"unpacked" poems
I've walked the beaten path
Sinned in the ways of every religion
But the only salvation I'm looking for
Is in the smiles I'm able to place on your face
So when you read my text
Listen to the way I'm telling you I like you
Listen to the message in the complex smiles
The kissy faces
That seem to be endless
You can't call this puppy love
This is the way you were meant to be loved
So baby let me make you happy
I'm not asking for the physicality of a relationship
I'm asking to put this band on your finger
Look in the mirror
See my complete reflection
Because this mirror is your eyes
Baby let me make happy
There's nothing I'd rather do
Honestly you're on my mind
I've only talked to you on occasion
I don't don't want to send coded messages
In the texts that make you smile and want me
I want to tell you straight up
Baby I like you
I'm not innocent
I'm not expecting you to be
I'm just asking you to be mine
Let me make you happy the only way I know
Let me be the sculptor
Plaster smiles on your frowning face
Strip the clothes from your mannequin figure
Let me make you happy
In and out of the bed
I'm only asking for a chance
Baby let me make you happy
I promise you'll never be alone
Even if I'm seventeen hours away
My heart is in the pillow you hold tight
My cologne is in the sheets you wrap yourself in
You can even wear my clothes
Go insane and let me walk in
On you making out with a pillow dressed like me
I'll smile and I promise
I'll love you the way that pillow never could
Let me make you happy
The way the other guys failed to
When they ******* up the chance you blessed them with
I promise baby
I'll never hurt you
My shoes are in the closet
They're not going anywhere
My suitcases are unpacked and laying in the dump
Three states away
The distance you wanted in the first place
Between me and my second love
You know I had a tendency of packing up
Leaving in the middle of the night
When your slumbering hand wandered on my side of the bed
Looking for the warmth of my skin
But Baby I promise my walking days are over
My running shoes are too old
They don't fit anymore
Let me make you happy the way you deserve
I understand if you don't want to do it
I'm not going to cliche it up
I'm not going to beg
I'm just going to tell you
I like you
Ask you for only one thing in this relationship
Let me make you happy
It's not much but let me make it my sole purpose in life
I don't need a god or gods and goddesses
All I need is the heart in your chest
To be my altar
To be where I tithe my sins away
To give praise to the heart that saved me
Let me make you happy
I'm not a complete ****** like the rest of them
Aug 1, 2013
Aug 1, 2013 at 3:12 AM UTC
In tunnelled darks, pastes of reminisce
Outward disjoint points to irrelevance
Spooned and coned in cold mountaintops
The darks of sorrows and trails of struggles
Persistence patterns of self satire in gloom
Sunken in identity crisis of broad oceans
Stormy seas spotlighted by beatific stars
Trajectory of spilled ice in recurrent motions
A mere past cocooned by fears and tears
Clouded in thoughts that cruise and decline
Greyed white imprinted by sudden sadness
Madness echoes on arched ancient bricks
Checkered maniacs of fulfilled passions
Filed and iced in cased prolific memories
Cascades of sunshine tickles to warmth
Orchards of glow that bloom and grow
Picked, ticked and unpacked from boxes
Attacked, nurtured and stored in bliss
Eventful lessons unfolds in untold augury
A mission as the known permeates and fade
Windowed eyes all line up in parade
Mirrored lights digest the haunted haste
A stranger to self, an ally to another
A dance of bright entwine a twist of blur
Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 11:48 AM UTC
I felt it crumbling
I felt it falling with the rain
The invisible
I felt it falling
Bits and pieces
Shreds and ribbons
The clothing of my wings
As God unpacked the wraps with haste
Like a restless child
Tearing down the gift
Together with the wrapping
I felt it falling
Scorching on the skin
Of frail reveries
Soaking wet I felt the taste
Of gasoline
And drowned the rain
Into my eyelids
Jul 2, 2018
Jul 2, 2018 at 10:25 AM UTC
I’m sporting this new lipstick
it won’t fade, smudge or smear
I’ll be lucky if it wears off this year.
I’ve got this new eyeliner that’s like
a luxurious, glittering, penciled tattoo
Leong asked, “How do you get it off you?”
I unpacked these chemical wonders
to see if they’ve lost their luster
by being neglected since last summer.
When you study too much, you feel pent-up,
so my compadres and I chose to get dolled-up,
rolling-up to dinner, like beauty queens on parade,
and not just sophomore scrubs trying to make the grade.
Dec 18, 2022
Dec 18, 2022 at 9:07 AM UTC
LOVE, HATE, WISDOM, FEAR, WEALTH… KEYS MANY ARE TO LIFE IT’S SAID
NONE IN BIRTH IS AFRAID,WISE,HATEFUL,GREEDY,NONE SHALL BE SO IN DEATH.
LIFE! ITS A NOW,A PRESENT CONTINUOUS,DIES HERE THE PAST,A FUTURE BORN
NOW,A SUM TOTAL OF PAST,FUTURE AN EQUATION INEXORABLE FROM HEREON.
FUTILE IS FUTURE MIRRORING PAST, AWARENESS MY PRIMER FOR A CHANGE FAST.
WHEN ALIVE ARE HEARTS PUMPING,WHY ARE MINDS AND SOULS DEAD BARREN?
ISN'T HEART THE GOOD EARTH ALWAYS AND MIND THE TREE WISE OF BANYAN?
I RID THE DISCONNECT, BY GRACE, HAVE A MINDFUL HEART, A HEARTFELT MIND!
LIVING THE STAID REALITY OF LIFE, LOVING, HATING, THINKING, BEING WISE,FOOLISH
KILLING, FORGIVING, PHILOSOPHICAL IN A CRUELLY KIND WORLD OF PARADOX.
IS THERE A REALITY DEVOID, OF LIFE AND DEATH, LOVE AND HATE, GOD AND RELIGION,
OR TRUTHS,LIES, TIME-SPACE,SOUNDS AND SILENCE,EQUANIMOUS PEACE AT WAR?
IS IT JUST A PLAY, OF THE MIND AND HEART, DESIRE AND POWER,BONDAGE UNREAL?
GOOD VERSUS EVIL?
I LIVE BY THE HEART,IT DOES STOP AND THE MIND,OH DOES IT ROT!
UNFEELING HEARTS AND UNTHINKING MINDS, THESE BARRIERS SLOWLY I CROSS,
BEYOND IS THE BEING, THE EXISTING, INCAPABLE OF THE UNREAL, DIVINELY AFAR,
A VOID SURREAL,UNFEELING YET KIND SOMEHOW, UNLOVING YET CARING SOMEHOW
UNSAD, UNJOYOUS, UNAFRAID, UNWORLDLY...ATTRIBUTES NONE AT ALL! UNBEING??
I KNOW NOT IF IT’S GOOD OR EVIL, IS JUST UNBEING,UNAFFECTED BETTER SOMEHOW?
IS THE FREE UNBEING THERE,JUST TOTALLY BEING HERE?! BACK TO A REALITY RELATIVE!
GREYS ARE MANY, IF DARK BE HATE AND BE LIGHT LOVE, MID-GREY IS THE WORLD, HOPE CAN MOVE!
FROM THE MOUNTAINS DOWN I CLIMB, JUST, WITH PRECIOUS BAGGAGE, UNPACKED TO MAKE SENSE,
OF THE REAL IN THE UNREAL,THIS ONE WORLD IN INFINITY, WITH ITS ANGELS AND DEMONS,
I CHOOSE TO LIVE WITH REALITY; AND UNRAVEL JUSTLY; ELSE IT COMES LIVES WITH ME ANYWAYS!
OR IS IT ALL JUST INEVITABLY INEXORABLE, JUST A HERMITS DESTINY?!
May 25, 2012
May 25, 2012 at 3:18 AM UTC
Can we believe -- by an effort
comfort our hearts:
it is not waste all this,
not placed here in disgust,
street after street,
each patterned alike,
no grace to lighten
a single house of the hundred
crowded into one garden-space.
Crowded -- can we believe,
not in utter disgust,
in ironical play --
but the maker of cities grew faint
with the beauty of temple
and space before temple,
arch upon perfect arch,
of pillars and corridors that led out
to strange court-yards and porches
where sun-light stamped
hyacinth-shadows
black on the pavement.
That the maker of cities grew faint
with the splendour of palaces,
paused while the incense-flowers
from the incense-trees
dropped on the marble-walk,
thought anew, fashioned this --
street after street alike.
For alas,
he had crowded the city so full
that men could not grasp beauty,
beauty was over them,
through them, about them,
no crevice unpacked with the honey,
rare, measureless.
So he built a new city,
ah can we believe, not ironically
but for new splendour
constructed new people
to lift through slow growth
to a beauty unrivalled yet --
and created new cells,
hideous first, hideous now --
spread larve across them,
not honey but seething life.
And in these dark cells,
packed street after street,
souls live, hideous yet --
O disfigured, defaced,
with no trace of the beauty
men once held so light.
Can we think a few old cells
were left -- we are left --
grains of honey,
old dust of stray pollen
dull on our torn wings,
we are left to recall the old streets?
Is our task the less sweet
that the larve still sleep in their cells?
Or crawl out to attack our frail strength:
You are useless. We live.
We await great events.
We are spread through this earth.
We protect our strong race.
You are useless.
Your cell takes the place
of our young future strength.
Though they sleep or wake to torment
and wish to displace our old cells --
thin rare gold --
that their larve grow fat --
is our task the less sweet?
Though we wander about,
find no honey of flowers in this waste,
is our task the less sweet --
who recall the old splendour,
await the new beauty of cities?
The city is peopled
with spirits, not ghosts, O my love:
Though they crowded between
and usurped the kiss of my mouth
their breath was your gift,
their beauty, your life.
2.9k
The Sun Is Shining Today
The Storm Has Finally Stopped
a statement says:
<we have done something yesterday
nothing like our best
just something
to stop that storm>
the statement returns true as fact
inconsequent gestures of nature
we weave
to serve an unknown wish
-made of numerous physical and non-physical senses-
so that fabric of a network
evolves itself
materializes sense
sense to fabric
fabric to sense
scientifically improbable it remains
an infinitesimal loop
unwinds when you are not there
runs within an ideally operating closed circuit
remains invisible to the factual eyes of daily lives
an etheric vitality
materialized by our definable senses of touch, of smell, of see, of taste
and some of yet undefined ones
- possibly assigned to maybe a Poetic Variable-
executable within that program of simultaneous causalities only.
So then Only then
When You Combine the patchy Network
of Things
of Beings
You Can Dance Them
Sing Them
Play Them
Make Love To Them
Become One With Them
Compose Them
but
All these on condition that
it remains as an unpacked gift
Without telling to Yourself
or to Others
or to That Storm
because
You Don’t Even Have An Intention To Stop The Storm
All you do is Wish for Sunshine so you can maybe bike tomorrow
But again
How important is it really that biking tomorrow ?
I mean when sighs and cries whirl around?
a statement says:
<you can’t stop wars by fights>
the statement returns true as fact
And
if I know that
you can stop storms by touches
touches to smells
smells to lights
lights to metals
metals to elements
elements to stars
stars to flights
flights to a breeze on my fingertips
breeze on my fingertips to an auric kiss
then
I think maybe it is **** important to keep a seemingly futile wish to bike to a beach of my dreams tomorrow
so that I can be blown away on a broken December day
and let my long hair collect dune corrals made of cosmic ray
Huh So Yeah
I can Stop Storms if I want to or Create Some!
- not because I need to for my own sake or think about it.
Mar 8, 2015
Mar 8, 2015 at 5:13 PM UTC
you should’ve never unpacked your bags,
because it gave me this expectation that you were in this for the long run. i’m still running. i have swallowed so much blood that tastes like your regret from biting down my tongue to cage it behind my teeth from screaming about you to a world that wants my blood for ink.
i am more than a number, but 24 makes me feel better than 26, so i sit in jeans that leave red marks on my hips and make it hard to breathe, but see it’s two inches and
i am more than a number, but i know every test score i ever got and still remember fourth grade and question three and crying because suddenly my mistakes had weight and i couldn’t fix things by saying sorry and
i am more than a number, but i was always the middle child, always the not-quite one, not the best friend to anyone, just a girl with kind eyes and jeans that are a little bit too tight and
i am more than a number but to you i am seventeen, ten and three. and lets be clear; it’s the three that haunts me, because *** doesn’t matter and ‘girlfriend’ is just a label, but i wish i was the first girl you truly loved, and sometimes i still wish i was the last, but with you i fear i’ll forever be just another number.
i drove over 17 bridges the other day and next week i'll do it again and i think nobody gets what that means except maybe you.
i just tell them i love the scenery, that somebody must've made these trees blush just for me.
you know how i love to change the subject?
i bet they'd love the view. i bet you would too.
and all these metaphors for other things are beside the point.
this is a metaphor for why i don't wear my seatbelt, a metaphor for why whiskey knows me better than you could ever try to.
all the buildings seemed to sag yesterday and all the stars are doing that cliche thing where they talk quiet jet noise and some lumbering giant made everything shake.
not those hand metaphors, not another one of those & keep the sea to yourself,
i think it was a train, it's sound hugged the embankment for a moment and then trailed off into nowhere,
and that's kind of like me
how there's a town called 'rescue' close to my home and it's no coincidence that i've never been there.
i’m just flatlining now and hoping that you can look at the next girl the way i looked at you.
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 9:54 PM UTC
no one knows How to ride a bike.
we learn and discard. what once,
came hard -
now a faculty, disconnected
from the [ method. ]
embedded in
the act. beyond the rhombus of our reckoning !
and the calculus of initial conditions,
indeed; waaaay back
when skill lacked
and the knack was absent.
with - only pure Will
Unpacked.
mastery forgets.
and we forget
That.
Jul 13, 2013
Jul 13, 2013 at 2:18 PM UTC
A flashflood of morning sun
emptied into the valley
and transformed the hills
from green to the kind of electric
gold only reserved for ancient kings.
Somewhere on a sunbeam
someone tuned a fiddle.
A flowering June breeze
cruised in from the north
pulled into the valley,
parked, unpacked,
and set up camp.
The high and lonesome sound
tumbled downstream.
Bodies and blades of grass
moved in unison
with the June breeze
and the music reverberated
in the air between.
Somewhere on a sunbeam
a memory was composed.
May 2, 2010
May 2, 2010 at 7:33 PM UTC
It was half past noon as Professor Lynch came barreling into the drive way in his hunt for the unknown. His actions so urgent he forgets to even close his car door. He sprints up his steps and swings the door open to his house and there it was.
Why was he is such a hurry? Well this goes back a little over a week prior when he had some guests over for the first time since he bought his new home. It was the day after he had finally unpacked the last box. This was a gathering to celebrate his new job as a History Professor at the University of California and his beautiful new home. The gathering was going as planned till he heard a strange noise coming from the basement.
The guests didn't hear this noise and continued having a great time as Lynch went downstairs to check it out. As he opened the back door he heard some things fall over as if an animal had skirmished to the noise of the door. As he continued down the stairs after this so called animal his heart about hit his stomach. He has a small door in his basement he figured was used for child’s play made by the family before him. So in his unpacking process he had left it alone. Well he could of sworn he seen the door **** to it turn. Too afraid to check it out on his own he ran upstairs. Trying not to embarrass himself he quickly ran up the stairs into the main room and continued the gathering as if nothing had happened.
Once the guests left he found himself sitting in his living room saying to himself “it was nothing, you’re just seeing things.” He talked himself into believing this because he hadn't slept much in a few days with all the unpacking trying to get ready for the new week. So he finally decided to go to bed and get some rest. It wasn't for another week till he had started to notice some strange occurrences. He came home from work that day and noticed his refrigerator was left open. Lynch however was uncertain on if it was him who left it open so he shrugged it off.
Another day had passed and again he came home from work and his refrigerator was open again. This now struck an uneasy feeling; he had made sure he closed it before work today. As he continued through his house with caution he had seen nothing unusual nor seen anything more out of place until he walked by the basement. He once again heard this skirmishing sound of what seemed like an animal trying to escape the basement. As he entered the basement the sound stopped. He was frightened but hadn't been threatened in any way, so he continued throughout his day although not in ease. He was uneasy about this happening a second time so he decided to come home early from work and see if he could catch whatever it was in action.
So at work the next day as he planned he left work early, about half past noon. “Professor Lynch came barreling into the drive way in his hunt for the unknown. His actions so urgent he forgets to even close his car door. He sprints up his steps and swings the door open to his house and there it was.” This was unlike anything he had ever seen before. Something so frightening, so terrifying his jaw hit the floor. Before Lynch could speak a word, he was snatched and drug into the basement through the little door he thought was used for “child’s play.”
-Joseph B Schneider
Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 8:20 PM UTC
Milky golden light sawn through
murky heavens and it bent my glacial heart.
The scent of soggy leaves out on the lawn,
fall has come and done its part.
Winter weighs heavy in the idle air,
hung as though it were a conversation
not yet had
Waning passions hushed by waxing sighs
and unpacked bags in need of packing
before the coming sunrise.
I talk of leaving often but you silence it
with pint-size gulps of red wine,
drunken *** and yet another argument
before you cry
Dec 1, 2015
Dec 1, 2015 at 12:18 PM UTC
your mouth is a door,
and someday you are going to be told that it's just better left closed.
your eyes are the windows to your soul,
and someday people are going to tell you to draw the curtains.
your heart has been unpacked from the basement,
and someday someone is going to tell you to put it away.
and your optimism is a candle in your windows, and someday everyone's going to try and blow it out.
i'm telling you this,
because when that someday comes i want you to know what to say.
you say,
"my mouth is a door, and i hold the key."
"my eyes are the windows to my soul and i'll wash them regularly."
"my heart will not be put away, it goes with everything."
"my optimism is a candle, and it keeps me warm."
when that someday comes,
i want you to know what to say...
you say,
"this is my house, and it's not for sale."
Aug 4, 2016
Aug 4, 2016 at 6:31 PM UTC
I knew she planned on staying.
When she unpacked her belongings.
Mia told me she wasn't playing.
This time, she would cause the falling.
She woke me up the first night,
After he ran away.
Mia's chapped lips whispered our old times,
She reminded me of tooth decay.
For the next few days, Mia was my shadow.
Her doe-eyes trailed my every course.
Waiting patiently for me to plateau,
Before attacking without remorse.
Mia told me she was mending my cuts,
My battered heart, and my sliced legs.
She was making me whole with every hiccup.
He may have left, but she was here to stay.
We held hands throughout the store.
She helped me buy my favorite treats.
Binging together before locking the door.
Purging never tasted so sweet.
Mia held my hair and my pink tongue.
Her fingernails made my throat bleed.
Convinced me secrecy made this fun.
Our kneeling prayers were a mystery.
She wiped my tears with her acidic hands,
And whispered how much she missed me.
Mia uttered how only she would understand
My longing and misery.
Dec 11, 2015
Dec 11, 2015 at 12:10 AM UTC
like a walk of shame
except i'm beautiful and proud
and the fall weather got here last night
unpacked it's bags but forgot to paint the leaves
and i'm walking and there's nothing shameful about anything i did
and alleyways look beautiful too
in their own way
and i'll skip breakfast because i'm still drunk
and i'm still in love
and my shadow looks a bit taller than i do
i left my underwear behind
lace crumbled in the floor
REMEMBER ME
i stole somebody's mcdonald's
and ate it in the street corner
did i leave my cardigan at yours?
see you tomorrow
making latte art hungover in some beautiful knock off paris store
and i asked you, politely, to leave the mess outside
and you never saw that butterfly temporary tattoo on my chest
everything is temporary
because you didn't even bother to get me undressed
but you left your mark on my neck
thanks for that
just know you're not the only one who i made eyes with last night
i kissed a few on the lips
you aren't the only boy who fancied in my *** perfume
at least you walked me home
it was five am but at least you walked me home
and your dorm room wasn't big enough for how wide my legs were but this dress was tight and you bruised my thigh
or that might've been the other boy who threw me into the dark corner and i fell to the floor as he fell into me
but my hair is long enough to cover this hickey
and i'll take a sip of your coke and whiskey
i listen to that boys song and laugh on my way to work
and the shins are playing in starbucks
and i wouldn't mind if just for a second
i could pretend to die
Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 4:08 PM UTC
I have made my transition to another place, a place where beauty needs no explination.
God’s great timing is everything;
it may not be what we expect but God is always in control.
Sands will flow through the hourglass, slow and steady, throughout our lives.
Time will end and the sand will stop flowing, but God’s love for us is forever growing.
I have worked all my life for this to happen, to see my Lord face to face.
I’ve been accepted in this majestic place, where pain no longer has a hold on me.
My eyes have adjusted t my new reality, I can see bright skies and butterflies.
Don’t worry about not seeing my face, don’t worry abut not feeling my embrace.
Hold our memories inside your heart, and know that our live will never depart.
Cry for me, just for a while, but not too long, ‘cause I’m don’t just fine.
My bags are unpacked and I am settling in, taking my place next to the Master.
He said that he’d never leave nor forsake me, He kept his promise, I am with him now.
He has taken my hand and opened up the doors; to a Paradise of beauty and love divine.
I know you’ll miss me, I’ll miss you too!
Just know dear hearts, we will be together again someday.
Live your life to the fullest, and remember our love
each and every day.
Just remember your hourglass is still flowing strong.
Do what you can so you can see, my hourglass is full again, this time my sand will never end!
Jan 29, 2021
Jan 29, 2021 at 10:47 PM UTC
I took down my clouds and my stars
Exhausted and frightened of my pain.
As I began to pack my heart away
He took my hand and whispered my name.
He unpacked the box of night and day
Smiled, and wiped my tears away.
And like that,
I learned
to love again.
Apr 6, 2019
Apr 6, 2019 at 3:34 PM UTC
*Mother thought the time was right
Packed her bags
Prepared the flight
Yet as she wandered round the house
Oh so quiet as a mouse
Wasted years came flooding back
**** near knocked her off her track*
It made her stop
It made her think
A lifetime of a man and drink
**Does she dare?
Does she care?
Did she care?
Will she dare?**
The door it does a beckon
But …
Mother’s rooted to the spot
The fear of life without him
On the landscape is a blot
Tiny steps are needed
As courage takes a dive
Mother’s slowly disappearing
A ghost that’s barely still alive
Room to room she wanders
Trapped in a bygone age
Dreaming of a life not lived
Outside her unlocked cage
Mother starts a doubting
Thinks …
That now’s too late
Thinks …
Who would really want her now?
She’s old
She’s overweight
Best years are behind her
Buried in his years
Mother’s dreams are fading fast
Soon …
They completely disappear
*Mother thought the time’s not right
Unpacked her bags
Cancelled the flight
And as she wandered round the house
Oh so quiet as a mouse
The wasted years come flooding back …*
Oct 12, 2010
Oct 12, 2010 at 8:17 AM UTC
Hey, mom,
Aren’t the stars gorgeous tonight?
They remind of the days when
You turned off my light.
Every night, I remember,
You would tuck me into bed
Plug in my night light and
Plant a kiss on my head.
Wow, mom…
Wasn’t it such a long time ago
When my baby sister and I
Came in the house from the snow?
We were always dripping wet,
You toweled us down and hugged us tight.
Hot cocoa was always ready for us,
The temperature always just right.
So, mom,
Please know we forgive you and dad
It’s not your fault we didn’t
Have everything others had.
The divorce was a good thing,
We know that, trust me,
It’s just that it was scary
Not knowing what would be.
Hey, mom?
Thank you for bringing us home.
For giving us a house
And free space to roam.
These plains and skies are spacious
The air we breathe is clean,
I’m grateful for the life we have.
Thanks for everything.
And, mom…
Do you remember move-in day?
After we unpacked my things,
I told you that you didn’t need to stay…
The truth is, mom, I cried like a kid,
When you pulled out of the parking lot.
All the courage that I thought I had,
Well, I guess it was lost.
Really, mom,
I hope you know how much I love you.
I want you know that I appreciate
All the little things you do.
I want to take this time to apologize,
For all the hurt that I’ve brought to you.
I know raising me wasn’t the easiest,
So I’m sorry for all that I’ve put you through.
Lastly, mom,
I’m glad that you found our stepdad.
He’s always been here,
Through the happy and sad.
Yes, we all complain about our mixed family,
The house might not be clean…
But in reality, we all love each other.
What else do we really need?
Hey, mom,
It’s okay. Please stop crying…
This is a happy moment.
I love you so much! I’m not lying!
Thank you for all that you’ve given me.
Thank you for believing in me.
We’ve lived and learned together,
That’s all we really need.
Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 2:18 AM UTC
Randy was a roach
Of the american cockroach variety
He was a deep brown and had a sickly shine
To his wings and antennae
And he studied both of us
From a perch in our suitcase
In my girlfriend's East Harlem apartment
In the early hours of a sunday morning
**** it! Get it out of the suitcase!"
My girlfriend yelled
Flailing her arms
As Randy reclined on our valuables
His antennae twitching
As in most crisis
I hesitated
And Randy burrowed into the suitcase
Past the underwear, collard shirts, and sunscreen
I dug in a frenzy
Rending my girlfriend's meticulous packing plan
And scattering clothes about
All in the name of meaningless destruction
But I couldn't find Randy
"He's probably in the collar of one of your shirts, or in a pair of my shoes"
My girlfriend speculated
And I started shaking the clothes wildly about the room
Wanting more than anything to extinguish Randy's life
To sterilize our newfound stowaways presence
But I never found him
And Randy boarded the plane with us to ***** Cana
While our plane painted dizzying contrails over the ocean
We speculated about Randy's
Most likely devious activities
"I bet he's eating the granola bars under my bikinis"
"I bet there is more than one in there"
"Maybe he's dead?"
"I bet he's laying eggs"
We both pondered over the fact that Randy could be Rhonda
And that we would open the suitcase to a scattering of near microscopic progeny
And we clutched each other in the cold, recycled air of the cabin
When we got to the room
Past all the tin shacks and open air bars
Where the locals sat in plastic lawn chairs
Staring at the tourist shuttles
That carted pale skin behind tinted windows
To decadently decorated rooms where the towels were folded into swans
We opened the bag to see if Randy
Had surfaced, died, or multiplied
But Randy was no where to be seen , a phantom
We unpacked everything under the utmost scrutiny
Not trusting any of the items we had packed so lovingly and repacked
Shaking cover ups and tee shirts like the wind shakes the leaves in autumn
But he never presented himself
And we saw none of his foul brood
We even unzipped the lining
But Randy had simply vanished
Evaporating into the humid, tropical air
I like to think that Randy is somewhere on the island still
That he has impregnated or has been impregnated
That he spends his days under the intense sun
And cottony wisps of clouds
Sipping Presidente
Sitting under an umbrella made of dried palm fronds
Happy to be away from the honking horns and crowded subways
Just like we were
Jun 19, 2016
Jun 19, 2016 at 3:25 PM UTC
You said we were over.
Time together has ended.
We took this ride far enough.
But when I unpacked my belonging.
I found out you kept the photos.
Time, wasn't all that bad.
In between the bad was good times together.
I still talk good about us.
I just notice, you kept the photos.
Even you realize we made good memories.
When you glance at them.
Even you realize at one time, we were so happy.
Life is a learning lesson.
Whether we apart or was still together.
Funny, how we try to erase things that brought a smile to our face?
Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 7:18 AM UTC
*his bags were packed & ready to go
but his clothes still hung in the closet.
he had his plane ticket tucked away
but he said he wouldn't be leaving yet.
he didn't care much to put in any effort
since he knew he'd be long gone soon.
careless about the messes he made
reminding himself "i leave at noon".
his body was there, laying on the bed
but his mind was ever so far away.
physically here, but had already left
unable to reverse our loves' decay.
i remember his bags were ready to go
months before he packed them.
i remember his feet had left me
weeks before he moved them.
for just a moment in your eyes
i swear, i felt the packing begin
i look at them now, unpacked & empty
& i pray they never get packed again.*
Jul 28, 2017
Jul 28, 2017 at 7:04 PM UTC
I knew you were home
Before you walked in the door
There's no room for you here sweetie
I'm so sorry sweetie
I had to send you away before
You unpacked your bags
You won't be happy here sweetie
I'm so sorry sweetie
Me and the other girls
We woke up at dawn
We carried you to the river sweetie
The weight of you was pressing
Heavy footprints in the dirt
We waited for the boat man
To take you back sweetie
Me and the other girls
We didn't really want to
But we did what we had to sweetie
It's really what was best
As the boat man pulled you
From my arms sweetie
A dozen and a half roses took your place
Me and the other girls
We left a rose wherever we rested
On our journey back home sweetie
Our feet were lighter
But our hearts were heavier
We dropped rose petals for days
We will drop tears for the rest of our lives
Sweetie
Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 at 3:57 PM UTC
The North Wind doth blow,
And we shall have snow,
And what will poor Robin do then,
Poor thing…
The house that poor young Robin bought,
You’d scarcely call it a house,
A single room on a farmer’s farm
You’d not swing even a mouse.
But he moved on in, and tidied it up
And asked Rosemary to stay,
She sat in silence, her knees clamped tight,
And her first response, ‘No way!’
‘There isn’t a cupboard to keep a broom,
The kitchen’s there by the wall,
We couldn’t live in this tiny room
To even think, I’m appalled.’
But Robin said, ‘It’s just for a start,
I’m going to build on a wing,
I’m making the bricks from mud and straw
It will all be done by the Spring.’
So Rosemary had unpacked her case,
And hung her clothes on a hook,
Then looked in vain for a tiny shelf,
There wasn’t even a book.
But Robin slaved, out in the yard,
Making his bricks from straw,
The walls went up and the roof went on,
And he laid the wood for the floor.
At first they slept on the floor inside,
And Rosemary kept it clean,
She said, ‘Don’t touch, till I am a bride,’
And pillows went in between.
He put his love all into his wing,
All carpeted now, and swish,
And set it up as a bedroom then,
‘Are you coming to bed?’ ‘You wish!’
She only ever kissed with a peck,
She never opened her lips,
He wanted more, but couldn’t be sure,
As he nibbled her fingertips.
Then one day, down came the winter rain
And the wind it was blowing cold,
Rosemary lay there shivering so
She allowed him just one hold.
His hand had strayed, down where it would
You’ll admit we’d do the same,
But he found down there, in that neighbourhood
Something that changed the game.
He leapt on up, and he washed his hands,
Said, ‘You’re not even a girl!’
‘Didn’t you guess,’ said Rosemary,
‘It’s not the end of the world.’
She chased him all around in that room,
‘I thought you wanted to play,’
While Robin stood, his back to the wall,
While holding her off, ‘No way!’
He fled into his favourite wing,
And hammered and bolted the door,
His bricks were melting out in the rain
And mud flowed over the floor.
She went on back to the troupe ‘Les Girls’,
While Robin stayed on the farm,
You’ll not see him venturing out these days
He lives in a state of alarm.
With just the sight of a petticoat
He’s a shuddering, gibbering wreck,
And ask him if he will leave his wing,
The answer comes back, ‘Like heck!’
He’ll flee to his farm,
To keep him from harm,
And hide his head under his wing,
Poor thing!
David Lewis Paget
Feb 10, 2017
Feb 10, 2017 at 7:37 AM UTC
~
smiles...
i tried to stack 'em
deep for you;
tried to pile 'em up,
make 'em fit
into a box,
to send to you
by post...
but o're they fell
on rounded edges,
as one by one
on their sides
they tipped!
so instead
i’ll send 'em
to you,
end to end,
nested,
just like this.
:) :) :) :) :) :) :) :)
once unpacked,
i hope sincerely
you will
gently pull,
lift them
from their
nesting places,
turn them
on their chins,
to their
widest bases,
then pull their
cheeks up
ever high,
so all we see is
smiling
faces!
Ü Ü Ü Ü Ü Ü Ü
and if just now
the corners
of your mouth
tugged upward,
even just a bit,
if a far'way glance
crossed your face,
right there
where you sit,
then you are
my recipient...
receiver of my smile,
personally sent
this smile hug,
from me, to thee,
across the miles!
Ü Ü Ü Ü Ü Ü Ü
now smile...
i hope you’ll
pass it on!!
~
*post script.
oh, come on...
you know you felt it
in your heart,
you felt it tug
even just a bit!
and even if you can't
acknowledge it,
you know this smile,
this hug across the miles
made you feel
just a little bit
warmer!
just admit...
you liked it!
Ü Ü Ü Ü Ü Ü Ü
i know i did...
cuz it looks sooooo good on you!!
(: yes, of course... you think i don't know its syrupy? :)*
May 6, 2015
May 6, 2015 at 4:47 PM UTC