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SMOKE of the fields in spring is one,
Smoke of the leaves in autumn another.
Smoke of a steel-mill roof or a battleship funnel,
They all go up in a line with a smokestack,
Or they twist ... in the slow twist ... of the wind.
  
If the north wind comes they run to the south.
If the west wind comes they run to the east.
  By this sign
  all smokes
  know each other.
Smoke of the fields in spring and leaves in autumn,
Smoke of the finished steel, chilled and blue,
By the oath of work they swear: "I know you."
  
Hunted and hissed from the center
Deep down long ago when God made us over,
Deep down are the cinders we came from-
You and I and our heads of smoke.
  
Some of the smokes God dropped on the job
Cross on the sky and count our years
And sing in the secrets of our numbers;
Sing their dawns and sing their evenings,
Sing an old log-fire song:
  
You may put the damper up,
You may put the damper down,
The smoke goes up the chimney just the same.
  
Smoke of a city sunset skyline,
Smoke of a country dusk horizon-
  They cross on the sky and count our years.
  
Smoke of a brick-red dust
  Winds on a spiral
  Out of the stacks
For a hidden and glimpsing moon.
This, said the bar-iron shed to the blooming mill,
This is the slang of coal and steel.
The day-gang hands it to the night-gang,
The night-gang hands it back.
  
Stammer at the slang of this-
Let us understand half of it.
  In the rolling mills and sheet mills,
  In the harr and boom of the blast fires,
  The smoke changes its shadow
  And men change their shadow;
  A ******, a ***, a bohunk changes.
  
  A bar of steel-it is only
Smoke at the heart of it, smoke and the blood of a man.
A runner of fire ran in it, ran out, ran somewhere else,
And left-smoke and the blood of a man
And the finished steel, chilled and blue.
  
So fire runs in, runs out, runs somewhere else again,
And the bar of steel is a gun, a wheel, a nail, a shovel,
A rudder under the sea, a steering-gear in the sky;
And always dark in the heart and through it,
  Smoke and the blood of a man.
Pittsburg, Youngstown, Gary-they make their steel with men.
  
In the blood of men and the ink of chimneys
The smoke nights write their oaths:
Smoke into steel and blood into steel;
Homestead, Braddock, Birmingham, they make their steel with men.
Smoke and blood is the mix of steel.
  
  The birdmen drone
  in the blue; it is steel
  a motor sings and zooms.
  
Steel barb-wire around The Works.
Steel guns in the holsters of the guards at the gates of The Works.
Steel ore-boats bring the loads clawed from the earth by steel, lifted and lugged by arms of steel, sung on its way by the clanking clam-shells.
The runners now, the handlers now, are steel; they dig and clutch and haul; they hoist their automatic knuckles from job to job; they are steel making steel.
Fire and dust and air fight in the furnaces; the pour is timed, the billets wriggle; the clinkers are dumped:
Liners on the sea, skyscrapers on the land; diving steel in the sea, climbing steel in the sky.
  
Finders in the dark, you Steve with a dinner bucket, you Steve clumping in the dusk on the sidewalks with an evening paper for the woman and kids, you Steve with your head wondering where we all end up-
Finders in the dark, Steve: I hook my arm in cinder sleeves; we go down the street together; it is all the same to us; you Steve and the rest of us end on the same stars; we all wear a hat in hell together, in hell or heaven.
  
Smoke nights now, Steve.
Smoke, smoke, lost in the sieves of yesterday;
Dumped again to the scoops and hooks today.
Smoke like the clocks and whistles, always.
  Smoke nights now.
  To-morrow something else.
  
Luck moons come and go:
Five men swim in a *** of red steel.
Their bones are kneaded into the bread of steel:
Their bones are knocked into coils and anvils
And the ******* plungers of sea-fighting turbines.
Look for them in the woven frame of a wireless station.
So ghosts hide in steel like heavy-armed men in mirrors.
Peepers, skulkers-they shadow-dance in laughing tombs.
They are always there and they never answer.
  
One of them said: "I like my job, the company is good to me, America is a wonderful country."
One: "Jesus, my bones ache; the company is a liar; this is a free country, like hell."
One: "I got a girl, a peach; we save up and go on a farm and raise pigs and be the boss ourselves."
And the others were roughneck singers a long ways from home.
Look for them back of a steel vault door.
  
They laugh at the cost.
They lift the birdmen into the blue.
It is steel a motor sings and zooms.
  
In the subway plugs and drums,
In the slow hydraulic drills, in gumbo or gravel,
Under dynamo shafts in the webs of armature spiders,
They shadow-dance and laugh at the cost.
  
The ovens light a red dome.
Spools of fire wind and wind.
Quadrangles of crimson sputter.
The lashes of dying maroon let down.
Fire and wind wash out the ****.
Forever the **** gets washed in fire and wind.
The anthem learned by the steel is:
  Do this or go hungry.
Look for our rust on a plow.
Listen to us in a threshing-engine razz.
Look at our job in the running wagon wheat.
  
Fire and wind wash at the ****.
Box-cars, clocks, steam-shovels, churns, pistons, boilers, scissors-
Oh, the sleeping **** from the mountains, the ****-heavy pig-iron will go down many roads.
Men will stab and shoot with it, and make butter and tunnel rivers, and mow hay in swaths, and slit hogs and skin beeves, and steer airplanes across North America, Europe, Asia, round the world.
  
Hacked from a hard rock country, broken and baked in mills and smelters, the rusty dust waits
Till the clean hard weave of its atoms cripples and blunts the drills chewing a hole in it.
The steel of its plinths and flanges is reckoned, O God, in one-millionth of an inch.
  
Once when I saw the curves of fire, the rough scarf women dancing,
Dancing out of the flues and smoke-stacks-flying hair of fire, flying feet upside down;
Buckets and baskets of fire exploding and chortling, fire running wild out of the steady and fastened ovens;
Sparks cracking a harr-harr-huff from a solar-plexus of rock-ribs of the earth taking a laugh for themselves;
Ears and noses of fire, gibbering gorilla arms of fire, gold mud-pies, gold bird-wings, red jackets riding purple mules, scarlet autocrats tumbling from the humps of camels, assassinated czars straddling vermillion balloons;
I saw then the fires flash one by one: good-by: then smoke, smoke;
And in the screens the great sisters of night and cool stars, sitting women arranging their hair,
Waiting in the sky, waiting with slow easy eyes, waiting and half-murmuring:
  "Since you know all
  and I know nothing,
  tell me what I dreamed last night."
  
Pearl cobwebs in the windy rain,
in only a flicker of wind,
are caught and lost and never known again.
  
A pool of moonshine comes and waits,
but never waits long: the wind picks up
loose gold like this and is gone.
  
A bar of steel sleeps and looks slant-eyed
on the pearl cobwebs, the pools of moonshine;
sleeps slant-eyed a million years,
sleeps with a coat of rust, a vest of moths,
a shirt of gathering sod and loam.
  
The wind never bothers ... a bar of steel.
The wind picks only .. pearl cobwebs .. pools of moonshine.
Jackie Mead Sep 2018
Drum, drum, drum, drum beats the Steel Drum.
Drum, drum, drum, drum beats the Steel Drum in the Carribean Sun.

Steel Drums beat out the rhthym,
Steel Drums strike up the beat,
Steel drums ring out loud in the Carribean heat.

Steel drums fast and strong,
Steel drums create a vibrant song.

Steel Drums beat out the rhthym,
Steel Drums strike up the beat
Steel drums ring out loud in the Carribean heat.

Steel drums beating loud,
Steel drums, skills the locals play proud.

Steel Drums beat out the rhthym,
Steel Drums strike up the beat
Steel drums ring out loud in the Carribean heat.

Steel drums vibrant rhthym,
Steel drums send you to heaven.

Steel Drums beat out the rhthym
Steel Drums strike up the beat
Steel drums ring out loud in the Carribean heat.

Steel drums make you sing
Steel drums let you know your feeling.

Steel Drums beat out the rhthym,
Steel Drums strike up the beat
Steel drums ring out loud in the Carribean heat.

Steel drums stir up the heat,
Steel drums make you feel alive in the Carribean heat.

Drum, drum, drum, drum beats the Steel Drum,
Drum, drum, drum, drum beats the Steel Drum in the Carribean Sun.
Aruba
Axle Avatari May 2016
8/26/1991

Oh baby,
Look what I've got,
Cold steel blue eyes.
They're burnin' hot,
Cold steel blue eyes.
Like fire an' ice.
But it's not too nice,
To have,
Cold steel blue eyes.

Baby,
Help me,
Take the knife,
Out of the stare,
Of these,
Cold steel blue eyes.
Baby,
Please,
Give my life,
Something,
For which to care.
In these,
Cold steel blue eyes.

Baby,
Can you,
Stop these,
Cold steel blue eyes,
From seeing only,
Gray?
Oh baby,
Please,
Take these,
Cold steel blue eyes,
Away.

Baby,
Can you,
Make these,
Cold steel blue eyes,
See without harm?
Oh baby,
Can you,
Give these,
Cold steel blue eyes,
The calm,
In the eye,
Of the storm?

Baby,
Can you,
Make these,
Cold steel blue eyes,
Warm again?
Oh baby,
Please,
Take the pain,
Out of these,
Cold steel blue eyes.

Baby,
Help me,
See the light,
Through these,
Cold steel blue eyes.
Baby,
Can you,
Please,
Make these,
Cold steel blue eyes,
Bright?

Oh baby,
Look what I've got.
Cold steel blue eyes.
They're burnin' hot,
Cold steel blue eyes.
Like fire an' ice.

But it's not too nice,
To have,
Cold steel blue eyes,
No surprise,
To me.
I have,
Cold steel blue eyes,
You see.
Note: Jigglypuffs are the best pokemon

#001 #001 Bulbasaur Bulbasaur Grass Poison
#002 #002 Ivysaur Ivysaur Grass Poison
#003 #003 Venusaur Venusaur Grass Poison
#004 #004 Charmander Charmander Fire
#005 #005 Charmeleon Charmeleon Fire
#006 #006 Charizard Charizard Fire Flying
#007 #007 Squirtle Squirtle Water
#008 #008 Wartortle Wartortle Water
#009 #009 Blastoise Blastoise Water
#010 #010 Caterpie Caterpie Bug
#011 #011 Metapod Metapod Bug
#012 #012 Butterfree Butterfree Bug Flying
#013 #013 Weedle Weedle Bug Poison
#014 #014 Kakuna Kakuna Bug Poison
#015 #015 Beedrill Beedrill Bug Poison
#016 #016 Pidgey Pidgey Normal Flying
#017 #017 Pidgeotto Pidgeotto Normal Flying
#018 #018 Pidgeot Pidgeot Normal Flying
#019 #019 Rattata Rattata Normal
#020 #020 Raticate Raticate Normal
#021 #021 Spearow Spearow Normal Flying
#022 #022 Fearow Fearow Normal Flying
#023 #023 Ekans Ekans Poison
#024 #024 Arbok Arbok Poison
#025 #025 Pikachu Pikachu Electric
#026 #026 Raichu Raichu Electric
#027 #027 Sandshrew Sandshrew Ground
#028 #028 Sandslash Sandslash Ground
#029 #029 Nidoran♀ Nidoran♀ Poison
#030 #030 Nidorina Nidorina Poison
#031 #031 Nidoqueen Nidoqueen Poison Ground
#032 #032 Nidoran♂ Nidoran♂ Poison
#033 #033 Nidorino Nidorino Poison
#034 #034 Nidoking Nidoking Poison Ground
#035 #035 Clefairy Clefairy Fairy
#036 #036 Clefable Clefable Fairy
#037 #037 Vulpix Vulpix Fire
#038 #038 Ninetales Ninetales Fire
#039 #039 Jigglypuff Jigglypuff Normal Fairy
#040 #040 Wigglytuff Wigglytuff Normal Fairy
#041 #041 Zubat Zubat Poison Flying
#042 #042 Golbat Golbat Poison Flying
#043 #043 Oddish Oddish Grass Poison
#044 #044 Gloom Gloom Grass Poison
#045 #045 Vileplume Vileplume Grass Poison
#046 #046 Paras Paras Bug Grass
#047 #047 Parasect Parasect Bug Grass
#048 #048 Venonat Venonat Bug Poison
#049 #049 Venomoth Venomoth Bug Poison
#050 #050 Diglett Diglett Ground
#051 #051 Dugtrio Dugtrio Ground
#052 #052 Meowth Meowth Normal
#053 #053 Persian Persian Normal
#054 #054 Psyduck Psyduck Water
#055 #055 Golduck Golduck Water
#056 #056 Mankey Mankey Fighting
#057 #057 Primeape Primeape Fighting
#058 #058 Growlithe Growlithe Fire
#059 #059 Arcanine Arcanine Fire
#060 #060 Poliwag Poliwag Water
#061 #061 Poliwhirl Poliwhirl Water
#062 #062 Poliwrath Poliwrath Water Fighting
#063 #063 Abra Abra Psychic
#064 #064 Kadabra Kadabra Psychic
#065 #065 Alakazam Alakazam Psychic
#066 #066 Machop Machop Fighting
#067 #067 Machoke Machoke Fighting
#068 #068 Machamp Machamp Fighting
#069 #069 Bellsprout Bellsprout Grass Poison
#070 #070 Weepinbell Weepinbell Grass Poison
#071 #071 Victreebel Victreebel Grass Poison
#072 #072 Tentacool Tentacool Water Poison
#073 #073 Tentacruel Tentacruel Water Poison
#074 #074 Geodude Geodude Rock Ground
#075 #075 Graveler Graveler Rock Ground
#076 #076 Golem Golem Rock Ground
#077 #077 Ponyta Ponyta Fire
#078 #078 Rapidash Rapidash Fire
#079 #079 Slowpoke Slowpoke Water Psychic
#080 #080 Slowbro Slowbro Water Psychic
#081 #081 Magnemite Magnemite Electric Steel
#082 #082 Magneton Magneton Electric Steel
#083 #083 Farfetch'd Farfetch'd Normal Flying
#084 #084 Doduo Doduo Normal Flying
#085 #085 Dodrio Dodrio Normal Flying
#086 #086 Seel Seel Water
#087 #087 Dewgong Dewgong Water Ice
#088 #088 Grimer Grimer Poison
#089 #089 Muk Muk Poison
#090 #090 Shellder Shellder Water
#091 #091 Cloyster Cloyster Water Ice
#092 #092 Gastly Gastly Ghost Poison
#093 #093 Haunter Haunter Ghost Poison
#094 #094 Gengar Gengar Ghost Poison
#095 #095 Onix Onix Rock Ground
#096 #096 Drowzee Drowzee Psychic
#097 #097 Hypno Hypno Psychic
#098 #098 Krabby Krabby Water
#099 #099 Kingler Kingler Water
#100 #100 Voltorb Voltorb Electric
#101 #101 Electrode Electrode Electric
#102 #102 Exeggcute Exeggcute Grass Psychic
#103 #103 Exeggutor Exeggutor Grass Psychic
#104 #104 Cubone Cubone Ground
#105 #105 Marowak Marowak Ground
#106 #106 Hitmonlee Hitmonlee Fighting
#107 #107 Hitmonchan Hitmonchan Fighting
#108 #108 Lickitung Lickitung Normal
#109 #109 Koffing Koffing Poison
#110 #110 Weezing Weezing Poison
#111 #111 Rhyhorn Rhyhorn Ground Rock
#112 #112 Rhydon Rhydon Ground Rock
#113 #113 Chansey Chansey Normal
#114 #114 Tangela Tangela Grass
#115 #115 Kangaskhan Kangaskhan Normal
#116 #116 Horsea Horsea Water
#117 #117 Seadra Seadra Water
#118 #118 Goldeen Goldeen Water
#119 #119 Seaking Seaking Water
#120 #120 Staryu Staryu Water
#121 #121 Starmie Starmie Water Psychic
#122 #122 Mr. Mime Mr. Mime Psychic Fairy
#123 #123 Scyther Scyther Bug Flying
#124 #124 Jynx Jynx Ice Psychic
#125 #125 Electabuzz Electabuzz Electric
#126 #126 Magmar Magmar Fire
#127 #127 Pinsir Pinsir Bug
#128 #128 Tauros Tauros Normal
#129 #129 Magikarp Magikarp Water
#130 #130 Gyarados Gyarados Water Flying
#131 #131 Lapras Lapras Water Ice
#132 #132 Ditto Ditto Normal
#133 #133 Eevee Eevee Normal
#134 #134 Vaporeon Vaporeon Water
#135 #135 Jolteon Jolteon Electric
#136 #136 Flareon Flareon Fire
#137 #137 Porygon Porygon Normal
#138 #138 Omanyte Omanyte Rock Water
#139 #139 Omastar Omastar Rock Water
#140 #140 Kabuto Kabuto Rock Water
#141 #141 Kabutops Kabutops Rock Water
#142 #142 Aerodactyl Aerodactyl Rock Flying
#143 #143 Snorlax Snorlax Normal
#144 #144 Articuno Articuno Ice Flying
#145 #145 Zapdos Zapdos Electric Flying
#146 #146 Moltres Moltres Fire Flying
#147 #147 Dratini Dratini Dragon
#148 #148 Dragonair Dragonair Dragon
#149 #149 Dragonite Dragonite Dragon Flying
#150 #150 Mewtwo Mewtwo Psychic
#151 #151 Mew Mew Psychic
Generation II
Jdex Ndex MS Pokémon Type
#001 #152 Chikorita Chikorita Grass
#002 #153 Bayleef Bayleef Grass
#003 #154 Meganium Meganium Grass
#004 #155 Cyndaquil Cyndaquil Fire
#005 #156 Quilava Quilava Fire
#006 #157 Typhlosion Typhlosion Fire
#007 #158 Totodile Totodile Water
#008 #159 Croconaw Croconaw Water
#009 #160 Feraligatr Feraligatr Water
#019 #161 Sentret Sentret Normal
#020 #162 Furret Furret Normal
#015 #163 Hoothoot Hoothoot Normal Flying
#016 #164 Noctowl Noctowl Normal Flying
#030 #165 Ledyba Ledyba Bug Flying
#031 #166 Ledian Ledian Bug Flying
#032 #167 Spinarak Spinarak Bug Poison
#033 #168 Ariados Ariados Bug Poison
#039 #169 Crobat Crobat Poison Flying
#176 #170 Chinchou Chinchou Water Electric
#177 #171 Lanturn Lanturn Water Electric
#021 #172 Pichu Pichu Electric
#040 #173 Cleffa Cleffa Fairy
#044 #174 Igglybuff Igglybuff Normal Fairy
#046 #175 Togepi Togepi Fairy
#047 #176 Togetic Togetic Fairy Flying
#161 #177 Natu Natu Psychic Flying
#162 #178 Xatu Xatu Psychic Flying
#053 #179 Mareep Mareep Electric
#054 #180 Flaaffy Flaaffy Electric
#055 #181 Ampharos Ampharos Electric
#086 #182 Bellossom Bellossom Grass
#132 #183 Marill Marill Water Fairy
#133 #184 Azumarill Azumarill Water Fairy
#107 #185 Sudowoodo Sudowoodo Rock
#075 #186 Politoed Politoed Water
#067 #187 Hoppip Hoppip Grass Flying
#068 #188 Skiploom Skiploom Grass Flying
#069 #189 Jumpluff Jumpluff Grass Flying
#123 #190 Aipom Aipom Normal
#103 #191 Sunkern Sunkern Grass
#104 #192 Sunflora Sunflora Grass
#101 #193 Yanma Yanma Bug Flying
#056 #194 Wooper Wooper Water Ground
#057 #195 Quagsire Quagsire Water Ground
#188 #196 Espeon Espeon Psychic
#189 #197 Umbreon Umbreon Dark
#213 #198 Murkrow Murkrow Dark Flying
#082 #199 Slowking Slowking Water Psychic
#219 #200 Misdreavus Misdreavus Ghost
#061 #201 Unown Unown Psychic
#108 #202 Wobbuffet Wobbuffet Psychic
#149 #203 Girafarig Girafarig Normal Psychic
#093 #204 Pineco Pineco Bug
#094 #205 Forretress Forretress Bug Steel
#052 #206 Dunsparce Dunsparce Normal
#193 #207 Gligar Gligar Ground Flying
#063 #208 Steelix Steelix Steel Ground
#125 #209 Snubbull Snubbull Fairy
#126 #210 Granbull Granbull Fairy
#163 #211 Qwilfish Qwilfish Water Poison
#112 #212 Scizor Scizor Bug Steel
#168 #213 Shuckle Shuckle Bug Rock
#114 #214 Heracross Heracross Bug Fighting
#218 #215 Sneasel Sneasel Dark Ice
#198 #216 Teddiursa Teddiursa Normal
#199 #217 Ursaring Ursaring Normal
#216 #218 Slugma Slugma Fire
#217 #219 Magcargo Magcargo Fire Rock
#195 #220 Swinub Swinub Ice Ground
#196 #221 Piloswine Piloswine Ice Ground
#173 #222 Corsola Corsola Water Rock
#174 #223 Remoraid Remoraid Water
#175 #224 Octillery Octillery Water
#194 #225 Delibird Delibird Ice Flying
#202 #226 Mantine Mantine Water Flying
#203 #227 Skarmory Skarmory Steel Flying
#214 #228 Houndour Houndour Dark Fire
#215 #229 Houndoom Houndoom Dark Fire
#192 #230 Kingdra Kingdra Water Dragon
#200 #231 Phanpy Phanpy Ground
#201 #232 Donphan Donphan Ground
#221 #233 Porygon2 Porygon2 Normal
#131 #234 Stantler Stantler Normal
#159 #235 Smeargle Smeargle Normal
#145 #236 Tyrogue Tyrogue Fighting
#148 #237 Hitmontop Hitmontop Fighting
#154 #238 Smoochum Smoochum Ice Psychic
#156 #239 Elekid Elekid Electric
#152 #240 Magby Magby Fire
#151 #241 Miltank Miltank Normal
#223 #242 Blissey Blissey Normal
#243 #243 Raikou Raikou Electric
#244 #244 Entei Entei Fire
#245 #245 Suicune Suicune Water
#249 #246 Larvitar Larvitar Rock Ground
#250 #247 Pupitar Pupitar Rock Ground
#251 #248 Tyranitar Tyranitar Rock Dark
#252 #249 Lugia Lugia Psychic Flying
#253 #250 **-Oh **-Oh Fire Flying
#256 #251 Celebi Celebi Psychic Grass
Generation III
Hdex Ndex MS Pokémon Type
#001 #252 Treecko Treecko Grass
#002 #253 Grovyle Grovyle Grass
#003 #254 Sceptile Sceptile Grass
#004 #255 Torchic Torchic Fire
#005 #256 Combusken Combusken Fire Fighting
#006 #257 Blaziken Blaziken Fire Fighting
#007 #258 Mudkip Mudkip Water
#008 #259 Marshtomp Marshtomp Water Ground
#009 #260 Swampert Swampert Water Ground
#010 #261 Poochyena Poochyena Dark
#011 #262 Mightyena Mightyena Dark
#012 #263 Zigzagoon Zigzagoon Normal
#013 #264 Linoone Linoone Normal
#014 #265 Wurmple Wurmple Bug
#015 #266 Silcoon Silcoon Bug
#016 #267 Beautifly Beautifly Bug Flying
#017 #268 Cascoon Cascoon Bug
#018 #269 Dustox Dustox Bug Poison
#019 #270 Lotad Lotad Water Grass
#020 #271 Lombre Lombre Water Grass
#021 #272 Ludicolo Ludicolo Water Grass
#022 #273 Seedot Seedot Grass
#023 #274 Nuzleaf Nuzleaf Grass Dark
#024 #275 Shiftry Shiftry Grass Dark
#025 #276 Taillow Taillow Normal Flying
#026 #277 Swellow Swellow Normal Flying
#027 #278 Wingull Wingull Water Flying
#028 #279 Pelipper Pelipper Water Flying
#029 #280 Ralts Ralts Psychic Fairy
#030 #281 Kirlia Kirlia Psychic Fairy
#031 #282 Gardevoir Gardevoir Psychic Fairy
#032 #283 Surskit Surskit Bug Water
#033 #284 Masquerain Masquerain Bug Flying
#034 #285 Shroomish Shroomish Grass
#035 #286 Breloom Breloom Grass Fighting
#036 #287 Slakoth Slakoth Normal
#037 #288 Vigoroth Vigoroth Normal
#038 #289 Slaking Slaking Normal
#042 #290 Nincada Nincada Bug Ground
#043 #291 Ninjask Ninjask Bug Flying
#044 #292 Shedinja Shedinja Bug Ghost
#045 #293 Whismur Whismur Normal
#046 #294 Loudred Loudred Normal
#047 #295 Exploud Exploud Normal
#048 #296 Makuhita Makuhita Fighting
#049 #297 Hariyama Hariyama Fighting
#054 #298 Azurill Azurill Normal Fairy
#060 #299 Nosepass Nosepass Rock
#061 #300 Skitty Skitty Normal
#062 #301 Delcatty Delcatty Normal
#068 #302 Sableye Sableye Dark Ghost
#069 #303 Mawile Mawile Steel Fairy
#070 #304 Aron Aron Steel Rock
#071 #305 Lairon Lairon Steel Rock
#072 #306 Aggron Aggron Steel Rock
#076 #307 Meditite Meditite Fighting Psychic
#077 #308 Medicham Medicham Fighting Psychic
#078 #309 Electrike Electrike Electric
#079 #310 Manectric Manectric Electric
#080 #311 Plusle Plusle Electric
#081 #312 Minun Minun Electric
#086 #313 Volbeat Volbeat Bug
#087 #314 Illumise Illumise Bug
#094 #315 Roselia Roselia Grass Poison
#095 #316 Gulpin Gulpin Poison
#096 #317 Swalot Swalot Poison
#097 #318 Carvanha Carvanha Water Dark
#098 #319 Sharpedo Sharpedo Water Dark
#099 #320 Wailmer Wailmer Water
#100 #321 Wailord Wailord Water
#101 #322 Numel Numel Fire Ground
#102 #323 Camerupt Camerupt Fire Ground
#105 #324 Torkoal Torkoal Fire
#110 #325 Spoink Spoink Psychic
#111 #326 Grumpig Grumpig Psychic
#114 #327 Spinda Spinda Normal
#116 #328 Trapinch Trapinch Ground
#117 #329 Vibrava Vibrava Ground Dragon
#118 #330 Flygon Flygon Ground Dragon
#119 #331 Cacnea Cacnea Grass
#120 #332 Cacturne Cacturne Grass Dark
#121 #333 Swablu Swablu Normal Flying
#122 #334 Altaria Altaria Dragon Flying
#123 #335 Zangoose Zangoose Normal
#124 #336 Seviper Seviper Poison
#125 #337 Lunatone Lunatone Rock Psychic
#126 #338 Solrock Solrock Rock Psychic
#127 #339 Barboach Barboach Water Ground
#128 #340 Whiscash Whiscash Water Ground
#129 #341 Corphish Corphish Water
#130 #342 Crawdaunt Crawdaunt Water Dark
#131 #343 Baltoy Baltoy Ground Psychic
#132 #344 Claydol Claydol Ground Psychic
#133 #345 Lileep Lileep Rock Grass
#134 #346 Cradily Cradily Rock Grass
#135 #347 Anorith Anorith Rock Bug
#136 #348 Armaldo Armaldo Rock Bug
#140 #349 Feebas Feebas Water
#141 #350 Milotic Milotic Water
#142 #351 Castform Castform Normal
#142 #351 Castform Castform Fire
#142 #351 Castform Castform Water
#142 #351 Castform Castform Ice
#145 #352 Kecleon Kecleon Normal
#146 #353 Shuppet Shuppet Ghost
#147 #354 Banette Banette Ghost
#148 #355 Duskull Duskull Ghost
#149 #356 Dusclops Dusclops Ghost
#150 #357 Tropius Tropius Grass Flying
#151 #358 Chimecho Chimecho Psychic
#152 #359 Absol Absol Dark
#160 #360 Wynaut Wynaut Psychic
#171 #361 Snorunt Snorunt Ice
#172 #362 Glalie Glalie Ice
#173 #363 Spheal Spheal Ice Water
#174 #364 Sealeo Sealeo Ice Water
#175 #365 Walrein Walrein Ice Water
#176 #366 Clamperl Clamperl Water
#177 #367 Huntail Huntail Water
#178 #368 Gorebyss Gorebyss Water
#179 #369 Relicanth Relicanth Water Rock
#183 #370 Luvdisc Luvdisc Water
#187 #371 Bagon Bagon Dragon
#188 #372 Shelgon Shelgon Dragon
#189 #373 Salamence Salamence Dragon Flying
#190 #374 Beldum Beldum Steel Psychic
#191 #375 Metang Metang Steel Psychic
#192 #376 Metagross Metagross Steel Psychic
#193 #377 Regirock Regirock Rock
#194 #378 Regice Regice Ice
#195 #379 Registeel Registeel Steel
#196 #380 Latias Latias Dragon Psychic
#197 #381 Latios Latios Dragon Psychic
#198 #382 Kyogre Kyogre Water
#199 #383 Groudon Groudon Ground
#200 #384 Rayquaza Rayquaza Dragon Flying
#201 #385 Jirachi Jirachi Steel Psychic
#202 #386 Deoxys Deoxys Psychic
#202 #386 Deoxys Deoxys Psychic
#202 #386 Deoxys Deoxys Psychic
#202 #386 Deoxys Deoxys Psychic
Generation IV
Sdex Ndex MS Pokémon Type
#001 #387 Turtwig Turtwig Grass
#002 #388 Grotle Grotle Grass
#003 #389 Torterra Torterra Grass Ground
#004 #390 Chimchar Chimchar Fire
#005 #391 Monferno Monferno Fire Fighting
#006 #392 Infernape Infernape Fire Fighting
#007 #393 Piplup Piplup Water
#008 #394 Prinplup Prinplup Water
#009 #395 Empoleon Empoleon Water Steel
#010 #396 Starly Starly Normal Flying
#011
Senteno Oracle Of The Shadows: So Aziel what's your plan with Frank?
Aziel: Well he is going to help me destroy the Order Of The Silver Knights and in return I shall help him get the Witch who cursed the Forest Of Whispers.
Senteno Oracle Of The Shadows: Well I'll give you some valuable information who your looking for is Bethilda N. Lement. She is a very powerful Witch who with her Elemental Plowness is able to obtain what she wants.
Aziel: Well well ...so the Old Hag still holds the grip over the Forest doesn't she
Senteno Oracle Of The Shadows: Indeed she isn't someone to take lightly now she is well rounded and knows how to fight. She controls The Tavern Of Doom Dragons. In her possession are 3 fully grown Dragons. Blair the Oldest Dragon Claire The Mother Dragon and Aurora the youngest one of them three.
Blair the Black Dragon Claire The White Dragon and Aurora the Stone/Lighting Dragon. Many have meet their doom entering in her territory Cyclop Human and Vampire Alike.
Aziel: I don't have anything to fear.

~Meanwhile...~

Bethilda Lement: Adreanna I want you to learn more about my Dragons start training with Aurora but be cautious she may be only three years old but she is powerful and robust. Lement screeches then Aurora hovers over the Mountain Of Shen* where the Tavern Of Doom Dragons is located. Adrianna Develve places a strong spell in the Dragon Aurora she finally succumbs to her authority.
Adrianna and Aurora go take down the Golem Of Steel  in the Hidden Ruins Of Odom.* The Golem stands 15 ft high weighs 2,500 pounds. Holding a crest of an almost impenetrable diamond in the middle of his chest. Emanating from the Crystal comes all his power and it's his only weak spot. Then Aurora and Adrianna make an impressionable entrance to the ruins and attack the Golem head on. Golem Of Steel: Here stands the infamous Adrianna Develve...well isn't  this a surprise.  I see that you have grown some and are able to maintain your powers well to face me. I know what you want you want the Crystal in my chest...that will be over my dead body. Audon's Crystal* is powerful enough to consume 1000 Well Trained Witches therefore young Witch you don't scare me. Now as for that Dragon well ... perhaps you stand a chance after all.  Adrianna Develve: I usually don't pick fights with powerful DemiGods like yourself but I  am in desperate need for your Crystal. Therefore, you will hand it over or I'll take it by force.  Golem Of Steel:  Good Luck.
Aurora shields herself with Stone Armor and goes head on collision with the Golem. He dodges the attack and  counterattacks with a strong fist to the  Dragons body and knocks Aurora down cracking part of her Stone Armor. The young female Dragon counterattacks with a powerful lighting blast hitting The Steel Golem in the right shoulder injuring him. Develve attacks with a powerful mind blast knocking down the Golem Of Steel on it's back. The Golem Of Steel bleeds blue blood out of his shoulder blade and runs full force towards Adrianna Develve.  She  dashes the attack and counterattacks  with a Shadow Ball attack hitting him in the chest and expanding all over its body. It's a possession Ninjutsu technique making him practically paralyzed for about 2 minutes till he breaks free from the technique but sustains a considerable amount of damage. Adrianna Develve seeing that the Golem Of Steel is showing a sign of weakness she takes advantage to try to inflict him with a spear of lighting into the chest impairing him and he bleeds out the mouth but as the last resolution The Golem Of Steel punches the Audon Crystal shattering it into 5 individual pieces him losing his life in the process however what he didn't know is that Adrianna Develve collected all the pieces however there was a violent explosion at the site shattering huge boulders of steel and inflicting Aurora gravely. Adrianna Develve  hurries and performs a powerful healing spell leaving her drained of all power. Adrianna Develve hurries to get out of the ruins because they are crumbling down. She manages to recover Aurora briefly from there they fly to The Tavern Of Doom Dragons Of Doom Dragons right when she pulls in with Aurora who is injured from the boulders hitting her body and face at high velocity even the Rock Armor was perforated. The Dragon lands barely with Adrianna Develve who gets the Wrath of Granny Bethilda N. Lement. Aurora breathing heavily and bleeding out the mouth slipping in and out of consciousness ...Adrianna Develve barely getting off the Dragon.
Bethilda Lement: What the hell  happened to Aurora she is in really bad shape. Adrianna your completely drained I see you did good by healing her however, she must rest for about 3-4 days now and fully recover from that gruesome fight with that **** Golem Of Steel. Adrianna are you Ok darling? Go get some rest I see you used the forbidden technique of Soul Healing Transfer. Well now you'll live 12 years less thanks to your little sharede. Develve I am thankful that you saved my Dragon from dying but hell consequences are quite dire.
Develve: Here Granny Lement I got Audon's Diamond however it's shattered in 5 separate pieces.
Bethilda N. Lement:  Let me guess the Golem Of Steel did not want this to fall under the wrong hands for it is a powerful relic. Smart move buying time however, useless due to the fact that we got the diamond under our possession. Adrianna we are going to search the Master Forger Of Relics* who can aid us recover this valuable relic to it's original state. It's said that he resides in one of the headquarters of the Order however, he has worked with Witches, Pagans and Nacromancers before so am sure that as long as we provide the right monetary value to repair the relic he'll work for us.
Develve: Why don't we just kidnap him and make him do the work or he pays with his life?
Lement:  Good objective it may have to work that way for us.
Develve: Im aware that the Cyclop population in the Village Of Chalekathan are not taking your threats seriously well ElderLord Gromm has not paid his fee from allowing them to live and not be consumed by the curse itself.
Lement: By killing him we can set an example of what can happen to them if they don't cooperate with our cause.
Develve: It dangerous though he is a strong Leader with lots of powerful influences. Plus he is a highly skilled Witch Doctor/Shaman able to manipulate the forces of nature. Known to use 3 Godly Deities Aikune Chalekathan & Eion. Aikune the cherubim of the Northern Side Of Heaven. Chalekathan the Spirit God embodiment of The Forest Of Whispers and last but not least Eion the mythical creature with an Eagle face 6 wings and the body of a Lion. Embuted with heavenly essence making him a very formidable foe.
Develve:  We will take care of our responsibilities soon but our primary mission is to talk Ayeiton Balderoux III* the Master Forger Of Relics.
: Whoa had no idea he was The Kings kin.
Lement: Indeed he is now go and lay your head and recover some energy because we need to practice your magical plowness.
Adrianna heads towards the Guest Room.

~Meanwhile in The Forest Of Whispers~
Frank Deltoro gets introduced to Gromm ElderLord Of Chalekathan by Jhino.  He also introduces Navarro Castleworth who is pleased to meet the famous Elder.
Gromm: Hello young man I am the protector of this village which has sustained numerous attacks by Lement's Dragons. Develve also partook enthusiastically with her Grandmother in attacking innocent hard working Cyclops. Making them slaves of the Curse which drives them mad and homicidal attacking friends brothers and family so we had to do the inevitable put them down.
Nevertheless, I pray to Deynave Dion High Saint/Priestess Queen Of All Shamanism to protect the lost souls of them Cyclops who fought the curse till the very end but unfortunately lost the fight and in turn lost their lives.
Frank: My condolences to your friends ElderLord Gromm.Am sure they in a better place now at least not suffering. However, I have a personal matter to score with Lement. She kidnapped and murdered my only daughter 10 years ago she was a...his voice gets trembly and he lightly clears his throat..at the same time a solid solo tear drops from his only Eye symbolizing a Fathers great pain and suffering from such an atrocious act." Gromm regains his composure. I got a personal score to settle with Mrs.Lement due to the fact that she took a piece of my heart and soul she killed my daughter. Develve played her part in the kidnapping of my baby girl 10 years ago she would be 18 years old today if Shaila Dair Sultran were alive...her appointed time to be brutally killed by my hand is coming...Bethilda N. Lement has been suppressing her powers for the last 300 years I believe she has some sort of powerful anti-chi barrier put up extending tremendous lengths so even if she is active in The Forest Of Whispers we wouldn't know how to tell due to this **** barrier.
Frank: So your bloodline comes from the Ancient times from the powerful Cyclop Of Royal Priests/Witch Doctors family Sultran.
"A gentle wind blows and Aziel telepathically communicates with Frank.  Aziel: Frank, be careful where you thread I been informed that Lement's Grand-Daughter Adrianna Develve recently gathered Audon's Crystal a powerful diamond known to give its user Bending Steel abilities and higher sustainability. Adrianna Develve has plans to use the Crystal to fully cover the Forest Of Whispers covering every inch of Forest with the Curse which drives all living creatures with a conscious mad totally subseptable to their influence.
However, to you those must be terrible news so my question is...you been in Chalekathan Village for 1 hr and a half you have 5.3 hrs till daylight removing the Darkness powers you currently control.
Frank: I am aware of this Aziel don't worry I'll take care of business.
Aziel: Keep an eye out Navarro I don't  trust him I don't know what intentions he has...plus he is part  of that shady Tower Of Frejoird but perhaps you can use his hatred towards the Order Of The Silver Knights. He can maybe be a reliable source. Be careful Frank.

~Meanwhile in Aziel Castle~
Isis: Well...Aziel aren't  you such a concerned individual...I didn't  know you had a soft spot towards mere humans.
Aziel: I usually don't...but Frank is different from the rest. He is courageous trustworthy and he put his life at risk by helping me regain all my vampiric power. I am in much debt to him...am having second thoughts on your plans to **** him after he completes his assignments that we have agreed upon. If he makes it out alive after all this...he at least deserves a reward and to live.
Isis: Chuckles at Aziel Aziel looks at the Empress with great focus.
Isis: C'mon I'll just have some fun with Frank I wasn't planning to ****** him.
Aziel: I'll  think about it now leave me be I got couple of things I need to take care of.
Isis: Fine Darling I'll  leave you be. You know you are the handsomest of all the brothers you have.
Aziel: Well now Isis you flirting with me...I doubt you'll want my erected tool up your stash. Don't you remember am a Vampire?
Isis: I'm aware of that. Adventure sounds fun plus I never had *** with a hot vampire like yourself.
Isis: Well Doll that is going to be some other time I am working against the clock right now.
Isis: Fine you *****...I'll leave. However, keep in mind that Im watching you closely. Plus remember I still keep contact with DarkLord for soon your Father will be back in this plane of reality.
Aziel: So I have heard.
Isis: Well I have found some juicy
Information about Uriels wereabouts he is in a Modern Castle in America. Amelia St and Cross. Residency 106. He is a huge celebrity in Russia and Germany. Keeps his bloodlust at check with fresh blood always for him to self medicate. Looking only 19 years old he is quite the chick magnet though not my taste his Gothic Progressive Horror Rock made him quite famous. Got 5 albums however kept his personal life well hidden from his fans. Many fake and supportive accounts claiming to know the real Uriel Governale. Though no one truly knows he is a vampire for certain. I know because I searched the private records and found out that he belongs to a High Ranking Secret Society known as Maximillion Vampire Clan. Which performs innocent human babies to be given as a sacrifice towards Baphomet and Azmodeus* 2 Of the Demon Lords of Hell. Your brother belongs to this hidden organization that operates in the Shadows but their latest project is to revive your Father the Progenitor most infamous VampireLord of all time. Dracula! Humanity will cease to exist if he were to be revived. All they need is a vial of blood from all of the current 8 saints and they have their eye on Saint Lauren Glennwald from the Eastern Side of Germany from a small rural community town known as Hertzentmort. She currently 25 years old is on a mission to collect Papal papers for the Order for you know they are closely tied to the papalcy. However, she got body guards that are Elite Knights with very powerful Anti-Witch spells and very accurate at pinpointing weak points in any battle with powerful Witches. So going alone isn't very advisable.<br>
Aziel: I greatly appreciate your information I'll take a look on what my little brother is looking to do. I'll take care of him. Don't you worry I'll be seeing you later. <br>
Isis: Alright..."She steps towards Aziel and rubs his chest and says...my reward is waiting for me...and looks down his pants" <br>
Aziel:  Now your tempting me to destroy that *****... but here this is what you'll get "he shows her his ****"<br>
Isis: Mmmm I can't wait baby...well that's a massive apparatus you got in there just hiding.<br>
Aziel: Hahaha...right. Soon enough I'll be all yours to play with. No leave me.<br>
Isis transforms to a cloud of dark myst and leaves the premises of the Castle.<br>
<br>
~Meanwhile in Uriel's Castle~<br>
<br>
The Maximillion Vampire Club had a secret meeting in the Uriel's Castle. There where many prestigious and famous guests there and so was the Highest Ranking Vampire of the Club Maximillion Virgil Vann himself. Inside the Castle where also uninvited guests from The Order Of The Silver Knights pretending to be Vampires. His name Michael Neil Stalwart & his partner Aalyaah Black. Both of them infiltrated the party somehow the Order Of The Silver Knights caught wind of shady operations in the occult club and decided to check it out. Michael & Aalyaah belong to Stealth/Infiltration part of the Order known as The Dark Ones
. Even the last 5 remaining Dark Priests from the Cathedral Of Skylor* where 13 years ago Baphomet was revived and mortalized to walk upon humans granting favors for a price. Ultimately the price Demon Lords require of humans is their souls to consume them and become more powerful. This 5 Dark Priests where very important in the ceremony taking place because tonight at 3 a.m. they will unify their powers to revive Azmodeus. They were successful on bringing back Baphomet back to life so they are trying to revive another Demon Lord. In Baphomet's revival they used 666 unborn fetuses with 6 babies 3 male and 3 female all born under the sign of Capricorn and all must be 3 months premature. With this requirements met...Baphomet was revived to this plane of existence, however since he was violent and still hellbent from transitioning from the hellish plane to a mortal one he killed and consumed 3 Dark Priests in the process of fully coming to his senses and being able to recognize them and thank them for what they done. Baphomet promised that he would aid them 5 Dark Priests revive all 13 Demon Lords and in turn 2 Of the 5 remaining Dark Priests must sacrifice themselves to the Demon Lords for the strongest remaining 3 get a extraordinary reward.
Stranger Blue Jun 2016
I'm no man of steel,
But my love is strong, my heart real.
Into the air...no, I'm unable to fly,
But  would take a bullet...
For you i'd die.
I can not see through walls or any such thing at all,
But I'd surely catch you if you should fall.
I can not leap a tall building in a single bound,
But believe me, no harm shall be fall you when I'm around.
I'm not strong enough to bend steel with my bare hands,
But I am strong enough to be your man.
While I do not possess laser beams that shoot from my  eyes,
I do have two lips to kiss you tenderly I'll tell you no lies.
I can not out run a speeding train, break the sound barrier like
a supersonic plane.
But I will be ever quick to ease all of your pain.
I do not have super ears with which the faintest sounds to hear,
but have no fear for I am always near.
I can not withstand the fieriness of the suns heat or bone freezing cold.
But I will love and honor you even as we both grow old.
I am not the bravest man nor have I ever been bold.
But I mean these words with all of my heart...all of my soul.
And know this, come what may... I shall never falter, I shall never fade.
No matter how heavy the weight, I will not fold.
I will always be here for you to have and to hold.
No...I'm no man of steel, but I'm real. I...am...real.
I want, I need, cut me, I bleed.
I laugh, I cry, I live and I shall die.
With each passing day I shall love you more.
Together forever our hearts will soar.
From beginning to end, you shall always be my best friend.
Though I may not have telescopic site.
I'll keep you in my minds eye,
For you are my weakness...my kryptonite.
What I feel is real but...I'm no man of steel.
No I'm no man of steel.
Death-throws Mar 2015
steel is what controls me,
steel emotions wrapped in spikes,
steel skin holding you back
steel eye hiding my vision
but  I'm growing tired of steel
I'm angry at its coldness, the grey flesh and cold heart
the agony of never being warm,
my friends are the same,
we draw our time from the fix,
lets melt ourselves down

I'm braking free
me and my barbed wire birds

I'm done sitting on the fence of angst but not being sure
if I can climb over
I'm done being a nothing following the crowd between rows
of steel and barbed wire
I'm done dancing between laser beams
and nightmare filled dreams
I'm taking my heart in my hands and running ,
Ill treat it like water slipping through my fingers and the only way to survive is by running faster.
so much faster.
Ill not let my heart slip through my fingers as my wings begin to spread me and my pack
of barbed wire birds,
our wings are made of corrugated iron folded to points
and the motion of flying stings my soul
but ill fly
you'll watch me glide
we will dive of the edge our hearts in hands
god
you'll see me fly, broken bleats from broken wings
bound together with the lust for more then to feel steel against my skin
because I'm flying northbound for warmer skies
lets glide past the the equator and through the tropics
I want to feel the heat that would melt a man

we are the hearts
we are the gods
the deity's of my minds
ill build shrines to myself just to scream
WE ARE THE HEARTS
my soul beats free as my barbed wire wings
no longer am i wrapped  in steel
Ill take you with me, swap your heart for mine
scream like banshees
a technicolor passion drives me forwards
we will lay down ourselves to show you
as you sit waltzing through your strip wire fences
Ill turn them to wings ill float so high above you..
Ill scream at the 5 am light and bring up the sun
the world is yours
I am no longer a sheep
guided by lack of sleep
we are a pack
guided by our hearts
by our love
powered by our bleeding
battered
damaged
broken
barbed wire wings

                 *L.G
massive rant...appreciate it if you told me what you thought :)
z May 2016
deep ocean steel
challenger deep steel
abyssal
like a bulkhead
behind the temple like lapis lazuli
fleeing something
the closest thing to life that isn’t living
i’ll put you up against my flesh
and compare and contrast
fleeting images of cold rainstorms
and flashes of light
flashy blade
from far away, a signal
candid steel
lucid steel
halcyon
mute sensations in a cathode ray tube
except in exactitude unmatched
and louder than the loudest
vocal cord vibration
and silent too, not a breath
escapes the hostage
with steel against its trachea
unsolicited speed
home run
thrown into the wall stud
luxurious scentless tasteless
and so rich and tasteful and sensual
if I’m in love with you steel,
I must be a necrophiliac
or not
ajit peter Sep 2016
In the world of steel and blood i was born
crazy they call me iam
writing this song

been hungry in life and clothes torn
in the world of
steel and blood i travelled long

crazy they call me they have been
wrong
in the world of steel and blood i have grown strong

tosses a
fortune and love played ping pong
loved a dame true yet she never
waited long

crazy they call me iam not king kong
in the world of steel
and blood ill never end my song

crazy they call me if love be wrong

in
the world of steel and blood courage strong
Crazy they call me my
heart to wrong
in the world of steel and blood till my final gong
Inspired by Bob Dylan  shelter from  the storm
JM Ang Aug 2016
Under the fists of steel
I wonder
If we’ll flutter
Like butterflies
Trapped under the steel thumb
Of the man who vowed to save us

Like Pavlov’s dog
Would the butterflies
Grow steel wings
Just so that they could survive?

Under the fists of steel
I wonder
If we’ll cower
Like an apprehended child
Afraid
Of a sin we did not commit

Would it be right
To call blind disobedience
Democracy?

A placebo effect
From our fears and doubts
The butterflies,
Despite the burden
Of the additional weight,
See the steel wings
As a cure

Because instead of
The scream-filled halls
We heard silence,
Ordered by the man
Who dared to say he’d save us,
And called it peace
phantasmal Jul 2013
behind her steel facade
is a sorrow with no reason
emotions locked imprisoned
morph into despair

behind her steel facade
hides a boiling, raging love
longing to be free
like a tiny white-winged dove

behind her steel facade
is a well filled deep with tears
coiling like storm waters
like her deepest darkest fears

behind her steel facade
lives a hope with dying light
with smoke and flickering life
it died and turned to night

- - -

behind her steel facade
lies a dead weight in her chest
inching towards destruction
but that she'd never confess
Jimmy Herrighty Oct 2014
you were just one man.
jailed for infinity.
you never bent.
stronger than steel.

oppressed from day one.
segregated by your skin.
you were never broken.
stronger than steel.

the odds were against you.
against your entire race.
your faith never wavered.
stronger than steel.

i walked where you laid.
where you eat, where you ran.
your land gave me strength.
stronger than steel.

your love was so unending.
your hate, no where to be found.
you saved a who nation.
stronger than steel.

Madiba. Madiba.
Nelson Mandela
the original superman.
Stronger then Steel.
FIRST DAY

1.
Who wanted me
to go to Chicago
on January 6th?
I did!

The night before,
20 below zero
Fahrenheit
with the wind chill;
as the blizzard of 99
lay in mountains
of blackening snow.

I packed two coats,
two suits,
three sweaters,
multiple sets of long johns
and heavy white socks
for a two-day stay.

I left from Newark.
**** the denseness,
it confounds!

The 2nd City to whom?
2nd ain’t bad.
It’s pretty good.
If you consider
Peking and Prague,
Tokyo and Togo,
Manchester and Moscow,
Port Au Prince and Paris,
Athens and Amsterdam,
Buenos Aries and Johannesburg;
that’s pretty good.

What’s going on here today?
It’s friggin frozen.
To the bone!

But Chi Town is still cool.
Buddy Guy’s is open.
Bartenders mixing drinks,
cabbies jamming on their breaks,
honey dew waitresses serving sugar,
buildings swerving,
fire tongued preachers are preaching
and the farmers are measuring the moon.

The lake,
unlike Ontario
is in the midst of freezing.
Bones of ice
threaten to gel
into a solid mass
over the expanse
of the Michigan Lake.
If this keeps up,
you can walk
clear to Toronto
on a silver carpet.

Along the shore
the ice is permanent.
It’s the first big frost
of winter
after a long
Indian Summer.

Thank God
I caught a cab.
Outside I hear
The Hawk
nippin hard.
It’ll get your ear,
finger or toe.
Bite you on the nose too
if you ain’t careful.

Thank God,
I’m not walking
the Wabash tonight;
but if you do cover up,
wear layers.

Chicago,
could this be
Sandburg’s City?

I’m overwhelmed
and this is my tenth time here.

It’s almost better,
sometimes it is better,
a lot of times it is better
and denser then New York.

Ask any Bull’s fan.
I’m a Knickerbocker.
Yes Nueva York,
a city that has placed last
in the standings
for many years.
Except the last two.
Yanks are # 1!

But Chicago
is a dynasty,
as big as
Sammy Sosa’s heart,
rich and wide
as Michael Jordan’s grin.

Middle of a country,
center of a continent,
smack dab in the mean
of a hemisphere,
vortex to a world,
Chicago!

Kansas City,
Nashville,
St. Louis,
Detroit,
Cleveland,
Pittsburgh,
Denver,
New Orleans,
Dallas,
Cairo,
Singapore,
Auckland,
Baghdad,
Mexico City
and Montreal
salute her.



2.
Cities,
A collection of vanities?
Engineered complex utilitarianism?
The need for community a social necessity?
Ego one with the mass?
Civilization’s latest *******?
Chicago is more then that.

Jefferson’s yeoman farmer
is long gone
but this capitol
of the Great Plains
is still democratic.

The citizen’s of this city
would vote daily,
if they could.

Chicago,
Sandburg’s Chicago,
Could it be?

The namesake river
segments the city,
canals of commerce,
all perpendicular,
is rife throughout,
still guiding barges
to the Mississippi
and St. Laurence.

Now also
tourist attractions
for a cafe society.

Chicago is really jazzy,
swanky clubs,
big steaks,
juices and drinks.

You get the best
coffee from Seattle
and the finest teas
from China.

Great restaurants
serve liquid jazz
al la carte.

Jazz Jazz Jazz
All they serve is Jazz
Rock me steady
Keep the beat
Keep it flowin
Feel the heat!

Jazz Jazz Jazz
All they is, is Jazz
Fast cars will take ya
To the show
Round bout midnight
Where’d the time go?

Flows into the Mississippi,
the mother of America’s rivers,
an empires aorta.

Great Lakes wonder of water.
Niagara Falls
still her heart gushes forth.

Buffalo connected to this holy heart.
Finger Lakes and Adirondacks
are part of this watershed,
all the way down to the
Delaware and Chesapeake.

Sandburg’s Chicago?
Oh my my,
the wonder of him.
Who captured the imagination
of the wonders of rivers.

Down stream other holy cities
from the Mississippi delta
all mapped by him.

Its mouth our Dixie Trumpet
guarded by righteous Cajun brethren.

Midwest?
Midwest from where?
It’s north of Caracas and Los Angeles,
east of Fairbanks,
west of Dublin
and south of not much.

Him,
who spoke of honest men
and loving women.
Working men and mothers
bearing citizens to build a nation.
The New World’s
precocious adolescent
caught in a stream
of endless and exciting change,
much pain and sacrifice,
dedication and loss,
pride and tribulations.

From him we know
all the people’s faces.
All their stories are told.
Never defeating the
idea of Chicago.

Sandburg had the courage to say
what was in the heart of the people, who:

Defeated the Indians,
Mapped the terrain,
Aided slavers,
Fought a terrible civil war,
Hoisted the barges,
Grew the food,
Whacked the wheat,
Sang the songs,
Fought many wars of conquest,
Cleared the land,
Erected the bridges,
Trapped the game,
Netted the fish,
Mined the coal,
Forged the steel,
Laid the tracks,
Fired the tenders,
Cut the stone,
Mixed the mortar,
Plumbed the line,
And laid the bricks
Of this nation of cities!

Pardon the Marlboro Man shtick.
It’s a poor expostulation of
crass commercial symbolism.

Like I said, I’m a
Devil Fan from Jersey
and Madison Avenue
has done its work on me.

It’s a strange alchemy
that changes
a proud Nation of Blackhawks
into a merchandising bonanza
of hometown hockey shirts,
making the native seem alien,
and the interloper at home chillin out,
warming his feet atop a block of ice,
guzzling Old Style
with clicker in hand.

Give him his beer
and other diversions.
If he bowls with his buddy’s
on Tuesday night
I hope he bowls
a perfect game.

He’s earned it.
He works hard.
Hard work and faith
built this city.

And it’s not just the faith
that fills the cities
thousand churches,
temples and
mosques on the Sabbath.

3.
There is faith in everything in Chicago!

An alcoholic broker named Bill
lives the Twelve Steps
to banish fear and loathing
for one more day.
Bill believes in sobriety.

A tug captain named Moe
waits for the spring thaw
so he can get the barges up to Duluth.
Moe believes in the seasons.

A farmer named Tom
hopes he has reaped the last
of many bitter harvests.
Tom believes in a new start.

A homeless man named Earl
wills himself a cot and a hot
at the local shelter.
Earl believes in deliverance.

A Pullman porter
named George
works overtime
to get his first born
through medical school.
George believes in opportunity.

A folk singer named Woody
sings about his
countrymen inheritance
and implores them to take it.
Woody believes in people.

A Wobbly named Joe
organizes fellow steelworkers
to fight for a workers paradise
here on earth.
Joe believes in ideals.

A bookkeeper named Edith
is certain she’ll see the Cubs
win the World Series
in her lifetime.
Edith believes in miracles.

An electrician named ****
saves money
to bring his family over from Gdansk.
**** believes in America.

A banker named Leah
knows Ditka will return
and lead the Bears
to another Super Bowl.
Leah believes in nostalgia.

A cantor named Samuel
prays for another 20 years
so he can properly train
his Temple’s replacement.

Samuel believes in tradition.
A high school girl named Sally
refuses to get an abortion.
She knows she carries
something special within her.
Sally believes in life.

A city worker named Mazie
ceaselessly prays
for her incarcerated son
doing 10 years at Cook.
Mazie believes in redemption.

A jazzer named Bix
helps to invent a new art form
out of the mist.
Bix believes in creativity.

An architect named Frank
restores the Rookery.
Frank believes in space.

A soldier named Ike
fights wars for democracy.
Ike believes in peace.

A Rabbi named Jesse
sermonizes on Moses.
Jesse believes in liberation.

Somewhere in Chicago
a kid still believes in Shoeless Joe.
The kid believes in
the integrity of the game.

An Imam named Louis
is busy building a nation
within a nation.
Louis believes in
self-determination.

A teacher named Heidi
gives all she has to her students.
She has great expectations for them all.
Heidi believes in the future.

4.
Does Chicago have a future?

This city,
full of cowboys
and wildcatters
is predicated
on a future!

Bang, bang
Shoot em up
Stake the claim
It’s your terrain
Drill the hole
Strike it rich
Top it off
You’re the boss
Take a chance
Watch it wane
Try again
Heavenly gains

Chicago
city of futures
is a Holy Mecca
to all day traders.

Their skin is gray,
hair disheveled,
loud ties and
funny coats,
thumb through
slips of paper
held by nail
chewed hands.
Selling promises
with no derivative value
for out of the money calls
and in the money puts.
Strike is not a labor action
in this city of unionists,
but a speculators mark,
a capitalist wish,
a hedgers bet,
a public debt
and a farmers
fair return.

Indexes for everything.
Quantitative models
that could burst a kazoo.

You know the measure
of everything in Chicago.
But is it truly objective?
Have mathematics banished
subjective intentions,
routing it in fair practice
of market efficiencies,
a kind of scientific absolution?

I heard that there
is a dispute brewing
over the amount of snowfall
that fell on the 1st.

The mayor’s office,
using the official city ruler
measured 22”
of snow on the ground.

The National Weather Service
says it cannot detect more
then 17” of snow.

The mayor thinks
he’ll catch less heat
for the trains that don’t run
the buses that don’t arrive
and the schools that stand empty
with the addition of 5”.

The analysts say
it’s all about capturing liquidity.

Liquidity,
can you place a great lake
into an eyedropper?

Its 20 below
and all liquid things
are solid masses
or a gooey viscosity at best.

Water is frozen everywhere.
But Chi town is still liquid,
flowing faster
then the digital blips
flashing on the walls
of the CBOT.

Dreams
are never frozen in Chicago.
The exchanges trade
without missing a beat.

Trading wet dreams,
the crystallized vapor
of an IPO
pledging a billion points
of Internet access
or raiding the public treasuries
of a central bank’s
huge stores of gold
with currency swaps.

Using the tools
of butterfly spreads
and candlesticks
to achieve the goal.

Short the Russell
or buy the Dow,
go long the
CAC and DAX.
Are you trading in euro’s?
You better be
or soon will.
I know
you’re Chicago,
you’ll trade anything.
WEBS,
Spiders,
and Leaps
are traded here,
along with sweet crude,
North Sea Brent,
plywood and T-Bill futures;
and most importantly
the commodities,
the loam
that formed this city
of broad shoulders.

What about our wheat?
Still whacking and
breadbasket to the world.

Oil,
an important fossil fuel
denominated in
good ole greenbacks.

Porkbellies,
not just hogwash
on the Wabash,
but bacon, eggs
and flapjacks
are on the menu
of every diner in Jersey
as the “All American.”

Cotton,
our contribution
to the Golden Triangle,
once the global currency
used to enrich a
gentlemen class
of cultured
southern slavers,
now Tommy Hilfiger’s
preferred fabric.

I think he sends it
to Bangkok where
child slaves
spin it into
gold lame'.

Sorghum,
I think its hardy.

Soybeans,
the new age substitute
for hamburger
goes great with tofu lasagna.

Corn,
ADM creates ethanol,
they want us to drive cleaner cars.

Cattle,
once driven into this city’s
bloodhouses for slaughter,
now ground into
a billion Big Macs
every year.

When does a seed
become a commodity?
When does a commodity
become a future?
When does a future expire?

You can find the answers
to these questions in Chicago
and find a fortune in a hole in the floor.

Look down into the pits.
Hear the screams of anguish
and profitable delights.

Frenzied men
swarming like a mass
of epileptic ants
atop the worlds largest sugar cube
auger the worlds free markets.

The scene is
more chaotic then
100 Haymarket Square Riots
multiplied by 100
1968 Democratic Conventions.

Amidst inverted anthills,
they scurry forth and to
in distinguished
black and red coats.

Fighting each other
as counterparties
to a life and death transaction.

This is an efficient market
that crosses the globe.

Oil from the Sultan of Brunei,
Yen from the land of Hitachi,
Long Bonds from the Fed,
nickel from Quebec,
platinum and palladium
from Siberia,
FTSE’s from London
and crewel cane from Havana
circle these pits.

Tijuana,
Shanghai
and Istanbul's
best traders
are only half as good
as the average trader in Chicago.

Chicago,
this hog butcher to the world,
specializes in packaging and distribution.

Men in blood soaked smocks,
still count the heads
entering the gates of the city.

Their handiwork
is sent out on barges
and rail lines as frozen packages
of futures
waiting for delivery
to an anonymous counterparty
half a world away.

This nation’s hub
has grown into the
premier purveyor
to the world;
along all the rivers,
highways,
railways
and estuaries
it’s tentacles reach.

5.
Sandburg’s Chicago,
is a city of the world’s people.

Many striver rows compose
its many neighborhoods.

Nordic stoicism,
Eastern European orthodoxy
and Afro-American
calypso vibrations
are three of many cords
strumming the strings
of Chicago.

Sandburg’s Chicago,
if you wrote forever
you would only scratch its surface.

People wait for trains
to enter the city from O’Hare.
Frozen tears
lock their eyes
onto distant skyscrapers,
solid chunks
of snot blocks their nose
and green icicles of slime
crust mustaches.
They fight to breathe.

Sandburg’s Chicago
is The Land of Lincoln,
Savior of the Union,
protector of the Republic.
Sent armies
of sons and daughters,
barges, boxcars,
gunboats, foodstuffs,
cannon and shot
to raze the south
and stamp out succession.

Old Abe’s biography
are still unknown volumes to me.
I must see and read the great words.
You can never learn enough;
but I’ve been to Washington
and seen the man’s memorial.
The Free World’s 8th wonder,
guarded by General Grant,
who still keeps an eye on Richmond
and a hand on his sword.

Through this American winter
Abe ponders.
The vista he surveys is dire and tragic.

Our sitting President
impeached
for lying about a *******.

Party partisans
in the senate are sworn and seated.
Our Chief Justice,
adorned with golden bars
will adjudicate the proceedings.
It is the perfect counterpoint
to an ageless Abe thinking
with malice toward none
and charity towards all,
will heal the wounds
of the nation.

Abe our granite angel,
Chicago goes on,
The Union is strong!


SECOND DAY

1.
Out my window
the sun has risen.

According to
the local forecast
its minus 9
going up to
6 today.

The lake,
a golden pillow of clouds
is frozen in time.

I marvel
at the ancients ones
resourcefulness
and how
they mastered
these extreme elements.

Past, present and future
has no meaning
in the Citadel
of the Prairie today.

I set my watch
to Central Standard Time.

Stepping into
the hotel lobby
the concierge
with oil smooth hair,
perfect tie
and English lilt
impeccably asks,
“Do you know where you are going Sir?
Can I give you a map?”

He hands me one of Chicago.
I see he recently had his nails done.
He paints a green line
along Whacker Drive and says,
“turn on Jackson, LaSalle, Wabash or Madison
and you’ll get to where you want to go.”
A walk of 14 or 15 blocks from Streeterville-
(I start at The Chicago White House.
They call it that because Hillary Rodham
stays here when she’s in town.
Its’ also alleged that Stedman
eats his breakfast here
but Opra
has never been seen
on the premises.
I wonder how I gained entry
into this place of elite’s?)
-down into the center of The Loop.

Stepping out of the hotel,
The Doorman
sporting the epaulets of a colonel
on his corporate winter coat
and furry Cossack hat
swaddling his round black face
accosts me.

The skin of his face
is flaking from
the subzero windburn.

He asks me
with a gapped toothy grin,
“Can I get you a cab?”
“No I think I’ll walk,” I answer.
“Good woolen hat,
thick gloves you should be alright.”
He winks and lets me pass.

I step outside.
The Windy City
flings stabbing cold spears
flying on wings of 30-mph gusts.
My outside hardens.
I can feel the freeze
deepen
into my internalness.
I can’t be sure
but inside
my heart still feels warm.
For how long
I cannot say.

I commence
my walk
among the spires
of this great city,
the vertical leaps
that anchor the great lake,
holding its place
against the historic
frigid assault.

The buildings’ sway,
modulating to the blows
of natures wicked blasts.

It’s a hard imposition
on a city and its people.

The gloves,
skullcap,
long underwear,
sweater,
jacket
and overcoat
not enough
to keep the cold
from penetrating
the person.

Like discerning
the layers of this city,
even many layers,
still not enough
to understand
the depth of meaning
of the heart
of this heartland city.

Sandburg knew the city well.
Set amidst groves of suburbs
that extend outward in every direction.
Concentric circles
surround the city.
After the burbs come farms,
Great Plains, and mountains.
Appalachians and Rockies
are but mere molehills
in the city’s back yard.
It’s terra firma
stops only at the sea.
Pt. Barrow to the Horn,
many capes extended.

On the periphery
its appendages,
its extremities,
its outward extremes.
All connected by the idea,
blown by the incessant wind
of this great nation.
The Windy City’s message
is sent to the world’s four corners.
It is a message of power.
English the worlds
common language
is spoken here,
along with Ebonics,
Espanol,
Mandarin,
Czech,
Russian,
Korean,
Arabic,
Hindi­,
German,
French,
electronics,
steel,
cars,
cartoons,
rap,
sports­,
movies,
capital,
wheat
and more.

Always more.
Much much more
in Chicago.

2.
Sandburg
spoke all the dialects.

He heard them all,
he understood
with great precision
to the finest tolerances
of a lathe workers micrometer.

Sandburg understood
what it meant to laugh
and be happy.

He understood
the working mans day,
the learned treatises
of university chairs,
the endless tomes
of the city’s
great libraries,
the lost languages
of the ancient ones,
the secret codes
of abstract art,
the impact of architecture,
the street dialects and idioms
of everymans expression of life.

All fighting for life,
trying to build a life,
a new life
in this modern world.

Walking across
the Michigan Avenue Bridge
I see the Wrigley Building
is neatly carved,
catty cornered on the plaza.

I wonder if Old Man Wrigley
watched his barges
loaded with spearmint
and double-mint
move out onto the lake
from one of those Gothic windows
perched high above the street.

Would he open a window
and shout to the men below
to quit slaking and work harder
or would he
between the snapping sound
he made with his mouth
full of his chewing gum
offer them tickets
to a ballgame at Wrigley Field
that afternoon?

Would the men below
be able to understand
the man communing
from such a great height?

I listen to a man
and woman conversing.
They are one step behind me
as we meander along Wacker Drive.

"You are in Chicago now.”
The man states with profundity.
“If I let you go
you will soon find your level
in this city.
Do you know what I mean?”

No I don’t.
I think to myself.
What level are you I wonder?
Are you perched atop
the transmission spire
of the Hancock Tower?

I wouldn’t think so
or your ears would melt
from the windburn.

I’m thinking.
Is she a kept woman?
She is majestically clothed
in fur hat and coat.
In animal pelts
not trapped like her,
but slaughtered
from farms
I’m sure.

What level
is he speaking of?

Many levels
are evident in this city;
many layers of cobbled stone,
Pennsylvania iron,
Hoosier Granite
and vertical drops.

I wonder
if I detect
condensation
in his voice?

What is
his intention?
Is it a warning
of a broken affair?
A pending pink slip?
Advise to an addict
refusing to adhere
to a recovery regimen?

What is his level anyway?
Is he so high and mighty,
Higher and mightier
then this great city
which we are all a part of,
which we all helped to build,
which we all need
in order to keep this nation
the thriving democratic
empire it is?

This seditious talk!

3.
The Loop’s El
still courses through
the main thoroughfares of the city.

People are transported
above the din of the street,
looking down
on the common pedestrians
like me.

Super CEO’s
populating the upper floors
of Romanesque,
Greek Revivalist,
New Bauhaus,
Art Deco
and Post Nouveau
Neo-Modern
Avant-Garde towers
are too far up
to see me
shivering on the street.

The cars, busses,
trains and trucks
are all covered
with the film
of rock salt.

Salt covers
my bootless feet
and smudges
my cloths as well.

The salt,
the primal element
of the earth
covers everything
in Chicago.

It is the true level
of this city.

The layer
beneath
all layers,
on which
everything
rests,
is built,
grows,
thrives
then dies.
To be
returned again
to the lower
layers
where it can
take root
again
and grow
out onto
the great plains.

Splashing
the nation,
anointing
its people
with its
blessing.

A blessing,
Chicago?

All rivers
come here.

All things
found its way here
through the canals
and back bays
of the world’s
greatest lakes.

All roads,
rails and
air routes
begin and
end here.

Mrs. O’Leary’s cow
got a *** rap.
It did not start the fire,
we did.

We lit the torch
that flamed
the city to cinders.
From a pile of ash
Chicago rose again.

Forever Chicago!
Forever the lamp
that burns bright
on a Great Lake’s
western shore!

Chicago
the beacon
sends the
message to the world
with its windy blasts,
on chugging barges,
clapping trains,
flying tandems,
T1 circuits
and roaring jets.

Sandburg knew
a Chicago
I will never know.

He knew
the rhythm of life
the people walked to.
The tools they used,
the dreams they dreamed
the songs they sang,
the things they built,
the things they loved,
the pains that hurt,
the motives that grew,
the actions that destroyed
the prayers they prayed,
the food they ate
their moments of death.

Sandburg knew
the layers of the city
to the depths
and windy heights
I cannot fathom.

The Blues
came to this city,
on the wing
of a chirping bird,
on the taps
of a rickety train,
on the blast
of an angry sax
rushing on the wind,
on the Westend blitz
of Pop's brash coronet,
on the tink of
a twinkling piano
on a paddle-wheel boat
and on the strings
of a lonely man’s guitar.

Walk into the clubs,
tenements,
row houses,
speakeasies
and you’ll hear the Blues
whispered like
a quiet prayer.

Tidewater Blues
from Virginia,
Delta Blues
from the lower
Mississippi,
Boogie Woogie
from Appalachia,
Texas Blues
from some Lone Star,
Big Band Blues
from Kansas City,
Blues from
Beal Street,
Jelly Roll’s Blues
from the Latin Quarter.

Hell even Chicago
got its own brand
of Blues.

Its all here.
It ended up here
and was sent away
on the winds of westerly blows
to the ear of an eager world
on strong jet streams
of simple melodies
and hard truths.

A broad
shouldered woman,
a single mother stands
on the street
with three crying babes.
Their cloths
are covered
in salt.
She pleads
for a break,
praying
for a new start.
Poor and
under-clothed
against the torrent
of frigid weather
she begs for help.
Her blond hair
and ****** features
suggests her
Scandinavian heritage.
I wonder if
she is related to Sandburg
as I walk past
her on the street.
Her feet
are bleeding
through her
canvass sneakers.
Her babes mouths
are zipped shut
with frozen drivel
and mucous.

The Blues live
on in Chicago.

The Blues
will forever live in her.
As I turn the corner
to walk the Miracle Mile
I see her engulfed
in a funnel cloud of salt,
snow and bits
of white paper,
swirling around her
and her children
in an angry
unforgiving
maelstrom.

The family
begins to
dissolve
like a snail
sprinkled with salt;
and a mother
and her children
just disappear
into the pavement
at the corner
of Dearborn,
in Chicago.

Music:

Robert Johnson
Sweet Home Chicago


jbm
Chicago
1/7/99
Added today to commemorate the birthday of Carl Sandburg
Mike Hauser Jun 2017
She has a will of steel
Does just what she wants
If you ever tell her do
Guaranteed she don't
Hard-headed as a raging bull
In a china shop
With a will of hardened steel
That's exactly what she's got

She has a will of steel
And it ain't here to help
Only listens to herself
And nobody else
If you're looking for advice
In the cards you're dealt
Guaranteed a will of steel
Only helps itself

She has a will of steel
So often clamps down tight
If there's something that you do
That she doesn't like
If you're arguing with her
You'd be hard pressed to find
That this will of steel
Will ever change her mind
dennis gunsteen Jul 2010
mee lords! let thy
speak a  little phase!
thy shadow of mee
dreams.?
my little rose  love of
life.mee lady
at castle steel one
evening.
a ghostly  person
she be .
i love her but then
you see.
she a ghost of castle steel
she was mee   friend,
mee love of life.
when  she was liveing.
she  call out the  window
one evening on  moon lite
night . my dear lord
elliot  where thy be
mee  lovely friend.
by the  meadow
stream  water of of life.
and then a little bird
  flying  around
came down from sky
that  night.
bite my love.
on her hand.
so i said over here
my love .
by the garden
by our tree .
what is   love mee lords
i'll be in the  castle steel
because mee   lady spirit.
live  in these wall  at castle steel.
these is true story of us.
we are children of forest
an castle  that live once upon
a  time in  story.
mee sweet  love mee little
rose flower of life that she be
mee lady julie .
a flower of my heart.
the sunrise an sunset
of my  day. she the spring
water of my life.
my love of life
my soul my heart
thy true friend i had
400 hundred  years  ago
she was wonderful
person. my julie
Michael Vukmer Mar 2013
The cool winter air makes the grass sway like the ocean's waves.
Makes the limbs of trees, both young and old, dance fancifully without care of who's watching.
The brilliant sun, bold as it is, is shy this morn
Only peaking over the icy mountain tops.
The sky is as clear and beautiful as a newly forged glass sculpture.

As I turn around, I see my home,
The furnace still warm from yesterday's work
sits quietly in the center
The bellow, old with use
waits impatiently for it's next push
The anvil, stubborn with age
tightens it's muscles, prepared for the torment of the day
The mallet and hammer, young with ambition
remember the creations so recently forged with creativity
The ground is riddled with steel and coal
The grass here is burnt and covered with the now stagnant embers of the furnace
The walls are filled with the tools of my trade,
all made in this very place.

The day has begun.
I act with repetition as I have so many days and nights prior.
I lay fresh coals upon the furnace
I push the bellow with all my strength
The furnace begins to roar with vigor like a newly awoken bear
I pull new, unworked steel from the bin
Laying the steel upon the fire,
I can see the color change and shift rapidly
I prepare the hammer and mallet for use, and hear their excitement fill this place
Pulling the steel from the fire, I lay it upon the grouchy anvil.
Then I begin my work of creation.
Hammer meets steel,
sparks and embers fly,
steel morphs it's shape,
the day is now warm in this place.

For hours, this process continues
The furnace only grows warmer,
The bellow only grows more worn,
The anvil only tires with work,
The mallet and hammer only become more ecstatic.
Until the creation is complete.

The day is complete.
The wind has all but ceased.
The grass now as still as all the sleeping creatures.
The trees' festival is complete.
The air is now freezing.
The furnace is cooling again,
The bellow is at peace again,
The anvil is relaxed again,
The mallet and hammer are quiet again.

I sit here now, watching the sun retreat behind the lake.
It's setting as colorful as a painting.
My work today is done,
My tools are silent,
My creation is complete.
I too, can now bask in the serenity of the night.
sunprincess Nov 2016
Okay friends, Hats off to Mr. Trump the man of Steel
He's a great big fish, Americans caught on a Reel

He's made a big promise and he's made a huge Deal
He's giving us the facts, and he's keeping it Real

He's got his act together and he's laying down the Law
He's fighting bad guys, and building a great, big Wall

SO Just sit back, and don't worry about a thing My Friend
Coz the man of steel's, gonna make America great Again
~The End~
Autumn Whipple Jan 2015
When I was younger, I saw life
As white houses in neat rows
I loved the chrome, the steel, the metal dreams
The feel of sand and dirt and seams
There was only the meadow, the machine, and me

Now everydays an endless stream
Of cigarettes and magazines
I’m trying my best to be just like them-
A sad sirens song with red lipstick on
A ******* kicker, with a heroine heart

They say I’m dangerous because I don’t know what I want
They say I f@cked my way to the top.
Well we all mourn atop skyscrapers
As they clamor for judgment day
But I’m not afraid of dying
When the words of prophets are written on the subway walls
And the good crawl down to tenement halls

They sing for fame, liquor, love, scream give it to me
Because I thought I was sitting pretty on the throne of metal steel and chrome
Fools, I say, you do not know
That all I want now is to be left alone

So I sit up at night talking to the moon
Becoming so lost its like I never existed in the first place
Listening to the fabulous clockwork of heart and lungs
Listening to all heart’s dints and machinations
Made of metal and tears and chrome


I was lovely once, marred forever by a pair of (heart shaped glasses)
The foulmouthed flower of bohemia
Moonshine, take me to the stars tonight
While I’m not afraid to live fast and die young
Among the whispering , the champagne and stars

Angry yet, half in love
With death in the cooling twilight
Singing an arsonists lullabye with the workers in songs
For I stumbled into trouble, got my makeup on
A red lipstick sirens sad song
Of metal, steel, and chrome

Its real hard to be free when you are bought and sold
And only money makes you smile
They tell me I did it but we blew it
They say I’m too young to worry ‘bout burning out
So come on, let me bite the bullet now

I’m stuck in the landscape, the loveclub
I'll save you a seat next to me down below
This heights messing with my head
The ground calling to me
Like something out a dream
I’m scared to jump but terrified to stay
And this way I’ll never, feel no pain.

my boy builds coffins, don't ya know
of metal, steel, tears, and chrome
ok, so this is a found poem... all credits listed below. paramour. the animals, Lana del ray, ray Bradbury, Simon and Garfunkel, Lorde, Bruno mars, Bruce Springsteen, the amazing adventures of  kavalier and clay, Anne Waldman, the great Gatsby, easy rider, Thompson, Marilyn Manson, Hozier, Robert delong, cold war kids. Florence and the machine. that's all folks!
Akira Chinen Feb 2018
Cold, lifeless, steel...
A barrel, a trigger...
An ounce of lead...
A hammer pounds and thunder booms
Another death in another classroom

And why?

You say it’s not the gun
and yes to some degree
there is truth to that
but it’s also true that
to some degree it played it’s part

it’s not the whole of the problem
but its there in the equation
written out for all to see
in the blood of the innocence lost
multiplied by the tears
of the mothers and fathers
and brothers and sisters and friends

that must now live sitting at the dinner table
minus one less face and its smile and its laugh
and its eyes full of endless wonder
by dividing its future from its past
equaling the end of its life far too soon

And why?

Because...

Cold...
Lifeless...
Steel...
Has more cash exchanging hands
To protect its right
To protect its promotion
To protect its distribution
To protect its ability to ****
Easily and rapidly

COLD...
LIFELESS...
STEEL...
Has more value to politicians
Than the warm blood
and bones and flesh
Of our children
Of their schools
Of their education
Of their safety

COLD...
LIFELESS...
STEEL...
Has millions and millions being spent
While we ignore our broken schools
and our long over due need
to reform our educational system
and this is no coincidence
an uneducated mass is easier to distract
with age old rhetoric
keep them cookie cut
and packaged and boxed
mental slaves to the **** tube
programmed to love

Cold...
Lifeless...
Steel...

Leaving behind...

cold, lifeless, bodies...

Endless eyes of wonder
That wonder no more
Smiles that no longer laugh
Lungs full of blood instead of life
Hearts with holes no longer whole
no longer beat
Hands that don’t draw
Feet that don’t dance
Nothing more now
Than a body to fill a coffin
And a name for a family to grieve
through a lifetime of sorrow

And yet the
Cold, lifeless, steel...
With its barrel, trigger...
And pieces of lead...
Still hammer out thunder and death
At a moment of anger
And the ease of
a squeeze of a trigger
a trigger so easy to reach
so easy to pull
and just like that
leave behind

cold...
lifeless...
bodies...
I'm lonesome for the country
and I need to get out of town.
with this city if you're in for a penny
you're in for a pound.

I need to get back to my roots,
I want to fill my boots
with some hallowed country sound.

A skateboard flies by,
clack-clack on every sidewalk crack,
the same rhythm, same rhyme
as that lonesome long snake
rolling down the line.
Moving up the steel to a muddy sky,
moving up the steel to a muddy sky.

A pedal steel wails as a cop goes by,
Chev Malibou sails through a red light.
On every corner you have to look left
and you have to look right.
You can't go looking up the steel to a muddy sky.
looking up the steel to a muddy sky.

This city she has her shades of blue,
a man stands on the corner with a national.
two hands pounding out a delta groove,
his head tilts back,sings, you got to move, you got to move.

Moving up the steel to a muddy sky,
moving up the steel to a muddy sky
A song.
Autumn moves fast through the tunnel of love
Push from the top; bottom falls from above
Dangling leaves are flexing about
Dreaming of hope is a nightmarish shout

Cackle of ghouls; a shivering spine
All that is due will be due in due time
Whispering wind softly kisses my cheek
Lifetime of searching; know not what I seek

Darkness emerges as light fades away
Tried to hold on knowing no one can stay
Feeling alive only once I am dead
Listen but don't hear a word that is said

Roar of a flame, the warmth of the light
Fireball streaks interrupting the night
From the ashes we rose and to dust we return
Heart made of ice will not sooth what’s been burned

Holding my breath and not rising for air
Promise to no one the nothing I share
Hugging and squeezing a cuddly toy
Faded reminder when I was a boy

Roar of a racing car traveling fast
Linear stories that live in the past
Afternoon stroll through the paths in the woods
Wasn't enough when it’s all that I could

Didn't regret not regretting a thing
Perfectly still while I sit on the swing
Lazy and careless; the problem I tackle
Chained here forever without any shackles

Future and past presently now amuck
Free man who's also imprisoned and stuck
Roaring, the waves speaking softly to me
Shouting a message using secrecy

Cackling rooster call to end the day
Adult you become but your parents can't stay
Ending's begun and beginning ends near
Enveloped in fog; then it all became clear

Through stutter and stammer, I clearly can speak
World’s strongest man; I am fearful and weak
Worldly observer, I travel through life
Don't leave my house; Live alone with no wife

Peacock with confidence strutting my stuff
Have had my fill but not yet had enough
Nothing I fear but much fear have for it
Blowing out candles that never were lit

Bellowing cheers of "hip-hip hooray!"
Round of applauds for those who've died today
Subtle of strikes from a blatant attack
Gift you are given; already took back

Slapped with audacity right in the face
Composed with the utmost politeness and grace
Without allergy present, my body reacts
Calmly I sit through a panic attack

Telling a lie until it becomes truth
Speaking with stature his words are uncouth
Deafening silence rang shots from the gun
Finished a race that has not yet begun

"Rule" one time "Golden", now covered in rust
Did what was needed but not what I must
You can be anything but yet nothing you are
Traveling often but didn't go far

Properly set for no expectations
Biased perception began at creation
Feet on the ground and head in the clouds
Displayed while I'm naked; exposed in my shroud
Written - April 6, 2017

All rights reserved.
MdAsadullah Dec 2014
If steel and paper are the only choice;
And your opinion you could freely voice.
If asked which is strongest of the two;
And you are given ample time to review.
Tell me, which of the two you will select?
Are you confident you will be correct?

One can learn so much from a fairy-tale.
Demon's strength could be in birds tail.
Foolish People fear weapons of steel.
Keeping Dollars in pocket proud they feel.
For me weapons of steel are toys mere;
But with sight of Dollar I shiver with fear.
preservationman Jan 2015
A race between the Flash and the Man of Steel
This would be a competition for real
Who do you think would move fast?
Who would you think would come in last?
It’s a possibility in what could be
Imagine two Super Marvel’s in a race too see who is truly great
It would also show their sportsmanship in how they both relate
It would be a run to the finish
The winner being triumphed and distinguished
This wouldn’t be a race against crime
That story is another time
Flash moving at the speed of light
The Man of Steel feeling a bit uptight
The Man of Steel would be disqualified if he were to fly in order to win
But the Man of Steel coming from another planet, would that automatically disqualify from then
A canny detail
But the policy remains in order to preserver
It was Flash in the lead
The Man of Steel was maneuvering in proceed
Just around the bend
It was Flash being the champion at the very end
Well the Marvel Hero’s shook hands and are off to fight crime
This will be until the end of time.
Steel Blue Eyes

His eyes watch her
Cold, harsh like steel
She trembles her belly quivers
She starts to say something
His eyes flash fire
She stops
Not wishing to anger Him further
She stays silent
Her green eyes warm
A look of sadness radiates from them
He stares harder
She realizes she has done nothing wrong
She raises her eyes glancing at Him
The warmth replaced by what
What does He see
Is that definance
He glares at her
She lowers her eyes filled with venom
Silently daring Him to chastise her
She waits
He watches
She hears the slamming of His hand hitting the table
She jumps
He smiles knowing she still trembles from Him
He lifts her chin
His steel eyes look into her definant green ones
Dare you He says
She so wants to say it
Dare you again He says
She lowers her eyes in respect
Knowing she cannot defy Him
His touch controls her
His voice causes her to become weak
Her desire to please Him
overcomes her desire to defy Him
He smiles
Laughing at this predicament in her eyes
He whispers you are beautiful
Brushes the stray tear from her cheek
Then softly kisses her forehead
His steel blue eyes become grey with passion for her

Niyahlove
all rights reserved
Scurry hurry
Shaking hands shaped by worry
tie the knot of plastic
A bubble home for the hard green cup
where brown and white
mixed lay married.

Wash rush
Dainty legs in dark blue denim
hasn't time to be romantic
A worn out sister played by hope
shuts the door panting.

  It clings to a robust tree
  head hidden under rosy pink    
  protective shield
  edged in yellow

  The fireflies

  
Sticky webs of empty lies packaged in boxes of deception by the wizard that doesn't work
sit dead on the small bedside table
like the results they provide.

Boxes and boxes of cozy containers
and cards of capsules
47 I counted them
current and extras
They choke my sight
then I am groped by the smooth blue robes worn by the youthful shepherd
posing aside a grey rock looking yonder
into the distance as insta-natural as possible in a pastel painted picture framed in wood against the wall.
  
  Unstable molecules in tiny airtubes,  
  many, breakdown and explode
  like little landmines
  A bio-luminescent lit ***** assaults a  
  dense night flashing brilliant
  to find a mate
  Six strong neon-green throbbing blinks
  Six slow seconds of unimaginable
  wordless dreamless dark.

  are bright.

  
I turn my head
The whole unsettling mass of reality
is torn apart into vibrant colorful morsels,
then reassembled
as my eyes  
settle
on

Her

"Oh God, if you're here, heal her now
and you'll have me. Show me what those confident tongues so eagerly confess.
Please!"

NOTHING
Another sticky empty square
covered in thick black-strap molasses
slapped to the face of the fool
who likes sweet things.

BUT

What happened to the omni-this, omni-that CEO of God enterprises?
"Go on Death" is what that means
"Go on Death do your job" is what it does

"It's your time.
It's to test your faith.
Gods plan."
All slogans for the man
who believes and dies.
  Culture creates the fool
  Hope keeps the fool
  Belief kills the fool
Thanks for doing what all those boxes
and all the pictures
on all the walls of the world do

FOOL

Her face,
a gaunt kind of skin-to-bone sight
a bad flavor
like a meal with no taste

Her mouth,
crack-lipped, framed by dry
delivers deadly blows to a heaving chest
that says; "Give me air"
yet lungs say no

Anguish,
is ****** from the pit of my cold stomach
then up through the spirit of a warm heart
I plaster the feeling in the shape of water.
My eyes puddle

I weep

It sticks

Love,

Falls

Fluttering as a twinkle
through soft beams of sunlight,
the drop glistens
plops
then dies
on the pink and blue checkered blanket.

All I have to offer are busky palms
to soothe this battered body
before you are torn apart by what
puts things like us together.

I swallow her frame

Her calf - bone

Squeeze and move

Her thigh,
my hand wraps completely
pinching a sausage sized piece of muscle
not big enough to walk
between plump thumb
and meaty middle

Squeeze and move

Her hip bone is angular
It fits flush in my hand
like the hard front peak of a cricket cap
when held above the grid

Squeeze and move

My chunky tentacles massage over
wire-thin barely blue throbless veins
that decorate her meatless paws
and twig-like fingers.

Squeeze and move
  
  It's after midnight
  Thick curds of desperation push
  again, through a splendid backside
  a special toosh
  slogging a dancing night-fever
  to beat the two-to-four,
  a beam as bright as a green day
  cuts through the black pitch of night

  

I hold her hand
A thin filling between two slices of mine
I look at her eyes and turn away

Have you ever been pulled from the center of  your heart, ripped head first through the narrow crack of your own chest, tossed aside like a skin-sheet onto a concrete glass-covered floor then squashed beneath the majesty of a billion dancing floor-clapping feet attached to a shapeless void shapeshifting as slideshows  between all things gone, here, and still to come, stopping on the body of a small blue boy that sings in ghostly echo;
"Don't turn away from this.
Look till you see me through the eyes of another because this too
will happen to you
Clap clap clap clap!
I'm coming for you.

Trapped in a square tunnel made of brick, walls wide enough for one bus no brakes to speed through, no escape,
I accept what will squash me
I Face it
I Stand before it

I stare at her eyes staring back at me
A deep dagger stare
Two parts steel
meshed
until there is only steel
It melts

I simmer the room in soft whisper;
"It's okay. It's okay. It's okay."
I hold her hand,
patting the top as I warm the bottom
I smile for her, at me
I smile back, as me
  
  A skillful mimic
  Here I come
  I have light and breath
  I see yours
  I come at night
  Not for genes or ***
  I hunt and gut
  Hawking down I come as death

  
The gaps between her labored breaths become bigger and for a second I drift at the sight reappearing on the sandy dunes of an empty dessert space pushed by a dying wind I can barely feel.

A sharp salty tang toils the tip of my tongue and brings me back to her.

Her eyes

They have changed

Open

But

Soul

   less

     Soulless

     Desolate

   Like

That dessert

And that place where


*The Fireflies Lose their Light
Seanathon Dec 2016
Build me like the city streets
Strap my bones to solemn steel
And give me an expression without inability

Prop me up like the towering buildings
And bend my back to the labors of industry
So that I might just understand
What it means to hear the steel heart beat

Let these words go out from here and heal
Let these voices reach and touch the meek
Let the rhythm within my soul preserve
And the minds amongst us finally meet

So that we could savor a moments peace
So that we could pad the snow laden ground
And meet where the steel heart slowly beats

For we are the blood within which seeps
As we rise to the surface quietly
Teeming with life and full of desire
To actively ponder and passionately seek

To understand the truth within
For we are a vessel most unique
To reach the travelers of time
And to mold such minds as they do sleep

For anytime such blood cells meet
The steel heart surely can be heard
In unison with every beat

Be it underneath these city streets
Let such an expression be heard by more than me
Written for my friends in the city Pittsburgh
ottaross May 2014
A hammer upon the landscape.
Thunder like a toppling mountain.

Flashes like x-ray explosions.
Supernova surprise.

Sheets of rain.
Glistening-rebar javelins
Pierce the asphalt
Shatter the concrete.

Long shards of glass
From the grey
Steel-wool clouds.
Alyssa Underwood Mar 2016
I

He did not wear his scarlet coat,
  For blood and wine are red,
And blood and wine were on his hands
  When they found him with the dead,
The poor dead woman whom he loved,
  And murdered in her bed.

He walked amongst the Trial Men
  In a suit of shabby grey;
A cricket cap was on his head,
  And his step seemed light and gay;
But I never saw a man who looked
  So wistfully at the day.

I never saw a man who looked
  With such a wistful eye
Upon that little tent of blue
  Which prisoners call the sky,
And at every drifting cloud that went
  With sails of silver by.

I walked, with other souls in pain,
  Within another ring,
And was wondering if the man had done
  A great or little thing,
When a voice behind me whispered low,
  “That fellows got to swing.”

Dear Christ! the very prison walls
  Suddenly seemed to reel,
And the sky above my head became
  Like a casque of scorching steel;
And, though I was a soul in pain,
  My pain I could not feel.

I only knew what hunted thought
  Quickened his step, and why
He looked upon the garish day
  With such a wistful eye;
The man had killed the thing he loved
  And so he had to die.

Yet each man kills the thing he loves
  By each let this be heard,
Some do it with a bitter look,
  Some with a flattering word,
The coward does it with a kiss,
  The brave man with a sword!

Some **** their love when they are young,
  And some when they are old;
Some strangle with the hands of Lust,
  Some with the hands of Gold:
The kindest use a knife, because
  The dead so soon grow cold.

Some love too little, some too long,
  Some sell, and others buy;
Some do the deed with many tears,
  And some without a sigh:
For each man kills the thing he loves,
  Yet each man does not die.

He does not die a death of shame
  On a day of dark disgrace,
Nor have a noose about his neck,
  Nor a cloth upon his face,
Nor drop feet foremost through the floor
  Into an empty place

He does not sit with silent men
  Who watch him night and day;
Who watch him when he tries to weep,
  And when he tries to pray;
Who watch him lest himself should rob
  The prison of its prey.

He does not wake at dawn to see
  Dread figures throng his room,
The shivering Chaplain robed in white,
  The Sheriff stern with gloom,
And the Governor all in shiny black,
  With the yellow face of Doom.

He does not rise in piteous haste
  To put on convict-clothes,
While some coarse-mouthed Doctor gloats, and notes
  Each new and nerve-twitched pose,
******* a watch whose little ticks
  Are like horrible hammer-blows.

He does not know that sickening thirst
  That sands one’s throat, before
The hangman with his gardener’s gloves
  Slips through the padded door,
And binds one with three leathern thongs,
  That the throat may thirst no more.

He does not bend his head to hear
  The Burial Office read,
Nor, while the terror of his soul
  Tells him he is not dead,
Cross his own coffin, as he moves
  Into the hideous shed.

He does not stare upon the air
  Through a little roof of glass;
He does not pray with lips of clay
  For his agony to pass;
Nor feel upon his shuddering cheek
  The kiss of Caiaphas.


II

Six weeks our guardsman walked the yard,
  In a suit of shabby grey:
His cricket cap was on his head,
  And his step seemed light and gay,
But I never saw a man who looked
  So wistfully at the day.

I never saw a man who looked
  With such a wistful eye
Upon that little tent of blue
  Which prisoners call the sky,
And at every wandering cloud that trailed
  Its raveled fleeces by.

He did not wring his hands, as do
  Those witless men who dare
To try to rear the changeling Hope
  In the cave of black Despair:
He only looked upon the sun,
  And drank the morning air.

He did not wring his hands nor weep,
  Nor did he peek or pine,
But he drank the air as though it held
  Some healthful anodyne;
With open mouth he drank the sun
  As though it had been wine!

And I and all the souls in pain,
  Who tramped the other ring,
Forgot if we ourselves had done
  A great or little thing,
And watched with gaze of dull amaze
  The man who had to swing.

And strange it was to see him pass
  With a step so light and gay,
And strange it was to see him look
  So wistfully at the day,
And strange it was to think that he
  Had such a debt to pay.

For oak and elm have pleasant leaves
  That in the spring-time shoot:
But grim to see is the gallows-tree,
  With its adder-bitten root,
And, green or dry, a man must die
  Before it bears its fruit!

The loftiest place is that seat of grace
  For which all worldlings try:
But who would stand in hempen band
  Upon a scaffold high,
And through a murderer’s collar take
  His last look at the sky?

It is sweet to dance to violins
  When Love and Life are fair:
To dance to flutes, to dance to lutes
  Is delicate and rare:
But it is not sweet with nimble feet
  To dance upon the air!

So with curious eyes and sick surmise
  We watched him day by day,
And wondered if each one of us
  Would end the self-same way,
For none can tell to what red Hell
  His sightless soul may stray.

At last the dead man walked no more
  Amongst the Trial Men,
And I knew that he was standing up
  In the black dock’s dreadful pen,
And that never would I see his face
  In God’s sweet world again.

Like two doomed ships that pass in storm
  We had crossed each other’s way:
But we made no sign, we said no word,
  We had no word to say;
For we did not meet in the holy night,
  But in the shameful day.

A prison wall was round us both,
  Two outcast men were we:
The world had ****** us from its heart,
  And God from out His care:
And the iron gin that waits for Sin
  Had caught us in its snare.


III

In Debtors’ Yard the stones are hard,
  And the dripping wall is high,
So it was there he took the air
  Beneath the leaden sky,
And by each side a Warder walked,
  For fear the man might die.

Or else he sat with those who watched
  His anguish night and day;
Who watched him when he rose to weep,
  And when he crouched to pray;
Who watched him lest himself should rob
  Their scaffold of its prey.

The Governor was strong upon
  The Regulations Act:
The Doctor said that Death was but
  A scientific fact:
And twice a day the Chaplain called
  And left a little tract.

And twice a day he smoked his pipe,
  And drank his quart of beer:
His soul was resolute, and held
  No hiding-place for fear;
He often said that he was glad
  The hangman’s hands were near.

But why he said so strange a thing
  No Warder dared to ask:
For he to whom a watcher’s doom
  Is given as his task,
Must set a lock upon his lips,
  And make his face a mask.

Or else he might be moved, and try
  To comfort or console:
And what should Human Pity do
  Pent up in Murderers’ Hole?
What word of grace in such a place
  Could help a brother’s soul?

With slouch and swing around the ring
  We trod the Fool’s Parade!
We did not care: we knew we were
  The Devil’s Own Brigade:
And shaven head and feet of lead
  Make a merry masquerade.

We tore the tarry rope to shreds
  With blunt and bleeding nails;
We rubbed the doors, and scrubbed the floors,
  And cleaned the shining rails:
And, rank by rank, we soaped the plank,
  And clattered with the pails.

We sewed the sacks, we broke the stones,
  We turned the dusty drill:
We banged the tins, and bawled the hymns,
  And sweated on the mill:
But in the heart of every man
  Terror was lying still.

So still it lay that every day
  Crawled like a ****-clogged wave:
And we forgot the bitter lot
  That waits for fool and knave,
Till once, as we tramped in from work,
  We passed an open grave.

With yawning mouth the yellow hole
  Gaped for a living thing;
The very mud cried out for blood
  To the thirsty asphalte ring:
And we knew that ere one dawn grew fair
  Some prisoner had to swing.

Right in we went, with soul intent
  On Death and Dread and Doom:
The hangman, with his little bag,
  Went shuffling through the gloom
And each man trembled as he crept
  Into his numbered tomb.

That night the empty corridors
  Were full of forms of Fear,
And up and down the iron town
  Stole feet we could not hear,
And through the bars that hide the stars
  White faces seemed to peer.

He lay as one who lies and dreams
  In a pleasant meadow-land,
The watcher watched him as he slept,
  And could not understand
How one could sleep so sweet a sleep
  With a hangman close at hand?

But there is no sleep when men must weep
  Who never yet have wept:
So we—the fool, the fraud, the knave—
  That endless vigil kept,
And through each brain on hands of pain
  Another’s terror crept.

Alas! it is a fearful thing
  To feel another’s guilt!
For, right within, the sword of Sin
  Pierced to its poisoned hilt,
And as molten lead were the tears we shed
  For the blood we had not spilt.

The Warders with their shoes of felt
  Crept by each padlocked door,
And peeped and saw, with eyes of awe,
  Grey figures on the floor,
And wondered why men knelt to pray
  Who never prayed before.

All through the night we knelt and prayed,
  Mad mourners of a corpse!
The troubled plumes of midnight were
  The plumes upon a hearse:
And bitter wine upon a sponge
  Was the savior of Remorse.

The **** crew, the red **** crew,
  But never came the day:
And crooked shape of Terror crouched,
  In the corners where we lay:
And each evil sprite that walks by night
  Before us seemed to play.

They glided past, they glided fast,
  Like travelers through a mist:
They mocked the moon in a rigadoon
  Of delicate turn and twist,
And with formal pace and loathsome grace
  The phantoms kept their tryst.

With mop and mow, we saw them go,
  Slim shadows hand in hand:
About, about, in ghostly rout
  They trod a saraband:
And the ****** grotesques made arabesques,
  Like the wind upon the sand!

With the pirouettes of marionettes,
  They tripped on pointed tread:
But with flutes of Fear they filled the ear,
  As their grisly masque they led,
And loud they sang, and long they sang,
  For they sang to wake the dead.

“Oho!” they cried, “The world is wide,
  But fettered limbs go lame!
And once, or twice, to throw the dice
  Is a gentlemanly game,
But he does not win who plays with Sin
  In the secret House of Shame.”

No things of air these antics were
  That frolicked with such glee:
To men whose lives were held in gyves,
  And whose feet might not go free,
Ah! wounds of Christ! they were living things,
  Most terrible to see.

Around, around, they waltzed and wound;
  Some wheeled in smirking pairs:
With the mincing step of demirep
  Some sidled up the stairs:
And with subtle sneer, and fawning leer,
  Each helped us at our prayers.

The morning wind began to moan,
  But still the night went on:
Through its giant loom the web of gloom
  Crept till each thread was spun:
And, as we prayed, we grew afraid
  Of the Justice of the Sun.

The moaning wind went wandering round
  The weeping prison-wall:
Till like a wheel of turning-steel
  We felt the minutes crawl:
O moaning wind! what had we done
  To have such a seneschal?

At last I saw the shadowed bars
  Like a lattice wrought in lead,
Move right across the whitewashed wall
  That faced my three-plank bed,
And I knew that somewhere in the world
  God’s dreadful dawn was red.

At six o’clock we cleaned our cells,
  At seven all was still,
But the sough and swing of a mighty wing
  The prison seemed to fill,
For the Lord of Death with icy breath
  Had entered in to ****.

He did not pass in purple pomp,
  Nor ride a moon-white steed.
Three yards of cord and a sliding board
  Are all the gallows’ need:
So with rope of shame the Herald came
  To do the secret deed.

We were as men who through a fen
  Of filthy darkness *****:
We did not dare to breathe a prayer,
  Or give our anguish scope:
Something was dead in each of us,
  And what was dead was Hope.

For Man’s grim Justice goes its way,
  And will not swerve aside:
It slays the weak, it slays the strong,
  It has a deadly stride:
With iron heel it slays the strong,
  The monstrous parricide!

We waited for the stroke of eight:
  Each tongue was thick with thirst:
For the stroke of eight is the stroke of Fate
  That makes a man accursed,
And Fate will use a running noose
  For the best man and the worst.

We had no other thing to do,
  Save to wait for the sign to come:
So, like things of stone in a valley lone,
  Quiet we sat and dumb:
But each man’s heart beat thick and quick
  Like a madman on a drum!

With sudden shock the prison-clock
  Smote on the shivering air,
And from all the gaol rose up a wail
  Of impotent despair,
Like the sound that frightened marshes hear
  From a ***** in his lair.

And as one sees most fearful things
  In the crystal of a dream,
We saw the greasy hempen rope
  Hooked to the blackened beam,
And heard the prayer the hangman’s snare
  Strangled into a scream.

And all the woe that moved him so
  That he gave that bitter cry,
And the wild regrets, and the ****** sweats,
  None knew so well as I:
For he who lives more lives than one
  More deaths than one must die.


IV

There is no chapel on the day
  On which they hang a man:
The Chaplain’s heart is far too sick,
  Or his face is far too wan,
Or there is that written in his eyes
  Which none should look upon.

So they kept us close till nigh on noon,
  And then they rang the bell,
And the Warders with their jingling keys
  Opened each listening cell,
And down the iron stair we tramped,
  Each from his separate Hell.

Out into God’s sweet air we went,
  But not in wonted way,
For this man’s face was white with fear,
  And that man’s face was grey,
And I never saw sad men who looked
  So wistfully at the day.

I never saw sad men who looked
  With such a wistful eye
Upon that little tent of blue
  We prisoners called the sky,
And at every careless cloud that passed
  In happy freedom by.

But there were those amongst us all
  Who walked with downcast head,
And knew that, had each got his due,
  They should have died instead:
He had but killed a thing that lived
  Whilst they had killed the dead.

For he who sins a second time
  Wakes a dead soul to pain,
And draws it from its spotted shroud,
  And makes it bleed again,
And makes it bleed great gouts of blood
  And makes it bleed in vain!

Like ape or clown, in monstrous garb
  With crooked arrows starred,
Silently we went round and round
  The slippery asphalte yard;
Silently we went round and round,
  And no man spoke a word.

Silently we went round and round,
  And through each hollow mind
The memory of dreadful things
  Rushed like a dreadful wind,
And Horror stalked before each man,
  And terror crept behind.

The Warders strutted up and down,
  And kept their herd of brutes,
Their uniforms were ***** and span,
  And they wore their Sunday suits,
But we knew the work they had been at
  By the quicklime on their boots.

For where a grave had opened wide,
  There was no grave at all:
Only a stretch of mud and sand
  By the hideous prison-wall,
And a little heap of burning lime,
  That the man should have his pall.

For he has a pall, this wretched man,
  Such as few men can claim:
Deep down below a prison-yard,
  Naked for greater shame,
He lies, with fetters on each foot,
  Wrapt in a sheet of flame!

And all the while the burning lime
  Eats flesh and bone away,
It eats the brittle bone by night,
  And the soft flesh by the day,
It eats the flesh and bones by turns,
  But it eats the heart alway.

For three long years they will not sow
  Or root or seedling there:
For three long years the unblessed spot
  Will sterile be and bare,
And look upon the wondering sky
  With unreproachful stare.

They think a murderer’s heart would taint
  Each simple seed they sow.
It is not true! God’s kindly earth
  Is kindlier than men know,
And the red rose would but blow more red,
  The white rose whiter blow.

Out of his mouth a red, red rose!
  Out of his heart a white!
For who can say by what strange way,
  Christ brings his will to light,
Since the barren staff the pilgrim bore
  Bloomed in the great Pope’s sight?

But neither milk-white rose nor red
  May bloom in prison air;
The shard, the pebble, and the flint,
  Are what they give us there:
For flowers have been known to heal
  A common man’s despair.

So never will wine-red rose or white,
  Petal by petal, fall
On that stretch of mud and sand that lies
  By the hideous prison-wall,
To tell the men who ***** the yard
  That God’s Son died for all.

Yet though the hideous prison-wall
  Still hems him round and round,
And a spirit man not walk by night
  That is with fetters bound,
And a spirit may not weep that lies
  In such unholy ground,

He is at peace—this wretched man—
  At peace, or will be soon:
There is no thing to make him mad,
  Nor does Terror walk at noon,
For the lampless Earth in which he lies
  Has neither Sun nor Moon.

They hanged him as a beast is hanged:
  They did not even toll
A reguiem that might have brought
  Rest to his startled soul,
But hurriedly they took him out,
  And hid him in a hole.

They stripped him of his canvas clothes,
  And gave him to the flies;
They mocked the swollen purple throat
  And the stark and staring eyes:
And with laughter loud they heaped the shroud
  In which their convict lies.

The Chaplain would not kneel to pray
  By his dishonored grave:
Nor mark it with that blessed Cross
  That Christ for sinners gave,
Because the man was one of those
  Whom Christ came down to save.

Yet all is well; he has but passed
  To Life’s appointed bourne:
And alien tears will fill for him
  Pity’s long-broken urn,
For his mourner will be outcast men,
  And outcasts always mourn.


V

I know not whether Laws be right,
  Or whether Laws be wrong;
All that we know who lie in gaol
  Is that the wall is strong;
And that each day is like a year,
  A year whose days are long.

But this I know, that every Law
  That men have made for Man,
Since first Man took his brother’s life,
  And the sad world began,
But straws the wheat and saves the chaff
  With a most evil fan.

This too I know—and wise it were
  If each could know the same—
That every prison that men build
  Is built with bricks of shame,
And bound with bars lest Christ should see
  How men their brothers maim.

With bars they blur the gracious moon,
  And blind the goodly sun:
And they do well to hide their Hell,
  For in it things are done
That Son of God nor son of Man
  Ever should look upon!

The vilest deeds like poison weeds
  Bloom well in prison-air:
It is only what is good in Man
  That wastes and withers there:
Pale Anguish keeps the heavy gate,
  And the Warder is Despair

For they starve the little frightened child
  Till it weeps both night and day:
And they scourge the weak, and flog the fool,
  And gibe the old and grey,
And some grow mad, and all grow bad,
And none a word may say.

Each narrow cell in which we dwell
  Is foul and dark latrine,
And the fetid breath of living Death
  Chokes up each grated screen,
And all, but Lust, is turned to dust
  In Humanity’s machine.

The brackish water that we drink
  Creeps with a loathsome slime,
And the bitter bread they weigh in scales
  Is full of chalk and lime,
And Sleep will not lie down, but walks
  Wild-eyed and cries to Time.

But though lean Hunger and green Thirst
  Like asp with adder fight,
We have little care of prison fare,
  For what chills and kills outright
Is that every stone one lifts by day
  Becomes one’s heart by night.

With midnight always in one’s heart,
  And twilight in one’s cell,
We turn the crank, or tear the rope,
  Each in his separate Hell,
And the silence is more awful far
  Than the sound of a brazen bell.

And never a human voice comes near
  To speak a gentle word:
And the eye that watches through the door
  Is pitiless and hard:
And by all forgot, we rot and rot,
  With soul and body marred.

And thus we rust Life’s iron chain
  Degraded and alone:
And some men curse, and some men weep,
  And some men make no moan:
But God’s eternal Laws are kind
  And break the heart of stone.

And every human heart that breaks,
  In prison-cell or yard,
Is as that broken box that gave
  Its treasure to the Lord,
And filled the unclean *****’s house
  With the scent of costliest nard.

Ah! happy day they whose hearts can break
  And peace of pardon win!
How else may man make straight his plan
  And cleanse his soul from Sin?
How else but through a broken heart
  May Lord Christ enter in?

And he of the swollen purple throat.
  And the stark and staring eyes,
Waits for the holy hands that took
  The Thief to Paradise;
And a broken and a contrite heart
  The Lord will not despise.

The man in red who reads the Law
  Gave him three weeks of life,
Three little weeks in which to heal
  His soul of his soul’s strife,
And cleanse from every blot of blood
  The hand that held the knife.

And with tears of blood he cleansed the hand,
  The hand that held the steel:
For only blood can wipe out blood,
  And only tears can heal:
And the crimson stain that was of Cain
  Became Christ’s snow-white seal.


VI

In Reading gaol by Reading town
  There is a pit of shame,
And in it lies a wretched man
  Eaten by teeth of flame,
In burning winding-sheet he lies,
  And his grave has got no name.

And there, till Christ call forth the dead,
  In silence let him lie:
No need to waste the foolish tear,
  Or heave the windy sigh:
The man had killed the thing he loved,
  And so he had to die.

And all men **** the thing they love,
  By all let this be heard,
Some do it with a bitter look,
  Some with a flattering word,
The coward does it with a kiss,
  The brave man with a sword!
Haydn Swan Mar 2016
touch the steel,
cold, hard and  unforgiving,
like the life I have led,
yet in this moment of quiet contemplation
it seems strangely comforting,
sure and steadfast under my feet,
the sweat and toil of this vast construction,
lives that have given themselves to the quest,
yet I now find myself at one with this web of steel,
my only friend when no one heard my call,
cold, wet steel and the vast dark sky,
to this strange connection I must now say goodbye,
the time has come, my leap of faith.
I wrote this as I was touched by the recent suicide of a local girl who committed suicide by jumping off a bridge. RIP x
King Panda Jul 2017
dragonflies melt
into each other.
flowers meld
shaded silver
upon silver.
string whips of
cotton float by like jacks
thrown by children,
unsusceptible to
the force of gravity.

the mechanics of
heart machines
crank awake.

steel knees bend dull and
swollen.

venetian mask with
sterling tongue
skims the tops
of tiny toes
and errantly spring-ed
grasshoppers..

warm bodies
in bubbling steel
meadow—
cool in nature,
stolen like
gold
crafted and
crafted again
in heat.
Skye Childs Jul 2014
We all need our walls
They keep out that which is unwanted

So, you ***** a simple structure of wood

But wood can be burned
And is therefore, insufficient

So, you build it up with brick
Encasing either side

But brick can be crushed to powder
And wood can be burned
And is therefore, insufficient

So, you build it up with granite stone
Encasing either side

But granite stone can be mined away
And brick can be crushed to powder
And wood can be burned
And is therefore, insufficient

So, you build it up with wrought iron
Encasing either side

But wrought iron breaks if struck in the right place
And granite stone can be mined away
And brick can be crushed to powder
And wood can be burned
And is therefore, insufficient

So, you build it up with four-inch steel
Encasing either side

But four-inch steel can be cut away
And wrought iron breaks if struck in the right place
And granite stone can be mined away
And brick can be crushed to powder
And wood can be burned
And is therefore, insufficient.

But then you ponder
The wood
The brick
The granite
The iron
The steel

And you realize
In trying to protect your soft core
In trying to spare others from the radiation that is your uniqueness
In building your fortress
You have isolated yourself

And though you feel your wall
Will always be insufficient

In truth

Nobody
Will ever be determined enough
Or brave enough
To cut away the four-inch steel
To strike and break the iron
To mine away the granite stone
To crush the brick to powder
To burn the wood
And crush the brick to powder
And mine away the granite stone
And strike and break the iron
And cut away the four-inch steel

In keeping others out
You have locked yourself in
Your own private, frozen hell
Of toxic radiation

The ice consumes you
And only you can thaw it
The wall looms tall and dark
And only you can demolish it
You cannot stop being who you are
And only you can convince yourself that you are not toxic

But you were never truly trying to keep others out, were you?
You were trying to keep out yourself

You are your own worst enemy
Jay 1988 Aug 2016
Daniel left for work, late last night
Past the rusty cars and sports hall clubs where fat Eddie Shaw got his title fight
Walking the streets, lunch box in hand, through the hard metal gates where the gate house sits
Through the entrance of the steel mills land
There’s a furnace over there blasting out smoke but is smoke all its making?
There’s some politician sitting in his executive suite always just taking
Like you give your life and blood to these mills but it’s never really going to be enough
When times are good my god they’re great but when they’re bad they’re awful tough
Tonight I saw the steelers come from the mills like a snake from beneath a rock
Such empty eyes trying to read past the Westminster lies wondering how much more work he’s got
Then they fall through the floodgates with banners in their hand chanting please don’t close our mills
I’ve a wife at home, and some children to keep, I’ve got a mortgage, I’ve got bills
Into the Concast plant where Big max stands with sweat dripping from his hand
There’s something wrong, is there a conspiracy, is our fate already planned ?
And little Tommy McCann on his first school trip was told this mill’s where your grandfather worked
They want to close it down, his legacy will be lost, they want to raise this mill to the earth
Maybe in some office there’s a plan on it’s way
But it’s getting too late, save our children they say
And the workers who worked there working life at these works still pleading something needs to be done
Daniel he walked into the smoke of the four queens, towering over the houses and chimney stacks, have you ever seen them
Into the furnace, he shelters from the rain, looks up to the stars over the steel town that’ll never be the same
And he remembers as a boy he’d sit on the knee of his grandpa below the pipe from his lips as he choked
Grandpa rubbed my back, his lips pressed to my ear and told me one day you’ll taste the furnace smoke
You see in this town there’s nothing else around and my boy it’s a done deal
The tracks the trains roll on and supports that hold up the towers are all built from this towns steel
One day Daniel you’ll take your place in the line like me and my daddy before me
And when you have some kids they too will work the mills and you can tell them all my steelmaking story’s
Like when I was thirteen years old and watched a man go cold after getting covered in molten metal
And the way the furnace roars then settles down, the Devils cry from hell
Back in the cold air, on top of the furnace, a shooting star shot past him and upon it he made a wish
My grandpa died, back in 93
although I miss him I’m pleased he’s gone so he don’t have to see
The closing of the mills and the tears in the eyes of all the desperate men
Telling their wife and kids they can’t pay the bills and can’t pay the rent
Daniels sixty three now, the mills closed a long time ago
Sits his grandchildren on his frail knees and tells them of the town that once blew smoke
And they stare at him, with amazement in their eyes,
Daniel’s getting ready for work back at the convenience store but his heart’s grown weary and tired
Long after I’m gone remember the words I tell about the mighty steel mills
My darling grandson keep safe those stories, promise grandpa that you will
They were a sacred land in the middle of a town and they should never have closed the beautiful place down
And now all that’s left of the mills and where they stood is some open grass field
Iron and steel hugging the sky
Footsteps on the sidewalk all faded black
The train and cars are rushing by
With faces that are never coming back

The lights never die, the frost takes hold
Sitting on the corner of the block
Clutching my paper cup in the cold
The people always pass, but they never stop

Iron and steel hugging the sky
The rays of sun are so far above
Watching the pigeons as they try to fly
Sitting on the pavement waiting for love

The lights never die, I breathe in the air
Shadows of hope grants me some bread
They wonder how much longer I'll be sitting here
and I´m thinking maybe until I'm dead

Iron and steel hugging the sky
I'm just dealing with the hand I was dealt
Been long since I stopped asking myself why
Now I just worry about when the snow will melt

The lights never die, another coin in my cup
I smile as she disappears into the crowd
Thank you my dear, but it´s never enough
The shouts from the penniless are always too loud
February 18, 2015
Rewind this memoir back to my first foster home.   I’m reclining on the couch in the living room watching Superman, a whatever's-on-tv-saturday-afternoon-movie.   "Give A Little Bit" played from the soundtrack.  The Supertramp song reached out from the screen and into my own complicated teen-aged life.  Oh the words of that song blindsided me, hit me hard in the chest with a sad yearning, an emotion I had ignored forever like that elephant in the room too big to push out the door.  Because life was so hard, too hard, and lonely on and on, and the world gives only just enough that you keep breathing, but you wonder why.  Yes, please  someone  give just a little....
But at the time I hadn't known anything else and I just stuffed that overwhelming sad lonely feeling.  Too much need wears out a welcome in someone else's home.  It seemed most everyone else had family, security, some money for perhaps things like a pair of cleats to run in school track if you have the desire. Its called belonging or opportunity and I was acutely aware I wouldn't have it.

Fast forward 25 years; business for my glass art studio is rewarding.  I live in Cleveland, or what I called Purgatory.  I like the city though; I think the motto should be "Its Not That Bad."  A tough steel town, unpretentious to a fault, tenacious, it inspired the Clean Water Act because the river was so polluted it   caught   on   fire.  People who live there just don't quit, except that the biggest export is young people. The streets are eerily empty, the quiet steel mills are epic sculptures of rust.  But its not that bad.  Now they make a tasty beer called Burning River.  Sometimes they gamble on unconventional ideas because they've reached the end of status-quo.  One can even surf there, when the wind blows a Nor'easter in the fall, just before the lake freezes. The wave break is nicknamed "Sewer Pipe"; one can imagine why.

I biked with a club there; cycling part of my life-blood.  Life was pretty good, blessed with measures of contentment and happiness and family, even through so many challenges.  Except I'm stuck pedaling a trainer in the basement most of the long winter.  It was during an endless, gray February that I was inspired by an idea: a Velodrome.  Its one of those banked tracks people in America only see during the Olympics.  Cover it, and people could have a bicycle park all year-round with palm trees in the winter, in Cleveland.  Its a blast of a sport with serious American heritage.  A velodrome is a place where all a kid has to do is show up and with enough heart he or she can make it to the Olympics.  They wouldn't need money, just 100% heart.  It would be the kind of opportunity I didn't have when I was a kid.

So I decided to take on the responsibility to build one... not to be afraid of the price tag, or how to do it, or let a label like "disabled veteran with a head injury" daunt me.  I figured my role was to get the project started and motivate others to do other parts.  I decided not to discuss my shortcomings, introduce myself with that label, or use it as a disclaimer.   As many times as I wished I had a chalkboard sign around my neck saying, Please excuse the mess, I had to tell myself it was not an excuse.
There would need to be many others; but the fact that I knew only a dozen people on the planet didn't stop me either.  Two people inspired me.  Kyle MacDonald had a dream to barter a paper clip for something better, trading that for something else, anything else, until he had a house.  I thought I could start with an old laptop, a couple thousand dollars, and my idea. I'd work to leverage each bit of progress, not knowing what they were yet.  Thats how anything gets done, right?  Erik Weihenmayer is a blind alpine mountain climber, conquering even Everest.  He didn’t let anyone convince him what he couldn’t do, and didn’t let impairments keep him from his goal.  He didn't let blindness, the fact that he couldn't see the top as well as others, make the goal any less enjoyable for himself.  Also, there’s no way he could have done it without help.

There are no business plans for a Velodrome or someone else would have built more of them already.  I'm good at figuring things out, what with having to relearn things all the time.  I don't quit because that has never seemed to be an option.  Resourcefulness is my middle name, having to put my life back together every year or so.  Certainly the project was eccentric but as an artist I've never really cared about what others thought.  I certainly didn't have a reputation for sanity to maintain.  Professionally, I’ve had experience with so many factors of development: from paperwork at the back end as a Project Assistant, to designing it as a Mechanical Drafter, to constructing it as a Steel Detailer.  I understood this project.

Every time I discovered something needed to be done, I'd figure out how to do it.  I took an online tutorial and put together a website, attended communication seminars for better speaking skills, learned how to recruit a Board of Directors, took classes for fundraising, won a few grants, and started a non-profit.  I had to buy a couple of suits for meetings.  I kept hoping someone who knew what they were doing would take over, but that never seemed to materialize.  What I thought would be a few months turned into several hard years of work, learning new things on the fly like politics, business etiquette, computer programs, how to understand and write financials and business plans for stadiums.

It felt like cramming for finals, taking exams for classes I never attended.  I didn’t just burn my candle on both ends, I was torching it in the middle too.  Every challenge I had ever gone through seemed like it was a preparation for this one.  Many times I wondered if it was all for nothing; so many dead ends and frustrations and years where the project was barely on life-support.  Mistakes and wrong turns making people mad, losing faith in me.  Would it ever really happen?  I kept imagining what my bike wheels would look like under my handlebars as if I was ridiing on the track, listening to the same particular songs on my ipod for motivation.

A small tangent here, a digression back to the fifth grade and my favorite teacher.  He was about as tall as his students.  Mr.A (our nickname for Mr. Anderson) was a barrel-chested little person but I didn't notice it till years later because he was so cool.  He was the first teacher, the first person actually, who encouraged me to be myself.  I was a little kid, a couple years advanced and bright enough to be skipped again.  Tthat would have been ridiculous since I was already too small.  I would get my work done early in class, and he would let me spend time doing whatever, encouraging my creativity.  I distinctly remember making little scale models of parks out of construction paper.  I would start by making a rectangular tray, and then fill it in with ponds, benches, and oval or figure-8 tracks for bicycles, elevated roller-coaster paths for walking.  It was my way of creating a whimsical place that felt good in my difficult life.  No lie, I was building bicycle tracks when I was 9.  That memory faded away until I was several years into the actual Velodrome project, trying create a light-hearted park on the edge of a ghetto.  This was my life's ultimate Art Project; made with wood, steel, and tenacity.  It made me wonder about a life's purpose... still just a what if... but cruel if there wasn't anything to it.

There is a necessary role for the dreamer.  Visionaries help to break status quo, introduce new solutions.  Sorting through the banal with unique perspective, the random is reassembled into intriguing newness.  What is creative nature?  Is it obsession to improve things, the need for approval, resourcefulness within limits, or perspective outside boundaries?   Is it tenacity to the point of obsession, focus to the point of selfishness?  

Thankfully, a few devoted people did take over after a few years and worked hard to raise the serious money.  In 2012, Phase 1 of the Cleveland Velodrome opened to the public.  Presently they are raising funds for Phase 2 to cover it.   By chance I was there the day the track was finished and got a chance to ride it.  All I wanted to do was one thing: listen to those songs on my ipod and see my wheels under the handlebars on the track... in reality.  I didn't want to race or be recognized at some celebration.  I just wanted to ride a few laps, happy just to have a role in building it.  In less than a year there are already training programs, youth cycling classes, and teams competing.  Through community grants and volunteers, its all free to anyone under 18.  

Not to be forgotten, some thanks should go to one supportive teacher who helped a scrappy kid dream.    Schools measure math and science so valuable, for good reason.  But this favors one brain’s side of thinking.  Initiating and working for the construction of an urban renewal project and improving a neighborhood is traceable to the exact same idea assembled with clumsy school scissors, white glue, and construction paper, during 5th grade free time.

I can't wait to hear the news of some tough kid from East Cleveland getting to the Olympics.
Yoni Sav Apr 2014
I hold the razor in my right hand
shaking, like I always do
I drench the metal in my flesh
feel the pain I am so used to

The shaking stops
my mind is clear
I drop the blade
escape with fear

What have I done?

I try to hide but I am bare
the evidense are there:
My right hand smell of steel
my left hand taste of it
Audrey Apr 2014
Delicately pink hearts gently unfurl
From nests of lively minds;
There is nothing weak about Southern women
We are supposed to wear ugly dresses,
Enamel bugs,
French scarves that wrap around and
Tie us all together from the inside out
Football and sassy new haircuts might not make faces look younger,
But they can lift spirits
And just because you spend all day advising others
Of their secret trials
Doesn't mean that you can hold your family in a cage,
Golden and happy though you may want things to be.
Remember that if you feel new, an outsider,
Your personal tragedies seeming too much to bear,
You will always find comfort in laughter
Especially if laughter through tears is your favorite emotion.
You might not pick up boys or money,
But friendship steeps in small salons
Like sweet tea.
Prickly sarcasm and pessimism aren't always the hallmarks
Of a heart devoid of caring,
It's just a natural response after two deadbeat husbands and
Three ungrateful children; somewhere in all of it is a promise
Of hope.
And even in a barren womb new life is discovered,
And even in death joy is found,
And even through pain,
Sisterhood blooms,
Delicate steel petals enveloping grieving hearts.

— The End —