"teenth" poems
From nowhere with love, on the teenth of martober.
Dear madam, my darling, my sweet- but of no
Importance that is. For your features no longer,
To tell the truth, can be remembered. Not yours,
Yet no one's best friend. I salute you from one of
Five continents, which rests on the cowboys. Then
I loved you more than angles, and even "Omni...",
Hence, farther I am from you than- both of them.
Far away, late at night, at the bottom of valley,
In the town, where snow reaches the doorknob. I ,
Upon the sheet wringling, at least not as may be
Described somewhere in the further line,
I fluff up the pillow with "you" in a murmur,
Over the mountains, which have no bounds or end,
In the darkness, with the entire body, all your
Features, as would a crazy mirrow, I recreate.
Dec 12, 2017
Dec 12, 2017 at 12:03 PM UTC
15th,
the time of the month
when a master card american expresses a visa reminder,
hey your passport gonna get cxld!
don't leave town; you got debts due from living life
to the fullest or the lesser, the black & white soda of
mixed up scrapings and dreaming disney fantasias
7 decades is a whole lot of 15th's
many rent/mortgage notices due,
'postage not included' notices,
(in case you were thinking of cutting a
first class stamp size
corner)
the worst word rent, rents,
and not only on the 15th,
smiling - got to rent me a poem someday,
what is the cost, guessing I'll find out on the 15th next
all the time,
lip limp from weekend to the next Friday,
just just making it through, barely,
month to the month, year to tear, dear and dare
15th to the 15th, teenth to teenth
and what is in betweenth
fully forecast a final call, last call will come on a 15th,
made sure there will be enough left to cover the outstandings,
another outstanding word I love
just enough left to mail me and my ritings,
take care of the responsibles, the non-disposables,
my last months rent, covered, my rep intact,
but no more, no one last yellow taxi ride
***the postage to return me
to my next forwarding address,
and even the cost of this poem,
got it covered***
3:23am 8/15/17
Sep 19, 2017
Sep 19, 2017 at 3:14 PM UTC
If I had a penny
for every time you popped up in my thoughts,
you know id be rich.
I woke up this morning,
the some-teenth time its happened;
my first thought was you.
-some-teenth
powered by ten,
-never divided
-it hasn’t subsided.
I'll ask you if you fell from heaven;
if they’re missing an angel.
I'll look for your tag,
to see where you were made.
I’m sure you MUST be tired,
you’ve been running through my head all day….
what’s more to say?
Jun 26, 2010
Jun 26, 2010 at 3:31 PM UTC
And so on and especially so forth, as it shall in time provide your journey's story and future clues to the scavengers of whom may choose to pursue, and even if they might peruse and cruise, they shall never ***** or shout, or begin to muck about but instead all cohesively be care free and gumption fillled to the Ump's teenth degree. Progress for the Better, Don't read the blinding letter... but if you do, Why pray our souls to keep, in a pickled formaldehyde case, so ******* cheap, that it eventually begins to seep and creep into the membranes of societies creek, who proceed to reap... and sOw, everything you thought you know, and renipulate and regurgitate their own versions of twisted and ManUScripted fate. They say don't hate, just **********
But the Globe is warm, despite all their charm
So I say we try and pray collectively all at once some day and unite the nobles of our HUMAN race.
Sep 9, 2017
Sep 9, 2017 at 8:20 PM UTC
I thought about killing myself today...
again
for the ump-teenth time this month.
I was wearing that yellow polo
and thumbing through the pages of a book
of poems
by Bukowski
if I could only write like him,
I thought --
then I’d be somebody.
I don’t even like that shirt
but I wear it anyway
because
it’s comfortable.
maybe that’s exactly
how I feel
about my
on-again-off-again
relationship
with my
suicidal thoughts –-
I’d never actually do it,
I tell myself
*I just like to think about it
because
it’s
comfortable*.
oh --
we’re such silly creatures of habit
aren’t we?
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 7:41 PM UTC
It hit me almost like a car would
But a lot more softly.
I was walking down the street
To the ump-teenth job interview
As I noticed where I was standing.
I was on the other side of the street
Of where you intercepted me
About 6 years ago.
Vaguely I remembered
Having played around with you
We worked hard, we gamed hard.
"Where do I put this pallet?"
"Just there, in front of the computer"
I raised my eyebrows
and pushed the pallet
Right up against the computer.
"Here?"
"Yeah"
I smirked at you and released the switch
As to leave the pallet right up against the computer
"No! I meant with a gap so I can still work"
"I know what you meant!"
I turned on my tracks and ran off laughing.
It was high season
You could not have gotten your hands
On a transpallet with the best will of the world.
"Woman, I'm going to get you for this!"
Put your game face on sweetpants
You started driving me home
I was nervous and you could tell.
I waited for you that night
But you never came out
So I took the bus home.
okay maybe he's done playing
I thought to myself
As I crossed the road.
A blue Volkswagen Golf
Stopped on the crossway
It was green for me
What's your problem dude?
The lights turned on inside
It was you
"You need a ride?"
"I thought you went home"
"No but I chased the bus until here so I could drive you home from here on"
Thanks for getting my point
Thanks for all the years after
Thanks for your current commitment
Even though we broke up.
And thank you for always getting the message,
Even though you never listened.
Thank you for all the years you gave me
As a result of a game we used to play at work.
I love you, like good friends love each other.
With the same loyalty and commitment.
You haven't lost anything
It just changed.
Sep 22, 2016
Sep 22, 2016 at 11:22 AM UTC
Tuesday, the 12th,
In perfect health,
His long, curly hair cropped short,
A smile worthy of the royal court,
The unawareness of those surrounding them,
Blind to the pain that fills his limbs,
Laughter in the air,
It's not as though they didn't care,
One am, an urgent plea,
The trust in him smaller than a bee,
The boy who cried wolf thought to be present,
So ignored was the request sent,
Wednesday the 13th,
They called the teenth,
14th, Thursday,
From the topic, his brother did not stray,
"The curse of grief delivered him to Death,
In regret, he asked for help in his last breath,"
Mourn they did,
From the guilt, they hid,
Putting on a mask,
Bottling up their feelings was a task,
Alone tears fell,
In their own little hell,
But he was gone,
On them it did don,
There was nothing to be done now,
To him was whispered "Ciao",
Rest in Peace,
May your pain cease,
Dec 16, 2017
Dec 16, 2017 at 8:55 PM UTC