinatra and Krall, Manson where is your contempt?

Manson where is your manipulation of place settings?, you deserve fork and knife, the wounded commandments that regretfully fall like timber in an abandoned sanctuary of Yellowstone,
Manson, with your claws of the heart.
Manson, with your sheik vulgarity of **** cloaks exposing your ladies undercarriage,

Those who take their pets to walk the aisles of famished eyes,
allowing the dorsals of their backsides to wonder aimlessly through Vietnam and Chinaman,
holding peace of mind aware of their chemical leashes and fifteen calorie mental meals, holding hands, unaware of repercussion,

With their vivid recollections of sprinkler and slide, through dew and beyond,
Holding citrus drinks to themselves, apart from pleasure, trapped with excite from sunsets, and in-between.

Withholding reservation of tongue to lung.
Flowing ribbit and alfalfa, in the corridors of expected fragrance.

and to speak with you of ten years from now, will be a pleasure all my own, for you will be talking ten years behind.

They walked outside climbing over mountains of shrapnel, popped collars
and endless buffets of emotion,
driving Claremont all the way to art gallery premiers
and forever waited for plane crash landings
and the phone calls that never came

Glowing black and white cameras
giving modelesque perceptions to all-you-can-eat eyes
giving cigarettes endless chasms of light

Colored pavement trenches and divots
cliff note alibis
and surgery that lasted until the seamstress had gone into an
endless rest
and
empty cupboards

Classic stools painted with sleepless white smoke and bleached canvas rolling tobacco with the stained yellow window panes of feral tapestry and overindulgent vernacular

Like a satiated cheeseburger weeping smile simple emotion
on November the 18th celebrations
and Wisconsin out of business sales

Too much comfort, stealing switchboards from the the elderly, constantly putting gibberish into
effortless conversation.

Dormant doormats, with the greetings that never
reached as far as coffee table favelas,
arriving to homes of famished
furniture, awaiting temperate lifestyles and the window sill arguments from pedantic literacy

Silver shillings and corporate discovery clogged the persuasive
push and shove
to and from

Killing enterprise
loquacious attempt at too soon
much too soon
too soon for forever

Wall to wall post-card collages
happy reminders of the places never visited by drinks in the hands of
those received

Registered to the clouded skies of clip board artists
this arthritis of envy
of bathtub old age
wrinkled matted faces
logged with quick-fixes, anemia, and heart-break

disposed of off the streets
of youth, wheeling and wailing
rolling down striped stairs
of shock and arraignment
holding the hand rails of a wheelchair
suitcase
packed away in a life

Down I-37
into the ochre autumn fallen down leaves
and left memories behind
their green Syphilis eyeglasses

weeping tumuli
recalcitrant
mulish, furrow of beast and beyond

yelling, screaming, howling
at the prurient puerile tilling
of sheets

****** the voices of words
and vomiting the mind into the pockets of the turbulent perambulations
expelled from meat-packing
whispering condescension
and coercing adolescent obsessions
with fame, glamour, and *****

Creeping out into the naked
light of the Darger scale janitorial
closets, carrying the notorious gowns
of red wine spells, backpacks, and pins

henchmen, plaintiff, and youth

All the while
ripping at the incantations of the soul
whispering ribbit and alfalfa
in the guard-rail scars
of the dawns decadent forgotten
Michael Hoffman Aug 2013
I was walking my big Ridgeback Mr. Brown
across the Starbucks parking lot
when this little white poodle started yapping
from the rolled-down window of a brand new Mercedes.

Mr. Brown responded like shot from guns
and before I knew it
he was scratching at the Mercedes door
eager to make friends with the poodle.

Then the Mercedes owner came running out of Starbucks
spilling latte all over his substantial stomach
What the ****…..!?
Look at those ******* scratches!
Do you know how much it costs
to fix a car like this?
I’m suing you and your big ******* dog !

Not wise, sir, I responded…
to be so aggressive with someone you don’t even know
and who has a 110-lb. African Lionhound
on the end of his leash.

I might be a whacked-out Vietnam veteran
with a hairtrigger temper
or a gang member
or maybe I'm just a senior citizen
with an extremely protective service dog.

Well, he said, his belly shaking,
look at my **** car.
I am looking at it I said
and handed him the keys to my ’68 Shelby Cobra
parked and shiny right nearby.
Take mine, I said
it’s more fun to drive.
Shelby Mar 2019
Dear ex lover...

Our love was water
Refreshing but it left me needing more to survive
The words you spoke were intoxicating
I became easily addicted
Our relationship ended a year ago
I'm still thinking about you
I shouldn't have left
You loved me more than yourself
Showed tenderness and compassion
This letter was supposed to be an im thinking of you
Not that I still love you
I miss you
Do you miss me still?

Love
Your girl


no no...


Dear ex...

Why must you run through my mind
Dipping into the inner pools of my serendipity
Night fall brings no comfort
As I rest my eyes for a deep slumber
I'm still startled awake by remnants of a 3 am phone call
Waiting to see missed call displayed across a bright screen
And a voice mail engaging in another pointless fight you created
Please leave a message after the....
Baby wake up
You're supposed to answer
I'll be waiting for you to come over
I need to find sweet release
Give me what I need
Or else there'll be hell to pay
My memories of you have a few genuinely blissful moments
But those are over shadowed by gruesome visuals and agony
I stuck through everything you did
So I wouldn't have to hear how worthless i was
And that I wouldn't find better than you
I stuck around hoping that I could admire the roses wrapped in a walmart bag
only to realize it would only be one time I received them
because you had to
and they were the result of a heartfelt apology
that would cut deeper than the thorns
I held too tightly
crying over the hatred I felt for you
as blood darker than the red roses trickled down my ivory skin
I hate you
but I will always hate myself more


With regards
Your ex


no no....


Dear abuser....
This will be the final draft of the several letters I ripped up in the trash
You don't deserve it
But you kept invading my peace
So here's what you wanted
Here's your ******* closure


I loved you
Before you turned into the demon you swore you never would
Because a man that calls himself a Christian would never do what you did to me right?
Stories were told of girls you damaged
Why was I so naive to believe they were lies
It was that cunning smile and sugar coated words
Making a man that could do no wrong in public
But a monster behind closed doors
Proving the stories weren't lies

You showed me love wasn't one found in movies
It was never going to be a fairytale I longed for
No
Love was shown when my clothes were off and I was submissive
Still knowing the touch of your coarse hands
Running across my skin when a slight breeze hits the air
I've scrubbed my skin raw with hopes I wouldn't but to no prevail
Love was holes punched in the dry wall above my head
Love was loving what my body over my mind had to offer
You told me love was ***
But *** never meant love
Love wouldn't leave me shaking alone in your bed
Hoping the door didn't fly open in rage
That i forgot to say good morning
Scared whether the day would bring a fake happiness
Or
Knowing our true love was another fist to the gut
With tears flowing out of mascara blackened eyes
As you took what you wanted
Again
Again
Again
Pleading intensified your lust
Tears got you off
My pain was only valid when it was able to make you gleam
Your true smile was only shown with my back pressed against a hard box spring
I love you was only whispered when you were finished
But don't get me wrong that was love....

Sincerely
Shelby
I am Who , I am Suppose Too Be
I am Not the Person , That some Think I should Be
I Lived a very long part of my Life , Not being Me
I tried too Be the Person , That Some thought I should Be
I now know , That All That did , Was Make Me Very Miserable
I shared my Secret with Pamela Jean only , and She Loved Me  
I and Pamela Jean , Spent the better part of our Married Life -
Protecting My Secret Life , And Our Happily Married Life Together
I hurt so Much , Now that Pamela Jean , Has Gone Too Heaven
I Still have Reagan Jean & Shelby'Anne Kelcee & They are my Life
I have some Family , Pamela's Family , Who Accept Me as Me
I have Zero Member's of My Family , That Accept anything about Me
I have my strong Faith in My GOD & My Lord & Savior JESUS CHRIST & The Holy Spirit
I know that GOD , Loves Me , For Me  & That He alone will Judge Me
I will Ultimately Stand before GOD & Confess My Sin's as Me
I will live the rest of My Life , As much as Possible as Me the Real Me
I am Always worried what Other's think , As I want too Be Accepted
I want too Be Loved & I want too show Others , The Real Me
I am a Beautiful Female / Transgender Woman , I am Me
I was Always Me & I will Always Be Me , I Love Me
Thank You GOD & ALL of YOU , Who Accept Me as Me
I am Stacie Leelah Cheyenne & I Love Being Me
Pamela , O' loving Pamela , My beautiful & loving Pamela
We started our beautiful life together , We shared so very much
The mid too late '80s , Were beautiful & so full of the future
That no one knew , Except for GOD , How much time we really had
And so we both enjoyed each other , We both shared so very much
From all of our 9 beautiful & loving Labrador Retrievers , ( Our Kids )
Too our Homes , Hobbies & our many Vacations in numerous states
The one thing , That never changed in all of our entire married life
Was that she Loved Me & I Loved Pamela , My sweet Pamela Jean
We both worked very hard , We even worked side by side for S & P
S & P ??? . Wasn't just a business or even just a job , It was Our's
Sometimes it seemed as though the business actually owned Us
But looking back , There was a lot of times when Pamela & Me
Laughed & cried & Shared beautiful times & bad times together
From our 1st Labrador "" Callie "" , Too our current 2 Labradors
Reagan Jean & Shelby'Anne Kelcee , And the other 6 Labradors
Jack'ie , CJ ( Callie Jean of Callie's Acre's ) , Sammy , Daisey
L.A.B. ( Ellabee ) & Kelcee Jean , Seven are now in Heaven with Pam
As I like too say , Pamela Jean has 7 Labradors , With her in Heaven
I have 2 Labradors with Me down here on Earth , I Love You Pam
I will always Love You Pamela Jean , I will never stop Loving You
You were always the Love of My life , And You always will be
As GOD is My witness , I promise You Pamela , Love is Forever
As You and I took our wedding vows serious on that day in July 1989  
For better or worse , In Sickness and in health , Till death do us part
We'll Pamela You're in Heaven now & I still Love You so very much
My Love for You is still On going , And our Love will never End
I will Love You for Eternity , As You & I , Will always be One
The time & the dreams , That We both shared Together as Us
I will never forget , My daily life without You , Is so very lonely
You're Family & Our Friends & GOD , And our 2 beautiful Girls
Are what is absolutely now keeping me going , Day in & day out
Until the day , That We both can & will be Together Again for all
ETERNITY - Just You & Me , Pamela & Me , Me & Pamela :

GOD BLESS ALL , Who read This - Amen :
Sarah Wilson Apr 2011
every time i have to list one best friend, you're the one.
i've got others, yes. a couple or three.
but you're the one i always think of.

from back in gym class,
to sneaking out at night to the barn,
[you threw a toad at my face.]
to watching ****** horror movies,
to going to the outer banks,
to staying in grandy one weekend,
[just us and our vices for two and a half days]
to spitting on your barn floor just because,
to relying on luck to keep us from the cops.

from watching you get your tongue pierced,
to you coming with me to get all of mine.
from dealing with that boyfriend of yours,
to dealing with...the lack of mine.
from our future moving out plans,
to our rocky horror plans tonight.

that's us.
you're my number one, through and through.
you knew i didn't want to 'talk about it',
back in august,
you just brought me over and let me stand around.
let me listen to you talk.
that's the best thing anyone did,
that simple distraction was all i needed.

it certainly doesn't help that everyone thinks we're sisters,
our love lives parallel in the oddest ways,
and we just have too much fun together.
i can't put into words what you've done for me.
i mean it, when i tell you, "love youuuuu!"
i mean it, when i say, "best friend."

i do, shelby lynn. i do.
letter one of a thirty-day challenge.
this one's for my best friend.
“When” anger runs through me like a wildfire.

I have these Twisted thoughts come into my mind making me wonder if I'm rotten to the Core.

“Because” suddenly I'm not the nice girl from next door.

I'm a monster in a cage and that cage is called my skin and I'm itching to get out and to play with your mind as Revenge. Poem by Shelby Kathleen Nightingale
Shelby Hemstock Aug 2013
I was walking down Graham Ave
(Or up, if your an optimist)
When I spotted a side walk sale
My eyes darted
Records
"I want to go to there"
Without thinking or blinking
Drawn in like a tractor beam
I sifted through the pile of wax
My nostrils flared
From the ****
Covered in dust
Embedded in age
Music at its greatest stage
The woman having the sale said,
"The records are $2, no holler"
"$2 is better than $3,
Especially for a broke
******* like me"
So I snagged some
Miles Davis &
Dinah Washington
Then I looked up,
Read the light of the Goodyear Blimp
And it read "Shelby Hemstock's a ****"
You know what kind of day it was
Guess I was going up Graham after all
Beaux Jun 2013
This is not a poem.
This is not fiction.
This is fact.

A man asked, "What are your thoughts on homosexuality being nature's way of preventing overpopulation?"
I found that to be a rather intriguing question. Scientifically, it seems valid. I furthered my research to only find a little bigot. He spoke of his disgust with homosexuals and how we chose our paths which is why he is allowed to pass judgement.
He spoke of his children and how they would never become gay because they will be raised with the love of God.
Disturbed by this man's narrow-mindedness I intervened.
Here is what I said to him.

"Hey.. Yeah. Jason, is it? Name's Shelby Cato. I don't have much to say to you other than I was raised by two ordained ministers. I lived my entire childhood on the mission field. No joke. I lived in the dumps. I've seen damages of war that would keep you up with night terrors for the rest of your miserable life. I was raised with every ounce of love and kindness in this world. My extended family are Grammy nominated Christian singers; maybe you've heard of Leeland.
That's not the point. Here's my point: I'm a lesbian. Always have been. Always will be.
Nothing traumatic happened in my life.
I wasn't missing God.
I'm not a bad person.
In fact, at the risk of sounding vain, I'm probably one of the most kind hearted, caring people in this world.
And that was because of my fantastic upbringing. My entire family loves WHO I AM.
In fact, I'd like to thank my mother, Honey Cato, for understanding me. I'm so glad you and my father raised me without an ounce of hatred in my heart.
If you think shoving a religion down your future children's throats will stop them from being who they truly are then I feel sorry for them already.
P.S. Don't ever accuse gays of picking and choosing which verses we follow. I know my Bible in and out. Don't test me, little boy."

I am truly am the sinner and saint.
Shelby Mar 2019
bloodshot tired eyes locked in a reflected viewing
of an alone tortured hollowed shell
paralyzed as I gaze into the ***** mirror
an unwelcome familiar presence
reminds me im never alone
as my shadow manifests into a looming depression
locking his grip on his ivory skinned art
the reflected viewing was his incomplete masterpiece
that took years of work

look!
look how beautiful I've made you!
he gleams
as cold darkened hands hold the sides of my face
his thumbs point towards glazed over tear filled eyes
outlining running mascara down sullen cheeks

slowly moving hands down uncombed brown hair
he yells
you need a splash of color my dear!
interlocking his fingers too tightly
as he reaches a frail neck
my face turns a crimson red as breathing is no longer an option
slowly adding in a navy blue as the struggle for life spreads convulsions through a weakened body
he only lets go to say
I cannot destroy what I've created!

it didn't haunt me just in the reflection
that sentence ran through my mind with the same shrill voice
as I stared down the neck of another empty bottle
the taste and smell of a bourbon
washed down with scotch was intoxicating
as it drowned his negative passive aggressive screaming
another bottle made me feel fluid
bringing out a smile that has been long faded
a laugh that was suppressed to feel anything but the pain he brought
the confidence to portray a happier version of the dying light I was
to portray the me I was before depression claimed me as his

shivering and chills
snap me back to the reflected present
as his hands run down my uncovered arms
where he carelessly streaked black and blue
finger painted marks
each bruise that illuminated too bright in a dimly lit room
he traced them ever so gently
writing a cursive love poem
as he moved down to my wrists that were consistently covered
he grazes over red protruding straight lines
where fingernails like razor blades
danced from one end to the other
signifying that 7 lines measured the years he spent working on the piece he called Shelby

across what was left of my ivory skin
he carelessly wrote his name
in ink mixed with blackness as dark as him
and specks of my own blood
interlocking our souls as one
and to declare me as his and non others
for an artist never lets another touch his incomplete masterpiece
SG Holter Mar 2017
Why does rain smell?
How come leaves make that
Crunching sound when walked
Upon in autumn? That
Great October Sound.

We love seconds and minutes.
Hours and days are for the
Weak,
Weeks and years for the
Hopeless romantics.

Nothing hopeless
About our romance.
We just shut up and take it in.
Love? Photo album in words?
Yes.

We know it.
It's like laughing when her
Dog Shelby
Kisses me, and I kiss her back,
Wet snout and all,

And she carries that kiss to her
Owner;  
So beautiful by the mirror,
Asking me:
Should I wear the black or the

Purple dress?
and I lean back
And enjoy her trying them
On.
We are the Moment People.
We snapshot microseconds

And capture them
Like this.
This is why we're poets.
We help them remember.
We write for the ones we love.
Martin Lethe Jan 2016
For Shelby*

          I

O cover the gable in thistle
Let this place become unknown to all
To us only may this place be holy;
Let the moss wrap it up like a shawl.

Let the darkness prevent eyes from seeing
And hearts from remembering when
And the sun hide her grand face, agreeing
That no-one shall find it again.

Let the vines and the beetles crawl slowly
Devouring all semblance of worth;
O cover the gable in thistle
And draw it all back to the earth.


          II

Once this was a temple unfettered.
My heart and hers wandered free,
Free from Time’s shadow and terror;
Nothing would tear her from me.

My spirit was hers for the sculpting,
She crafted my soul by her hand;
Prancing and gasping and gulping
We devoured the joy of this land.

Never a footstep in error
And every omen a boon--
Once this was a temple unfettered;
A monument now to my ruin.


          III

This is the place where I carried her
And swore to protect her from harm;
Here her warm breath was my staple,
Here her bright eye was my charm.

Though the fortunes of fate might assail her
I am her aegis and shield
Unswerving, my love cannot fail her
‘Til the last of my strength shall I yield

See, on the hill, the black maple
And the wink of the rope’s one good eye
This is the place where I buried her
And yonder the hill where I die.
SG Holter Aug 2017
She moved since then,
But between where we got off
The tram, and her place,
There was a tiny place that sold
Sushi.

Walking through that smell,
Pavement still wet with rain
Outside,
We more often than not
Sent me back out

With her dog Shelby
To do her business. I  
Tied her to the
Street-thing outside, left
Tips and our pride with

The shop, and returned  
With a walk-content dog and
Too much sushi. She would
Have candles lit; Jeff Buckley
Playing,

Looking at Shelby and I as
If we had been gone for
******* ever as we came in.
"You hungry?"
She'd laugh, hug me, command

The dog to bed, me to sofa.
"Thank you."
We'd eat. Open a bottle from her
Impeccable stash.
I bought it. I brought it.

I never ate before her first bite.
Robyn Nov 2015
God is my master.
I love Him more than all in my life.
He is the Master of my mind, my body, my heart.
He is my Shepherd.
He is beautiful.
He is love.
He is perfect.
He loves me more than I can comprehend.

God is telling me to stay.
So I will stay.
I cannot leave my church.
I cannot leave my family.
I cannot leave my city.
This is where I belong.
This is where I belong.
This is where I belong.

I belong. I belong. I belong.

In God I am made pure.
In God I am made clean.
In God I am rinsed of my sin.
In God I am white as snow.

Countless second chances He has given me.
Dear Lord, I need another today.
Today - I ask You for forgiveness.
Make me clean again.

I pray for them.
Ryan Kimmy Chiso Becky Dave Iris Mom Dad Kellie Tim Grandma Tim Debbie Laura Grandpa Betty Cindy Lori Shea Asher John Al Brian Teri Pamm Louie Chris Michael Tristan Bailey Victor Nikkie Mailee Andrew The Zachary's Kylie Michael and Megan Jade Airika Allie Bill Moriah Madison Mike Lani Moriah Tori Lenni Todd Maddie Hilary Holly Bella Jamie JT Bella Abby Sarah Anna Rick Ashtin Aaron Aleasha Christian Brian Gus Abbie Jenn Alec Jean Lois Larry Ryan Jake Bud Erin Tyler Jasmine Launts Wendy Michael Bella Sam Tony Ryan Ian Deric Jen Sam Erin Hanna Jamie Chad Mia Laura Tony Alena Tyrus Jack Luke Jenny Greg Reagan Kennedy Wilson Konni Wayne Brian Cammy Trina Mike Kameron Kasey Nikki Lexi Jelly Harley Izzie Rosie DJ Lillian Adrian Avery Asher Tyler Heidi Dan Sarah Ryan Griffin Daniel Jessica Pax Cory Abel Chandra Dave Julia Bethany Chris Orion Lindsay Twila Tracy Brandon Nate Braeden Amanda Jonah Luke Crosby Charlie Mark Debbie Ian Joy Susan Catherine Jeff Jill Andy Anna Joel Jacquie Tracy Shelby Brenden Grace Bruna Brendan Jadan Ariel Rick Johnna Laila Becca Joren Skylar David Lovins Gettys Nanny Papa My Cousins Grace Wanda Lamont Michael Amy Stephanie Tyler Tim Jeff Anthony Mikayla Emily Emily Sabrina Thomas Caleb Rene Sabra Autumn Cort Riley Cole Kaylee Amber Eryn Christina Trinity Bethany Kati Ben Jacob Megan Megan

and so so many more

May God bless you and keep you
Amen
Imagine a world that's all neat and tidy and has no color or wandering it

Where We are all puppets on a string doing what our Masters please

We do not feel we are nothing but Hollow shells

but that until one of us breaks free and chooses to defy the ones who Hold Us Down and paints the world with a Magic Brush now we're all free doing as we please and now there's Beauty everywhere

And we are whole once more living in this colorful world. Poem by Shelby Kathleen Nightingale
Matthew Harlovic Jul 2017
I’m avoiding a void, Freud warned me of
by worming my way in to the apple of my eye
I know it sounds paranoid as above so below
ground zero dark thirty where I heard the well runs dry.
Hell, I wonder why I try to quench my thirst for knowledge
from any ***** puddle when I’m at a cow college
‘cuz nowadays I rather cuddle up with a good book
than be-fuddled by how to transgress, ring a bell hooks?
Well looks deceive and I can guess
by the wings you have yet to receive
we have come to the some of nothing
from something I thought we were far beyond
but maybe I was wrong at the end of it all.
You said it wasn’t my fault but then again,
Freire taught me how to lock
away my thoughts in a vault.

I’m hemmed in with Hemingway in the corner of the café.
We spend half the day laughing at our neighbors savoring
their lattes but condemning how they stray away from nature
‘cuz labor’s not their taste.
He says, “What a waste of time.
Do you see a better paradigm?”
I agree because I was scared at the time
to embarrass myself in front of an idol of mine.
I know it’s futile to rival a dead mind
but when they’re better than the headlines
I don’t mind if I never shine brighter than a dying light
‘cuz it only really matters in the end if I’m trying right?
but what am I trying for when I lost a friend to love and war?
Cut the ties, I’m alive.
Who was I dying for?
Who was I fighting for?
Who was I writing for?

Shelby tells me where the sidewalk ends
and well, he’s been a better friend than you’ve ever been;
ever since you left me and met he who shall not be named
nor blamed for this game you played against us.
Again trust was just a part of it all.
I was miserable like Margaret Hall.
Withdrawals always reinforce walls of remorse
and of course, I’m the source of all your problems
but who took the time to resolve them?
You weren’t forced to endorse any course of action
except follow the laws of attraction.
Perhaps gravity magnifies abreaction
or the severity of abstraction.
Yet Apollo would swallow
all his pride and passion
hollow out his home
and throw a match in.

© Matthew Harlovic
i cannot equate myself as a rapper when i write poetry.

copy and paste the link below to listen:
https://soundcloud.com/outtatune-1/some-of-nothing
I went to the ball and met the prince we danced and dined and I had a grand old time.

That's until the clock hit 12 and I went running out and dropped My Shoe on the way

Now I'm locked in a tower waiting for him to rescue me hopefully he sees his princess underneath these rags

And when he did we lived happily ever after Sealed With a Kiss. Poem by Shelby Kathleen Nightingale
Kelsey Rhoads Aug 2018
I think I fell in love
With all this sky up above

As I sit here in Texas, Cedar Creek
It’s so hot, not even a leak

But all the people oh so friendly
The smiles they give are always free

Some likes the cowboys and some are longhorns
Texas is much different than the state of corn

They have Goodwill’s much bigger than you dream
With rows and rows of clothes, WITH  ATTATCHED SEAMS!

They have a Cowboy Church that welcome you in
Don’t fret or judge when you can’t make it back again

When they say everything is better in Texas
You should see what we eat for breakfast

I cannot wait to start a life here
Texas is now my home, with a Shelby always near.
I thought you were a beast the way you destroyed my world but when you held me tight I Saw the Light and I knew you were really a prince Within.

So I opened up my heart to you and showed you the beauty of love and with the flower of true love we broke the curse that kept us apart.

For I shall always be your beauty and you shall always be my Beast. Poem by Shelby Kathleen Nightingale
They are beautiful but yet deadly as they fly overhead their even Majestic but don't forget a dragon can breathe fire and **** you in seconds. Poem by Shelby Kathleen Nightingale
Why does mankind do such evil things?

Some are just evil and enjoys the pleasure that hurting others may bring them.

Some are forced into evil acts against their very will

Other's say they do it for God they say it is his will

Many do it out of desperation

But it does not matter if you have a good reason or not evil is evil

Have you ever heard that the pathway to hell is paved with good intentions.

“If “you think you're doing something good by hurting others you're really doing something evil you're just too blind to see it. Poem by Shelby Kathleen Nightingale
Harriet Cleve Jun 2019
Herbert Spineless Springbottom looked immaculate in his three piece, navy, woolen suit. There in the mirror, his image looked back with protracted pride. His tie was a royal red and knotted in the shelby style. His shoes were blacker than a lump of fresh coal and gleamed of gratuitous affluence.

'Will Sir be taking the suit and shoes home?' the tailor asked.

'No, I don't quite like the cut of it'

'It makes me look small and from a lower station in life'

This was a remarkable statement by any stretch of an exaggeration.

Herbert stood six foot seven and held no position in life or society.
His bank account was non existent and his brazen neck was harder than a hangmans smile.

'No, let it out at the shoulders and I will collect it next Saturday',

Herbert knew he would not be returning and walked out with a head full of unbridled contemplation.

His ego needed flattering and this episode restored his view of himself as a lost son of high society.

As he turned into a side street he walked past an an Army Surplus Store. There he beheld the uniform of a **** Third ***** SS officer.

' The uniform in the window' he said to the shop assistant.
' I want to try it on'

'All of it, Sir?' came the reply

'Yes! The Jackboots, cap, everything'
'Also the Iron Cross'

'Yes Sir'

' The changing rooms are just behind that grey door to your left'

Herbert stood in his full height and gazed upon his image.

Even though he despised the Nazis he was a student of History; knew there were some good men amongst them.
Stauffenberg was one of those officers. That brave man who tried to assassinate ****** and paid for it with his life.

His image gazed back and he gave the salute in mock indignation.
He looked official and authorative. The Aryan glint in his eye.
Then he clicked his heels sharply and thought he saw something in the mirror which would have unnerved a lesser man.
A ******* flag seemed to flutter in the wind. He reached out to the mirror and incredibly it became a portal to **** Germany.

Steadily he stepped in and looked on with incredulity.

All around him were **** supporters and officialdom.

He held his nerve and when he spoke it was in fluent German.

A staff car pulled alongside him.

'Reichsmarshal Fokker! We have been looking for you!

'The Fuhrer wants to see you immediately!'

'Our orders are to take you to his quarters'

Herbert Spineless Springbottom turned around and the shop was no longer there. He eased himself into the staff car and a strange sensation overtook him. He was about to change the course of the War. ****** was about to meet his greatest nemesis ever.

A man from the future. A man who despised ****** and tyranny everywhere. A capable, charming man with a brazen neck harder than a hangmans smile. Herbert Spineless Springbottom.



****** stood facing Herbert.

Herbert stood ***** and threw out his arm in salute.
'Heil ******!'

******'s sullen face broke into a smile.

Herbert was brought into the War room and shown the battle plans for an invasion of Britain.

Churchill didn't know it but Fate had intervened in his favour.

The exploits of the most unlikeliest hero, Herbert Spineless Springbottom, were about to begin.
Conch shells are true jewels of the sea. Whenever you take a conch shell with you.

You are taking a part of the ocean with you and every time you put it up to your ear, you can hear the song of the sea that moves our soul's like the moon moves the ocean.  Poem by Shelby Kathleen Nightingale

— The End —