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"uncorked" poems
My Sister, I Watched You Fall-2 My little nephew, I was sorry for your sorrows When the whims of your mother stormed your tomorrows You didn't know who your father was Or why the branches of your tree sagged its paws For you walked thru the halls of life mauled By a lost paw that grabbed your mind and sadness walled I could see it in your mind's eyes, the question marks Of why other families have fathers at the parks From the time you were a little child of two You would love to go with uncle to the zoo Then as the wheels in your mind started to click Seeing other kids with fathers, it made you sick You were young seedling lacking the nourishment The parts of the puzzle missing fulfillment But hear this, my little nephew, your uncle tried And ... at the mercy of your mother's whims, I cried We'd play the role of father and son Fish a dream, toss the past, paint some fun We'd **** weeds while wrestling through a reservoir of tears Aborted in time, a lake, two swans and a duckling in good cheers My nephew, I would take you around the world if I could But hear this you were never, never driftwood For I had spent as much time visiting you In absence of a fathers touch, you never knew I shed more tears today as I catch wind of your child For its teeth bites and gust of whims, again, run wild Do I offer congratulations knowing the lake is devoid Of future swans and a duckling, walled in my mind's void No. My nephew, I'm choked in tears that crawl On the face of the earth, I sprawl I thought you learned, child uncorked On wings of albatross and not the stork Logan Robertson 8/16/2018
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Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 7:26 PM UTC
My Sister I Watched You Fall-2
My Sister, I Watched You Fall-2 My little nephew, I was sorry for your sorrows When the whims of your mother stormed your tomorrows You didn't know who your father was Or why the branches of your tree sagged its paws For you walked thru the halls of life mauled By a lost paw that grabbed your mind and sadness walled I could see it in your mind's eyes, the question marks Of why other families have fathers at the parks From the time you were a little child of two You would love to go with uncle to the zoo Then as the wheels in your mind started to click Seeing other kids with fathers, it made you sick You were young seedling lacking the nourishment The parts of the puzzle missing fulfillment But hear this, my little nephew, your uncle tried And ... at the mercy of your mother's whims, I cried We'd play the role of father and son Fish a dream, toss the past, paint some fun We'd **** weeds while wrestling through a reservoir of tears Aborted in time, a lake, two swans and a duckling in good cheers My nephew, I would take you around the world if I could But hear this you were never, never driftwood For I had spent as much time visiting you In absence of a fathers touch, you never knew I shed more tears today as I catch wind of your child For its teeth bites and gust of whims, again, run wild Do I offer congratulations knowing the lake is devoid Of future swans and a duckling, walled in my mind's void No. My nephew, I'm choked in tears that crawl On the face of the earth, I sprawl I thought you learned, child uncorked On wings of albatross and not the stork Logan Robertson 8/16/2018
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35
well there's plenty of cutesy names to call one's children but his was 'unlovable trash' He remembered it from the time he was in the crib They held him there for longer than most parents held their kids in cribs. Though only dad called him so because he constantly claimed he wasn't his unlovable trash he had the wrong skin tone was too pale with curly orange hair and freckles but mom always pretended she didn't hear the words unlovable trash she would act as if they were never uttered and growing up he thought unlovable trash was a good thing thought it was how you show love to your loved ones "Mom, you’re unlovable trash." she was so happy to hear it she burst into tears and went into the kitchen and uncorked a bottle of wine and drank it all by herself. What an unlovable trash she was Unfortunately by the time he could pronounce the lovely words father was no longer in his life but father too was an unlovable trash
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Oct 26, 2019
Oct 26, 2019 at 9:58 AM UTC
unlovable trash
A Four day concert, created by Roberts, Rosenman,  Kornfeld, and Lang Was originally supposed be a three-day  music festival, and up it sprang But the citizens of citizens of Wallkill, N.Y. did not want their nice quiet town filled With drugged up hippies that would overrun, and with this idea they were not thrilled With many battles and protests, Wallkill passed a law on July 2, 1969 banning The would be concert from going forward leaving the town quite less enchanting Almost not getting off the ground, hippies all over demanding refunds for their tickets Stepping forward, Max Yasgur offered his 600-acre dairy farm so no one would picket The new location for the Woodstock Festival would be Bethel, New York No one from the other town would not have complaints or come uncorked Despite the many problems of people threatening to quit Woodstock got off the ground despite things still being chit This concert was poorly planned with two major setbacks, as news spread that it was free There were congestion of cars that policeman had to turn away, for as far as one could see Organizers lost huge amounts of money while hippies walked through gates without paying But it was estimated that 500,000 people made it to the concert and they came in swaying The music seemed to play non-stop as people sat and listened and some would play It was very muddy from all the rain of what it did from much of the concert everyday Listening to greats such as Creedence Clearwater Revival, Santana, Jimi Hendrix, Sweetwater Can’t forget, Grateful Dead, Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, Jefferson Airplane and Ten Years After The concert ended and picking up the pieces began, that wasn't just the trash that was left behind It was the lawsuits that many filed against the organizers since beginning to end put many in a bind The greatest music festival in history later put to a movie that is divine Something that will forever be talked about from the summer of 1969 Copyright 2013 All Rights Reserved
0
Dec 29, 2013
Dec 29, 2013 at 10:15 PM UTC
Woodstock
A Four day concert, created by Roberts, Rosenman,  Kornfeld, and Lang Was originally supposed be a three-day  music festival, and up it sprang But the citizens of citizens of Wallkill, N.Y. did not want their nice quiet town filled With drugged up hippies that would overrun, and with this idea they were not thrilled With many battles and protests, Wallkill passed a law on July 2, 1969 banning The would be concert from going forward leaving the town quite less enchanting Almost not getting off the ground, hippies all over demanding refunds for their tickets Stepping forward, Max Yasgur offered his 600-acre dairy farm so no one would picket The new location for the Woodstock Festival would be Bethel, New York No one from the other town would not have complaints or come uncorked Despite the many problems of people threatening to quit Woodstock got off the ground despite things still being chit This concert was poorly planned with two major setbacks, as news spread that it was free There were congestion of cars that policeman had to turn away, for as far as one could see Organizers lost huge amounts of money while hippies walked through gates without paying But it was estimated that 500,000 people made it to the concert and they came in swaying The music seemed to play non-stop as people sat and listened and some would play It was very muddy from all the rain of what it did from much of the concert everyday Listening to greats such as Creedence Clearwater Revival, Santana, Jimi Hendrix, Sweetwater Can’t forget, Grateful Dead, Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, Jefferson Airplane and Ten Years After The concert ended and picking up the pieces began, that wasn't just the trash that was left behind It was the lawsuits that many filed against the organizers since beginning to end put many in a bind The greatest music festival in history later put to a movie that is divine Something that will forever be talked about from the summer of 1969 Copyright 2013 All Rights Reserved
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26
Blueberry Barbie driving away Lord, I'm gonna miss her taste She takes the time to do it right You'll never see her look of waste Hot dress, high heels, look and touch of taste Like a fine uncorked wine A delicacy in a sea of eggs Her mellifluous scent concealed until she bursts Blueberry Barbie driving far away Lord, I'm gonna miss her taste You know how I say those things when I am stressed Please let me present my case Blueberry Barbie Baby I Love You Come on make the u-turn Turn around and get back here into my life I need you barbie, you're my only friend again Is it my hopes come true that you are here? So close, a fantasy that never ends Can't live without you girl nor care t' pretend Is that her turning 'round, gonna park in my driveway? Blueberry Barbie's here I'm living again Man, it's good to be this close to my best friend Blueberry Barbie never leave me again For that would be the end oh, Blueberry Blonde Barbie
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Nov 6, 2015
Nov 6, 2015 at 2:55 PM UTC
Blueberry Barbie
Poppies about to burst Red as blood There just outside my visual a bottle uncorked glass is filled and ********** bears its fruit
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Jun 27, 2014
Jun 27, 2014 at 10:31 AM UTC
Waiting For The Red To Burst
I think the bottle has become uncorked. I think I could have stopped it, but I know it wouldn't have worked. This slew of madness is about to unfold. I wonder if I can die young before I grow old. The darkness compounds frustration. The hate on which I feed will breed creation. A new personality. A new vibe. A new rationality. A new tribe. I will emerge from this cocoon better and more beautiful than I once was. Fly away, fly away from here.
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Sep 8, 2013
Sep 8, 2013 at 3:45 AM UTC
Cocoon
Somewhere along the way I picked up a heavy load of dead wood, a couple of degrees east of East Tennessee, a few bottles uncorked, problem women, and another woman, a child, and a mortgage, all while I wandered down the left fork of the wrong road like the red silt in a river that has forgotten its source, but enjoying the scenery, the journey, and, of course, the paths I tended to leave through the high weeds where I lost myself and my footprints so loud I could hear them before I left them on the ground behind me like hollow dreams trampled down beneath the feet that I follow.
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Oct 17, 2016
Oct 17, 2016 at 1:29 PM UTC
The left fork
**** all, **** all, **** all Sweet ***** Adams, sweet ***** Adams, sweet ***** Adams **** all, **** all, **** all There's **** all you can rip off that can't be ripped off ****** all you can spit that can't be spat **** all you can jabber but you can wot how to fiddle the velociraptor Page—3 girl's always ready for a chat There's **** all you can **** that can't be ****** No one you can stuff that can't be stuffed Sweet **** all you can ***** but you can wot how to vegetate you swanky metronome Über—babe's loose All you need is **** all All you need is **** all All you need is **** all, sweet ***** Adams **** all is all you need **** all, **** all, **** all Sweet ***** Adams, sweet ***** Adams, sweet ***** Adams **** all, **** all, **** all All you need is **** all All you need is **** all All you need is **** all, sweet ***** Adams **** all is all you need There's **** all you can have carnal knowledge of that isn't ***** **** all you smell that isn't uncorked Thumbs down on the spot you lunch box be on the spot that isn't on the spot you're meant rubbing shoulders be spot on Blonde's thick All you need is **** all All you need is **** all All you need is **** all, sweet ***** Adams **** all is all you need All you need is **** all All you need is **** all All you need is **** all, sweet ***** Adams **** all is all you need ****** all is all you need That is all you thirst That is all you lust That is all you desiderium That is all you la nostalgie de la boue
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Mar 24, 2010
Mar 24, 2010 at 4:22 PM UTC
All You Need Is **** All
**** all, **** all, **** all Sweet ***** Adams, sweet ***** Adams, sweet ***** Adams **** all, **** all, **** all There's **** all you can rip off that can't be ripped off ****** all you can spit that can't be spat **** all you can jabber but you can wot how to fiddle the velociraptor Page—3 girl's always ready for a chat There's **** all you can **** that can't be ****** No one you can stuff that can't be stuffed Sweet **** all you can ***** but you can wot how to vegetate you swanky metronome Über—babe's loose All you need is **** all All you need is **** all All you need is **** all, sweet ***** Adams **** all is all you need **** all, **** all, **** all Sweet ***** Adams, sweet ***** Adams, sweet ***** Adams **** all, **** all, **** all All you need is **** all All you need is **** all All you need is **** all, sweet ***** Adams **** all is all you need There's **** all you can have carnal knowledge of that isn't ***** **** all you smell that isn't uncorked Thumbs down on the spot you lunch box be on the spot that isn't on the spot you're meant rubbing shoulders be spot on Blonde's thick All you need is **** all All you need is **** all All you need is **** all, sweet ***** Adams **** all is all you need All you need is **** all All you need is **** all All you need is **** all, sweet ***** Adams **** all is all you need ****** all is all you need That is all you thirst That is all you lust That is all you desiderium That is all you la nostalgie de la boue
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39
Tiger Wood's wins the Masters today Another green jacket comes his way Finally, his image stands large at the doorway For it's been a knock and a hiatus of his cache As the years after 2008 suffered from his play No major championships one can say Only gossip headlines, mugshots, and injuries in gray Where once a phenom in his twenties on display Such greatness and legend his star headway His mid-thirties saw some of his luster fall  in dismay With mostly self-injury to his ego in disarray It was hard watching a once proud man's fall and decay Especially one that held his world at bay With his swagger, swoosh, and shine turning to clay And like a good drama of accents and descents convey With the wait and weight on his shoulders belay He turned the storybook pages of dismay today The pressure of his swing, swing, and putt on display And how he uncorked his demons is a pure bouquet After 43 years of his years, he took the fairway Running, running, today after his prey It was great seeing his game not get away Logan Robertson 4/14/2019
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Apr 15, 2019
Apr 15, 2019 at 12:13 AM UTC
Tiger Wood's Tale Stirs Today
I've been pacing back and fourth, a pendulum of force on my floor Trying to decide, is it me or the wine that's uncorked Every sylable, resonates my throat when I speak Your name is like a bomb, ready aimed and armed in my cheeks I think I liked you better, when we were strangers
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Nov 10, 2015
Nov 10, 2015 at 12:38 AM UTC
When We Were Strangers (song)
With satchel in his hand, he strode down the road, The sun glinting against his eyes as it does with glass. Up he crept to the cave of the monster, its rank abode, And pulled the elixir from his satchel fast. Trembling, his hands uncorked the bottle, And released the liquid a'splashin onto the ground below; The potion served to mottle, The rock soon to blow. He leapt from the cave entrance, down toward the road, Away from the monster's ghastly abode, And managed to escape sudden death, As an explosion blasted from the cave's mouth like fiery breath. The monster wailed loud as death strangled it, A strange, bone-chilling, awful fit. But like the cave, the monster was now dead, And he could head back to his cabin to sleep in his bed.
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Nov 17, 2015
Nov 17, 2015 at 10:55 AM UTC
The Monster's Abode
Feet hanging from the deck of the bow, sitting shoulder to shoulder and thigh to thigh. I can’t help but wonder in what ways the salt air is dancing off of the sound and over our taste buds, changing the way we read the Prosecco between us. I almost didn’t bring this bottle. The thought of opening the cage— six half-turns forward, wrapping my palm around the wire frame, twisting the bottle, by the base, off of the cork— it all seemed like too much. There are too many ways to mess it up, and I know that I don’t have a grip on anything when I am around you, but I no longer believe that bottles should be left uncorked.
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Nov 16, 2016
Nov 16, 2016 at 4:16 PM UTC
Muselet
honestly I thought I broke myself when you were gone and I was sitting in my room alone staring at the corner of the wall waiting for it to breathe back into me the way you did when you held me close honestly I thought you were a figment of my imagination when you were there and I was sitting in your room staring at your face and tracing the lines of your mouth with my fingertips and honestly you never had to say you hated me or loved me because words meant everything and nothing and all that mattered was your hand on my neck and your fingers laced in mine and the uncorked bottle of wine in the kitchen
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Mar 16, 2015
Mar 16, 2015 at 6:20 AM UTC
tbh
I felt used like an object more like a doorknob one that was unable to project I've had hands on me turned without complain left open to all too many time to drive me insane now all the screws have been uncorked and I can only adjust for one last pull I'm left alone left to be alone and forever dull z.s
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Aug 6, 2013
Aug 6, 2013 at 1:38 AM UTC
doorknobs
Within the floor-less room Of a ceiling-less chamber Spanning top to bottom Lies a collection. Each strand of memory In tiny glass vials Trapped forever Sealed to perfection. Within this glass palace These tiny glass vials Sorted and labelled Into many a section. The past, the present The thoughts for the future Accurately categorized According to emotion. Within each glass vial A wisp of thought A caress of experience A whisper of recollection. Once uncorked The memory unleashed Arising in full might In every direction. Within this door-less Window-less chamber Alas these memories Are bound for protection. Trapped forever Rusting with time Or remaining in grandeur Without external intervention. One seeks the pensieve The key to this access Oblivious to the trap A pure addiction. Alas the pensieve Binds one further to the chamber Away from reality No resurrection. Within the floor-less room Of a ceiling-less chamber Spanning top to bottom Lies our collection.
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Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 10:25 AM UTC
Pensieve
after 1 or (two) drinks and one (2) many glances into your eyes kissing my neck feels less like a compromise; feels less like an uncorked bottle of half-priced lies, feels less grimy, no longer a cheap disguise for a dolled-up girl with one (2) many drinks who can't stop looking in your eyes.
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Nov 24, 2017
Nov 24, 2017 at 11:40 PM UTC
the champagne is free (but you still won't drink it)
Slipping on her cold blood Indulgence uncorked Champagne laced with poison ivy Euphoria unfolded lapping up The leftovers of another man's bliss He got caught in the fish net stockings Of a poledancer thinking How the he'll did I miss that The girl had ***** and a ten inch Rocket Tied to a crack in her back pocket
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Oct 1, 2018
Oct 1, 2018 at 3:01 PM UTC
Bingeing(2)the twilight nozone
Her eyes jaunted through my Oppositional ghostliness, Her hair screams “soft” in my deaf but imaginative hands, Her wineglass-visage stripped My hollow strings of anomie, Her uncorked skin spraying On my lust-parched and sobered soul, Her moonstruck glow poisoned The rivers of my reveries, Her poise dialectic With wonders of the infinite, Her breathe is shattering The nihilistic love below, Listless ears loosen by her Magnetic harmony, “Hello”
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Aug 2, 2010
Aug 2, 2010 at 9:19 AM UTC
Daphne
We are crying--laughing. Uncorked the bottle. Can't undo Don't want to Sorry. Pour me one Or four. Sitting on the floor. Pull me into bed--it's already done And it's fun Can't undo Don't want to.
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Dec 24, 2014
Dec 24, 2014 at 10:46 AM UTC
Can't Undo
I make love to the son of Francisco Alcarez. He keeps me warm when I am frigid. He lights a fire within me when I am frozen. They say he makes your clothes fall off, and oh Francisco Alcarez, you've given me your magic. Weber Blue agave are your eyes. You've brought your chaos from the south of freedom, so stab it into my stomach. ~It's not the worst thing thats been stabbed into my stomach~ I think I've cracked you open, but- you've uncorked me. Slide me into the bliss I've missed, waiting for you~ Tear me away from my cyclical thoughts, Smooth out my mind, Kiss me gently and watch me cringe with sour pleasure. But, lets keep this affair private~ I don't think they understand--- I need you.
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Mar 5, 2015
Mar 5, 2015 at 11:20 PM UTC
I'll meet you behind my cabinet doors
Now, there's no reason these nights can't dissemble our daytime woes. With bottles uncorked, we'll paint friendly faces on daylight foes. The ground's not shaking. Your breath's just ragged. Faces shine and cities glow... but, come sunrise, we're flying blind, while keeping our heads low. Still I remember the time that we chucked that radio from that rooftop sinking to street level, speakers played Manilow Transistors scattered Our footsteps clattered Down the fire escape we'd go laughing hard, police up in arms alleyways lead us home We wanted to up and ******* leave But we're tethered to this place by our heartstrings So we're always celebrating our defeats We wanted to up and ******* leave I'm off and running in circles around my own lasting fears You're off the wagon and just rolling dice hung on rearview mirrors We're contemplating on relocating back to those familiar years but sunrise comes, we're twiddling thumbs and hoping stormclouds clear.
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Aug 20, 2013
Aug 20, 2013 at 3:01 PM UTC
Doppler
Thousands of cards are opened in hundreds of rooms And the wine is uncorked a little earlier than usual And everybody talks to one another for once And smiles captured through words cover and hide the awkward **** of sadness That rises, like a cold, on the flesh.
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Mar 29, 2017
Mar 29, 2017 at 5:49 PM UTC
Mothering Sunday
have I been here before, the variations of anywhere framing the limits of waking within a wretched humility? am I become one of the blown boys, those dear, dear boys and their desolate, punctual, martyrdom, or a resolute extra in a post-mortem smack fug at ease to fester with my wounded, skyward muttering, where even fake flowers offer injury? I easily shaken by bleary imaginings as obdurate as a politicians dancing lips which, if they are moving, must be lying, rather crave the ocean's incoherent, uncorked, yawn its contorted salutation an easy answer to the hardest ask
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Jul 30, 2015
Jul 30, 2015 at 1:14 PM UTC
confusion
As we slept In each other’s minds Through the night, Fearing commitment Equally as much As striving for it, I kissed you Thinking that maybe I’d let myself pretend, Having finally uncorked That bottle of wine, All hesitancies Had disappeared But I tried to kiss you Again in the morning, Thinking As I think now That if it may be Our last chance I want to take it: I want to swing dance Through thunderstorms And sip our wine With nothing But the certainty Of one another But you pretended Not to notice My eyes meeting yours, And filled With all the reservations That should have been in me, You averted your gaze And walked away (As I still worry You will one day) From that surreal bed Of whispers And fewer tears
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Sep 15, 2013
Sep 15, 2013 at 12:02 PM UTC
Uncorked