"towed" poems
In That Moonlit Night Standing In The Abaft,
Watching The Towed Flaccid Wooden Raft,
I Thought That I Saw An Angel Resting,
Lying Exhausted There In That Craft.
I Call The Girl Out Unbeknownst Of Her Kind Name,
"Hey Young Lady!!" To Which She Didn't Much Respond,
She Looked Up Towards Me Once In Anguish & Collapsed,
I See Desperation In Her Amber Eyes & Resolve To Help Her.
The Crewmen Had Now Been Doing The Paddles After Resting,
I Summon My Captain & Ask, "Do You See That Girl In The Raft?"
The Senile Captain Smiles To Say, "Commodore, Better Get Married,"
I Look Just Clueless To Which He Simply Replies, "There Is No Girl."
True He Was As She Had Simply Disappeared,
I Started Thinking Of My Sleep Needs That Day,
I Looked Around Again In A Hope To Find The Girl,
I Had Compromised My Routine As The Commodore.
Then I Immediately Realized It Was My Wild Phantasm,
Now This Was Just A Plain Illusion Of A Tired Sailor's Mind,
No Mermaids Could Have Ever Existed In Reality & Were Fake,
I Turned Towards The Deck To Go Back To My Bunk For Sleeping.
As I Climbed Down The Stairs To Enter My Room Amazed & Dazed,
I Saw Her Standing And Waiting For Me By The Side Of My Bunk,
I Accepted That Delusion Of My Mind & Started To Lie Down,
She Said, "I'm As Real As Your Thoughts, Don't Fear Me."
She & I-Me & Her, Had The Best Time That Night,
In The Morning She Was Gone & Was Just Gone,
Disappeared Into Thin Air While I Was Asleep,
Each Day I So Dearly Long For Her To Return.
Nov 28, 2012
Nov 28, 2012 at 2:06 AM UTC
i
give me my lifes´
the day crowded bright
and the night sumptuous..
give me my pretty wife
where love at first sight
bind us..
give us two souls blithe
fused as light within light
sweet bounteous..
let us soar and dive
like content swallows might
time in lost happiness..
( and let trouble and strife
bind-us the more tight
like our first kiss..)
give then to two one life
white to white
whole as stars
as love unto death
might break apart
and ride the cosmos..
ii
the jonah by james herbert
a heist goes wrong and a colleage
is shot..
just another debacle for our hero
in a long list
that has him transferred to the
drug squad and east anglia..
to live in a caravan..
keep his eye on the locals
and drink strong beer..
ellie his partner
makes him eat
and they fall in love
though various tentions rise
due to his troubles..
some flash backs
a left baby in a toilet
sadistic stuff at the orphanage..
bullies and dodgy collars
his step father is strict
he is an ornothologist..
there are drug related incident
a dead vole
a us pilot bites the farm..
some little boy thinks he
can fly..
the water supply
some pilfering
some heavy knocks
some bad lies
some kitchen
small potatoes
but all part
of mr herbert´ s charm..
a huge storm
the spooky old mill
a wild trip..
and regression
bad men
bad men..
lot´ s of struggle
the raw products
towed in by trawler
assembled by the knights
torn
and a lost twin..
a monster in the flood
where others die
a maitre d..
a ***** salesman and
his girl in a caravan
the fishermen..
helicopters and
victory for
the forces of good..
and the jonah
gone and all
is light..
the end..
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 8:01 AM UTC
In the cold grey light of the sixth of June, in the year of forty-four,
The Empire Larch sailed out from Poole to join with thousands more.
The largest fleet the world had seen, we sailed in close array,
And we set our course for Normandy at the dawning of the day.
There was not one man in all our crew but knew what lay in store,
For we had waited for that day through five long years of war.
We knew that many would not return, yet all our hearts were true,
For we were bound for Normandy, where we had a job to do.
Now the Empire Larch was a deep-sea tug with a crew of thirty-three,
And I was just the galley-boy on my first trip to sea.
I little thought when I left home of the dreadful sights I'd see,
But I came to manhood on the day that I first saw Normandy.
At the Beach of Gold off Arromanches, 'neath the rockets' deadly glare,
We towed our blockships into place and we built a harbour there.
'Mid shot and shell we built it well, as history does agree,
While brave men died in the swirling tide on the shores of Normandy.
Like the Rodney and the Nelson, there were ships of great renown,
But rescue tugs all did their share as many a ship went down.
We ran our pontoons to the shore within the Mulberry's lee,
And we made safe berth for the tanks and guns that would set all Europe free.
For every hero's name that's known, a thousand died as well.
On stakes and wire their bodies hung, rocked in the ocean swell;
And many a mother wept that day for the sons they loved so well,
Men who cracked a joke and cadged a smoke as they stormed the gates of hell.
As the years pass by, I can still recall the men I saw that day
Who died upon that blood-soaked sand where now sweet children play;
And those of you who were unborn, who've lived in liberty,
Remember those who made it so on the shores of Normandy.
________________________________________
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 3:07 PM UTC
•
will
you take
me into your
space...•cradle
me upon the
sultry limbs of
your nebulous
grace•the expansive
arms of the universe,
where peaceful
slumber awaits•your
poetry laden comets,
bore abundant love,
all towed in freights•
gingerly drinking in the depth
of your face•seemingly blindfolded,
i'll tread each dark crater•my head in
a swirl of your majestic trace•
where I would stumble upon
V a love ever so... V
/ | | || \
( )
( INTERSTELLAR )
( )
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 12:59 PM UTC
Did you see the tarnished surface
that made you look again
Was it reflected in the lyrics
in the Anthem of the Thames
Was the traffic still diverted
Had the Borough lost good men
Were mothers dry from crying
at the Anthem of the Thames
Did you see the children drowning
Was the tide too high from rain
Were the barges towed in silence
past the Anthem of the Thames
Were the songs drowned out by shouting
Did the words turn boys insane
Did the drum beats beat past midnight
to the Anthem of the Thames
Was it echoed through the arches
Did the shadows hide the stains
Did the wounded walk til morning
through the Anthem of the Thames
Will you still be here at day break
Do you claim this grey domain
Will you pray for restoration
of the Anthem of the Thames
Oct 8, 2018
Oct 8, 2018 at 4:24 PM UTC
There is no moral code
When time is an icy road
Where you cannot stop
Or you'll be stuck in the cold ground
When the temperature drops
Snow collects in my frosty frown
And starts to linger
On my frostbite fingers
While I keep sliding
On the line we're riding
I see icy roads
Leading to icy modes
Of acting
Impacting
The way we treat each other
The same way we beat each other
To the finish line
Of our frigid time
Time isn't nice
When it's ice
But it's all we know
Time continually goes
The challenges grow
Buried in snow
Trying to go uphill is a nasty nope
Sliding downhill is a slippery slope
If you momentarily lose your control
You're pulled over by the cops on patrol
Everything is covered in snow
Even the cars being towed
Their owners gave away their agency
And are at the tow truck driver's mercy
They rely on him to get them to safety
So they cunningly wear his jersey
There are things we want
Acquired by tease and taunt
We drive on top of bodies
To gain traction on the street
We do what is naughty
To have enough to eat
I careen through time
Without seeing a dime
Everything looks so plain
In this frozen rain
When the ordinary life
Is within my sight
I look for something more
Only to see a frozen door
There is ice on the road
There is ice in my heart
I can't handle the load
In the back of my cart
Until I decide
To abide
By the slide
And glide
On the edge of control and freedom
There are other cars and I'll lead them
Jan 17, 2018
Jan 17, 2018 at 2:03 AM UTC
Offshore Oil Exploration
Months of preparatory work,
Permits obtained.
Maps explored, sited,
Ground and beneath scanned,
Each contour drawn, plotted, named.
Equipment assemblage.
Platform designed and towed,
Pre-commencement government inspection
Constant.
We test. Slowly, the loose, easy dirt,
Gives in. No rejoicing yet, premature.
The diverter in place, functions well.
The deeper the bit, the harder the resistance.
The camera's eyes monitor until
We reach depths too deep for their functioning.
The derrickhands order about the junior roustabouts,
Check the mud pumps, check the pH levels,
Do this, do that. The pecking order on board clear.
The kings of the rig, the drillers, in charge.
Then, disaster.
Oil spill.
Worse.
Not only smiling,
She has
Opened her eyes and
Ceased purring.
P.S. This would as is my custom be,
Re-entitled properly:
First Poem of the Day: Offshore Oil Exploration
Jul 5, 2013
Jul 5, 2013 at 7:02 AM UTC
I Peered Out Of The Room Windows,
I Was In This Desolate Guesthouse,
It Was A Comfortable Rest House,
And Here I Was In Anticipation,
Angel Or Whosoever Was Awaited,
Will She Pop Into My Vision Here Too,
Was It Only A Seasick Mind's Illusion?
Was All That Really Just An Illusion,
Thinking This I Prepared For Bed,
Then I Felt A Flute Was Playing,
Looked Into Sound's Direction,
All I Saw Then Was Foggy Night,
My Own Reflection Was Also Visible,
Slightly If Not Entirely Can Be Seen.
I Recalled The First Night At The Sea,
She Did Appear On The Towed Raft,
A Beautiful Mermaid I Had Seen,
Now I Did Remember It Clearly,
My Face Was No Longer Mine,
Yes It Was The Beautiful Face Of Hers,
She Wasn't Sad As I Did Remember.
She Was Smiling So Very Divinely,
Her Brown Eyes Stared So Cutely,
More Divine Felt She Was Really,
I Thought That It Was So Early,
My Pocket Watch Showed Three,
I Took My Eyes Off And Went To Bed,
Then & There She Was Lying For Me.
I Again Let My Mind Play Games,
Never Did Imagine Turning Mad,
Now I Was Not Feeling As Bad,
Neither I Wanted To Break It,
Nor It Felt Like One Anymore,
This Was The Dream I Loved To Live,
As If The Boon Was Presented To Me.
She Smiled As I Sat On The Bed,
I Asked Her, "Are You Real?"
"Yes, Just As Your Thoughts,"
I Then Stared At Her Lips,
She Then Touched Me Again,
Hands As Soft As That Night At Sea,
I Just Felt Like Opposing Her Touch.
I Blankly Smiled And Thought,
'My Thoughts Are Surely Real,'
Then I Just Let Her Guide Me,
The Moon Shone So Bright,
It Just Felt Really So Very Right,
Resigning I Just Let My Illusion Win,
It's Love We Were Sharing, Not A Sin.
Apr 25, 2015
Apr 25, 2015 at 6:35 AM UTC
Black, Swiss cheese hulk on horizon
The James Longstreet
immobile old freighter of the bay
Towed to the ignominy
of its last commission
in the curled arm of The Cape
Tides flex their muscles against it
But The Longstreet is steadfast
in its dark purpose
Standing target for practice
A sortie if planes home in on its bulk
Honing their skills
on this “fish-in-a-barrel”
Thunderhead-etched pyrotechnics
Booming follows the miles over water
Against The Longstreet’s silhouette enduring
even God fixes sights
firing bolts across its bow
taking aim at our futures
Standing targets for practice
Vietnam? Cape Cod?
No difference to teens
before life’s ocean of conscription
Sand is cold beneath dunes
Beach grass rustles
to the pulsing surf
to the wind’s whispers
just below hearing
as if there’s a secret
that must be kept
We are targets for practice
We are meaningless din
Pulling our sweatshirts and blanket closer
The Supremes sing thinly
from transistor
“Stopped for a moment in the name of love—
Thinking it over”
Mar 3, 2017
Mar 3, 2017 at 2:14 PM UTC
Why should I care you're there,
Or anywhere.
It was you who interrupted the night;
I watched you stare down the fire,
Scrape your initials in the ashes.
If it weren't for family,
The confusion and strained dialogue,
Like appearances,
I wouldn't see you at all.
Stay you do, everywhere.
So I tell a joke or two, one line quips,
And you were smiling,
While you're there,
Where I should no longer care.
What would be the aftermath of such a collision?
One wreck towed off.
It doesn't bother me in the least,
Our complimentary pauses
At the four way stops,
Or roadside memorials,
With faded yellow ribbons and thirsty flowers
Pinned to a styrofoam cross.
There is no rest, and little peace.
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 9:07 AM UTC
A broken down Chevy-
Doesn’t that sound like a country song?
My broken down Chevy
Is where my life started and I began to belong.
That little pickup stayed true to its name.
It could pick up and take me anywhere,
Or we could park in a field and I could write,
To me it was all the same.
Being behind its leather wheel
Was a freedom I’ll forever cherish.
Eighteen with nowhere to be
Except driving my Chevy, every joy I could feel.
When I lost my job
I gained an eviction.
But I still had my Chevy
And I had its bed to sleep in.
There was no work in my small town.
I knew I had to leave,
Just my Chevy and me.
We traveled for days to the biggest city we found.
By the time we arrived
My Chevy had begun to sputter,
It shook, it moaned, it stopped.
And there on the highway, my Chevy died.
I knew this day would come-
My Chevy was a ’57.
But it carried me hundreds of miles
To the city in which my new life had begun.
A broken down Chevy-
Doesn’t that sound like a country song?
My broken down Chevy
Is where my life started and I began to belong.
I left it there on the highway.
With no job and only pocket change
I couldn’t keep my beloved Chevy
By towing it anyway.
Now I’m twenty-five
And the head of a publishing company.
I married an artist who always supported me.
Today he waited at home with a surprise.
My broken down Chevy,
Fully restored and brought back to life,
Was in the driveway
With a note taped to the window with the key.
“I believe this is yours
And may I say she’s beautiful!
I found your Chevy on the side of the highway.
Gosh I think it’s been six or seven years!”
“My father was always handy with cars
And he taught me his trade.
I towed your Chevy and meant to sell it
Once I had fixed it up to shine like stars.”
“As I was cleaning the compartments out
I found your old journal
Full of letters you wrote to yourself
And bible verses, all about perseverance, no doubt.”
“Your story inspired me.
It honestly rocked me to my core.
I had lost all hope in myself and the world.
I was fighting cancer, you see.”
“I read your journal every day, every page.
And the more I read, the more I believed
In those verses you treasured so.
I continued restoring your truck, and last year I got saved.”
“My cancer was gone, seemingly overnight.
The doctors couldn’t believe it!
And honestly
Neither could I!”
“I thank God every day
For the story He gave you,
And I thank Him
Because you broke down on that highway.”
“Now I’m returning this Chevy to you.
She shines like a diamond and runs like a river.
I hope you can forgive me but I am keeping your journal-
My granddaughter is fighting cancer now too.”
“Please pray for her and I’ll keep you in my prayers always.
Thank you for being the person you are.
Goodbye and thank you again, my friend.
Like your broken down Chevy,
We’ve been made new; we’re eternally saved!”
Jul 14, 2016
Jul 14, 2016 at 11:47 AM UTC
Jack and Jill
Went up the hill
With Bill And Ted
To buy two bottles
Of mineral water.
Jack and Jill
Came tumbling down
Fatally cracking their heads open
And the local council was done
For corporate manslaughter.
But Bill and Ted
Came down on their mountain bikes
With the mineral water
towed on a skateboard.
And having buried Jack and Jill
At an environmentally friendly funeral
They headed for the Amazon
On solar powered surfboards.
Thus they concurred
This was yet again
As vinegar
Bed and
Brown paper-free
As there ever could be
Excellent Adventure.
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 8:49 AM UTC
Everytime a guy asks me what I prefer in a woman
They normally ask me if I like the front or the back
But honestly I think class is what's lacking
I don't judge a woman by her body
I think her personality is really what matters
I know we men would be angry if a girl asked another girl if she liked guys with a Maserati or a Ferrari
Not all of them are about money
That's when you know if she's really your honey
She doesn't except to take your money and run
You can get fired from your job and have your car get towed
And she'd still offer you a ride home
Isn't that funny
She wants you to get the hint and you still react like nothing has happened
Ain't it frustrating to be a girl
Not wanting to come off as desperate, but you desperately want him to see
What it could really be
Going through all the crap and still wanting to be with him
That's a real woman
That's what I want
A strong woman who puts up with my stupidity and still sticks around
With no possible reward to be found
The real jackpot is having her instead
Any woman like her is a lottery
Just make sure you treat her right
And be there for her when she's giving birth to your children
If you ask me, I wouldn't of made it so painful
But the pain is a little easier
When you're holding her hand and refusing to let it go
She'll remember that forever
Only being glad she decided to have kids with you
Just remember that when you **** her off
And you're sitting there with dozens of beer bottles on the floor with a few empty Doritos bags
Eating till you become dizzy
Regretting that you made her mad
And she let's you suffer with no response on your apology calls
We all make mistakes
But make sure letting her run away from your life isn't one of them
Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 5:00 AM UTC
You towed your broken down
beat up, used, rusted old
Chevy into my workshop
smelling like crap, and looking a whole lot worse
she had a busted engine
sputtered like a plane
(but not in a good way)
you leaked black oil all over my floors
stains of which I still can’t remove
no matter how many gallons of bleach I use
the radiator, well let’s just say
had seen better days
the interior leather seats were torn
and the once slick body
looked like you had ****** off
some mafia kingpin
so I spent my days and nights
greased up and elbow deep,
in your muck trying desperately,
but lovingly
to do what a mechanic does best
and I was leaking time
like I owned it, when I could’ve
should’ve found a more profitable fixer upper
I told myself, no convinced myself otherwise
and eventually, against the odds,
fixed you
then some schmo walks in
a bulging from both pockets
from wads of cash
and grabs you right outta my hands
the you I returned
to a shiny beauty as best I could
with the tools I had
well then, maybe I did fix you
I just never realised, I was doing it
for someone else.
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 12:16 PM UTC
It was a Saturday night in the park
his trees were singing
out of tune
his clay pigeons needed to come out
of his closet
for he was parked
on a stool
at his favorite watering hole
amongst a full house
where pairs beat singles
and there he was
shooting blanks
drowning in his sorrows
on his nine lives of lowlife
hoping for a sitting duck in despair
the kind that waddles right up to the Romeo's
with suspense in their hearts
and spontaneity in their wings
a cackle
that he can tackle
to take home
to his garden bed
for him to be fed
but what he got
was for not, naught, knot
wistful thinking
sitting in a bar sinking
for the jukebox played a broken record
finding love in the wrong places
and the joke squarely was on him
for thinking, he could round the bases
looking no further than the escape of his glows
or a crutch of decoys
and sitting ducks
for he was no Romeo
yet
there he was still, like steel,
a stole away in society
forlorn, preserved
like mamas mothballs tucked away
in basement storage
squandering the forage
for there were no triple treats
tonight for him
or forever sounds grim
for his reality check gone dim
or
no eye candy
for his heart beats
no picnic
for his ****
and all the bottled whiskey
could not drown out his pain
as his eyes were slain
as the sitting ducks turned
from his fantasy corner
phantomlike
and though
he's sitting at the bar, a loner
reminded that in cards of life
pairs beat singles
and in his worn hand
familiarly holds a lonely joker
for it's like he tries
and its
like his sitting ducks
are like hoofed deer
and his little sweets,
are spooked
hoofing
away from his
now darken forest
like red ants at his picnic
and the gleam in his eyes turned
to the poorest
its
its
as if his life and watering hole
was condemned
his garden bed cut at the stem
it is as if he has a red vest on
and a rifle don
and all the hoofed deer
panic
looking at him in fear
like he's manic
or maybe it's his eyes
that hold dark skies
he orders another double
trouble
for what else is there to do
on his Saturday night
than to sit in a bubble
forever sounds grim
but sing him a sweet hymn
he says please
to wit as he steals peeks
at the bartenders triple treats
like a bee to a hive
his joker still strikes a beat
if only he can find a bolster
for his gun needs a holster
and a deer in the headlights
would be hard to find
the confession now told, tolled, towed
through tears
the guy in the bar window
is me, sitting
resigned
Logan Robertson
10/18/2018
Oct 18, 2018
Oct 18, 2018 at 6:23 PM UTC
Athena turned ’round her head
like a night owl on the sly
and looked up behind her
as gold Apollo crossed the sky,
riding with his four coursers’
flying gilded manes and hooves.
Their silver flanks and quarters
thunder across the earth’s blue roof.
The rhythm of their beat
stamps a lyric all their own,
blood coursing with the heat
of the sun-disk they all towed.
The she-god of the wise
observes this cloud-streaked scene,
the man-god shining out,
casting shadows ’round Athene.
Apollo’s path is sinking low
as the winter months advance.
The frost now blurs his glow
and bare forests fall into trance.
It’s in this creeping night
that Athena finds her time.
She draws her wisdom in twilight,
no need for blinding light up high.
For she shines not with a sun.
Instead she lights her own pathway.
By her craft and wits she’ll run
her own trail she blazed today.
Nov 26, 2024
Nov 26, 2024 at 8:26 AM UTC
there was a little badger he was adventure bound
he built himself a boat from a log upon the ground
he packed a little case with things that he might need
and took along some food so he could have a feed
setting out to sea he set himself afloat
out in the deep blue sea in his little boat
underneath the sun on summers day
badger he was happy as he sailed away
he came across an island with a big palm tree
then got a little nearer so that he could see
he walked along the sand of the island shore
a place that he had found and never been before
suddenly he saw a dolphin near by
he looked very sad and began to cry
badger asked the dolphin was there something wrong
i have been washed up he said the tide was far to strong
badger he was clever and got his little boat
then he towed the dolphin and set him back afloat
dolphin he was happy he was back at sea
he could swim again now that he was free
dolphin thanked the badger and both sailed away
now they are still friends to this very day
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 9:20 AM UTC
The morning world in mist dissolves and under,
Towed to heaven, we, a plod below the death
Of clouds, sing mute, where they trumpet-glide
Flashing into peace. Three-toed slabs, parched
Of orange, web the stars over the wine
Dark seas and chalk the churn and twining earth
Into gloaming. In rapt stillness they,
Are import and income, parables,
Echoes of the innocent song sung to a spire,
Gilded hutches, to those who heap on brightness
Swans are brighter even more with blackest
Eyes, they pierce the silent shroud all starry.
I wish that we were like two swans my love,
Neck of nape, embracing without touch.
Jul 12, 2012
Jul 12, 2012 at 5:53 PM UTC
APEIROPHOBIA: [n.] the fear of infinity or infinite things.
—
you are love at the end of the world, something spelled without a glottal plea
the stars on my crown hang heavy tonight and i’ve barely slept for an hour but my mind drifts off to weary constellations and i sometimes wonder if we were aligned at all
you, vague hurt, you, toothache in the middle of a birthday party
you, a love like no other
and running without wolves to guide our journey, the forest scratches every inch of bare skin and i would cry out if you hadn’t done the same to me in your restless tossing and turning, there is love in your eyes but no love in the blood you make me bleed
there is still something left to be said. but my mouth is dry and full of sand, kiss it and catch a fly on the wall, smear ointment on its wings and maybe i’ll tell you about how i feel
and it isn’t a good one, it isn’t a love i towed beyond fathoms of seawater and across miles of irradiated coastlines, it isn’t me, count the distance and end up with infinity in one sitting, infinity with end, infinity to beg you of love
beg me of a message unclear, home sweet home
it’s better than nothing. the woozy way i walk into the ocean with a pocket full of rocks and a mind full of bitter sloshing around, is better than nothing, love
it’s better than everything love
because it’s something i still wish to keep, wish on a nebulae cluster that doesn’t exist the second you force yourself to breathe out, screams
no comforting the choir, i’ll drape mine around your bruised shoulders and shake both of them softly until i’ve killed half the universe with my hubris, until we’ve killed off every erstwhile incandescence just to look a little off-kilter, early morning, i’ve never felt better despite never finding out what repose meant
the sky is red at sunrise and then what
and then we, and then we
feel fine
you are love at the end of the world, and i am ready to struggle for survival. invite me into your rose-tinted apocalypse and allow me to decide a fate which was never mine to rewrite
it’s nothing
it’s better than nothing love
Feb 28, 2022
Feb 28, 2022 at 2:07 PM UTC
I'm a little late, so I'll put in my drawer in my night stand a letter I found. Is it a letter? No, it is an invitation to your funeral plans.
As if that is not a smack in my face...WHAM!
You thought I wasn't ever a loyal man because I went away, unplanned. But let me take a stand, for you missed the part where I gave you my hand. I was on a flight one blizzard night. When I get off, my rental car was towed because the company said I owed more for how many miles I put on it. See, the car and I were on a trip to gather your family for you, but you didn't believe me. I stayed in a hotel with them, missing you. Their phone connections were off, too and all I had was the TV in that hotel room. To pass the time of course was my only intention, but when I saw our precious 2 story house on the breaking news, I saw that a fire had taken you. I was utterly confused. I pinched myself because I thought I was dreaming. Until, one day, I saw your will claimed we had nothing to do with each other in terms of our engagement. What a scam! I cried and denied the will until I no longer could feel. It's been months and the detectives are still interviewing me. See, your life was important; way more than me. I went to visit and kiss what was left of the fence. I pleaded with hopelessness, "We want you back!"
Suicide letter found.
It reads:
"Winter grows dead leaves, and the trees are morbidly idle. Our nights grew earlier, and our fights were a given. So I bet you'll view it on the news that house number 652 blew away this winter day. What was my defeat? We were a mismatch, that you knew. You were a backstab, I took it through and through. You were half snatched when I was into you. I never wanted you to be this fool that drools over the fun little boys do. I put you on this pedestal, blind to know the rest of you. I was frozen into your atmosphere of departure, thawed to my agony. Why did you ever leave?"
Jan 21, 2016
Jan 21, 2016 at 11:41 PM UTC
Hey ****** ******
The cars do a twiddle,
They twist and turn on the road,
Dodging the *** holes,
Some with broken controls,
I've even seen some being towed,
Hey ****** ******
The road in the middle,
Needs a little repair,
If you can swing by,
And give it a try,
And pretend you're a council that care,
Hey ****** ******
Thanks for the repair in the middle,
But the road needs a whole new coat,
Take care when crossing,
Cause the road's all rutting,
You'll need to be a mountain goat.
Hey ****** ******
Is the council on the fiddle,
Just like Nero did in Rome,
Please come and fix it,
You'll need to bring a tar pit,
Cause it's shaking the walls in my home.
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 10:26 AM UTC
Is there anything as special
As a sister's love?
They are right there with you
When push comes to shove!
They fight for you
Have light for you
To show you that they care
They grow with you
And sow with you
The mem'rys you both share
Sometimes they may not agree
Sometimes even fight
But that's because they want the best
And they know what's right!
It's my sister's birthday
And I want her to see
She is near and she is dear
In my memory
So here is a story
I remember from her past
It tells of her character
She's a fighter to the last!
~~<♡>~~
When my sister was still going to the University of Arizona here in Tucson, she had a motorcycle. Which had a proclivity for breaking down. Well, it was getting on toward summer. And the bike broke down many miles from where her mechanic was located. She had no money to get it towed. So my hundred and twenty pound sister pushed that heavy motorcycle all the way to the dealership! The mechanic was agog!
He couldn't believe she had lugged that motorcycle all that way! He told her, "Honey, you have some *****
This is the way my sister is. Beautiful, brilliant, and brave!
I am very proud of her, and I'm honored to be her sister!
♡ Catherine
Sep 24, 2016
Sep 24, 2016 at 4:06 PM UTC
forgot i was able
forgoe the sugar cane
horse towed them over the edge
coarse hair
coerced into the trap
willing and able
are you able?
are you billing me?
is this thrilling?
have we been feeling
the same?
come over here
something else over there
i'm forgetful
i'm a disgrace to the top
upper crust societors
upper cut so much science
tons of honor
tons more scholarly journals
hurtled over the canyon wall
carried by the wind to those unlistening
wishing they could hear you
sifting thorugh the river for rocks
to deliver you
giver of too many
stories we already know
tore off all of our clothes
promised tonight would be
different than so many
others i laughed at
others i couldn't have
summer is ours to be
somewhat more into fear
someone to hold you dear
come one come all to hear
believer of something more
deliverer of sudden storms
of folk tail magic token
now open your eyes to your own faults
now look to the sky and know the hawks
are staring down with hungry eyes
they're bearing down they see you in the crowd
falling allover selfish rags
hagship tailors
flag waving tagless sleeve cutters
closing shutters in your mechanism
exposed to low level flash bulbs
just enough to imprint the entire night into something more
we would never remember if not for your loose grip
where you fell to the floor
and
saved another for
the last night you swore you wouldn't take a sip
Jun 25, 2013
Jun 25, 2013 at 11:47 AM UTC
To whom did the desire started,
a life to spend of the offset.
Stand guard, await down the fertile aisle,
heart open in keeping a face straight while.
Seek the heart to contemplate a mere indecision,
a bored attempt to reek in a false revision.
Too late now as the maiden transcends the scene
jarring the thoughts aside or else it reeks as sin.
Stared longer on her pace down the cloth until streams flow,
a split-second realized his heart leapt and his feelings towed
Tucked in the throat, he croaked and let the furtive heart free,
'this woman,' he saw - beaming, 'am hers and she, for me.'
Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 3:32 AM UTC
They want bodies.
Warm, compliant bodies. Moving parts.
Hands that open doors and flip switches.
Spines that bend but don’t break.
They want eight hours of labor, plus the commute,
plus the side hustle,
plus the ever-present smile that says,
"I’m lucky to be here."
But bodies need rest.
And there is nowhere to rest.
No shoebox. No storage unit.
No couch, no floor, no friend with a spare key.
Just asphalt and backseats—if you’re lucky.
Just parking lots and fear and pretending to be fine.
We’re told to buy the things that prove we’ve made it:
the ergonomic chair, the smart toaster,
the streaming subscription that numbs the noise.
But where do we put it?
Where do we live with it?
They expect us to consume while we disappear.
They want machines
—but with human elegance.
They want efficiency
—but with soul.
They want labor without the laborer’s needs.
We are the product and the producer.
The face and the function.
They demand dignity at the front desk,
but deny it in the zoning map.
We work full time,
and still live in our cars.
If we have one.
If it hasn’t been towed or repossessed.
If there’s a safe place to park without being harassed.
Why?
Why can you clock in at dawn,
and still sleep under stars you didn’t wish for?
Because they want bodies.
But they do not want the burden of keeping us alive.
Apr 2, 2025
Apr 2, 2025 at 6:41 AM UTC