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Mike Hauser Oct 2013
I'm the caretaker of a lonely lighthouse
On the shore of a small New England town
Not much here has ever happened
That is until Stephen came around

For weeks now I've been haunted
By the ghost of Stephen King
I'm quite sure that he's still alive
Which makes this very strange indeed

At first he wasn't doing much
Rattled chains, walked through walls like any ole ghost
Then Stephen discovered the roaming light
That I shine up and down the coast

Now his favorite pass time every night
Until the break of dawn
Is to make shadow puppets in the light
I don't have the nerve to tell his ghost it's wrong

Yes, Stephen King loves his shadow puppets
On the jagged rocks below displayed
Butterflies and puppy dogs
Is Stephen's ghosts forte

But all the puppy dogs have monster heads
And the butterflies giant bat wings
I guess you just can't help yourself
When your the Ghost of Stephen King

This lighthouse is no longer lonely
Since Stephen King's ghost did arrive
I'm still not sure how he does it
Cause I'm quite sure Stephen King is still alive
Mike Hauser Mar 2013
I'm the caretaker of a lonely lighthouse
On the edge of a small New England town
Not much here has ever happened
That is until Stephen came around

For weeks now I've been haunted
By the ghost of Stephen King
I'm quite sure that he is still alive
Which makes this very strange indeed

At first he wasn't doing much
Rattled chains, walked through walls like a normal ghost
Then Stephen discovered the roaming light
That I shine up and down the coast

Now his favorite pastime every night
Until the break of dawn
Is to make shadow puppets in the light
I don't have the nerve to tell his ghost  it's wrong

Yes, Stephen loves his shadow puppets
On the jagged rocks below displayed
Butterflies and puppy dogs
Is Stephen's ghost's forte

But all the puppy dogs have monster heads
And the butterflies giant bat wings
I guess you just can't help yourself
When your the ghost of Stephen King

This light house is no longer lonely
Since Stephen Kings ghost did arrive
I'm still not sure how he does it
Since Stephen King is still alive
Mike Hauser Nov 2014
I'm the caretaker of a lonely lighthouse
On the shore of a small New England town
Not much here has ever happened
That is until Stephen came around

For weeks now I've been haunted
By the ghost of Stephen King
I'm quite sure that he's still alive
Which makes this very strange indeed

At first he wasn't doing much
Rattled chains, walked through walls like any ole ghost
Then Stephen discovered the roaming light
That I shine up and down the coast

Now his favorite pass time every night
Until the break of dawn
Is to make shadow puppets in the light
I don't have the nerve to tell his ghost it's wrong

Yes, Stephen King loves his shadow puppets
On the jagged rocks below displayed
Butterflies and puppy dogs
Is Stephen's ghosts forte

But all the puppy dogs have monster heads
And the butterflies giant bat wings
I guess you just can't help yourself
When your the Ghost of Stephen King

This lighthouse is no longer lonely
Since Stephen King's ghost did arrive
I'm still not sure how he does it
Cause I'm quite sure Stephen King is still alive
Brad Pietryga Jul 2012
Stephen, awake from your sleep
There is still business to attend.

It has been long since the world has put you to sleep
And longer still since you were made to attend
The stiff-necked meetings which denied the Holy Spirit
Any sort of hold over Death.

You were not chosen to preach the Word,
Nor to change the world with your life.
Yet, you did.
You did.

How did you fall asleep?
Awake, Stephen. Why have you gone?
Leaving us quickly, before your dawn.

Increasing in number, the people of God
Remembered that Word and Deed
Fulfilled every single need
That Moses wielded with his rod.

Not one of twelve, but one of seven,
Speaking of Spirits that remain unleavened.

Speak, Stephen, don't let us miss a word,
We are listening, among this angry horde.
We are listening.

Let them grind their teeth, I will sit back and cry,
As they close around you, each with a lie.

Speak, speak, speak.

The rocks, oh the rocks,
Why must you fly?
Let him shine through,
Oh God, let him shine through.

Stephen, awake from your sleep.
Stephen, awake.

I dare not disturb him, though silently he rests.
Amanda Edmonson Jan 2011
Stephen baby, as we walked the shore.
We talked about many things,
but i didn't say half what i planned on.
You always treat me like everything is good about me.
You always say that there is something worth looking for.

Stephen baby, when i look in your eyes,
There is just something about them that show the truth.
I want to kiss you in the pooring rain,
Kissing you is like the world stops.

Stephen baby, You make me smile every second.
When you grad the back of my head kissing, i feel something different.
When you look at me i feel wanted and needed.
When i say your name...i just can't believe your mine.

Stephen baby, when i think about the 6 months we have.
I know they will be the best moments of my life.
When i think of us together, it's pretty unbelievable.
When i think, im the one that gets to kiss you.
I get butterflies.
I know i'm the luckiest girl in the world (:

Stephen baby,
your mine, i'm yours.
Stephen baby.
to stephen frisbie
<3 my ex-boyfriend
you see Steven Bradley and ronnie biggs are destroying the world at the moment

through tornadoes and shark attacks and heat waves and a fire storm in victoria which the

rain couldn’t stop, despite how it stopped, and then ronnie really was having a field day

with the big heat waves attacking the homes of many innocent people, you see Greame Thornes

current life Brian Allan, went to the great ocean road in 2012 and steven bradley used his power

to make every home destroyed, fortunately none of the people died but they are homeless and

that can be worst, well they might not be homeless, but still steven and Ronnie are having a field day

killing off the entire world, and the great ocean road was only the start, you see steven bradley and

Ronnie biggs were starting to make a tornado siege in Texas and demolishing homes forcing people

to be homeless, and then Stephen Bradley said, I have you i have you i have you,if we make the USA

bad, we can make Cronus suffer, and making cronus suffer was the main answer, and then the death

of Stevie Wright, which was made so he can get his hands on ronnie biggs and Stephen Bradley and force them

down but in hindsight, they he can’t stop them alone, and that is what he killed his body, but he had a great life

singing the party anthem called Friday on my mind and Evie let your hair hands down, well he wasn’t the only singer

who died on their way to battle the deadly tornado, you see Lemmy from the band Motorhead was getting sick of the tornadoes in the world

and sang a song to rid the tornadoes away from the after life, here it is

please please please i want the tornado gone

i don’t care how long it takes, it just ain’t welcome here

you see what the world doesn’t know what i know since my death

that all the old criminals down there in christiean hell

are causing problems oh yeah, i want to bring peace

and i want the devil to be calmed

my music was heavy but i ain’t as bad as the great

roninie Biggs and Stephen Bradley, they caused a lot of problems

please people of the earth, please take procautions

if you want to save your home and not want these satan criminals to win, well fine

but the police aren’t against you, please save yourselves

and don’t put the evil ronnie ‘Biggs and Stephen Bradley into the the police mans voices

because dudes it’s hard you see

I am not at all happy oh no not me

you see these criminals were evil, and that is not like my music

we need to calm these christians who think loud music is the work of the devil

i think i see Ted Bundy, and he is still killing despite being dead

and osama is having a field day making you guys hate muslims

dudes, all this isn’t easy to beat, like my mate Stevie Wright from a a band called the easy beats

we need to get together and stop these evil criminals,

because the only way if we can find eternal happiness is if we all worked together

please please please stop all the world, like heal the world and make it a better place

for me and Stevie and the entire human race, and micheal Jackson who sang that wonderful song

make this universe stronger for you and me, and i must tell you, stop evil stop evil

stop the evil spirits from terrorising our world, you see as i played my guitar really loud to hopefully calm Ronnie and Stephen down

I know it’s the weather, and i know it ain’t believable, but believe me, i wanted to die, to save the world from evil spirits

and this is causing a lot of problems with every member of the earth, and the earth can be destroyed if we don’t stop the evil

the way you stop the evil is get yourself fixed and think about your actions and get rid of the brian Allan word protectaselfer, ya know

all they care about is protecting themselves and not give a **** about anyone else and Stevie Wright sang

we are going to have fun on new years eve la la la la la la la la la

get with the girls who are so pretty la la la la la

and don’t get too drunk man it’s not real cool, it just takes the man out of you

and as we are getting close to new years eve, we are hoping that nothing known to man takes away the problems of nye

and Lemmy and Stevie wright get together to create the peace of this entire earth, and tara is starting to cause problems

with the earth, saying our future is going to be bad, when the world is too wrong for Tara

so Lemmy from Motorhead and Stevie Wright gathered together on Jupiter where Stephen Bradley and Ronnie Biggs are

to force the tornadoes to not cause too many problems, but bad guys are powerful up here, and the best thing to do is

just be yourself and protect each other on earth and enjoy themselves and stop the reign of evil which is happening in the cosmos
Jodie LindaMae Nov 2014
The nights have become the most difficult
(Never sleep again, never rest again)
To manage.
Deeper, dreadfully
I soar into what I do not believe,
Into a pain much too real
And much more haunting
Than I have ever experienced.
The ghosts are back, Stephen,
They have returned to become the captain
Of my being,
To lust and breed and **** again.
I feign interest
And parry their blows back
Though my defenses are falling
And the blanket on my bed
Is never,
(Never sleep, never lay)
Ever quite long enough to cover me.
My worries today
Are an overheating boiler,

Pumping steam and pressure
Out of my jagged edges.

It is getting harder and harder to breathe.
Do you believe in God, Stephen?
I know Kubrick called you and asked the same
Many years before my birth,
But today I need your answer more than ever,
In that my every move seems to propel me
Into many-a-numbered
Ceiling and wall traps
And I am being crushed,
(Never sleep, never rest)
Soiled and trampled at the hand of fate.
I once thought myself too intelligent to believe,
But now I need a higher faith
If only to know that darkness is never truly darkness
And the candles I have left burning in my body
Will never be blown out.

Did you really see that boy,
That childhood friend of yours
Struck down by a train
In your ever so tender youth?
Was his blood and brain matter
What came to you in your darkest hour
As you wrote about presidential suites
And Danny Torrance seeing reverse ******
Played out in front of him for eternity?
Is ****** played out for eternity in your mind,
(Do you Shine, Stephen?)

They taught us about you in school, Stephen.
They made you out to be a God in yourself,
A novel machine
Intent on overpowering the industry
For your own gain and prosperity.
But those who read you,
(Those who know, those who feel)
Know you as a human.
You spirit, you singer,
You light of my life,
(You twisted man, you monster, you seer of sights)
You have kept the world alive
With sparks and shines
Under eyelids
For decades.

Stephen, I have stuck my hand in the wasp nest again.
Bring me your salvation.
Bring me
(Your understanding, your writer-virtue.)

And so I write to you today,
A young girl of but 18
With her own Shine set to murderous visions
And Terrifying conundrums.
My ghosts follow swiftly in my foot trails
And your novels warm my lap as I try
(So hard, so)
To hear your voice,
Bellowing with contempt,
Your tone so monotonous and
Matter of fact,
Even when speaking of such malicious things
I have to stop children from buying your movies at my job
Because I could get in trouble if they see
Jack Torrance kissing a decaying woman
Or Carrie being burned alive in her prayer closet.
(I could get in trouble with the law
If they see the truth you speak,
The tales of loss and preservation you weave.)

Because of you and the horror you have struck me with,
I leave the lights on.
I am fearful
(But so hopeful)
Within myself each day.

Because of you
I have seen men and women
Find peace
Within their own private Overlook Hotels
Housed deep and high
In the mountains of their own consciousness.
Because of you
I have found
(Breathe in, breathe out,
Nothing to see here)

In my self-contained
If Stephen King was black
Obama would not be president
Segregation would exist all over again
OJ would have gotten guilty without a trial
Except the black part would be technologically advanced
cars that navigate themselves
Sonic energy distribution
portable wings
the Rockateer would also therefore be black
Disney Land would be scary and real
Darwin would have been black
Go go Gadget’s engineer would be black
Malcolm X would have been mixed race
Carl Sagan ran the blackest gang in Oakland
If Stephen King was black
Stephen Hawkings is black too
Einstein invented Compton in ten minutes
On a coffee break
The bees Einstein was referring to are the African Killa bees
And Einstein was the father of Wu tang
Stephen Hawkings hangs out with Mike Tyson and Alicia Keys
The Black Panthers like every other morning in the blackest house Washington DC
Made me eggs benedict with fresh eggs and ham
Dr Seuss is therefore black by association
Aunt Jemima would run the FDA and tap maples trees in the Berkshires
But she is white now
America would turn a blind eye and play more volley ball
and in us
God would trust
Jeremy Duff May 2013
What bad could happen to a boy of sixteen, walking through the woods trying to find a nice spot to smoke and read Slaughterhouse-Five?
But now that I'm thinking about it, Stephen King may or may not have written a book about this exact question, more or less.
And as everyone who has read The Gunslinger Volume Six: Song of Sussanah, knows, everything Stephen King writes happens. Stephen King is God, in this sense.
Nevertheless, I found a nice spot, next to a dried out creek bed, complete with a gallon bucket and the scent of lavender.
And so I sat, and rolled a couple cigarettes, and dove into the mind and time traveling of Billy Pilgrim.

Sitting there, on that bucket, old Kurt spoke to me.
The previous owner of this copy of Slaughterhouse-Five also spoke to me.
With highlights and underlines he allowed me into his mind and thought processes while reading this book.
He underlined every passage that had to do with the Tralfamadorians views on time and the coexistence of every moment.

Soon, it became dark and I could no longer read, having only one cigarette left, I headed home.
Fifteen minutes later I was home, and if Stephen King had written about this event he wrote it as it happened. With no harm and no foul.
And maybe I dislike him for that
and maybe I don't understand why he did that,
why he would wrote a boring tale of a boring boy going on a boring walk in some boring Northern California forest.
And this writing does not feel complete but the Pabst is starting to kick in so I think I'll leave this one alone for now.
And Stephen King **** it, I can't even think of a title for this *******.
Nevermind, I got it.
Big Virge Oct 2014
EVERYDAY ... In this country ....
They're telling us ... LIES ... !!!!!
from Thatcher ... to ... Blair ....
To ... "Good Old" ... "HESELTINE" .....
So let me explain ....
why i've put this in rhyme ....
The army's had ... SECRETS ...
THEY ... "DON'T" ... talk about ... !!!
So read these words ... CLOSELY ... !!!
cos' now ... it's come ... " OUT " ... !!!
Policies on recruitment ....
were .... "STRICTLY" .... Defined ....
Black soldiers ... WEREN'T ... Welcome ... !!!!!
on ... "WHITE" .... Army Lines ...
They say it's been happening ...
But somehow ... i'm thinking ...
it's been ... "ALL THE TIME" ....
This to me though ... is ... COOL ... !!!
and is ... NO SURPRISE ... !!!!!
it's just .... POSITIVE PROOF ....
of the ... LIES ... they've disguised ... !!!!!
as a youthful ... PROUD BLACK ... !!!!!
I REMEMBER ..... THE HATRED ..... !!!
and .... Racial Attacks .... !!!
There was ... "NEVER" ... ANY BLACK
in the ... UNION JACK ... !!!!!
These ... UNCLE TOM ... Blacks ....
Should ... "REMEMBER" ... THAT ... !!!!
They like to suggest ....
Black people are ... "*****" ... !!!
Well, YES ... that is ... TRUE ...
"SOME" ... Black people ... ARE ... !!!
But it's ... WHITE GIRLS ... I see ....
who like ... "****" ...
Up Their ... **** ... !!!!!!
So ...........
for them .... to say ....
English people ... have ... " CLASS " ... !?!?!
is just ... "ONE MORE LIE" ....
and is truly .... A .... FARCE !!!!!!
Now this thing with ... "Armed Forces"
NOT wanting ... "us ... BLACKS" ... !!!!!
is ... "Cool with me !!!" ... but ... !!!???!!!
when ... MUSLIMS ... " ATTACK " ....
They'd better believe .....
They should ... COVER ...
Their Backs ... !!!!!
Cos' ... THE TRUTH ... is out now ...
and this ... I DO ... BACK ... !!!!
The Army ... SHOULD ...
...... " ETHNICALLY " ......
Cleanse OUT ... The Blacks .... !!!!!!!!!!
Oh they'll be ... ALRIGHT ... !!!
when their army's ... ALL WHITE ... !!!
So to those who hate ... ******* ...
have a read of ... The Words ...
in the ... FOLLOWING ... Verse ...
Go fight your own fights ... !!!!!
cos' Black people have died ....
"PROTECTING" ... YOU Whites ... !!!!!
who suggest that ... us ... BLACKS ....
Shouldn't have ... Civil Rights ... !!!!!!!
My feeling is that .....
whose family ... "SUFFERED" ...
from an ... English Law ... CON ... !!!
Film footage did show ....
Those White .... HOOLIGANS .... !!!!!!
were ... READY ... to ... **** ... !!!
Any Black ... and just ... Run ...!!!...
But when court time came ....
They were given ... FREEDOM ... !???!
Well ....
To Stephen's ... DAD ...
and to ... Stephen's ... MUM ...
I'm writing this verse ....
cos' the way it was ... Handled ...
was ... "TOTALLY" ... " WRONG " ... !!!!!!
See .... The BBC showed ....
How .... Police Training ... goes !!!
That ... " Racists " ... get recruited ... !!!
and ... "WELCOMED" ... to the ... FOLD ... !!!!!
But People ... Only Know ...
cos' the ... "HIDDEN CAM" ... Showed ...
that .... RACISM'S .... hidden ....
like ... "COVETED" ... Gold ....
and that's when ... THE RACISTS ...
be acting .... ALL BOLD .... !!!!!
But catch them ....
on ... Their Own ...
when their ... "BNP Buddies" ...
are sitting ... AT HOME ... !!!
In Black Company ....
They're in ... " THE DEADZONE " ... !!!!!
They Quickly ... Transform ...
into .... " ALI G ... mode " .... !!!
"I've got LOADS of Black friends ...
so ... what's happening bro !!!???!!!"
Meantime we are told ....
"EQUALITY" ..... is in sight .... !!!
Now I ... DON'T LIKE ... using
"EXPLETIVES" .... when I write ... !!! ...
But ... i've got to say ... THIS ...
"That ain't ... ******* RIGHT ... !!!!!"
So ...  i'm fighting ...
...... RACISM ......
These Days ......
when I ... WRITE ...
while Police just ... DELIGHT ...
in ... beating Black Folks ....
til they're .............
"BLACKER than ....
NIGHT" .... !!!!!
Can this really be right ... !!!?!!!
These ... RACIST ... whites .... ARE ....
OHhhhhhh ...... Soooo ..... POLITE ... !!!
But ...
Don't want to ... "INVITE" ...
A time or place ....
where ... BLACK and WHITE ...
Can ... Try to... "UNITE" ......
But .... it's okay now ....
cos' Blacks be acting like ... Whites ....
now they're in the ... " LIMELIGHT " ...
Every ******* ... is ... "BLINGING" ....
with ... Custom Made ... Jewellery ...
"Correction" ..... ofcourse ....
that line should say .... "ICE" ....
See ... we ... DON'T ... Talk About....
Our .... "HUMAN" .... BLACK LICE ... !?!?!?!
Those ... " KILLING " ... Their Brothers ....
just for a slice ....
.... of ....
" Uncle Sam's Pie " ......
Well ....
The same rules ... apply ... !!!
The U.S. .... just wants them ...
to ... lay down ... and ... DIE ... !!!
cos' they ... Like The ... " British " ...
are just ... " FULL OF LIES " .... !!!!!
The UK's what ... I know ...
but this ... " LIE " .... Titled Prose ....
just goes to show .....
whether ...  HERE or THERE ....
The same **** ... flows ... !!!!!!!!!
From the ... LIES ... that they feed ....
to ... THOSE TRUTHS ... still ...
.............  "UNTOLD" ................ ???????
But ... NOW ... we've been told ....
Will Blacks ... "BREAK THE MOULD ?"
Well .... Probably ... NOT ... !!!?!!!
cos' ... most now ... have ... SOLD ...
Their ... TRUE SELVES ... behind ...
cos' now ... they're ... refined ...
and are ... STUCK ... in a Bind ...
B'cos' ... what they've ... Believed ...
Now ... leaves them ... " BEHIND " ...
THAT ...  Rock and Hard Place ... !!!
with visions ... " MISPLACED " ...
without .... recognizing ....
"NEW PROBLEMS" .... we face ... !!!
cos' ... White Moguls ... now know ...
what makes ... "*******" ... Break ... !!!
A Nice ..... Fancy Car .....
and .... *** .... on a plate ... !!!!!!
So ... YES ... Some DUMB ...
........ " ******* !!!" ..........
have ... Quickly ... got ... A.I.D.S .... !!!!!
cos' of ****** ... they've been ...
.......... " Bedding !!! " ..........
by their ... New ... Fireplace ... !!!
whilst telling ..... "LIES" ..... !!!
to their ..... Wives ......
Maaaannn .........
That ... ****'s ... A DISGRACE ... !!!!!
See ... this is a ... Trait ...
that now makes me ... Irate ... !!!!!
Some White Girls be .... "ACTING" ...
like .... "Black men are ... GREAT" ... !!!
But .......
"CANNOT" ..... take them ....
back to .... "Daddy's Place" ... !!!?!!!
cos' ... The Truth ...
then comes ... OUT ... !!!
They'd get a ... SLAP ... !!!
in their ..... FACE ..... !!!!!!!!!
B'cos daddy's ... Not Happy ... !!!!!
with the thought of his daughter ...
as a lamb to ... "BLACK SLAUGHTER" ....
cos' ... sounds that she's making ....
Sounds like *** ...
is ... " Pure TORTURE !!!!! "
and that's when his ...
"Lies and Untruths"
get ........ "Found Out"  ... !!!
cos' now her ... Black Boyfriend ....
gets treated like ... "GOUT" ... !!!
See ... These ... are the ... "LIES" ...
We ... "DON'T" ... talk about ... !!!
But ... This is ... "THE TRUTH" ....
coming out of ... My Mouth ...
or ... if you're a ... Reader ...
Yes .... Out of ... MY HANDS ...
Just think about this ......
and you'll ..... "OVERSTAND" ... !!!
that ... LYING .... comes easy ... to ...
..... "TRUE" ..... Englishman ... !!!
But .... LYING .....
...... to me .....
I now ... "OVERSTAND" ... !!!
It's fed ... YES ... to ... Man ...
and ... YES ... to ... Woman ...
to keep us from being ....
" UNITED " .....
..... as ......
" PEOPLE " .....
These things ...
" I BELIEVE ! " ....
have always been ...
cos' if people .... "UNITE" ....
The Divisions .... would ....
............. " DIE " .................
and then ...
People Like ..... "YOU" ......
and ... People Like ... " I " ...
could ... finally see ...
"THE TRUTH" ....
From the ...
.... " LIES " ....
Peace y'all and Recognise !!!!!
Seems like the Brits aren't the only ones, but, they do like to tell some whoppers !!!!!
Higgs Apr 2013
I live
In a parallel universe
On a different Earth
And in a different time.

I live in a building
Designed by a man called

Stephen Lawrence

You've probably heard of him
Most people have.

This building was his first.
Built many years ago,
When he was still in his thirties.

You see,
Is not an easy career choice.
It's a tough degree
And even if you're one of the very best,
It still takes a lot of time, dedication
And, yes, maybe a bit of luck
To make your mark.

Stephen was determined
And kept going,
No matter what.

And this
Is where it all began.
And that's why the sightseers come.
And the students,
With their cameras.

To be honest,
It can get a bit annoying.
But I shouldn't complain.
I knew it was a famous building when I moved here.
That's WHY I moved here!

I overhear them sometimes,
Comparing theories about possible influences.

Richard Rogers?
Norman Foster?
Terry Farrell?

I even heard somebody claim
That he could see traces
Of Quinlan Terry!
Not sure I can...

But there's one thing we can all agree on.
It definitely shows the beginnings
Of the "Lawrence" style.

Of course,
It's not quite on the same scale
As the buildings he's become more famous for,
In Paris,
And New York,
And Mumbai.

And what about all those in China?
That's where he spends most of his time these days.
He's a busy man.

But, occasionally
You might spot him here.

I met him once.
Nice guy.
Told me he likes to pop back here from time to time
For sentimental reasons.

Likes to speak to the students.
Gives them all words of encouragement!
I suppose that's why some of them come.
Just on the off chance.

There's no two ways about it.

In MY world,
When you mention the name
Stephen Lawrence
People think of


And nothing else.
Apologies to those who have read this before but tomorrow marks the twentieth anniversary of a terrible crime which had enormous repercussions for Britain. The case raised serious questions about the conduct of the Metropolitan Police and prompted a significant change to the English legal system.

For those who are not familiar with the background to this, Stephen Lawrence was a black teenager who was brutally murdered by a racist gang on April 22nd, 1993.

Stephen wanted to be an architect.
John F McCullagh May 2016
Sara and Stephen were of a marked race,
living at the wrong time, and in the wrong place.
When ****** took power, they eased each other’s fears.
“Germany is civilized, It can’t happen here.”

When the Chancellor railed against gypsies and Jews
“ He’s just playing politics” was their commonsense view.
Yet hatred took root; the brown shirts had free run
And the voters had cause to rue what they had done.

****** came for their guns and they meekly complied.
Few then thought to resist the strong onrushing tide.
“The Police will protect us, Sara, my dear.”
“This is Beethoven’s birthplace; it can’t happen here.”

Those were very hard times, the worst we ever saw.
Rich Jews were resented for the furs that they wore.
“They cost us the war, they are traitors, it’s clear.”
“Sara, don’t worry, it can’t happen here.”

The foes of this Chancellor disappeared in the night
And he started to speak of a thousand year *****.
He censored the newspapers; both Left and Right.
And glass littered the streets one November night.

With Hindenburg dead, who was there left to stand?
Who had will to resist that warped little man?
Perves wore Triangles, Juden wore stars
Both lost their rights under Germany’s laws.

Sara and Stephen were loaded, like freight,
on a train bound for Dachau by command of the State.”
I’m sure we’ll be freed, Sara, my dear.”
We’re a civilized race, this can’t happen here.”

Stephen worked as a slave but at least stayed alive.
He was freed by the Russians in May, Forty five.
Sara, his wife, had a far crueler fate;
She was sent to the showers by the ****’s mandate.

Back in Berlin, Stephen saw with his own eyes
that the “Thousand year *****” was a tissue of lies
First pillaged by brown shirts, then bombed in the war
Stephen thought” This isn’t home anymore.”

Now Stephen is old, living here in the States.
He looks with dismay at these two candidates.
It seems like a nightmare he lived through before.
A crisis is coming and there will be war.
A historical allegory of sorts.
History doesn't repeat exactly but sometimes it rhymes.
Jared Eli Sep 2013
Joey Comeau
Writes things I sometimes don't understand
They're like little bones in a tiny
Bat skeleton
I don't know what they mean
Or what they do
Or how they fit in the whole scheme of things
But they make me feel powerful
And that's mostly good

Joey writes sentences that start with
"I want to"
And end with things like
"Break into an old lady's house and tell her I am the FBI"
He writes sentences that make me think
Of all the things I want to do
I want to crash my private helicopter
Into the side of a mountain
But escape just in time
I want to write like Joey
Simple sentences that hold the world in their hands
And crush it a little
Just because

Stephen King
Writes books that sometimes scare me
Right back to the second trimester
Right back to fetal position in the womb
But he tells the stories so well
The actions are so true
I believe them all
And I know I'd never be the hero in a horror story
(I'll be dead in the first twenty minutes of the film)
But I get excited at the prospect of reading
Because it requires less running on my part

Stephen wrote of his drug addiction
And his mom's cancer
And his ****** jobs
And his alcoholism
And his multiple failures before his success
And his loving wife
And it made me think
That even though I'm an itty bitty little person
With but one life to give for this universe
Maybe, just maybe
I can make it
In some scheme of things
If i lose you i will never be the same anymore,
i will lose my best friend , my soul mate, my smile , my laugh and everything. Once i lose you there will be no more sunlight , no clear skies, just like the clouds my eyes will do the same cry until you make the tears go away, if you walk away it will rain.
I cannot lose you because if i lost you everything would be meaningless,I wandered into the darkness looking for something to bring happiness to my life, something real. I found you and ill be ****** if i lose you. You mean more to me then you'll ever know! I've fallen so hard for you, that if i ever lose you, ill lose myself. If you were a tear i would never dare to cry. I might lose you ! I don't think you'll ever understand how afraid i am of losing you Stephen <3
My worst fear is losing you </3
Maybe im scared because you mean more to me than any other person. You are everything i think about, everything i need and everything i want.
Stay. No matter how hard it is being with me, just stay. I need you!
I get jealous very often, i get jealous so easily and its only because i dont want to lose you <3
Even though i know things won't always last forever, I want to have you for as long as i can. Youre the one who brought the happy feeling inside me again. i haven't felt like this since i was a kid when my family would make me laugh , and i dont think ill ever want to lose my happiness again. Please don't go anytime soon. You make me really happy and i cant risk losing someone like you.
My nightmares are usually about losing you, I don't want us to be strangers again. I dont want to lose you after all weve been through, all the pain we push past , all those beautiful memories.
Promise me, promise me youll never leave.
I dont wanna lose you baby, please dont ever let me.
You see i love you and i dont want to lose you because my life has been better since i found you <3
Donall Dempsey Feb 2019

backstage: Romeo
tries it on
Juliet 'its 'im 'ard

the slap
shocks the extras
they pause mid-make-up

Juliet's received pronunciation
slips back into her native Cockney
Romeo told to go forth and multiply

anyway, Paris is
more her type and
oooh his *** in ahhhh...those tights

she winces with each kiss
taste of cigarettes

an audience applauds
the curtain falls
glad to be just Jane again

she takes time
to un-Shakespeare her self
boy but she could ****** a kebab

Romeo: once again Andy
her ex & yes yes
she wants *** but...not with him

Paris: now Peter
gives her a saucy wnk
"Hmm!" she thinks "Hmmm!"

she imagines him
nakedly mad for her
sans tights...sans everything

alas that wink was
for Tybalt...*******
another night in bed with

- Stephen King.
I was at a garden party dahling and an actor was amazed that I would know Coward's Sail Away and be able to sing it. He then told a story of Stephen Sondheim chastising him for destroying his leading lady's(the actor's wife ) composure on first night by having an affair with some less than leading lady. So I guess it goes for the big guy's too....all the world's a stage I guess.
Big Virge Sep 2014
"Based on True Events...."  
In memory of .... Stephen Lawrence
So the time had come  
for them to be judged ...  
for what they'd done ...  
Dobson & Norris  
****** ... Most Horrid ... !!!!!  
A knife to the heart ...  
of young Stephen Lawrence  
because of his ... "caste" ...  
the night was ... Dark ...  
just like ... his skin ...  
and this is where ...  
this story begins ...  
At first it was ... five ...  
who they thought used the knife  
that took Stephens' life ... !!!!!  
Back in .... "97" .....  
it was deemed that the bedlam ....  
was ... racism levelled ...  
by these five ... White Devils ...  
Acourt & two Knights ...  
completed the five ...  
but .......  
back then it was said  
not enough ... "Evidence" ...  
had been brought to trial ...  
to enforce ... convictions ...  
but ... then it was said ...  
The Police were ... "Inept" ...  
in how this was ... handled ...  
but this was ... "dismantled"  
by those in ... "their set" ...  
The judgement bred ... "Scandal" ...  
"Exonerate them ... !!!  
Yes ... Our Policemen !!!!!"  
The Lawrence's said .....  
this isn't the end ....  
98' comes around ...  
and an ... Inquiry ... now ...  
Macpherson assessed  
that ... racism ran ...  
like blood from Steves' chest ... !!!!!  
" Institutional Racism " ...  
was something ... ****** ...  
deep down ... in the feds !!!!!  
Oh Oh ... so ... Po Po ...  
may have helped these five blokes  
prove themselves ... "innocent" ... !!!?!!!  
Why hadn't these five ... ???  
been locked up ... inside ...  
before they contrived ...  
to take ... Stephens' life ...  
Video footage ...  
proved that ...  
they could do it ... !!!!!!  
but .... all that was fluid  
were all the excuses .........  
Both parents kept fighting ...  
to keep on ... igniting ...  
the fire ... put out ...  
by ... "Judiciary Mouths" ...  
18 years later ..... !!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
It's back in the papers ...  
Dobson & Norris ...  
"****** Most Horrid" ... !!!!!  
Again ... will stand trial ...  
like two old ... Paedophiles ... !!!!  
This time .... evidence ....  
had more .... "Precedence"  
Blood stains on clothing  
Police had been ... Holding ...  
matched Stephens' type ...  
was heard in the trial ...  
Now Norris' mother ....  
decided to cover ...  
her son's whereabouts ...  
to prove without doubt ....  
He wasn't around ... !!!!!  
when Stephen was downed ... !!!!!!  
She swore under oath ...  
that David was home ...  
having said once before ...  
that David ... for sure ... !!!!!  
was with his ... Ex-***** ... !!!?!!!  
A story ... Well Twisted ...  
because this ... "Ex-Girlfriend"  
Never ... Existed ... !!!!!  
Statements delivered ...  
that were now ... considered ...  
inside the ... "Old Bailey" ...  
Was this woman ... "Crazy" ... ???  
Perjuring daily ... !!!!?!!!!!  
to save her ... Vile baby ...  
As if Stephen's death ....  
was NOT ... Innocent ...  
Now ... six weeks have passed ...  
Aspersions been cast ...  
about much surrounding ...  
these two young mens' past  
It's time for the judgement ...  
Will they walk free ... ???  
or ... face ... Punishment ...  
"LIFE" ..... is decreed ..... !!!  
They ... WILL NOT ... walk free ... !!!!!!  
convicted of ... ****** ... !!!  
back in ....... "93'" ........  
Now ... Media Fervor ... !!!!!!  
" Justice Finally " ..... !!!  
Justice I say ....  
for whom .... exactly .... ?  
I've written these words ....  
because it still hurts ....  
The Fact .... that your color ....  
can cause .... tragedies ....  
This poem's for Neville ...  
and his family ...  
your fight is not over ...  
cos three are still free ...  
for ......  
"****** ... Most Vile !!!" ....  
Dobson & Norris ...  
won't be seen for a while ...  
because of ... Your Strength ...  
after .... Stephens' Death ....  
No more denial ... !!!  
cos they fit ... The Profile ...  
These words I now file ...  
are just ... my account ...  
of the day these two ........  
........ Killers .........  
" Finally " ... were convicted ...  
after they ... went to ...  
.......... Trial ...........
Based on the now, infamous case, surrounding the racist attack and killing of teenager Stephen Lawrence in England
The Unsung Song Mar 2018
Stephen Hawking.

A man who was revered.
A man who was loved.
A man who was looked to for guidance.
All of these things, but most of all,
he showed the youth of the world,
that there is a way.
That you have the ability,
to become whatever you want.

Stephen Hawking had ALS/Lou Gehrig's disease,
for over 55 years.
He died on the same day that I am writing this.
March 14, 2018.

Ever since I was about 12 years old,
I've been more than interested in science.
This got me exposed to Stephen Hawking.

As I got older,
I started to actually understand what he was saying,
rather than just listen to,
pointless words from a pointless device.

The first subject that I could understand well,
was Hawking Radiation.

I won't get into the nitty gritty,
but it has to do with how the energy,
that a black hole absorbs is expelled.

The point in me saying this,
is not because I want you to know about science.
But because I want you to know,
how this singular man,
affected me.


Affects. Me.

I watched the YouTube video that showed me Hawking radiation when I was twelve years old,
I am 16 now and know what it is,
by memory.

I'm not a genius by any means,
but Stephen Hawking,
he gave me the courage to push forward,
to be eager to learn.

You might not know this,
but in the United States,
kids all around the country,
they are discouraged to learn
due to bad grades,
due to bad teachers,
due to bad funding,
they are essentially taught this,
nothing you do will ever be enough.

Stephen Hawking?
He didn't care.

Granted he didn't go to school in the U.S.,
but he was dealing with a different battle.
ALS is a neurodegenerative disease.
This means that even though he is,
one of the smartest people on this planet,
he will be constantly bombarded by a blockade that he can't even see.

This is the same battle in a different form,
that every child in the U.S.,
is facing.


These are all major causes of suicide.

Stephen Hawking gave us the courage to push past our,
to become something better.
Thank you Stephen Hawking for the service you gave to your world. You empower us.
JR Rhine Jan 2017
I broke up with God
at our favorite eatery
in our favorite booth.

We settled into familiar creases
and asked for the usual.

My eyes lazily staring at fingers
stirring the straw around the ice cubes,
God cautiously spoke up:

“Is something wrong?”

“Nothing.” (Thinking about the dormant phone
concealing behind the lock screen
the open Facebook tab
lingering over the relationship status section.)

They silently mused over the laconic reply,
til the waitress showed up with the food.

“Thank you!” God blurted with agonizing alacrity.

I received the sustenance lifelessly
and aimlessly poked at the burgers and fries.

The waitress eyed me with vague inquisition,
popping a bubble in the gum between
big teeth, refilled my water
and pirouetted hastily.

We ate in ostensible harmony,
the silence gripping like a chokehold,
the visible anxiety and subdued resolve
settling like a stifling blanket
over the child waking
from a nightmare—

Til we couldn’t breathe,
and I ripped back the covers
and looked into the eyes
of my tormentor.

“It’s not you, it’s me.”

God, taken aback by the curt statement,
dropped their burger with shaking hands,
silently begging with wetting eyes
a greater explanation.

So I elaborated:

“It’s not you, it’s me.

For your immaculate conception
was created by human hands,

your adages rendered obsolete
by human words,

your purpose and plan for us
distorted by human nature—

I cannot hate myself any longer.

I cannot pretend to know you at all.

Who my mother and father say you are
is not who my friends think you are,
nor my teachers, my pastor,
the president, Stephen Hawking,
Muhammed, the KKK, Buddha,
the Westboro Baptist Church,
Walt Whitman, Derek Zanetti,
and Billy Graham.

I am told you care who I bring into bed (and when),
and what movies I watch,
and what music I listen to—

I have not heard what you say about
child soldiers, the use of mosquitos,
or the increased destruction of the earth
which you proudly proclaimed your creation,
or the poverty and disease and famine
which has ridden so many of your children—”

God interjected,
“But you’re chosen!”

I snorted,

“You say I’m chosen
to spend eternity with you—
why me?

Why’d you pick me among
thousands, millions, billions?

I’ve been told I’m ‘chosen’
since birth
by others like me—

those with fair complexion,
blue eyes,
blonde hair,
a firm overt ****** attraction towards women,
and a great big house
with immaculate white fences
delineating their Jericho.

I’ve already fabricated eternity
here among the other ‘chosen’
and there is a world of suffering
right outside the fence
and I see them
through the window of my bedroom
every day.

Am I chosen,
if I don’t vote Republican

Am I chosen
if I am Pro-Choice

Am I chosen
if I cohabitate with my girlfriend

Am I chosen
if I never have kids

Am I chosen
if I say ‘Happy Holidays’

Am I chosen
if I don’t want public prayer in schools

Am I chosen
if I don’t want a Christian nation

Am I chosen
if I don’t repost you on my wall
or retweet your adages?

I’m tired
being the ubermensch,
for it has not brought me
and I blame you.

I will not ignore
the cries of the suffering
believing it is I
who is destined to live
in bliss.

I will not buy
Joel Osteen’s autobiography(ies).

I will not tithe
you my money
for a megachurch
when another homeless shelter
closes down.

I will not tell a woman
what to do with her body,
or a man
that he is a man
if they say they are not.

I am neither Jew nor Gentile,
and I will stand with
my brothers and sisters
of Faith and Faithlessness,

Gay and Straight,
Black and White,

and apart from these extremes
free from absolutes
the ambiguous, amorphous
nature of Humankind
which I praise.

There is much pain and suffering
in this world,
potentially preventable,
but hardly can I believe
it’s part of your plan
to save

I will not be saved
if we are not
all saved—

not one will burn
for my divinity.

The gates will be open to all—
and perhaps you believe that too,
but I’ve gotten you all wrong
and that cannot change,
as long as there is
mortality, and
corruption, and
power, and
lust, and

God whined, growing bellicose,

“It is through me that you will find eternity,
I am the one true god!
I am the God of your fallen ancestors,
it is because you have fallen short
that you need me!”

I replied, growing in confidence,

“We have all fallen short,
but we are also magnificent.

We have evolved,
we have created,
we have adapted,
we have survived.

We have built empires,
and we have destroyed them.

We have cured diseases,
and we have created them.

We have done much in your name.
We’ve done good,
and we’ve done evil—

And unfortunately it’s all about
who you ask.

Your name is a burden on the oppressed
and a weapon of the oppressor.

You are abusive, God.

You tell me you are jealous.

You tell me apart from you I will suffer for an eternity.

I’m scared to die, yet want to die,
because of you.

You have made life a waiting room
that is now my purgatory. It is

Hell On Earth.

So you see,
it’s not you,
it’s me—
a mere mortal
who has tried to put a face
to eternity
and it has left me

And also,
it’s me,
for I have learned to love me,
as I have expelled your self-loathing imbibition,
and the deleterious zeal
I have proclaimed
through ceaseless
and self-flagellation—

I have learned to love me
by realizing I am not inherently evil,
that my body is not evil,
that my mind is not evil,
and, ultimately, that
there is no good
and there is no evil.

My body is beautiful,
my mind is beautiful,
this world is beautiful,
and we are destroying it
waiting for you to claim

I leave you
in hopes to see you
again one day,

and perhaps you will look
different than I have
perceived or imagined,

and in fact
I certainly hope so.”

Just then the waitress strolled back up
with a servile smile:

“No, thank you,”
I smiled politely.

And with that,
I paid the check,
and took a to-go box—

walked out into the evening rain
to my car,
put on a secular song
that meant something real to me
and drove off
into the night—

feeling for the first time
and alive.
Bruised Orange Mar 2015
"Can Poetry Matter?"
Stephen Dobyns

Heart feels the time has come to compose lyric poetry.
No more storytelling for him. Oh, Moon, Heart writes,
sad wafer of the heart's distress. and then: Oh, Moon,
bright ******* of the heart's pleasure. Which is it,
is the moon happy or sad, ******* or wafer? He looks
from the window but the night is overcast. Oh, Cloud,
he writes, moody veil of the Moon's distress. And then,
Oh, Cloud, sweet scarf of the Moon's repose. Once more
Heart asks, Are clouds kindly or a bother, is the moon sad
or at rest? He calls scientists who tell him that the moon
is a dead piece of rock. He calls astrologers. One says
the moon means water. Another that it signifies oblivion.
The girl next door says the Moon means love. The nut
up the block says it proves Satan has us under his thumb.
Heart goes back to his notebooks. Oh, Moon,, he writes,
confusing orb meaning one thing or another. Heart feels
that his words lack conviction. Then he hits on a solution.
Oh, Moon, immense hyena of introverted motorboat.
Oh, Moon, upside down lamppost of barbershop quartet.
Heart takes his lines to a critic who tells him that the poet
is recounting a time as a toddler when he saw his father
kissing the baby-sitter at the family's cottage on a lake.
Obviously, the poem explains the poet's fear of water.
Heart is ecstatic. He rushes home to continue writing.
Oh, Cloud, raccoon cadaver of colored crayon, angel spittle
recast as foggy euphoria. Heart is swept up by the passion
of composition. Freed from the responsibility of content,
no nuance of nonsense can be denied him. Soon his poems
appear everywhere, while the critic writes essays elucidating
Heart's meaning. Jointly they form a sausage factory of poetry:
Heart supplying the pig snouts and ****** tissue of language
which the critic encloses in a thin membrane of explication.
Lyric poetry means teamwork, thinks Heart: a hog farm,
corn field, and two old dobbins pulling a buckboard of song.

(from Pallbearers Envying the One Who Rides, 1999)
I laughed hard at this.  Thought I'd share here. :-)
Paul Butters Oct 2018
Back in the day,
When I was a little whipper snapper in Leeds,
We would go “chumping”, as we called it, for firewood,
For weeks and weeks.

Everyone built towering infernos,
Ready for November Fifth:
Bonfire Night.
Some made effigies of the “evil” Guy Fawkes,
Leader of the “Gunpowder Plot”
And stood in the street saying
“Penny for the Guy”.

What a night!
Roaring fire on a chill Winter night,
Those flames burning your face.
A World War Three
Of Fireworks:
Rockets, Catherine Wheels and bangers.
Bangers to scare the girls.
Kids painting pictures in the air
With sparklers.

And best of all,
That yummy gingery Parkin cake:
A taste I cannot put
Into words.
Oh and deep dark
Treacle Toffee,
Jacket potatoes,
Roast chestnuts
And Crunchie-like cinder toffee.

It’s many a year since I went to a bonfire.
Politically correct firework displays
Are more the modern thing.

Seems strange to burn the effigy
Of a man who had the sense
To try to blow parliament up –
Especially a Yorkshire Man.
Ha ha.

But then I read that good
Religious reasons are behind
This bonfire Celebration:
Those flames are orange
After all.

Not wishing to create divisions
Anywhere in the world,
It’s still good to see traditions
Being maintained.

Let those fires and fireworks keep rising,
Constantly emerging from the shadows
Of Halloween.

Paul Butters

© PB 27\10\2018.

Written at the request of Stephen Chapman. “Treacle toffee” added later, with “jacket potatoes” and “cinder toffee” added on 31\10\18. "Roast chestnuts" added 18\11.
Stephen Chapman indeed requested this...
Word Therapy Apr 2015
Bright clasp of her whole hand
Around my finger
My daughter as we walk together now
All my life I'll feel a ring invisibly
Circle this bone with shining:
When she is grown
Far from today as her eyes are far already.
What is a "soul"?
Seriously, what is it?
Ambiguity obviates all simple and complex definitions.

If "souls" do exist,
I suppose my "soul"  is transmogrifying,
Transfusing the screen.
The key is Transition
Of a remote position.

Maybe someday a scientific physician
Will invent a tracking device to track its travelling distance?
Sounds sort of like a Stephen Spielberg novel
The genre of science fiction
Or is it?


(c) 2011 Brandon Antonio Smith
We’ve been in this place before.
A winter day in the Inland Empire,
So why not give it the respect
It earned in the annals & anals
Of American Land Scams,
Right up there, with
Arizona and Florida,
Desert & underwater “premium” lots,
“Premium” leads for CLOSERS,
Like Glengarry Glen Ross;
Hard telephone salesmen,
Cold-calling in its infancy.
Riverside and San Bernardino:
“A Development Too Far”
For many speculators
Since the 1970s,
But we may be on the brink,
Of another California Gold Rush,
Should many more of us over-55s
In search of lost community
And Cold War nostalgia
Come out here.

Yes, it’s déjà vu.
Here I am, all over again
Locked-down in my
Gated, golf-coursed
Lunatic Asylum,
Located in Hemet,
Riverside County,
Southern California,
A place I affectionately
Call Hemetucky.
The sun shines bright on
My Old Hemetucky Home—
Written by Stephen Foster,
An early American genius—
Stephen Foster - Wikipedia, the  free Stephen Foster‎ Stephen Collins Foster (July 4, 1826–January 13, 1864), known as the "father of American music", was an American songwriter primarily known for his parlor . . .

But I digress.
Here I am once more
Comfy in easy chair leather,
Enjoying another bottle from Temecula’s Doffo Winery,
Listening again to Pretenders—
The Isle of View,
Grooving to the sultry,
***** voice of
Chrissie Hynde! The Pretenders - The Isle of View: The Pretenders ... › Movies & TV › TV‎ Fans of the Pretenders' 1995 live CD, The Isle of View, will be delighted that the DVD release of the band's televised performance at London's Jacob Street  ... isle Of View PRE-TENDERS UK live chrissie hynde 1995 - YouTube ► 52:18► 52:18‎ isle Of View PRETENDERS UK live chrissie hynde 1995. Isle of View by The Pretenders (1995) - Live: Music › ... › New Wave & Post-Punk › New Wave Shop for music deals on CDs, MP3 songs and albums, and vinyl records by Pretenders and more.

(That’s right, Grasshopper!
This is how you finally
Make poetry $pay:
Sell ad space right in the
Middle of a ******* poem!)

Oh, Chrissie!
Take this for
What it’s worth, Babaloo:
For What it's Worth-Buffalo Springfield - YouTube
► 2:37► 2:37
Oh, Chrissie!
I’d eat your ****, Babe,
Just for old time’s sake,
“But there's a woman
With a gun over there,
A tellin' me, I got to beware.”
Have you met my girl friend?
Randy Johnson May 2015
You were a great person and a great pharmacist.
You were killed in cold blood and you will be missed.
You were murdered because of some Oxycontin.
You're dead but you won't be forgotten.
It's sad to know that you won't be coming back.
Your life was taken away by a sick maniac.
Being killed because of some pills was evil and low.
Many people loved you and we all hated to see you go.
Now your family and friends are forced to say goodbye.
I really liked your pharmacy and you were a nice guy.
Dedicated to Stephen Lovell who was murdered two years ago today by Jason Bryan Holt on May 23, 2013.
Donald Guy Nov 2012

6:48 a Wednesday
Two Weeks later
Then: Thanksgiving eve

I sit at my desk:
stare out of the windows <
My skull
at the Chocolate Bock I just
Overflowed > all over my notes
on the Circe episode of Ulysses,
which I have not yet read.

20 minutes after I just ––
Went alone. Stood there, yes, alone
Above the porcelain enterprise
Taking that litmus test of humanity
Clear, I pass. Yellow, I fail.
It was rather clear I think
Honestly? I don't remember.

Two weeks ago, I stood there==
and came up with this phrase.
Standing there with special eyes::::
Came back to my room, I did, faithfully
Looked there below my second fridge
A plate sat. mine. On it: maybe food, maybe *****
Probably marijuana
Only the first my own
Who remembers?

Next to it: an empty prescription bottle
"It's some medicine for Asthma. I don't even
have asthma!"
"Classy **** I am; I've never bought a shot glass.
Just use discarded prescription bottles."

An experiment @ the sink: exact: 2.0z. On the dot.
Turns out that's 1&1/3 of the standard—The ritual
We make it. And have made it.
For years now together after midnight
[or so]
4 years. Soon it will be
Maybe I shall leave; probably not

but harken back, that fortnight, less 6
To that evening. Orange and purple
Effort sublime but not enough:
Lost to a team of Freshman.?!

~If only:~
"Tripped mad-laundry shrooms",
6 and a half months ago

Two men sit in the corner of my room
I know one; the other spoke

2-weeks-later: sticky keyboard
I am not sober, but who is?

Last night. Remember those videos?
reminded me that *** can be beautiful:
After basically 2 years: I almost forgot. December 6, 2011

I have a perspective now:
It is not the same as yours
it is not and, by necessity,
can not be the same.

But I see it. Stephen Daedalus
calls it immature—lyrical
but *******, James: it is mine!

I am. Will always be.
Will have never been.
But, God/Goddess **** it now!
I am: I See.
I try!

Proper reading involves out-loud pronunciation of some of the punctuation

12/7/11. the day I was drunk 14 hours.

Ostensibly written for William Corbett's 21W.756 Writing and Reading Poems.
ostensible nod to James Schuyler.
With Good Business brewed is Good Business told
Confirmed the New Mentor who taught us well
Such swig a Sterling Medicine behold
But knowing our Skills his Avid Trust spell
Forsought this Blue Trade our Clients rely
Was that our Webbed Gifts can reciprocate
That within those Months our Service apply
To increase the Bank's volume aggregate
Such now our Eagle wears; Tri-Coloured Schemes
Weaved in pleats forth to Genious unique
And if we can prove to maintain those Seams
Will he be Proud of our Learning oblique.
Once that's done, to the Pub he tips his Zest
All the more content our Minds would not guess.
For Pat Stone*

            I remember you from a time once before dinosaurs roamed
the city streets, reeking of peach scented candles and boxed wine,
yearning for some sort of darkness.
            Reading from the novels of Stephen King as if they
were revisions of the bible.
            Who found darkness in a mammogram and shoved it into
her pocket along with the rusty brooches and earrings.
            Who lost love with an aneurysm.
            Who lost love with withering age.
            Who lost love with pneumonia.
            Where the remainder of her loved only existed in her short,
black hair growing from the roots of the past.
            Where her eyes look back onto the golden infinity known as
the old cornfield next to the big red barn of Mid-Western-Minnesotan  
            Of the calls made to mother regarding how she'll die each time 
she notices something new.
            Who cried with me when mother had left me for sailing the sky.

            Oh, she was the mother.
            The mother of a generation much like mine.
            The mother who was the domestic wife in her natural habitat of
pots, pans and aprons.  
            The mother who was softer than the belt.
            The mother who kept family gatherings illuminated with award
winning short stories of brother, brother or sister.
            The mother who dealt with apocalypse that was Karen Grenier
as a child.
            The mother who did it.
            The mother who created lives and the mother who took death
as one of her daily pills.

            Brother, brother and sister now out the door, gone to make
their marks.
            The mother who was left only to mother the darkness in tastes of
boxed wine and Stephen King.

— The End —