"theo" poems
a goat encounters a lion. normally the lion sees the goat as food. instead The Lion offers shelter warmth theo goat offered protection awkward that a four-legged hooved animal could protect the queen of the jungle protection together they stood both natural leaders both immature in the ways at the time neither wanted to back down from the other but that's what made it work despite the goats dexterity and natural stubbornness in his ways the lion SAT and ate with the goat. years and years they feast upon the golden ducks they collected at the rivers which they traveled odd as combination is professionals know that that is not even a combination amongst the food chain but fore a while they dined peacefully. the lion roared bloodthirsty the goat while being the loner the leader willfully back down from the lion scenario has a goat beat a lion. The goat couldn't bear the lion parting ways the goat be that as it may just wanted his own way but the goat has to learn sometimes the best win is to back off not every wall is meant to be broken especially that of a lion and her pride so the lion beautiful as ever smirked as if we were the prey and the goat knowingly put his head inside her mouth I'll let you tell it
Mar 18, 2015
Mar 18, 2015 at 1:16 PM UTC
"One may have a blazing hearth in one's soul and yet no one ever came to sit by it. Passers-by see only a wisp of smoke from the chimney and continue on their way."
-Vincent van Gogh in a letter to his younger brother Theo van Gogh in July of 1880"
I've taken the straight razor
to my ear like a third-rate
van Gogh.
Impressionism bleeding
into Expressionism.
Mania trickling into
an unmitigated need
to find the beauty
and grace he only
found with a paintbrush.
Blood clinging to the
horse hair bristles
like the blood splattered
in the margins of every
page I've ever filled.
Each line and brush
stroke choking out
a futile cry for help
as the wheat fields burn
and the sunflowers wither.
Sep 23, 2012
Sep 23, 2012 at 6:21 AM UTC
Eratic Plastic Dysphemistic Euphemisms
the rain in Spain
falls mainly on the plain
while the dome in Rome
is a place to call home
and the gazoot in Beirut
is in cahoot
with the Neo in Reo
and his brother Theo
and Levi in Shanghai
munches blueberry pie
the roast on the coast
has been burnt like the toast
and my frog on the log
barks like a dog
its a pity how gritty
it is in ** Chi Minh City
never challange Mr Wong to play ping pong
in Hong Kong
or smoke a bowl with a mole
in old town Seoul
or the gendarme will storm
the crowd in Pittsburgh
Gomer LePoet...
Jul 3, 2013
Jul 3, 2013 at 11:33 AM UTC
© Sid Eli Theo
Please meet me now
I forever want to see your pretty face
Because beauty is within my eyes and I see you
as this pretty thing
Tell me more, I want to hear your voice
as you say out loud you aren't even
ready
I ignore it and still look at you with gleaming eyes
I want a kiss
I put my arms around you
And ask what do you think I am thinking
As I hold on tight
And go in for the kiss
But you push away and say no.
No. Is my answer.
I am not a pretty little thing.
I am someone looking for something
to connect with this feeling
that life is ending soon
and we are all just souls
holding on to the edges of the melting ***
looking for sincerity.
Learn boundaries folks, no one wants a pushy creep.
Apr 12, 2014
Apr 12, 2014 at 3:45 AM UTC
~for Isabel, Alex & Wendy, Theo & Rose~
be reading Whitman and Hafiz,
adding some Shelley and Frost,
for (no salt) seasoning, might add in
a biblical, King Solomon’s be-loved,
sugared Song of Songs…
won’t need to go far, on my nightstand,
search & reach, to love and preach to
generations next, a lesson last & simple:
read, read, read there by learning,
how to first define, then preserve the
variety of feelings rising from within!
here’s a starter morsel from Walt,
sort of a summary of how to do it,
all well and proper…
poppy
”This is what you shall do; Love the earth and sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms to every one that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote your income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning God, have patience and indulgence toward the people, take off your hat to nothing known or unknown or to any man or number of men, go freely with powerful uneducated persons and with the young and with the mothers of families,
read these leaves in the open air every season of every year of your life,. re-examine all you have been told at school or church or in any book, dismiss whatever insults your own soul, and your very flesh shall be a great poem and have the richest fluency not only in its words but in the silent lines of its lips and face and between the lashes of your eyes and in every motion and joint of your body.”
Walt Whitman
Preface to Leaves of Grass, 1855.
Walt Whitman, c.1887.
Aug 16, 2023
Aug 16, 2023 at 4:08 PM UTC
floral effervescence
wafts around you
thy theo black temperament rose iq
ushers lulabies as playful amor kru
apollo is falling for the aquamarine
rays, reflecting the sea's craved ardour
and our love is like a cyclamen oleandro
the fascinating, dissolving, poisonous sleep
inwardly unaware of the whitest clouds oro
seducing the beauty of a ceruelan absolute ~
if i were the wave i would foam your dream
if you were a black panther i'd be your kaa
for a day to experience your mighty paws
to tremble like open window shutters, strickened
by the fire, by light, by thunderbolt's love flame
oh, come on, come on sweet man of the fantasia
i've got to tell you i ain't foolin' around those dim
alleys at nights like this; luscious calls lure hello
at least, hear my hearts deepest throbbings, hear
them, embrace them, conquer my world's cream
taste the strawberry sweeteness on a tip of me, u
trickle your tongue against my open buoyancy
write kaligrafic words of love's invisible tint
beautify the untouched pergament, maestro
write like there's no time nor tomorrow's no;
inaugure every christmas crickets flash mob
within you and awaken me from a slumber,
deeply rooted, lovely and mild as wood's chi
and I will cherish you, praise and love long
forgotten wild forest's animals as panacea
for the dissolving salt upon a love wound
which torchered your solitude for who's
pleasure, for what reason, for a slick slap
of an epic trustful faith as lux aeterna
crashing the myth of a love superior;
a desolation of waning touches soma
hiding its fragility in madmind's attempt
to overcome what's earth's given inferno;
to die in a lustful blazing heat of creatio
contemplating about heavenly key lock
how to forge a golden key to your anima,
gracefully giving a hand to her emperor
to dance on a verge of an existence' folie
to blossom upon hushed world's meridian
in dreamy space n' time, first darlin' flush
the prime animus dances, dares, waters~
Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 3:50 PM UTC
Dear Seb,
My infatuation with you did not impress.
Dear Josh,
We were 5000 feet above sea level, with a fear of heights.
Desperation fuelled the climb.
Dear Dave,
You were my first love.
You chew me up and refuse to spit me out.
Dear Dan,
I am sorry.
Dear Alex,
You should be sorry.
Black and purple did not suit my skin.
Dear Shea,
We tried too hard.
We lived in too many shadows.
Dear Dave,
I cannot get you out of my bones.
You squat beneath my ribcage.
Dear Craig,
You gave me disillusion with meaningful words.
I tried to love you.
Dear Joe,
You are breathtaking and the everything of everything.
And I do not know how to be enough.
Dear Keith,
Why did we do it?
Dear Theo,
I would have broken that softness in your eyes.
Dear Dave,
Your indelible imprint colours everything I do.
Dear Cameron,
You are my what's next.
Dear Joe,
You stroked my hand and my hair to wake me.
You are afraid of me.
Dear Dave,
I still remember every word.
Every one.
Dear Lucas,
In my head we had infinity.
Dear Matthew,
I was a vacuum in your life.
Together we were less than nothing.
Dear Joe,
You are the birds singing at dawn.
Why do you want me?
Dear Dave,
I still remember.
May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 6:15 AM UTC
They nutrients facts say all artificial flavor,that fake smile is like your faces screen saver,they always talking but I see they watch they behavior,they imagining like the equator,theo this theo that let me be the translator, I don't got a thing so Ima make theo bound to fail like he married to a ring,Ima control his future like its on a string,he blooming I'm not I wanna feel like spring,say he flying well Ima rip off his left wing,making a black man fail I'm guessing the white mans there King,
Aug 30, 2015
Aug 30, 2015 at 11:44 PM UTC
I have in me a bit of Tuscan sun
The wildness of mistral
The calmness of a Cezanne village
I often walk around the countryside of Pissaro
And see the colors, still abundant, undefeated
I stroll around the lilies and the harbor of France where Manet painted being thrown out of his house, not able to pay the rent
I dance with the beautiful girls in high society Parisian parties of whom from Zola to Maugham spoke about
I learn art in silence, in the bright orange color of the day drawing the French young girl
Whose face is like Madonna
Her innocence, her laughter, her flawless body
Excite me, breaks me, creates me
I walk with clean head and red wine in the streets of Montmartre
Searching the gone and dusted studio of Renoir, Picasso, Monet
I stand exactly there where there is nothing old except the moon
And the Sacre Couer
In the morning I take the first train to Auvers Sur Oise
And walk into the cemetery
Where lie in the gorgeous French sun
Vincent and Theo Van Gogh
I utter to them, "Can dream ever be false?"
It is when I heard the footsteps
I turned
The girl in the yellow dress stands at the gate of the cemetery
Whom I draw every day but never captured her beauty
The French girl
We both stand there as it is
As if
framed
paused
Frozen
We, the Impressionists!
Aug 8, 2020
Aug 8, 2020 at 8:45 AM UTC
Speak to me, Ariadne.
Lay with me, Amilova.
Be my Piper, be my Rane,
Be my Theo, say my name.
If I were to love you, would it be because I made you?
If I told you you're mine, does that mean that you'd stay?
I brought you here so you could see my face,
And see the world, this wonderful place.
Oh my Nero, oh my Milo,
I brought you here, Shale and Shiloh
Nov 9, 2010
Nov 9, 2010 at 4:08 PM UTC
The Pleasant Difference ‘Tween The Spiritual & Religious ( revised, revised, revised)
How to say this briefly:
Firstly,
Words that help convey the hidden.
They exist.
Here is the gist:
Churches, sects, cults, creeds, the claim
Of being chosen.
Tenets frozen,
Woven into scripture
Which professes knowing
What is best for all,
Where if you’re good you rise
And if you’re bad you fall.
Spirit's -ality puts stress on union,
The approach to life
Emphases
On oneness under all beliefs;
On peace and joy and getting these;
Transcendence over time and space
A sense of being face to face
With truths about reality, its indescribability -
Yet not impossible to give a voice to.
Fear that goes,
Love that grows.
Agape’s universal call,
Connecting to an All in all.
Practices to help along:
Meditation, psilocybin, prayer and song,
Means to fit all shapes and sizes,
Geniuses as well as dunces,
Non-, theistic preferences
Which need to be demystified.
Not magic, pagan, or god-based,
Theo-physical, but meta-: deeply meaningful,
And mystical, the core of all.
The Pleasant Difference ‘Tween The Spiritual & Religious 2.9.2017
To The Child Mystic II; The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative; Nature Of & In Reality;
Arlene Corwin
Feb 11, 2017
Feb 11, 2017 at 7:01 AM UTC
I call the raccoon
"Theo" for short.
he has a twin brother
named Franklin.
Franklin likes to fly about at night,
while Theo likes to snack on stonefruit and
cold pizza.
they might look
drastically different.
they might be
drastically different
but they're still twins.
whether Theo speaks too softly
or Franklin plays music too loudly,
they're still Theo and Franklin.
it's a funny thing about being attached to someone like that, by namesake.
no matter how different you are from each other,
your names will still roll off people's tongues
together.
and while you think no one sees you as an individual,
know that your counterpart does.
so while he flies around and peers at you from the windowsill,
and you nibble on a plum and watch Netflix too late at night,
know that you know
you're different.
Dec 13, 2016
Dec 13, 2016 at 9:13 PM UTC
Man who made the Cubs world champs 2016 Series winner, named best leader.
Upon being named greatest leader in the world by Fortune, Theo Epstein, president of baseball operations at the Chicago Cubs, had this to say to an ESPN reporter: "Um, I can't even get my dog to stop peeing in the house. That is ridiculous."
<•>
humble,
lives in the spaces in between our toes and eyes,
where a nightly miracle occurs,
linty dirt returns magically of its own free will
we wash our mornful faces dailies,
off with the night's crusted leavings,
gifts of The Elfin Elusives,
who come and go unremarked and uncaught,
with a kind of kissy poke in your navel 'n eyes,
a finer reminder,
don't ever get a prideful notion of a clean start - ha!
the stubble assiduously removed morning prior,
returns with a scratchy salutation,
"good morning and ***** off, you ain't the boss"
just in case you think u got it rightly wrongheaded,
by a passing stray notion filling your
grateful deadheaded,
master of the universe, egotistical bred
YOU,
the
greatest leader in the world,
go back to bed, it's the weekend
*but only after you have walked the dog,
Mr. Master of the Universe,
or suffer a
humbling reminder"*
<~~~>
Jul 6, 2017
Jul 6, 2017 at 5:20 PM UTC
Availons twain twixt thus brighte biste
Hestorienne devoureed Christe
Holloe tou tu esn't et est.
Louvre, Le Louvre ist mi.
Bootes of sootes clamour shouerin'
Flouer in heand, beautie en Maie, Marche und Aprille.
Mama et moi no us or tu terrile.
Caspidate, inspedre, endre, spedistor, fouallona, mortalivus, vieliefe.
Good God, just confess already!!
I love... Ilove... Ilive, lie, liove, lovie,
She kissed me once on my cheek, deadly and deathandmorteanddeadandlifelessandvieless and now i love her, i want... ive never loved anyone, but now i know. I'll name him Theo, because of our God complex and i love you.
Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 12:17 AM UTC
I have traced your steps for years,
since I first saw your ships sailing
on the sandy shore, still looking as if
they had found their perfect reach.
You sang my madness on canvas
with green fiery torches of trees
exploding from gently rolling hills.
You created the same masks as I
as you painted your stark reality
in cheery yellow and orange,
lying to your brother that all was well.
Your portrait mirrors mine with eyes
that see the world whirl by
in excruciating precision
(even the parts which make most cringe).
When I have exhausted myself,
I comfort in the tenderness
of your brush on the faces of
men and women working
themselves to early graves.
A building for you alone in Amsterdam,
your final work hangs downstairs;
a tangled jumble, swirls and slabs
of pigments and oil, ultimately ugly
from five feet away. Wandering through,
I ended up three stories up and
a hundred feet away.
The wheat waved in the winds,
and the larks took flight
as if spooked by the farmer's dog.
Glorious light from the Auvers sun
filled the space between your vision
and mine. I sobbed for you then,
to have been torn from self
so violently that if
you shouted to yourself
you likely couldn't hear.
Small wonder you pulled the trigger,
because the wheat field you spread
on a table-sized landscape
sat beside the graveyard where
you and Theo lay side by side.
As I walked along, the only place
you could see the field and the paths
was with your back against the wall.
Family in Amsterdam,
too few friends in Paris,
the short walk to the cold
respite of the Church
no longer worth the breath spent.
Nowhere else to go,
nothing else to see,
too little paint left
to try again.
Mar 29, 2016
Mar 29, 2016 at 2:39 PM UTC
© Cynthia Eli Theo
At age of 26, I finally found my fix
It was a chick, with a crazy haircut (you thought I was going to say d*ck)
and imitation chucks
The intimate moments
Hoodie up , fake fur, against the wall.
The moment I saw you, was our first kiss.
As requested:
"I always wanted to kiss someone as soon as I laid eyes on them"
Wish granted.
****
I remember in the gay bar, when you first called me ***
You were so accommodating
Ending with the night of a three way dance off on the dance floor, me in the middle of the
sandwich.
Can you imagine what happened with us later on in life?
That twisted dreams became a reality and it
became hurt.
You swore you were a God(dess)
with no dresses
or heels
Only messed up hand me downs
And no eyebrows
I looked back on logs and you said the "I love yous" and "be mine" within the first moments.
Reflecting on my thoughts
How CRAZY.
You were my love
and I was yours
we were infinity infamous
Mental illness
Cheating
Drug Abuse
Insecurities got a hold of our throats
Slitting us apart
Self blaming; It's all my fault.
I created this disaster, right?
Baby, do you hear me?
Boy do I blame myself for this mess-up
Bat-shit crazy relationship chaotic lovely ****** energy
Lack thereof.
Lip locking, hair pulling, scratching
Enter warmth and lovingly caressing
Screaming out "I love you!" but "I'm hurting"
"Shut up" was your last words.
I decided it was enough.
as Do you still have my letter?
I wrote it to you, with personal wetness of tears shedding
as you peacefully slept on my bed.
And now you sit still in your room
Itching away, crawling up the walls
as I type this poem on my lonely laptop
I reach out to you, blowing you a kiss
Hoping it was a never a goodbye.
Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 9:44 PM UTC
Up in the foreground of attic answer phone booths
She bends for the man that is never around
In time the lady lay spends
Scrubbing for money that she will never spent
This force bleeds from her
Hair and her
Nose and
Her soul which has flown from the netted empty window
Glass shines on her buttocks
Her pale white linen thighs
Thugs peer in her window to catch a glance
A heart filled woeful Romeo like stance
But she, only she, is interested in her stars and her dance
She loves for no one
She loves for her seat dressed in milk like silk
She undresses washes tosses her rose hair
Like a lion likes yawn dare
She holds no fear for she is danger
Ballet point permission she kisses the toes of her own beauty
She has fallen in and out of love
However many times she wishes
Rules forget themselves
When they are around her
I saw the size of her eyes
Meteor shot glass vacuum gaze spanning days
And the wash pan was a present
That only brought me to her descent
Slave to her magic holds true like the water from a fall
Like the pear to a tree
Like life is to death
Scrubbing for the job
The the man ordered then in theft
Promised her his heart
But left like a hand does the dart
Sep 5, 2011
Sep 5, 2011 at 10:18 PM UTC
On the passenger side, I sat
Carrying my frustrations,
heartaches, and vulnerability.
Looking straight at the road,
Lost in my wilderness,
Trying to ponder,
"What is happening?"
I looked to my left, then
There was you, Theo.
On the driver seat,
spinning the car wheel,
leading the driveway, and
Maneuvering the destination.
Without knowing,
"where the real destination is?"
You looked to your right,
Our eyes have met, finally.
Bespoke to one another,
How each of our hearts broke,
Our longing, and anticipation
Of the next that is yet to come.
Day after day, night after night
Our communication hasn't stopped.
As if sleep, was our only enemy.
For every chance, every day,
on the same vehicle,
in which we met,
there was only bliss and hope.
Not until one Monday afternoon,
On a sudden depth,
every bliss and every hope vanished.
"What happened?" I pondered,
this time.
The answer, I tried to seek.
Your presence, I sought for.
I had nothing, nothing
but faded memories, and
Blurred dreams for the two of us.
On the passenger side, now I can't sit.
Frustrated, heartbroken, and vulnerable, once again, I am.
I looked to my left, now you're gone. You looked to your right,
someone else's eyes you've met.
But no, this can't be..
Theo, my love.
Oh how you changed my life,
You have no idea, I'm sure.
You are the sun that shines bright throughout my day,
You are the gravity that holds me down in every way.
You are the moon that shimmers throughout my night,
You are stars that glimmer oh so bright.
You are the oxygen that keeps me alive,
You are my heart that beats inside.
You are the blood that flows through me,
You are every color, and every love song, there is.
You are both my answered and unanswered prayer.
You are the one more chance,
I never thought I'd find.
You are the only guy I can see now.
As if you are my everything now.
I never want to lose you.
I want to be with you for every day and every moment, there will be.
Oh my Theo, why do I fear?
Why am I so jealous?
But hopeful, I must be.
To stay in love with you,
Still I want to be.
Over a period of time
I got to know the real you.
My Theo, so caring and gentle
with a genuine heart so true.
I told you I'd never leave
because of the feelings I have inside.
Of the destination, we are to go to,
Maybe I'll just let you, and time
befriend each other.
If it is meant to be,
time will remove the wall.
My love shall open your heart.
I love the way we are together.
You can always make me smile.
Will our love can ever really be true?
I guess I will have to wait awhile.
And see what lies ahead,
but always remember
what I have said.
Meeting you has changed my life,
and I really love you so, Theo.
Oh my Theo,
such a blessing you are to me.
Open your heart for me, my love.
Seize every love I have for you,
Let go of the rest, and Carpe Diem.
The feelings I feel for you
I am never letting go.
Remember me always,
Theo, my love.
I hope and pray that one day,
finally you will, too.
Jul 16, 2017
Jul 16, 2017 at 4:48 AM UTC
the riddle must be solved
did you take your life
in those fields?
some say no
the angle of the bullet entry is all wrong
and how did you make it to town with such a wound?
some say yes
when your burden on Theo was made clear
you must tell me
this question ravages my sleep
the recurring nightmare has no end
no answer
was it the cowboy?
why do you cover for such trash?
I sit in a theater
empty
as our souls are empty
our hearts are dark
you created such beauty
for a world such as this
I watch
as 100 painters paint a 1000 pictures
for you
but no answer comes
only the question
and then the words
whether they were truly spoken
does not matter...
'you want to know so much about his death
but what do you know of his life?'
rest in peace
Vincent
Nov 18, 2017
Nov 18, 2017 at 3:49 PM UTC
I read in one of Van Gogh’s letters to his brother Theo, that one day people will look at his paintings and say “he felt things deeply and tenderly”.
I see one of his paintings and my body shakes in his short brush strokes. uncontrollably. I see one of his paintings and his suns twirl in my head’s ******
I read that in the Middle Ages, they debated on whether or not to remove female seeds, so that the child does not suffer from excess of emotions.
Hysteria is born out of the womb, I look the etymology in the eye as I hold my pen to my womb
I stab it three times, but the words are still there. I see that I still am, so I stab my heart instead….
I bleed out Art .. Art .. Arteries, the etymology stares me back in the lungs. My pen drops dead.
Dec 26, 2017
Dec 26, 2017 at 12:46 PM UTC
Theo pushed further
than the usual merry go round,
hungering for lucre
a pound sign today and clarity afterwards,
breathalyized for sanity
supporters parched by their
concession,
his club outbids on wanted;
a journeyman for a quarter
of the repress.
Jan 2, 2013
Jan 2, 2013 at 5:50 PM UTC
Aye! Foreign Eye; tooth for a truth! you gnome eyne sane? Troot I owe ewe nah, youths dunno, you fin nah Noll. *** eye us fin nah per se, foe Theo Theo, ewe know O you no, enter ups shun, wot in the hex dies... jest say? Dis' awe beast anaconda sate shun bout Intrusion. O Why? O Why? O Eye, ice bins scratch in at Maya -Maya, day yum eye, forests rail lea bane it she laid lea. Wear Aye, yum Aye, yum Ah! Yea, *** eyes us sane, isis slow ands dims sum. Bess beefs be indy, indy, India, India, Far test fum yore deaf viand as understanding! O My! you oft de deep and of diem, diem... dim niche holes. couldst I ask I such without such plea? Pulleys! Pull East! Scaly wax inner interim oh, honor too, ides doe no, disease?
Lo! Land ** Too old geese sirs seize dearth closure mead wits mine ***** eye; and Naughty Wit Stan Ding disown. Yet fervor from mine arenose ol' hail home, I hath ne'er be -admit I to I; and plead to thee, wizened dis' Beseecher's breeching beach! Shea jest dis' a-greased wit who sow error to dew sew... ***** nil eat.
And therefore store my old hat lore, as I cast in twos that sea... Aye! thee, Foreign Eye! Truth for a truth, if truth it be, truth tell I, true to thee do I e'er be nah; e'er be I, true to thee from noun on; in air go, did jest *** you ditz dun to me, but now a blind eye a-see a freed bird!
- I caste you one lass time in due thus see. Cuss you beast an false eye, my you still dunce see, still blind you be, be dissin' in my sir name an airy way, and mode in air gone come.. a-seaward.
Mar 25, 2016
Mar 25, 2016 at 11:15 PM UTC
My brother Theodore
always said he loved me more
than gold or silver.
Our bond was stronger than any
that i had in my youth.
I'd tell him the truth
of my thoughts about girls
and all the troubles with boys at school.
When I tired of this town,
he promised to show me the world someday.
When he went out to sea
he said he'd come back for me,
"In a years time. You'll be fine.
Listen for me in the breeze."
But that was three years ago
and mother sits out in the snow.
Thinks she sees him sometimes
in the streets after wine.
He didn't come back in time.
She drinks herself to sleep.
Oh Theo, I can't keep this up long.
Oh Theo, what am I doing wrong?
Oh Theo, your memory keeps me strong.
Last time he walked out the door
he was kissing on Eleanor.
She was full with his child
when he said he'd be back in a while.
But she died one winter morning
and I took it as a warning
to never love somebody
if I'd not be there to mourn them when they go.
Oh Theo, she held my hand as we waved.
Oh Theo, as the waves took you away.
Oh Theo, now I'm almost grown.
Oh Theo, and I'm feeling alone.
I'd lay by the water, let the tide pull me in.
In the waves I was swallowed, ready for my life to end.
Death comes in threes but I wanted him to take me too.
Without him I was nothing but a boy without a song.
In the breeze I'd hear him sing, "It's time for you to move along."
So I packed my bags and left
after mother took her last breath.
I wanted to believe
there's something better for me out there.
So I travelled through the trees
and up the hills and through the streams.
I sipped my flask in a tent next to the water
I called Whisky Springs.
Oct 15, 2015
Oct 15, 2015 at 9:10 PM UTC
~
**The Cubs, The Dog and the
Greatest Leader in the World*^
~
humble lives in the spaces in between
our toes and eyes,
where the miracle occurs,
that linty dirt
returns of its own free will
we wash our faces dailies
of the night's crusted leavings
gift of
The Elusives^
a kinda kissy poke in the eye
lest u think stink,
u get a prideful notion of a
a clean start - ha!
the stubble assiduously removed prior,
returns with a scratchy salutation,
"good morning and **** off,
you ain't the boss"
just in case u think u got it
rightly wrongheaded
and a passing stray filled your
grateful deadheaded
notional still prone brain,
you,
are
master of the universe,
greatest leader in the world,
go back to bed
it's the weekend
after you walk the dog
~~~
The man who made the Cubs world champs Series winner named best leader. Upon being named greatest leader in the world by Fortune, Theo Epstein, president of baseball operations at the Chicago Cubs, had this to say to an ESPN reporter: "Um, I can't even get my dog to stop peeing in the house. That is ridiculous.
Mar 25, 2017
Mar 25, 2017 at 6:54 AM UTC