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Bryan J Powers Nov 2010
I remember it like it was only yesterday. But one could only understand the love of the first smile with the back story that comes with which can only be described as the most beautiful site that my eyes ever saw and will ever see again. Picture if you will a man, a soldier, another broken heart of a fool too naïve to realize what life was all about. Ready to give in to what was presumed to be the standard for the rest of time. And just when the decision was beginning to form to end it all a risk was taken that would change everything. An invitation from a friend to go to party with some new people and get out of the funk and smoke that seemed to have eroded any care. The party was obviously for those close friends and I was the outsider.  Plenty of drinks to go around and I could have pounded them away. Erased the night in a cloud of stupor. But realizing I had a long drive back to the base I decided for a few beers alone. As the party was beginning to die down and it was obvious that it wasn’t going to start up till I left I poured out my beer and grabbed my keys. And then she said something to me. First words she had said all night that I remembered. She asked me had I been the one who had made a comment on MySpace that earlier in the week on my friend’s page. I replied with a yes. She told me she had read it and thought it was really good what I wrote. She explained to me that recently her husband had left her and that he had been a soldier too. I didn’t know why at the time but I felt I could have talked forever and never even worried about the party, the drive home, the lateness of the hour. Nothing mattered as long as we talked.  She had the most beautiful eyes and just her relaxed state of dress and mannerism spoke volumes about the type of person she was and the troubles that weighed her shoulders. It was a quick and innocent conversation when I look back at it now. Maybe five minutes. But before I left we exchanged phone numbers so that maybe we could become friends. I wasn’t gone on the road five minutes when the first text rolled in and she stated we should hang out some time. Six days later I would be taking her to the movies.  I remember that night and will remember it to the day I die. I drove to her house and she waited on the front porch to wave me in. Something about the house alone was welcoming. Warm to approach even as a visitor. I was introduced to the family. Mom and dad, the two brothers and the sister who I had failed to realize at the party was there as well. Call it love drunk. It doesn’t matter. I realized soon after the part that this girl was something special. After some short introductions she came down from her room and walked down the stairs. We hoped in my truck and headed back into town to the movies. On the drive there as we were chatting the conversation steered right where I had thought it would. She looked over at me and asked me flat out what it was about her that I had found so interesting to take her to the movies only a week after meeting her. When she asked she had this smile on her face that spoke volumes. It showed pain and apprehension. Almost as if she was scared of my answer. I could tell that the recent events of her husband leaving her had broken her heart. Even today months afterwards I still cant seem to understand why any man would leave her. I could die the most horrible painful death known to the pages of history and still die a happy man to even talk with such a lovable person. As I looked into those eyes and that pained smile, I realized. I realized that without a doubt this day would lead to many happy days, many sad days, but days that nonetheless I would suffer through and come out better for no matter what the ending result was. And my answer meant everything to this belief. I looked back at the road to which I realized I had begun to drift from as I had been lost in that smile. I answered as surely as I would now when anyone asks me why I did everything I did. I told her it was her smile. I had seen in the night at the party and using words like intrigue are weak in comparison to what my heart screamed out as heaven and happiness generated in her smile. When I replied something happened that I would never have expected. The smile was gone. It was replaced what by an even more magical smile without pain, and completely innocent. It was this small event in life to some that would change me forever. The man I am today will never be the same as the man I would have been had I not met this person and not had the chance to see a smile sent from the heavens. I remember the movie we watched. We saw the horror movie, “Haunting in Connecticut”. I can honestly say I don’t remember any of it. My mind was far from any movie.  I could only think to where I had been in life a week ago and where I was now. Content is the only word I can find to describe it. After the movie I thought I would be driving here home but it wasn’t it be. We were near the turnoff when she asked me if I would like to go to a party at a friend’s DJ spot. I said sure. Time meant nothing and any excuse to be with her longer was good for me. We drove to another country where I passed the fire hall where the party was. So I decided to do a turn around on a bridge on the edge of town. Well I over compensated and slapped the bridge with my taillight. To this day I still maintain that the bridge was in fact at fault and had jumped out and hit my truck. I should have been mad about wrecking my new truck on some foolish bridge. It didn’t matter to me though. We looked at the truck when we got out and it had sounded far worse than it looked. I wasn’t worried. To summarize we stayed at the party for a few hours. She danced with her friends some and we listened to some music. All together it was a good party, down to earth really. I stayed back in the corner still not understanding the question that still nagged me since the night at the party where I met here. After the party I drove her home and we talked for a few before I left and headed back to base. So far I had a broken taillight and a new friend. The question that had nagged me and still does at times was what was it about me that such a beautiful and great girl even bothered talking to me. Today is what it is. A lot has changed and some things never will. One thing that will remain forever in my mind whether I am back in the states, here in Iraq, or in the future in Afghanistan. That smile burned not into my memory but into my heart and soul. I have never loved a woman more. And never will again. God can only do me justice in life by making sure that she lives a happy life for all time. No matter what that first smile will guide me through any darkness.
Nat Lipstadt Dec 2014
t'was not so long ago
in simple human years,
but eons, in poetic ones, that...

visions of fruited plains,
dimpled mountains,
candied wall-nutty natives,
easy lifted from his
eye's casual glances,
reformed to scribbled essays,
while daily walking on the
concrete steppes of his city,
gems of glass shard sidewalk sparkles
and bluest mailboxes were
raptured word tableaus,
rupturing easy with
volcanic force,
his body's planet,
mantle breaking,
crust-conquering poems,
breakout pimples waves,
molten and easy flowing...

he knew not then
what well now he knows,
the exhausted trembling
of asking,
the slowing wearing pace of
heartbeats of constant query,
the wonder of
wondering incessant,

Are You My Poem?

awoken by the body clock
in the wee, streaming,
rem sleeping hours,
asking the no longer
faithful friend,
his bathroom mirror,
is the accuracy of this
stubbled mess,
the white crusted lips and eyes,
is that my, my nowadays,
answer to

Are You My Poem?

he waits,
he, a red taillight speckle
among many, wait watching,
on a Brooklyn minor bridge
over a minor inlet
one of many, on a longer isle,
as the bridge lifts its arms,
opens its middle belly,
waving bye to a
passing-through freighter,
perhaps
destined for
happy springtime Morocco,
perhaps,
the Malay's divided isles,
wandering wondering
one more time,
if that's his etching,
line drawing poem,
passing by, bye, bye,
so each breathe forcing,
escape-asking,

Are You My Poem?

sometime ago,
a grown man,
his voice changed,
like a teenager,
writing now in but the
simplest terms,
plain jane poems,
in the cadence
of spoken words

for all the fancy phrases,
exhausted,
the sewing box of
precious alphabets,
emptied, leaving only
the tyranny of
hello, have a nice day, how are you feeling,
that's nice, goodnight sleep tight...

there were fewer poems
therein contained,
ceasing to fear,
no need for constancy of asking,
but failing in crafting to craft
even then,
trying but no one answering to

Are You My Poem?

one or two true,
asked,
are you busted,
the nib nub rusted,
your silence, long pauses,
worry us, your poem lovers,
if spent,
how deep is thy rent,
let our concern heal,
patch n' fill,
the cuttings,
the empty grooves that pockmark,
hope wishing asking,
sir sire man,
are you still hopeful,
interrogating,
asking the world,

Are You My Poem?

weeping from the
believed warmth
of their caring,
they too, knowing,
that life has its ways
of choking your voice off,
compelled to advise,
still and then and now,
the constant in my equation,
extant yet,
extant yes,
a voice that still rises
at the end of the
periodic element interrogatory of

Are You My Poem?

the poem answers,
muddled, muddied,
everyday life eats you up,
instead of you feasting upon it,
the tempo, the style,
all now humbug static interference,
but every know and every then,
a long winded answer dances
it's way from the core,
answering well
the question less asked,

Are You My Poem?

spent,
the poet
lol's,
for his truest friends here,
answer the pondering,
in deed, indeed,
you, near and dear
poet brothers and sisters,
you are the answer,
to words looking now,
a tod-toad-tad silly,

**You Are My Poem!
I am alive, not kicking much, but present....and this is my thank you present to those who ask, where are thy poems hiding?
Dr Strange Jul 2016
I can't breath, I can't breath!!!
But because I'm big and black they continued to terrorise me
Choking me until I seized to gasp for my final breathe
Now I'm dead
Looking down from the heavens wondering how could this be
How could this be?
So let me get this straight
I died for so called selling illegally
And you would think it was at least **** I was selling
I was selling the american dream of creating
Creating a profit..
To take care of my family
Then they shot me
And I couldn't stop it
I saw death as clear as the time
What is this

And if that's not a crime
Then what is...

I told him I had a gun
Even asked him if I could get my license from my pocket
He said sure why not
But as I proceeded to reach for my pocket he shot me anyways
Now I'm dead
Looking down from the heavens wondering what did I do
What did I do?
Why am I looking at myself stained red
I got pulled over for a taillight but ended up satisfying someone's bloodlust
There wasn't even a fuss
But look at me now
Dead six feet under

And if that's not a crime
Then what is...

Can't you see
They're picking us off one by one
Getting off scott free by saying they feared for their lives
What about our lives
Shouldn't we be the ones panicking behinds our guns
We can't even take a jog down the street without being accused of something
Don't we have rights
Last time I checked we're human too
Not animals who deserves to be stuffed in cages
And poked with sticks like they did back in the ages
So how do we evade this
Better yet...
How are we supposed to survive this
Black lives matter
How many times do we have to say this
Aoife Jul 2016
when i say black lives matter,
i'm saying all lives matter
but right now our white people
aren't being murdered
for earning extra money for their families
or for a broken taillight,
it is the black people who are murdered
for representing all that is human
black lives are the lives
that are buried in the ground
and painted on white faces
because they're going to a music festival.
black lives are the lives
that result in names
printed in fine print,
displayed by candles and tears,
they are the lives
men in blue take each day
because their job
is to serve and protect.
who are you serving and protecting?
take your blue suit off
and put on a kkk robe
because the oath that you took
is not the oath you are practicing.
so when i say black lives matter,
i am saying there is a great injustice
i am saying save those people
i am saying our brothers and sisters are dying
i am saying they are our family.
all lives cannot matter
until black lives do.
Anais Vionet Mar 2022
I love the way the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences let Will Smith sit there, for 40 minutes, preening in the front row, in plain sight, after he assaulted a black man at the Oscars.

I know what you're thinking - wait, isn’t Will Smith black? Well, obviously NOT. In an America where black men are routinely murdered for selling cigarettes or having a broken taillight, Mr. Smith got to commit his crime in front of millions of people. Then sit around like a three-piece suited sultan for over a ½ hour to receive an Oscar and a (reflexive?) standing ovation.

Will, in an effort to make his violence palatable said, in his tearful acceptance speech, that he was protecting his wife. Chris Rock made a joke about her hairdo. Was she actually in some kind of unseen danger? Perhaps this is some kind of new, Muslim “honor” slapping?

The very function of comedian hosts and presenters at the Oscars is to take-the-**** out of these overpaid actor-celebrities. If you multi-millionaires can’t take a joke, stay home or wear a **** wig.

I’m curious, we know Jada and Will have an “open” marriage - because they have said as much. Does that mean, in “Smith” logic, Chris could have *** with Jada but not comment on her looks?

How far does Will’s privilege extend - could he have *****-slapped Betty White (she was pretty salty sometimes) - for instance? I mean, Chris Rock is half Will Smith’s size. Do you think he would have launched up at Dwayne Johnson, Idris Elba or Jason Momoa? I doubt it, even if Will did get to pretend, he was Mohamid Ali for a while.

Chris Rock is a trooper, he took the hit and carried on like a professional. He’s going to be ok. Chris is in the middle of a national comedy tour, and it completely sold out the night of the assault. Even with ticket prices jumping from $49 to $340 per seat. I can’t wait to hear his new bit. I’m fairly sure every comedian in the world will now make a point of making vicious fun of Will - who’s made himself a punchline.

Will Smith will now start an apology tour. “It was a momentary lapse,” he’ll say - like every guy who ever slapped his wife or punched-down on someone weaker than themselves. From now on, whenever Jada’s invited anywhere, she’ll be asked if her husband is coming too and if he can be counted on to behave himself.

Chris Rock generously declined to press charges, but the LAPD doesn't need him to charge Will with assault. I know he’d only get a slap on the wrist, but someone should hold him accountable.

I was a Will Smith fan once.
BLT word of the day challenge. Palatable: "agreeable or acceptable to the mind."
julius Feb 2023
My stomach hurts
****
Thinking about driving
Into the blurry red of br(e)ak(e) lights.
Im doing exactly
What you tell me not to
Why why why
I’m worse than nothing
Now there’s dark clouds on my robin’s egg sky
Bruises in my snowy mountains
Decay in my wooden heart
Maybe it was like that from the start
I don’t know
So leave me
Leave me baby
I’m a sickening excuse of a human being
and by mean it
i mean lie to me again
Row Oct 2014
A black sedan cruises by with patches of white left behind from the last life it lived. what once stood for justice stands for rebellion as youth irons out the creases in expectation.
     A ******* yellow bug carries triplets each from a different family, each wearing pink bows. They turn in perfect syncro with heartless bug eyes when they catch me unconsciously stare on.
     A small hatchback with a busted taillight; full of ****, comics, and action figures bears a bearded chauffeur who drools all the way back to his cave
     Smell the sharp burning chill come from that coupe with the yellow windows and eyes as red as the ember passing from passenger to passenger in the mirror.
     The little old lady in the silver Buick can't even see over the wheel. Probably better that way considering all she'd see is a bunch of terrified youngsters in a panic to get to that blasted rock concert.
     Don't let the dented tailgate fool you, the only work this one's seen is the piece of work he has waiting for him at home; with fire in one hand and fear on the plate in the other.
     Vans hold all kinds of secrets but the only one this van holds is how its still allowed to come within a mile of a school. After all, candy and ice cream will rot your teeth, especially if they're free.
     Orange, yellow, red, green, blue, checkers. Either way, he's gotta make a living, and if it's to the airport you want to go, he'll get you there in a jiffy.
     The rear view mirror of my old 65 shows only the smirk and grin I wear as the rumble of turn down exhaust wakes up towns and sets off alarms left and right, and sirens blocking my view in the back.
Just from the point of view of an old passenger turned driver.
blushing prince Jan 2019
drive from the west coast and then follow yourself down into the south where the cactus mock trees out of their leaves and this is love
memories unglued and being put away into a box for the next move
and there's always a next move
a bluish shadow in the morning gripping the frozen wheel and it won't will to your commands and as you get out your shoe becomes untied with the motion of gravity? you can't say anymore nor that you could before
every day slips into your back pocket so when you lie down you have something to fall back into, so you can look at all you've done and smile "i love repetition" you cry
you repeat it so much you believe it as your eyes close
no one's there when you wake up but you didn't expect anyone to be
they say you should've been a songwriter they say you should've shoved all your hurt into the bottom of a well because it's no use inside yourself they say a lot of things
one day you're going to drive back up the coast and retrace where things went missing, where things went out like a broken taillight or a lost conscience
you're gonna find it and then the writing will stop
cyanide in pits
Rose Claire Sep 2014
The red tail lights  brighten my perceptive heights,
of where we all go?
Scurrying like squirrels tails trying to get
the task completed.
Why?...Is it that important to your very existence.
Think not!
But running, keeps us amazed.
Through the darkest glaze of taillight throw.
Just wondering why I'm running too?
Through the open slumber of poison slew.
One day I hope to get off the track of frozen life.
God, it's cold down here.
Can't you hear are breathe?
Your love will never set before my eyes, till the world is renewed.
False face set before a betowed time
For she did not know it, her sin was greater than he.
Now scurry along to your squeaky wheels.
Till the end of your time.
jeffrey conyers Jul 2016
Some wears it proudly.
Like soldiers that proudly serve.
Others uses it as a tool to used and get over.
Least until they are discover.

Violate people rights.
Use every element of the law to your disposal.
By stating they have a missing taillight.

District Attorneys, hardly prosecute.
They apart of the law.
Jurys hardly convicts.
They live under the impression that the criminal more likely did it.

And than, there's the judge.
What more needs to be said?
The power of the bade dictates things
Robin Mar 2018
You mouth the words to your favourite song playing loudly out of the stereo as I watch, enamoured by just how nice the red glow of a passing taillight looks as it dances across your face.
E Jan 2019
With 4.11 you can really get lost
It can get kinda scary when you realize the cost
With a cherry of a cigarette glowing in the night
Burning up the amplifiers in the taillight's
Winding down the road getting kinda lost
You can hear the whistle blowing through window hear the Faust
It can sort of hypnotize you if you ain't watching close
And when the radio is playing you're hands white as a ghost
You can feel the bump's and ****'s and shake's
The creases in the road
You can hear the engine roaring loud
And hear the tire's groan
And when you think it's going smooth you think you're doing fine
You hear the engine light go DING! you're running out of time
HEY!
Get off the road
Get off the road
It's gonna be real bad
Get off the road
Get off the road
The engine just collapsed
Get off the road
Get off the road
Somebody find a map
Get off the road
Get off the road
Too late crash dead and splat
A funny highway fatality song
Rachel Altvater Jun 2011
I dreamed I kissed someone else like
Your bumper brushing so delicately against
The back taillight of the blue jeep
In front of us.
“Why’d you hit me so hard?”
It yelled,
Like I wanted this to happen.

— The End —