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You want to
Mend my heart;
With what? Staples?
It's more than
Ten sheets thick
I don't care
How industrial you go,
And I laugh
At your staple gun
And even your nail gun,
Put away the duct tape
It'll just slide right off,
Oh; I see,
You brought plenty
Of Krazy glue,
Are you kidding me?
You might as well
Use fly paper,
None of this will do,
No siree, Bob
You can't fix my heart
And you sure as hell
Can't build me a new one,
No one with a hardhat
Nor white coats or stethoscopes
Can undo what she broke,
Only she is the remedy
Only she is the cure,
And my local drugstore
Doesn't carry her
Not even in generic,
So as far as I can tell
I'm stuck with this malady
Most inconvenient tragedy...
APAD13 - 112 © okpoet
JJ Hutton Sep 2013
I'm running 7:25 splits. Eight miles in. I haven't got stuck at an intersection. Not that I ever do. Runners got the right-of-way. And like my buddy Randy Run 'N Gun would say, I'm zen. Very ******* zen. Used to be a walker. Not no more. Not after the heart attack. No, siree, I'm a runner. A good runner. Lost 45 pounds. I did. I did. I stick to the left side of the road. So I can see the guilt in the drivers' eyes as they pass by. They're thinking, there's an old man out there taking care of hisself. I should be taking care of myself.

And they should. They really should.

But what's exercise to the people in this town? A walk down the block to Loaf 'N Jug for a Snickers, that's what. Or if you're a rich *****, it's twenty minutes on a Stairmaster three times a week. And I have to wonder if they're really doing it for them, you know?

I'm on the way back to the house. I peel off 30th, cutting across four lanes of traffic. Head into Garden of the Gods park. I do this so people get the right idea of the city. When I was a tourist here, I thought to myself, why's everybody all lumpy-assed and tied to children. Made a promise to myself. Told myself, when you move out there, you're going to be the trophy. So, I run through the red rocks and insert myself, mid-stride, into all those family photos. That way, when they get home, they'll point at their pictures and say, everyone in Colorado is so fit.

Now I'm getting close to the spot. It happened about a mile--mile and a half into the Snake Trail over by that 30-foot tall rock that looks a bit like Lyndon Johnson. I was a tourist and a walker then. Not no more. Not ever again.

There's a stretch of blacktop that cuts Snake Trail in two. I can't remember the name of the road. I think it's named after some preacher who got cholera, lost his faith, regained his faith in the end. One of those touching trajectories. Those stories always sound like a lot of fluffy *******, if you ask me.

Cars are backed up on Wishy-Washy Preacher Road. There's a crowd of people gathered in the middle. I look at my running watch. I don't like this. This is the kind of unplanned circumstance that skews your splits. Then your run time makes you feel like a lumpy-***, and that ain't me. Not no more.

I start pushing through the crowd. There's a lot of whispering and a lot of little kids all snotty and teary-eyed. And it's all just frustrating, because I feel like I'm cutting through molasses. I look at my running watch. I reach the center of the crowd.

A mule deer had been runover--well, halfway. The stupid beast still uses his front legs, dragging his crumpled and ****** backside along in a mad circle. A screechy whimper comes out in intervals like beeping hospital machinery. He's so scared, some middle-aged woman with a kid to each hip, says. A longbeard, beergut hippie starts into a prayer,

Gods of the natural world, gods of the sweet animal kingdom,
we ask that you wrap this wounded beacon of your light
into your warm embrace. May you replace his great pain
with the great comfort of your cool breezes, with the great
comfort of your warm sun, with the great comfort of fresh water.

I unzip my running belt. It's not a ***** pack. I pull out my NAA Guardian .32 automatic. It's not a woman's weapon. See, Randy Run 'N Gun, got his name because he invented this kind of running. I respect him for it. Got nothing but respect for that man. See, a fella has to be prepared at all times. There are mountain lions. There are bears. And perhaps worst of all are all these ******* mule deers. They ain't even scared of people. They stop and wait for you to feed them, blocking the sidewalk when I run, skewing my splits.

These hippies ain't going to do ****. They're taking photos with their cellulars and saying theologically vague prayers. And all these tourists are watching. So I walk right up to the mule deer. Someone behind me breathes in so hard, it's like she vacuumed all the sound. Pop. Pop. The beast stops its beeping. Legs twitch. Legs stop twitching. I'm the only one with courage enough to grant a mercy ****.

It's all about doing. Right? That's what the heart attack taught me. Before the heart attack, I thought about being a runner. The rhythm of it, the mechanical discipline appealed to me. Liked the idea of doing a marathon or the sound of it.  I was walking in Garden of the Gods. Noticed the LBJ rock, said to myself, Holy hell that looks like Lyndon Johnson. I heard these quick steps coming from behind me. I thought some potstentch, beergut hippie was going stab me. Felt like the gears at the center of me came off their handle. The right side of me just wasn't there anymore. As I fell I saw it was only a runner.

I reach the Lyndon Johnson rock. I'm eleven miles in. My splits have averaged to 7:43. ******* deer. The ground is lower at the spot where I had the heart attack. Why? Because I dug a hole there, that's why. The old me, the walking me, the tourist me lies dead in that hole. As I pass by, I spit it the ditch as I always do. Good riddance. Yep. Yep.

The trail finally turns downward. A little more oxygen in Ute Valley. Randy Run 'N Gun he calls moments like this, Runner's Reward. And I like that. Nature's okay. The cedars, the meadows, rivers -- all that **** -- is just fine. But what I like about running is the metaphor. See all the hippies, all the tourists they live their lives in a constant state of reward. They think, I'm alive, so I'll smoke this ***. They think, I'm alive, so I'll take ******* pictures of everything. But runners, runners know that you don't deserve life. It's a gift to be earned. So you work your *** off. Mile after mile. A reward for me is a valley. The reward doesn't last long, just long enough for me to catch my breath, you know?

I exit the valley. I pick up the pace. Try to make up for earlier delay. I cross Flying W Ranch Road. I hear metal-scraping-metal. And I'm hit.

I'm in the air. I'm sliding. I'm bouncing. My knees and elbows are hot. I blink.

A woman in a bright pink tank top and yoga pants stands over me. Stay in the car, Jacob, she shouts. Oh my god, oh my god.

I tell her runners have the right-of-way. But she doesn't respond. I say, Lady help me up, you're ******* up my splits. But she doesn't respond to that. She repeats over and over, You're going to be okay. Your'e going to be okay. Just keep looking at me.

I turn my head. The display on my watch is cracked. I can't read my splits average. My head is a ton of bricks. My elbows and knees are hot.

Jacob, stop, the woman says.

Her boy stands over me, taking pictures with his cellular.
Madison Aug 2018
Staying still
I try to drain
Every last
Little drop.
Tilting back, I
Grip the neck but
Don't break it, God forbid
I'm in no shape to clean up a mess
Though I'm an expert at making them,
I tell you what, I hate the television, all
those shiny happy people like in that
song I don't know the words to, but it's
obviously true, watching these shiny
happy lives with all of these beautiful
people who are probably ugly on the
inside, just like me, going home to sit
in their expensive new recliners and
grip the neck but don't break it, don't
make a mess that you can't clean up
drain every last drop even if you don't
really want it, 'cause it used to make
you feel much better, and now it's just
routine, like brushing your teeth and
trying to sleep and telling old friends
that you're fine, fine, just tired, so very
tired and I'm trying to stare through the
television to see these stupid phonies at
home in their own chairs, drinking from
a bottle like this one as if it might save
their sorry lives, like I'm trying to do
right now, tilting it back for just one
more drop, ****** there is no more
and I'm not done drinking but the neck
is slipping from my hands and I'm trying
to drink it down, **** it up when I let go
of the neck and drop it and there is a mess
for me to clean up, I tell you what, all that
broken glass and those elusive little drops
that could've made everything so much better,
could've fixed me but oh well, guess I can't
watch TV anymore, 'cause I've got a mess to
try to clean up right now, yes siree, guess
that even the shiny happy people have to
**** it up and fix it every now and then
just like me and you and everyone else.
My first attempt at shape poetry. Probably messed up a bit, but oh well.
Jim Davis May 2019
Look what the cat done drug in
Slow on down... darlin’!
Hol’ yo horses!
Don’t go get’n a conniption fit
Or get’n your knickers in a knot!
Hush up
Or’n I’m a goin **** a knot in yo tail!


I’m busy as a one legged cat in a sandbox,  
but I’m fixin tell what we got here at JuJu’s

Now lookie here...

we got
crawfish mild spicy
crawfish medium spicy
crawfish spicy spicy

we got
crawfish with corn
crawfish with sausage
crawfish with potatoes

we got
crawfish with red sauce
crawfish with pink sauce
crawfish with melted butter

If y’all a bit dry...
we got
crawfish with canned soda
crawfish with bottled water
crawfish with beer
crawfish with BYOB

Or we gots
jus’ crawfish

Go on an pick how yo’ want yo’ crawfish spiced, then go on an decide what yo’ wanna add!  I reckon we gots dang near 362,888 ways to eat these here mudbugs

You might could get
spicy spicy crawfish with
Zummo’s sausage
spicy spicy crawfish with corn
spicy spicy crawfish with potatoes
spicy spicy crawfish with
Zummo’s sausage and corn
spicy spicy crawfish with
Zummo’s sausage and potatoes
spicy spicy crawfish with
Zummo’s sausage, corn and potatoes
spicy spicy crawfish with
Zummo’s sausage and beer
spicy spicy crawfish with corn and beer
spicy spicy crawfish with potatoes and beer
spicy spicy crawfish with
Zummo’s sausage, corn, potatoes
and beer

I could go on...
till I’m plum tuckered out... but...

Got it?  You good??
You want mushrooms
Well, I’ll be
Don’t go axin... what we ain’t got
No siree bob, no mushrooms

We also ain’t got tea, sweet or unsweet
But sweet’s the only way to have tea sweetie

If you want soda, you can get
Coke, Diet Coke, Sprite, Dr Pepper
Diet Dr Pepper, Hawaiian Punch, Brisk Tea
Or Root Beer

We also got shrimp... just boiled

We also got gloves... half a dollar

Well, I’m worn slap out!

Watcha have a hankerin for?   

Take your own sweet time!  

Sit a spell

You’ll soon be full as a tick on a big dog!

Happy as a dead pig in sunshine!

You’ll wanna slap yer mama!

Can’t decide hon?

I do declare!

Aren’t you precious?

(now... he startin get on my last nerve)

Still...can’t make up your mind?

Well... I can’t do it fer ya!

(bout aggravatin as a rock)

You picky?  

(Lawd have mercy!)

Bless your heart!  

©  2019 Jim Davis
It’s a Southern thing! Had 3 pounds of mudbugs for lunch today at JuJu’s Crawfish Shak in Fannet!  Be sure and stop by if you’ve got time!
I swear this is word for word!
Classy J Oct 2021
Deceived cat,
That once was a thieving rat,
Who doesn’t have time for chit chat,
Where dreams are for aristocrats,
For they create the format.
That determines what is facts.
And the fact of the matter was,
He was a **** cat,
That was walked all over, like a doormat.
Don’t they see that it’s hard to be mortal,
When all ya see is combat?
Where violence becomes ones habitat.
So, to survive; better get a Gat.
Rat-ta-tat-tat.
Get put into a jail,
Otherwise known as a trap.
But it’s just,
Part of the intergenerational impact.
Where the only autographs,
Are evil contracts.
That take lives, land and fat stacks.
Leaving one stranded as outcasts.
It’s a wonder how one can last.
With such a gap that contrasts,
The disparity between race and class.

Can’t get no reprieve,
Systems got us on our knees,
Can’t get no reprieve,
Or time to breathe.

No siree!

Can’t get no reprieve,
Systems got us on our knees,
Can’t get no reprieve,
Or time to breathe.

No siree!

Going out like Kaepernick!
**** the established!
That be establishing,
Us as side chicks.
Like we something to **** with!
I don’t know about you?
But I refuse to submit.
This **** is ridiculous!
We are not instruments!
Bet your *** we mean business.
Ever since Genesis.
Where eating apples is sinfulness.
Because humans can’t help,
But to be like Icarus.
Inching closer to the precipice.
Where history becomes a Boulder,
And we become Sisyphus!
For we are refusing to notice the elephant.
Pretending it’s not relevant.
To the establishments.
Which is very negligent.
For it’s an important ingredient.
As they are the ones dealing out punishments.
Or immoral experiments.
To who they deem as deviant.

Can’t get no reprieve,
Systems got us on our knees,
Can’t get no reprieve,
Or time to breathe.

No siree!

Can’t get no reprieve,
Systems got us on our knees,
Can’t get no reprieve,
Or time to breathe.

No siree!
Paul Butters Jan 2016
It’s a cruel old, desperate world.
Yes it’s a cruel old, desperate world.
Don’t often do the blues,
But you’ll know it when I do.

So hard to be a Reject,
Yes, so very hard.
So lonesome on your own.
You know where I’m going.

Those women do the choosing,
Yes Siree.
They sure do the choosing
And they ain’t picking me.

No passing on my DNA,
The line stops here.
No children will I produce,
Though I ain’t a queer.

Can I say that now?
In this PC world.
Probably not,
But my flag’s unfurled.

Well I warned you all.
These are my blues.
I’d much rather be writing
About some blue suede shoes.

Chuck Berry rocks
I have to say.
Like him I’d rather
Send you smiling
On your way.

These blues are haunting
And full of soul.
I’d rather be uplifting.
That’s my goal.

Paul Butters
Inspired by Chuck Berry singing "The Blues".
Evon Benjamin Aug 2018
Aching hearts or burning bridges?
My mind races as quickly as your footsteps run amok in my sanctuary.

No peace of mind resides, so peace, I have to leave you behind. Love is all you need, what a fallacy. Trust builds real love. If it flees then love is but a drug, numbing senses, dulling intuitions, instincts,
If it smells like rotten eggs, it stinks

Pleadings and pleasings,
Return to sender please.
Wrong address because you’re not ready to please my mind, ease my mind. Don’t want to me to see the last seen.

Foibles, fumbles, stumbles,
Reminiscent mistakes are daggers to my heart.

Yet, out of the bloodbath comes no effort made to ease the ache of a heartbreak, only sorrow and pain left in its wake.

The struggle continues, solitary soldiering, destined for a peace longed for to ease a troubled mind.
I find it you know, that peace I was looking for.

But nothing is free, oh no Siree,
Especially, not peace.
Matthew James Jul 2016
Sat on a stationary train in Doncaster because the guy said my MOT would be done today. He said it would be done today or if he needed a part, he wouldn't start on the car so that I could use it tonight. But it wasn't ready tonight. And he didn't leave it until tomorrow. So tonight I'm on a train. Tomorrow I'll be driving a car. Today however, it's a train.

Just leaving Doncaster.

On a train. Not in a car. The car isn't ready until tomorrow. That's what the guy in the garage said. By noon at the latest. He's trustworthy right? I'm sure it will be ready. Sure. I won't be on a train tomorrow. No siree. I'll be in a car.

The lady just took my ticket.

I won't have to give anyone my ticket tomorrow. I'll be in a car. Not on a train. You don't need tickets in a car. You just drive it. Unless you like tickets. Then you could make tickets for your car and give yourself a ticket when you got in the car.

The trains horn just went off. It made me jump.

That wouldn't happen if I were in a car. I'd be in full control of the horn in a car.

I think I just found out why the horn sounded. A bunch of feathers just flew in through the window. RIP bird.

That might have happened if I were in a car. You can still **** birds in a car. But in a car I would have more of a sense of guilt. Being on a train isn't all bad I guess. Plus, if I were in a car and not, as is clearly the case, on a train, I wouldn't have been able to type out all my interesting anecdotal meandering as I chugged along.

That said, if you aren't enjoying reading all about this, might I suggest that you don't use Crown Motors?

My car is still there.

Not here.

I'm on a train.
Judgson blessing Apr 2015
Tree ,oh heavenly shade .
what a peace i delight within thy shadow.
when my heart runs heavy with hollow .
when i dread in pain and feel sad .
under thee with thy boughs and branches .
you console me in peace and great is my reaches .
upon thy up turn root i set down and dream .
and for real all my world now seems .
tree what a beauty concealed in mighty .
tree what flowered fragrance and pretty .
rises mighty from and up over the ground .
you look  heavenly decorum and ever so grand .
useful tree and serviceable natural gift .
house of holly and living worship of angel .
what a murmur of thee when i deem thee clam.
the praise of thy boughs are great charm .
where will i escape from the hellish agony .
if not a drip from thy refreshing and wholly .
with thee stand my shelter and i sink myself in peace.
what a strength from a tiny seed at its self ease .
tree is always nothing but  three .
under thee is held much parleys .
mingled with mighty chorus duly .
of splendid birds in crimson hue at peace .
tree, great purveyor of the hole universe .
endless deemed praise of grace .
tree is always nothing but three.
peace maker of all broken sweet siree.
under thee they stand two sweet hearts .
in pain and all but also in waist .
the lyrics deem hard and also practically unheeded.
they struggle for love , they lured for lead .
the love reel and nothing but discord stands .
sudden collapse in lament but consequent wreck.
the love recital seems an old rotten chorus of trumpet.
therein thy breeze whirls but in sweet pace a bet .
never an end_ never an end _ at least not under my care .
you reach forth then thy cheerful fragrance ajar .
you out fine decorum of thy rich stature .
and set forward then a song in winning pleading allure .
through the young man and lady 's heart it settle in and dwell .
both their orbs shine in communal understanding so well .
their faces lighten ,their cheek flush , their heart call .
in unison for life and forever love in peace they fall .
a hug as tight and a kiss as tender as ever feels .
and from above thy boughs rain down is sweet withered .
washed them across and drop down as married flowered.
Christina Carty Dec 2018
I have *** on Sunday mornings
Tuesdays too
Well, any day I can to be honest
It’s just something I like to do
I don’t nip behind closed doors
Wrap curtains or silk sheets tight
I don’t need scented candles, whipped cream or Barry White
No-siree
I make love in wide open spaces
Without a whit of shame (We don’t own ****** veils or wear a family name)
No-siree
We’re too blissed out for who-called-who
Doped up on the intoxicating hue of shiny morning dew
Nat Lipstadt Apr 2023
“Countable nouns can be counted, e.g. an apple, two apples, three apples, etc. Uncountable nouns cannot be counted, e.g. air, rice, water, etc. When you learn a new noun, you should check if it is countable or uncountable and note how it is used in a sentence.”


“countable nouns” goes ding ding in the left-side-brain receptors,
where the write side is humbly aboded, unbounded, and well-recv’d,
countable nouns not simplistic apples, the mundane, not sweet, crisp,
important stuff like sins and dreams, lies and schemes: life alterations!

a single sin, two sins, then three, soon you’re another noun, a sinner,
a dream, two dreams, three, teach labels you a serial day-dreamer,
it takes just one little lie, be well on your way to a pants-on-fire-liar,
a get-rich-quick-scheme forms a life long persona, dastard schemer!

methinks these self-adjectives deserve a special denomination, for my
sins, lies, dreams and schemes are uncountable countable nouns!
they are a class of biological, taxonomic things, living and breathing,
a singular genus, many species, like slime molds of human characteristics

you don’t believe I’m a scoundrel, here is not the place to list,
each action/no action curse-courses animating suppressed brain cells,
when the lids close, the enumeration of sins & deeds, all sheep,
vivid colored, injured pointed hooves, silent screamed reslaughtered,
confession offers no solace, until someday the sticking point of the right brain actually resolve the misdeeds, undoing stabbings, healing

time to quit the confessional, no beads or Hail Marys will ever suffice, elides the wrong religion and mine done don’t lets you off so easy,
no siree…no siree…
even a few miscreant visions, originate from childhood indifferent…

perhaps you tire of my self-flagellate:

**these deeds, actions, some remediable, but not all, and these 50 years on, my palpitations fiercest knowing, that they are now
uncountable countable nouns!
April 2023


“Time present and time past
Are both perhaps present in time future,
And time future contained in time past.
If all time is eternally present

All time is unredeemable.

What might have been is an abstraction
Remaining a perpetual possibility
Only in a world of speculation.
What might have been and what has been
Point to one end, which is always present
Footfalls echo in the memory
Down the passage which we did not take
Towards the door we never opened
Into the rose-garden.”

T.S. Eliot
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sharde' Fultz Mar 2017
Im not gon' write a poem about you.
Uh uh.
I'm not about to allow you to make me FEEL
And allow you to fill
Me up
In such a way that my subconscious has to throw you up and onto a page
Nope
I'm not about to write a poem for you
Nooo siree, you see I've made that mistake
Prior.

When I was young and silly and hopeful.

I went and bought a fancy pen
The kind that writes so smoothly and makes my cursive extra pretty, but you know it bleeds?

I thought the ink that dripped from MY pen once it soaked through
It would sort of seal  us in the paper
Like I said, I was mistaken so
No.

I'm not about to write a poem for you TOO

And just leave myself exposed?
I mean who knows
if I replace those little tiny "o"s for hearts over my "i"s when I dot em that soon you could care less
For the stress on my esteem after you're mean leaving the apples of my cheeks with salty tears streaming down them
So naw'l
I refuse to tell the world how you made me blush when your lips found them.
Or how we had so much in common
It was raining but we just kept walking
You made me laugh until I was coughin'
I ain't gonna do it
I've learned its better to not let you soften-

my heart

But instead I mold bricks
cause it seems noone wants to actually bring any GOOD to it.
Seems 9 times out of ten all they want to DO
Is to do IT
when all I want is you to put
my hand in yours and stare into my eyes and search my heart and not my thighs
I'm not gonna try

And make this something more than what is was.

Just because of what I felt the warm and fuzz of flirty words spoken over Patty melts?
It was nice.
But I dont think that warrant's you a poem.

Not an admonition of my humanness
Not another proclamation of my foolishness

for allowing myself to think,
dare  I say hope
that those two hours of my precious life were 2 not wasted?
And Not worth the energy for me to store the memory
in the best way made for me to preserve it?
A poem?
How am I supposed to know that you deserve it?

But how can I resist within that moment?

After reflectin' on my day I find my mind keeps
pressing replay
on those two hours in Ferndale
And how we talked until nightfell.
Forgot to feed the meter cause what is time?
Hell I was frozen by you, guy.
I digged my nose into your life and just kept goin.
  
You had the audacity to inquire about my dreams and all my passions
and what makes me get up outta bed every morning

So I HAD to ask you back

And I listened
And I enjoyed what you said
And as we parted ways I had to immediately LIE
and document it in my head
Under "non-important"

It was nice

But don't let yourself get excited

Felt like I was on cloud 9 but gotta hide it
Come off the high
Cause what if in the end it's unrequited?

and I'm upset with you
Regretting you
No.
HATING you for letting me feel slighted
Yeah you tried it.

I mean YOU didn't.

At least not yet...

I just don't wanna write another poem that I'll want to forget.
It's a film a steamy English romance,
hero and heroine in black and white
(the steam of ancient train's smoke),
give each other a sly furtive glance
no prospect of rapid ***** or poke;
he removing from her eye a speck,
they part the gent risks a little peck
***? Not in this Empire, oh no siree
Viewer imagine but you may not see.

In a French flick au contraire oui oui
Oh ** ** monochrome mais tres blue
A subtitle or two then "how do you do?"
Hairy hunk grabs at the buxom *****
Tips her over a bed or maybe a bench
Bare-chest nuzzles the actress's *******
****** achieved as their gasping attests
Post-coitus Gauloisy kisses get shared,
Anglo-Gallic brief encounters compared.
betterdays Apr 2014
ok, things are getting better!!

got my ducks all waddling
in a row.
my tin solidiers standing
to attention in a line.

my cats all in pyjamas and spats...(gotta tell ya that one was a bit tricky).
also put mittens on those
curious kittens.
don't want them dying,
ya know.

the mutt, is busy looking for
nuts.

and i made the elephant
comfortable in this small room.  
he is now, chatting with
the paper tiger,
over by the fireplace

my fish swimming happily
in their barrel.
and the bees,tending
busily to arthritic knees

so almost all is well...

but sheeesh!!!
my geese are running around pell-mell
and are likely to give
the mittened kittens
a fainting spell.
all that,
honking and flapping about
mother goose going to hell.


so....... now......
the ducks are wandering
tin soldiers, planning
a gruerilla wafare attack.
the cats now  naked
****!!!
how did they,
get out of those spats.
the mutt still looking
nothing, will stop that
fool dog, those nuts are,
looooong gone.
elephant is embarrassed,
the tiger squashed flat.
fish, floating, not swimming.
now food for the cat.

and the bees and their
knees are creating
stinging, verbal retorts.

....as for the geese
and the mittened
kittens....
they have, commandeered
the black forest torte
and are gulping it greedily
down.

so... it is certainly not me,
no siree,
who is  in charge of this madhouse mind,
in this mindless town
of mine.
not me,
who wears the king's crown.

you will find me,
the fool......
down by the pool,
....sunbathing...
when all this weird ****
is going down..

**nothing to see here,
move along,
nothing to see....
what can i say just some mental doodling......
Selma Bee Jun 2015
When I first told people, so many years ago,
That I could never get cold, no matter what,
I., myself, really, truly believed it.
It wasn’t a lie when it really was the truth.

No one thought that it was actually reality.
But it was my reality, not theirs.
They didn’t have to believe anything I said.
It was their issue, not mine.

Many people refused to believe what I’d
Told them so many years ago and then
Continued on to think was real
For so many more years to come my way

Eventually, the day came when,
I, too thought that. I may be wrong.
Sure, it could have gone a lot worse.
But it also could have gone much better.

The truly funny story comes here
So, see, I'm coming out of swim practice
And there's snow all around me
But I'm dressed for summer.

Coach Beth asks if I'm cold.
And of course I say that I'm not cold
In my flip-flops and camisole.
I really was quite content at that point.

It's unforgettable to everyone
How I would wear shorts
And tanks and sandals
In the dead of winter.

Only because I could.
There was no hidden motive.
No siree, there was nothing more;
I really just enjoyed being that way.

And then years later I ran out
It was the middle of the night
There was a huge wind chill
But I had known that before leaving

And my hair was sopping wet.
And I only could grab flip flops.
And I could not find a jacket to wear.
And I worried, because I was cold.

It happened once before
I was outside late at night
And goosebumps were everywhere
I looked and didn't want a coat.

So I think that I have into
This idea that everyone must get cold
Because all I had wanted to do
Was fit in, and that did something.

But I would not realize until just one
Year later from that date
That cold may sometimes be
More than a physical condition.

See, you can be cold because of
Something silly like the weather
Or you can be cold because of
A serious matter like relationships.

That's what I've learned in the
Wacky time I've spent on this planet.
I've learned that people are the ones
Who end up hurting you the most.

I had never really been wrong
And I still am not, in truth
I never am physically cold
But that isn't what it meant

So it took years to get there
To that weird conclusion of mine.
But now I know that a bad ending
Really can turn you stone cold.
Judgson blessing Mar 2015
take the hole world out of me and give me your unity .
cause its the only **** i get now for reality .
my love and my dear siree .never think but one thing; assiduity .
cause i can worship you for eternity
Stephanie Frank Dec 2017
A Romeo he is; obsessed with love
He saw me and swore I was sent from above
How on earth do you tell such a sucker
No matter what he can't make you pucker

Used to playing house with the *****
He claims he's not seen my type before
Though his ways I all but adore
I'm too nice to cause a war

Who's next? Ah! The pompous knight
Noble and fair in all his might
Seeks my hand to the Lord Viking's head
No thank you, too gory for my stead

Then there's Sir Geeks-a-lot
With his eyes and nose buried always in book rot
Should he maybe win the lot
Think absolutely not

Is that a ghost lover from my last?
Coming back for a lot to cast?
No siree! I've run out of chances
And the heart hospital I'm sure of braces

Wait, here comes the mommy's boy
Hangs around her finger like a toy
I think I'll pass, I don't need a wand
That waves at mother's every demand

A soldier came to pitch his tent
Glorious and capturing in his form
Soldier came soldier went
Soldier I could not reform

I'm the one whose heart they stake for
But I've got more to lose
I'm torn between two, maybe more
No inkling whom to choose
It's supposed to be funny.
Kaila George Aug 2016
She sat upon her rocking chair
That had a good view of the
Coming and goings of life just outside her porch

She smiled as she remembered
Meeting and greeting people
Over the years ahh yes.....

She remembered her own
Grandfather sitting in this very chair rocking back and forth
And telling her storys
Of his childhood....she smiled

She could hear his voice
As he told her of how back in his day they had to work the land...they had none of these fandangled machines...no siree
She smiled

She remembered the day she brought her boo to met her father for the very first time he had looked at him sternly and asked with that soft spoken voice of his....so what are your intention young man...she smiled

She remembered presenting to both her mother and father her small bundle of joy and the pure joy as they held him for the first time the glow on their faces....words could not discribe...she smiled

She remembered so much that happened on this very porch
She smiled the wind blew softly as she rocked for the last time

And that's how they found her...rocking still in her chair

As she smiled

By Kaila George
no truth login Apr 2020
who can hold the wind in his fist?

~for Ken Pepiton~

your poems full of hints and innuendo,
most of them I don’t get, of stuff, I don’t know, no clue,
my education impoverished, which is why lucky me,
I’m getting my viral signed check for 1200 bucks,
yes siree

but some college educated sharp eyed feller,
said look, see how Ken keen, has the bestus, the real tuff stuff,
hidey holed in the footnotes purposed for you to miss it,
****, he was right, cause I found what you hided!

<>

who can hold the wind in his fist?

an inquisition worthy of a thousand answers,
my Roman slave cautions forbearance, whispering in
my one remaining unconquered Gauguin ear, just the best,
these time of times, hanging heavy, be sweet, leave out the chaff

I, cannot hold the wind in my fist,
for it has always befriended, going
over my life-coarsened skin,
through my-stubbled fingers,
cooling and christening, constant teasing kissing
as it was born anew, a first time poem,
it was meant to be unkept and unkempt


you might want to hold on, keep it, for its touch is indeed
that of a first time lady loved, savoring the cool,
and the heat simultaneous, no fool us, empowering,
the wind forever runs freely, between, never sticking,
going around my body, into my open orifices,
sometimes caressing, sometimes troubling,
its power leaving us atrembling, moved, straighter or bent over


those who created wind and water had many reasons,
but their first purpose was to constant enliven the human mind
with the softest message that true freedom is never bounded,
nature’s song is refrained, “man, be unrestrained,”
it’s majesty then greatest,
men may fool themselves with lines and divisions,
Earth’s best best seen in its unconstrained, searching character
Left Foot Poet Apr 2020
cheating life

when that day comes, officially,
maybe, anyway, someday here,
yo! made it through the pandemic,
y’all backslap and affirmatively robust
announce: dude! you cheated death!

maybe I’ll smile, maybe cry, maybe, nah, surely
both, cause we now be practiced in arts of survival,
I’ll reply the real trick is not to cheat death,
that don’t require much, just careful preparation

my file still not closed, and will be unsealed,
seen both what was done to me, what I did,
on my own, insufficient smiling, inadequate crying,
everyones imbalance cain forehead-charted

so when you examine your empire on your face,
think not you cheated death, you’re a stud,
no siree, think about how you cheated, cheated
yourself out of life, with insufficient risk taking

don’t be stupid, don’t mean going out w/o a mask,
ignoring social distancing. that’s just common sense,
what I’m talking ‘bout, taking that chance, falling
in love, and doing it again and again, before you


cheat yourself out of life...
thurs apr 30 twenty twenty
nyc, epicenter of death
9:37AM
Shower beer
shower beer
my kingdom for
a shower beer

My kingdom is
a shower and a bed
yup
just a shower and a bed
in this
podunkshitholenowhere
******* town

But I'm suds'n up
while suds'n down
making my frown
turn
up
Up
UP-side down

Nothing better
nothing aside
from her
peachy little mound
nothing better in this
fuckedupdownandoutdingy
******* Desert town

Never astray
have I been steered
nope
not by a shower beer
no indeed
no tears have I shed
no siree
no life have I bled
no not me
no ill will have I ever bred

no
not on account
of
a shower beer
Yenson Jul 2022
Hurray, hurray haha ha
he escaped...!
He jumped high over the **** red wall
imprinted with our values of education hardwork and aspiration
He jumped so high over the **** red wall
leaving the Loonies and Militants and the Pointy hats
quacking in their boover boots and roasting in hate dilly dally
He didn't go to live amongst them thinking I am like them
no siree! if you lay with dogs you get fleas
He didn't live next door to ****** alcoholic house burglar
with a narcissistic demented wife and wanton under aged
pregnant daughters, milking Welfare
Krishna forbid, water and oil do not mix
He did not go pick a wife amongst them thinking he could
make a silk purse out of a sow's ear
and real love conquers all
No siree! you will end up being dragged down and be misunderstood
maligned, betrayed and abandoned
A tiger does not change spots, my dear fellow
Stick to your type that's bred with honour, grace and composure
knows all about loyalty commitment, responsibility, aspiration
and social status...remember mothers are invariably always right
and fruits do not fall far from their trees!
He was smart, from the get-go
there before you are the results
The Red wall is made by malcontents and raving loonies
you can kick it aside like withered bramble
or jump so high over it no matter how high it is
you just have to make the right smart choices
and if you have to join a party, pick the one that reflects you
I picked the working people party cause I was a worker
and was raised that hard work pays dividends
I thought meritocracy meant I had to be down with the
masses and just work hard, be fair, kind, considerate and law-abiding, and things will be okay
I was wrong...in hard labour the red wall was waiting......


https://youtu.be/SQTTvehFi5w
Bob B May 2018
Trump said there would be no
Conflicts of interest. No siree!
That conflicts of interest have continued
Nonstop is plain to see.

Millions of dollars keep flowing in.
The company's bank accounts keep growing.
His snow job is SO convincing that many
Don't even see how hard it's "snowing."

Since January 2017
The RNC has spent more
Than 700,000 dollars
At properties owned by Trump; therefore,

It doesn't matter how much he says
That he has cut major ties
With businesses. He really hasn't;
It's all just a pack of lies.

Since he took office, political groups
And agencies have in fact
Spent 15.1 million dollars
At TRUMP properties! Caught in the act!

No matter what you want to call it--
No matter how you want to construe it--
You can make money from politics;
There are numerous ways to do it.

It shows what can happen when
The spirit is weak but the flesh is willing.
The office of the presidency
Can help a businessman make a killing.

-by Bob B (5-5-18)
(while trapped in Pottstown
Memorial Hospital parking lot).

My humble apology to those,
who posted uber up lyft ting messages
to this Macbook Pro Facebook keeper,
without said scrivener swiftly
tailoring timely acknowledgement
from one harried styled leaper,

thus feel free to take
leguminous litigious licorice flavor
flav can deed extra-legal
imprisonment against my liberty,
(though catty, I am pusillanimous,
sans feline nine lives cheaper

by the dozen), plus verbally *******
out gee golly jeeper,
or more pointedly
calling me a mother f** bleeper,
for seeming to appear unresponsive
as a stale petrified marshmallow peeper,

and yes quite understandable
bitcoin torrents of rage runs deeper
than a blockchain though close call,
yet just lemme explain,
how during my most recent sleeper
state, a clear as bell curve

living dream nearly
saddened Matthew Scott Harris as,
cuz he got subject to grim news, viz
inducing him (yours truly) to become
deceased within a split second,
upon dropping to sleep

while all around, an
inconsolable weeper
wept sorrowful seas,
more so those family,
and facebook friends
many fine companions

linkedin thru Internet
invaluable cherished persons as keeper,
but believe this secular humanist,
he, who (honest to dog)
unexpectedly subsequently got engrossed
with the grim reaper,

discussing local, current (national), global,
and cosmic events, superficial,
and/or somewhat deeper
(topics oh...and as a non sequitur
d'ya know the name of original
Glen Elm occupants are named Leiper),

anyway Xmas universally
renowned throughout space
yes, jolly saint nick with his farout trappings
topped off with electronic digital beeper,
yepper siree he gets touted,
lauded, and celebrated be

leave ving with whatever
dogmatic faith hen knee
dear rabbit reddit reader doth embrace,
or perhaps being atheist like me,
(albeit I most likely appear
as somewhat highlee

beatle browed from across the universe),
nonetheless, whether er rather,
when still alive this chap aimed to - dee
light, enlighten, and playfully
frighten alien nations

(even those pizza peace loving
inhabitants resembling free
ranging gregarious teenage
ninja mutant turtles)
coming out their shells with glee.
avast extent of following poem
crafted a couple plus years ago,
when foretaste of temperate weather
covered swath of eastern seaboard.

Courtesy climate change
(think global warming),
I would never wish to exchange
unseasonably warm temperature
(eighteen plus degrees celsius
in Schwenksville, Pennsylvania)
meaning way out of expected range,
cuz far to balmy, undoubtedly
with old man winter furious
his blizzard snowbound
weather forecasts shortchanged.

Once thermometer readings rise
even smidgen one moost not minimize
Earth way out of balance,
an inconvenient truth
I haint gonna catastrophize
as bajillion acres plus
one after another ocean dries
even the skeptic cannot turn
blind eye and believe contrary lies
when every species practically extinct

and self proclaimed éminence grise
doth trumpet and stubbornly tries
to claim plethora unearthed resources
as sudden goldmine
against wages of sin
former traitor joe
(biden his time) redeemers actualize
to catalyze nth industrial revolution
teaching as heresy
ecocentric, which material basket
of deplorables power mongers bowdlerize

concurrence toward meteorological
trend most all people agree
toward adapting, experiencing,
and witnessing increase -
fair in height degree
bestowed upon Thomas Newcomen,
Richard Arkwright, Samuel Crompton,
Edmund Cartwright
and James Watt first Industrial

Revolution conferred as honoree
appellation not necessarily
in retrospect donned as noble pedigree,
now hundred of years
later downside we see
of belching, coughing,
disorging... yes siree
foul, (née deadly)
cancerous, gaseous, noxious... pollutants.

Decreased dissension
grudgingly did abate
unclouded protests trumpet
Trump to abdicate
irrefutable proof generates
activist voices to accumulate
linkedin over Green Party
blessedly to administrate

hoop fully figurative tide
will turn and aerate
political atmosphere whereby
progressive minds will affiliate
otherwise business as usual,
cuz spewing deadly particulate
will only aggravate
dire straits, where
webbed wide world series

of unfortunate events will airdate
prophetic apocalyptic fate
especially if nonprogressive
stodgy commander in chief re-elected
flush with bigotry and hate
increased chance (chants) ripe state
for revolution avast swath
of population to amalgamate,

and overthrow anachronistic government
absolute zero survival unless dramatic
nondestructive strategy eschewed
to supplant exploitation and mandate
radical transformation, which dramatic
shift off grid if lucky requisite
Earth friendly manufacturing
can possibly ameliorate.
Ken Pepiton Jun 7
----------


We are spotted and blemished and
ring straked herds of milkable critters,

we are modifiable metaphors for
fountains of milk and honey, from
the other side, breathing in and out,

thinking jello seen through,
to the bubble of me, from the one
of you, in the discernible pixels one
adjusts to ignore as the knowledge

milk of conscious multi-tasking,
driving and paying attention

to a bubble popping book,
a Yucca… in jellotime thought form,

takes centuries for some to bloom,
children believe, because why
would the giant yuccas be
called century plants, if
not because they only bloom once

in three generations to be seen,
as a spikey life form familiar,

in the live and let live desert,

where we eat the snakes we ****.

Which causes jellotime to glup up

a contrasting hueristic to guage
color critical shades of orininating
emotions, also known as answers

matching evidence accepted as its
self, as so, we see, it is, these words

connect at attention applied, a hook,
a will to have a go and making sense,

in timeless pastless points,
as art, around the time disease,
and misperceptions, such enforce,
hold that breathe
thought
as truth as manifest cruelty of mighty
blobs of solid right to stand still
and firm, a we form, from ancient
orders,
used to form first informers, thus
inventing us, after dancing to explain,

some where, in your learning control,
taking hold of yourself, see the shape

we may perceive, as we, the payers
of attention needed to twist these

threads, fine
spiderkites from the pines, common

at lattitudes about a third of the way
up the sphere's gravitational truth
compressing core, living idea, life
at planatary participant level,

poet, po. Poe, ever, more avsinthesis
m'dear, Frankly, whether Einstein
or Ben, said it, compounding,
interest in flim flam,
shaking it down, and pressing it
into stone, on which a you are forms
of us as others, redcoats fighting freedom

living legos, universal, and one use,
life is like that, and we the new ones,

we adapt to our techknowlogos, as such,
informing our selves of news and sighns,

signaling
slow down
you read to fast, this is doubt, the feature,
consciously functioning as qwerty guy, key

element of know how, indirectly hanging
by a thread in 'cient science, finding ling-

ering tastes, and effects from kissing,
stretching tongues intuitively knowing

this is what they mean,
or meant, that is, back when, it was said

that forty million frenchmen, could not
be wrong,
about how we gonna keep down
on the farm,
after they've tasted the happy place,
and tickled a childish fascination
with words

and a will, to make light of the dread,
said by many orders of left mind tyrants,

spiritual exercises in will worship,
worth of a warrior learning
there is no easy day,

popping
into my bubble. Easy entry, plop\

into the jellotime you had in mind,
when the whole idea shivered,

like a little rolling green hill,
seen from the clouds, of course,

we have Google's first score, point
one in the assisting intelligence
user's credo, be doers first,

of nothing evil, follow ons,
all your choice, the weapons used

to pull down strongholds,
mighty fortress forces repelling
efforts to fit one trick legos into

monstrosities as effective as
George's Dragon, or my puff tincture,

in the world of wonderful make believe,

tune in, drip. Drip. Slip into the ABC years,
percolater rythm
post recordible television, black and white,
during Disney-ification drills, preceded
by prelingual exposure to Fantasia,

reigning next oldest memory for which
valid links to now exist, occurred
at the White Rock Courts

during the years after 1948,
and a half,  after Fantasia,
was in local theaters,

and GI Bills was not kicking enough,
for rent in Phoenix and driving,
back and forth up one side,
down the other, old mind
river she keep aggin' us on,

she's no devil, no siree,
that wombedman, she got papers on me.

and wise wizardry between jewels
as bright as earth seen from a distance,

as we all oughta know, by now,
as a hitchhiker's angel once said,

yes, sidereal, crossing the Mohave
at night, … pick the road
from Vegas, two lanes, double yellow lines,

easy for my cars lights to show, so I know,
I am on the right side of this thing,

this mound of telling stories found
looted of all but the ghosts
of its chances taken, on mob made rules.
The Delusion of Crowds, and Robinhood writer meme extraction,
taking out the history entertaining my collected trophy points,
I acknowledge new knowns used first right, here.
starting at re-co-knowin what this means ? Wise as that serpent,
harmless as the dove first timid in any tale told long enough/
Courtesy climate change
(think global warming),
I would never wish to exchange
unseasonable temperature
way out of range
far to balmy, undoubtedly
ole man winter
weather did shortchange.

Once thermometer readings rise
even smidgen one moost not minimize
Earth way out of balance,
I haint gonna catastrophize
as bajillion acres plus

one after another ocean dries
even the skeptic cannot turn
blind eye and believe contrary lies
when every species practically extinct
and self proclaimed éminence grise

doth trumpet and stubbornly tries
to claim plethora unearthed resources
as sudden goldmine
against wages of sin
former traitor joe redeemers actualize

to catalyze nth industrial revolution
teaching as heresy
ecocentric, which material basket
of deplorables power mongers bowdlerize

Concurrence toward meteorological
trend most all people agree
toward adapting, experiencing,
and witnessing increase -

fair in height degree
bestowed upon Thomas Newcomen,
Richard Arkwright, Samuel Crompton,
Edmund Cartwright
and James Watt first Industrial

Revolution conferred as honoree
appellation not necessarily
in retrospect donned as noble pedigree,
now hundred of years

later downside we see
of belching, coughing,
disorging... yes siree
foul, (née deadly)
cancerous, gaseous, noxious... pollutants.

Decreased dissension
grudgingly did abate
unclouded protests trumpet
Trump to abdicate
irrefutable proof generates
activist voices to accumulate
linkedin over Green Party
blessedly to administrate

hoop fully figurative tide
will turn and aerate
political atmosphere whereby
progressive minds will affiliate
otherwise business as usual,
cuz spewing deadly particulate
will only aggravate
dire straits, where series

of unfortunate events will airdate
prophetic apocalyptic fate
especially if nonprogressive
stodgy commander in chief re-elected
flush with bigotry and hate
increased chance (chants) ripe state
for revolution avast swath
of population to amalgamate,

and overthrow anachronistic government
absolute zero survival unless dramatic
nondestructive strategy eschewed
to supplant exploitation and mandate
radical transformation, which dramatic
shift off grid if lucky requisite
Earth friendly manufacturing
can possibly ameliorate.
Reading that title I suppose you think I'm on about the garden
No-Siree, this type lingers in grass but never without a pardon
How did they know of all things that were supposedly secret
When half the world now knows without putting their foot in it
Only an hour has passed since they secretly broke the news
An internal affair between the management and who they do choose
But one has the gossip and clearly loose lips
This kind of behavour can drown a sinking ship
So who is this individual who is clearly a pain in the ****
As nobody likes this kind of behaviour in present company
Put simply,
A
Grass

JJB
A scent (and sixth sense predominates),
when apple boughs
and other aromatic flora
laden with blossoms and fruit
gently assail cilia of the nostrils,
aside from aiding distinguishing
pleasant or unpleasant smells
additionally incorporate complex structures
of the paranasal sinus mucosa
in which function
critical linkedin to respiratory defense.

Cilia beat in a coordinated manner
to clear the paranasal sinus cavities
and upper airway of the mucus blanket
that contains the pathogens and debris
continually inspired in normal respiration.

Avast extent of following poem
crafted a couple plus years ago,
when foretaste of temperate weather
covered swath of eastern seaboard.

Courtesy climate change
(think global warming),
I would forever wish to exchange
unseasonably warm temperature
(10 plus degrees Celsius
in Schwenksville, Pennsylvania today)
for brutally cold subzero windchill factor,
no matter unseasonably warm degrees
way out of expected range,
of established “normal”
far to balmy, undoubtedly
for the likes of old man winter
furious his blizzard snowbound
weather forecasts shortchanged.

Once thermometer readings rise
even smidgen one moost not minimize
Earth way out of balance,
an inconvenient truth
I haint gonna catastrophize
as bajillion acres plus
one after another ocean dries
even the skeptic cannot turn
third eye blind and believe contrary lies,
when every species practically extinct

and self proclaimed éminence grise
doth trumpet and stubbornly tries
to claim plethora unearthed resources
as sudden goldmine
against wages of sin
former traitor joe
(biden his time) redeemers actualize
to catalyze nth industrial revolution
teaching as heresy
ecocentric, which material basket

of deplorables power mongers bowdlerize
concurrence toward meteorological
trend most all people agree
toward adapting, experiencing,
and witnessing increase -
fair in height degree
bestowed upon Thomas Newcomen,
Richard Arkwright, Samuel Crompton,
Edmund Cartwright
and James Watt first Industrial

Revolution conferred as honoree
appellation not necessarily
in retrospect donned as noble pedigree,
now hundred of years
later downside we see
of belching, coughing,
disorging... yes siree
foul, (née deadly)
cancerous, gaseous, malodorous,
noxious, poisonous... pollutants.

Decreased dissension
grudgingly did abate
and one doubting Thomas less nasty
toward the braying donkeys in general,
when Democratic contender
clinched the electorate majoritty
unclouded protests muted trumpeting
base aggressivity, depravity,
and incendiary proclivity
for hunted prey (slapped

with felony charges that H_ lied
on a federal form
when he claimed being drug-free
at the time unnamed person
purchased a Colt Cobra 38SPL revolver
in October 2018)
hastening Grand Poobah to abdicate
irrefutable proof generates
contentious voices to accumulate
additionally disappointment  

resolving global warming
activists linkedin over Green Party
blessedly to administrate
hoop fully figurative tide
will turn and aerate
political atmosphere whereby
progressive minds will affiliate
otherwise business as usual,
cuz spewing deadly particulate
will only aggravate

dire straits, where
webbed wide world series
of unfortunate events will airdate
prophetic apocalyptic fate
especially if nonprogressive
stodgy former el presidente
number Cuarenta y cinco
commander in chief re-elected
flush with bigotry and hate
increased chance (chants) ripe state

for revolution avast swath
of population to amalgamate,
and overthrow anachronistic government
absolute zero survival unless dramatic
nondestructive strategy eschewed
to supplant exploitation and mandate
radical transformation, which dramatic
shift off grid if lucky requisite
Earth friendly manufacturing
can possibly ameliorate.
Yenson Nov 2022
I am proud of you ***
well done so far
I knew from the start you're smart enough to handle this
listen its about survival
self preservation, looking after Numéro une
you didn't travel three thousand miles to be any ones fool
No siree, its about survival and making the best of things
we know what's in store, we know how the cookies crumbles
and we know sometimes, if not most times you bend with the winds
and with Conscription
there's little choice but, Yes I'm in
yes, it pains your heart and the guilt hurt
but you're smart and strong and know you can't play
Conscientious Objector
its not like you don't have enough on your plate just surviving
against all the other odds
we all know the score and what dissention will bring
Do you know that Steve who is the most capable grounded man I know
shook his head in dismay
and I can still see his eyes well up as he uttered
Its bigger than both of us
So ***, I know its not about you or how you really feel
its about contrivance, acceptance, benefits, peace and limited freedom
its about the right to survive within the chains
to feel human and reasonably alive
Bonne chance  et bon courage and all that jazz, mon ami !!!
date of conception:?  ~ Late March – mid April 1958.
date of parturition: January xiii, mcmlix.
date of expiration:? January i, eminem,
where earth, wind, and fire doth usher
hootie and the blowfish
on a green day
and a three dog night
three doors down from foo fighters.

A gangly, horribly measly, and scraggly bundle
of lovely bones even as a lad
(way to skinny to appease wicked witch)
chee boo came out kicking and screaming
and he never stopped since
that's how I will get carried out.

Yours truly an aging married baby boomer
(orangutan missing link)
long haired pencil necked geek
(constantly clearing phlegm from his throat)
trademark disheveled characteristics
whipsawed ever faster around sun
quickly ratcheting and spiraling tornado like
nearly 30 kilometers per second,
or 67,000 miles per hour clip;
while sprawled atop earth,
he journeyed, jumpstarted, kickstarted,
launched countless planetary orbitz
quintessentially retracing trajectory
when Gaia linkedin courtesy gravity
maintaining invisible bond with Helios.

He (best nutty buddy
and alter ego of mine),
which birth sported an ordinary
uneventful, nevertheless miraculous
combination platter visited
*******, *******, secretion
nsync with erratic spastic seminal kicks
divine fertilization usually took place
in a fallopian youtube
playing mine unrehearsed debut appearance
after an ***** to the ******
wrought conception, which
begat biological reproductive process

fostered embryonic development
'o Boyce and Harriet straggly heir,
one male progeny mostly
gangly lovely bones mox nix
cellular division yes genesis
I rem:member being born
as an a door able beatle browed talking head
super tramping cheap tricks
immediately kickstarted and triggered
goo goo doll foo fighter enfant terrible
terrifically soulfully bellowing;
also envision Dolby surround sound
without assistance courtesy
Gran Prix (for poetic purpose
pronounceable *** pistols ******).

Upon due date when water broke
vaguely analogous to how rice krispies
snapped, popped, and crackled;
firstly his crown emerged out ******
ain't got pushed by no
heavy duty contractions out birth canal
no siree but propelled seven plus pounds
courtesy infantile flatulence
asthma noggin heralded
scrawny declaration, now celebrating lx
plus four ellipses around nearest star,
subsequently skinny arms and legs
(I'll spare ye the ****** graphics
with the afterbirth regarding
  
placenta and fetal membranes
discharged from the ******
after the birth of offspring),
whence obstetrician able, eager,
ready, and willing to secure newborn
in swaddling raiment
affirming  proud parents
their healthy baby boy
underscored with italics
readied to receive pronounced hosannas  
regarding garden variety
generic wrinkled likened
to an old manikin newborn.

Within some now nondescript building
then named The Christ Hospital
location Mount Auburn
Cincinnati, Ohio
(the Buckeye state)
record number C57587
gingerly handled courtesy
Doctor James Mackay McCord
(ushering none other than me
into the webbed wide world)

bestowed upon *****
of Harriet Harris (maternal parent),
after thy young mother
experienced brief labor
as his bonny head and bony derrière easily
slipped out uterine crypt,
whereby with Vernix
caseosa, the waxy or cheese substance,
he appeared er made
rather wicked, matted, and dipped
in tallow, thence unexpectedly whipped
minuscule fist ready to bump.

Once placenta and fetal membranes
(unnecessary as wing ding)
discharged out ******
after birth of offspring,
and thar weren't no more
major contractions in the offing
ma mommy lovingly did cling
to her bundle of joy and bring

maternal breast I ravenously
did suckle fortunately toothless
against her tender ***** trickling
(if mammary serves me correctly),
I presently recall no iota of inkling
what events transpired, nope
no recollection
about me being circumcised.

Traditionally a mohel is a rabbi,
cantor or another religious leader
who performs brit milah,
or bris, a circumcision ceremony,
on an 8-day-old.

Moost likely I felt Jew bull lent
glad yours truly chose decent
mother and father, which opinion
subjected to radical change,
when as grown adult child
living nonsocial under
their roof housing forced to hire agent
provocateur to practice sparring,
when standoff event on horizon,
which eventually begat ultimatums,
where mutual quiet riot revulsion
swallowed me into a black hole

their red hot poker rage spent
belittling, cursing, damning...
quiet as Unitarian Church mouse content
internalizing later smoldering
anger I needed to vent
in retrospect diminutive little boy
tied to mama's apron strings
afflicted with mental
health issues inherent
of course hindsight gleaned

social, psychological, neurological...
healthy development got rent
asunder partly explaining
why I became indigent
cuz absolute zero ambition
to hustle and convince
prospective employers to hire me
an astute candidate with
deaf fin knit muted confidence.
Yenson Apr 2022
Ahoy, me mateys
please ye let it be known
that our ancestors sailed the seven seas
plundered and stole
over twelve million sturdy tanned Africans
in ruddy daylight
So ye better know now and be ****** sure
we ain't giving up
on our mahogany Lord Fauntleroy de Swagger
whose ancestors
dodged iron ankle bracelets and Sheffield chains
the first time round
the popinjay in airs and grace dared coming to our shores
unchained thinking freedom
No siree, not on your ****** Nellie, haha like ravens can talk
we've got you now sunshine
in these modern times we now have invisible chains, don't yer know
and can make plantations
on capital's tar and concrete with thousands of tamed house slaves
to do our ***** work
so go equalize in ya dreams while learning the blighty version of Dixie
and he laughed and laughed and laughed amidst the band of fools

— The End —