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L B Aug 2016
It was the time of my Auntie Bee summers
   I was small then
   She had a parakeet that landed on my head
   and a bathtub too
   with water so deep!
   and legs and claws!
   **** thing nearly chased me down the stairs!

She lived in slumbery Windsor Locks
   where bugs hung-out in the haze
   of teenage August
   I played in the tall weeds
   with a shoeless Italian boy
   who ate tomatoes like apples
   and cucumbers right off the vine!
   He was ***** free and foreign!
   We played— reckless, abandoned
   behind the gas pump, under the tractor, in the barn   
   and through the endless fields
   I didn’t know....
   His name was Tony
   I ate pizza with him—the first time

At Auntie Bee’s I had to go to bed at eight
   but I could watch night flowers
   bloom on wallpaper
   She came in to say good night
   slippered, shadowy, night dress slightly open
   and I peeped her *******!
   like Tony’s cucumbers!
   I had never seen my mother’s wonders....

Night spread its wings from the old fan—
   a bird of tireless exhaustion
   whipped, whipped, whipped to death in its cage
   tireless exhaustion
   tic-tocking in time to a wind-up clock
   stretched out on the whine
   of the overland trucks
   Route Five through the night of an open window

In the grape arbor below—
tremulous incessant
   crickets    crickets    crickets
tremulous incessant—insides of a child
   a summer child
   not yet ready for the fall of answers

Auntie Bee had a daughter—Maureen
   I followed her everywhere I could
   I was small then--    
   do anything for a stick of Juicy Fruit
I followed Maureen through my dreams
   of being sixteen
   and woke to Peggy’s “Fever”
   while she tied her sneakers
   against the mattress by my head

I followed Maureen (in my mind)
   tanned and bandanned
   to work in the fields of shade tobacco
   with all those Puerto Rican boys!
   She knew where she was going!

I was small then
...do anything for a stick of  gum

“Mauney! Mauney! Mauney!”
   ...through the goldenrod of roadside
   through the smell of oil that damped the dust    
I followed Maureen’s white shorts
   and chestnut hair...to the corner store
I followed the way the boys smiled
   the way the screen door slammed
   on her bright behind
   the way her lips taunted and took
   the coke-bottle’s green
I followed Maureen

I swear, I tried for hours to get that right!

Must have been Peggy Lee’s “Fever”

Maureen ties her sneakers in my face
Flaunts her years above my head
She has that look—
“We kids don’t know nothin”
(Little turds” that we be)

…followin’ Maureen
through the goldenrod of roadside
tic-tockin’, beboppin’

“Fever— in the morning
Fever all through the night….”
Peggy Lee's Fever:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b4hXyALR9vI
I was seven years old and did I ever get this!
Peggy Lee's stripped down performance is the epitome of ***.

Windsor Locks is in Connecticut.
Kara Jean Jun 2016
The devil sat next to her offering Sumatra blend coffee as a peace offering
He had an intimidating persuasive grin
Her soul was shrinking
Her ******* were missing
He trapped her plotting
His key was twisting into Hells room floor
She could no longer ignore his insensitive personality  
His life style was to **** expensive
A clock tick tocking rhythm less  
She still held her head high
He never seemed surprised when she said goodbye
Khoi-San Oct 2018
All them tiny white lies
Got all them big surprises
Hanging on to those tiny
Tick tocking arms
Mike Hauser Oct 2018
The trouble I find
Most often with time
Is it keeps on ticking
Tocking it's bite

Taking you out
Without much thought
Through the daily grind
And nightly bumps

All the burning hoops
Time sets on fire
Says it's okay
But we know it's a liar

Never slowing down
Where a man can catch his breath
Till you make your exit
... Stage Left

The trouble I find
Most often with time
Is it keeps on ticking
Tocking it's bite
Stop, you can't
          stop the ticking
                    as it tocks away
          counting every
second in every
          day, if you do
                    you will slip and
          fall back in to
your regular
          relapse because
                    it knows that
          every moment
is fleeting and
          you can't escape
                    from treating
          every face like
a lifeline as to
heave your fragile,
          broken body out
                    of the ditch in
          which you dug
in a futile plot
                    to break your
          cynical cycle
         and run away
from everything
          pragmatic and
                    pessimistic and
                    ticking and
                              tocking
                       ­       in
                                        your
          ­                                        head.
Stephanie Jul 2018
I can convince myself that I’m okay
I can convince myself I don’t think about you
That I’m thriving and happy here
That I don’t have you gnawing in my mind
I could do this forever
I’m happy enough
It’s truly terrifying what we can do to ourselves
We tell ourselves we want this, need it even
Convince others and you’ll convince yourself
The human condition may be hypnosis
Focus on the pendulum
Ticking and tocking
Silver plated, you want that, need that even
She can be your pendulum
She’ll only move two ways, side to side
You convince yourself you don’t need forward and back
You’ve committed to a lifetime of east and west
You should be terrified of what you can do to yourself
You’re capable of being your own hangman
Convince yourself the rope isn’t rough
Tell yourself it isn’t too tight
Reassure yourself the fall isn’t that quick
The ground isn’t that far down
Drop
L B Jul 2018
It was the time of my Auntie Bee summers
   I was small then
   She had a parakeet that landed on my head
   and a bathtub too
   with water so deep!
   and legs and claws!
   **** thing nearly chased me down the stairs!

She lived in slumbery Windsor Locks
   where bugs hung-out in the haze
   of teenage August
   I played in the tall weeds
   with a shoeless Italian boy
   who ate tomatoes like apples
   and cucumbers right off the vine!
   He was ***** free and foreign!
   We played— reckless, abandoned
   behind the gas pump, under the tractor, in the barn  
   and through the endless fields
   I didn’t know....
   His name was Tony
   I ate pizza with him—the first time

At Auntie Bee’s I had to go to bed at eight
   but I could watch night flowers
   bloom on wallpaper
   She came in to say good night
   slippered, shadowy, night dress slightly open
   and I peeped her *******!
   like Tony’s cucumbers!
   I had never seen my mother’s wonders....

Night spread its wings from the old fan—
   a bird of tireless exhaustion
   whipped, whipped, whipped to death in its cage
   tireless exhaustion
   tic-tocking in time to a wind-up clock
   stretched out on the whine
   of the overland trucks
   Route Five through the night of an open window

In the grape arbor below—
tremulous incessant
   crickets    crickets    crickets
tremulous incessant—insides of a child
   a summer child
   not yet ready for the fall of answers

Auntie Bee had a daughter—Maureen
   I followed her everywhere I could
   I was small then--    
   do anything for a stick of Juicy Fruit
I followed Maureen through my dreams
   of being sixteen
   and woke to Peggy Lee’s “Fever”
   while she tied her sneakers
   against the mattress by my head

I followed Maureen (in my mind)
   tanned and bandanned
   to work in the fields of shade tobacco
   with all those Puerto Rican boys!
   She knew where she was going!

I was small then
...do anything for a stick of  gum

“Mauney! Mauney! Mauney!”
   ...through the goldenrod of roadside
   through the smell of oil that damped the dust    
I followed Maureen’s white shorts
   and chestnut hair...to the corner store
I followed the way the boys smiled
   the way the screen door slammed
   on her bright behind
   the way her lips taunted and took
   the coke-bottle’s green
I followed Maureen

I swear, I tried for hours to get that right!

Must have been Peggy Lee’s “Fever”

Maureen ties her sneakers in my face
Flaunts her years above my head
She has that look—
“We kids don’t know nothin”
(Little turds” that we be)

…followin’ Maureen
through the goldenrod of roadside
tic-tockin’, be-boppin’

“Fever— in the morning
Fever all through the night….”
_


Peggy Lee's Fever:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b4hXyALR9vI
I was seven years old, but I somehow got this.
a mcvicar Apr 8
a girl, laying down
on her stone cold bed
listens to quiet tappity taps
on the pastry roof over her head

she likes to dream, to conquer (and scream)
like in three girls & a cig walking,
she likes to stop, to think, to see
but her watch's-a-tickity-tocking

the compass of 16 brown cats' feet
are keeping her company, after all,
she lies in bed and dreams about
her neighbourhood flooding with blood
Matterhorn Apr 2
Once again, lying in bed,
The day's events
Flowing through my head
Like a movie
I don't want to see.

The dreams come and go.
I push them aside,
Each time wishing they would return;
They don't, of course.
Why would they?

I see her eyes—
His eyes—
Their eyes,
Painted on the back of my eyelids
Like graffiti on the silver screen.

Covers pulled over my head
Only serve to catch the vapor of my breath;
The click-clacking of a beast in the hall,
The quiet tick-tocking of a distant clock
Still permeate.
© Ethan M. Pfahning 2019
Nika J Feb 6
Blatant words of lost entirety
Gushing as the heart speaks in truth
Entity mimicked wishes
Becomes curse cue
Thumping evil desires ravishes souls hidden dire needs
A messenger of deciet falls upon lap with broken wings
Lies become truth driven and believeth one shall
As the agony of ticking no longer represents time
But a field of panicked heartbeats dodging what's heaven sent
Prayers fall on deaf tone
Leave a message after the beep
Gone like that joyous scent which held the air before
Past tense? Nothing more
A tocking opposite of happiness
Opposite of pride
Opposite of kindness
Rain trickling
Tickling ones skin with cold compressed shivers of vague comfort
Blankets becoming tight no inhale
Licking at the darkness sweltering inside
Lost...
Empty eyes travel to one shade above
This is the world one resides
When one no longer believes
In Love
Ever lost the ability to love? Feeling betrayed in ways you cannot give or get back? Feels colorless and empty doesn't it? But comforting in its dull wasteland, you begin to LOVE where love doesn't exist...
Choking . . .
on the fumes of life
I give in
when too much strife
I though I had
made sure the plans
But they slipped through the fingers
Like sand in the hands

When devoured
our thoughts perverse
The truth be told
it goes from bad to worse
Porcelain smiles from a
crystalline face
The age has yellowed
The trust misplaced

You sit on the park bench
In the middle of night
No one bothers you
they can see
you are lost
in the midst of your plight

The thought of dawn
rising
far to the east
myths are on without
the peace
All my time is second hand ware
Ticking goes tocking
burdened by wear

— The End —