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Yenson Jul 2018
A while ago in East London, in an area called Poplar
a black man lived with his wife
Quiet, hardworking, law-abiding they both were.
never courted a scandal, never committed a crime
Just went about their business, working for  better tomorrows

Then next door a Scottish family of five moved in
and immediately started borrowing from couple next door
Do you have sugar, do you have bread, can I borrow a fiver
till our Giro arrives next week, please another tenner for Jim
He has to pay a fine.

Empty beer cans littered their doorway, they all drank like fish
fights and arguments rang late into the night
Police visited twice, thrice weekly and it was known Jim burgled.
and was always doing time, when not drunk and fighting
Joan eldest girl was pregnant at sixteen and Tom fourteen had
done two stretches in juvenile detention
Last daughter Kelly was also to end up in the duff at sixteen

Amounts borrowed was now sizable, the odd fiver repaid
stolen items regularly offered and rejected by quiet couple next door
Invites to the black man to visit while Jim in jail politely declined
Come and have a drink with me and my young daughters
No thanks, got to go and cook, my Mrs would be returning soon.

The family from hell has turned the neighborhood to hell
constant break-ins all around
strange men coming and going, fights and noise, beer cans
for carpets, stairwells reeking of ****, Tom and friends and
Marijuana fumes graced the stairs and veranda.
Mrs Scottish and two young daughters constant smiling invitations
to black man next door, duly always deftly rejected.

Black man and Mrs decided to stop lending money
it was all going on beer and smoke and never paid back
By the end of the week, their car had been vandalized and four
wheels removed, racist leaflets started appearing on veranda.
No more smiling coyly invites, now just loud music and loud
intermittent bangs on walls from next door.
We must complain, we most report all this to the Landlords.
No, lets just ignore them, not worth the hassle.

Then it happened, black man arrives home one afternoon
and finds his front door ajar, they had been burgled.
Seething with anger he stormed next door to be met by Mrs S
'you ******* thieves have robbed me, how can you be so low,
after all we've done to try and help you. None of you work, You are a bunch of lazy
workshy, welfare scroungers, you are pathetic lowlife. why don't you go and get a job instead of burgling houses and getting drunk all day long
I will start a petition to move you away from the neighborhood.
You no-good non working class scums'  a disgrace and an affront to the hardworking working classes. You ******* racist bullies, I will show you, you can't
mess with me'

Mrs S smiled wickedly and said, you will see
'character assassination, public humiliation, we'll ruin your life and you'd wish you are dead by the time we finish with you and your chicken legs wife. I will show you who runs the manor in East London.'
You can't do that, black man replied, I have done nothing wrong, you are the bare-faced thieves, you shameless woman. We have had enough of you and your anti-social behaviour. You are not going to mess with us no more!

OH, YES! they can and by jove, they did.
Mrs S retorted' You are the foreigner here, you are the one that would be leaving the country
and going back to your Jungle'.
Black man called wife to tell her, she came home immediately
the police came, no evidence, here's a crime report, get your door
fixed. How about searching next door, we can't, no witnesses.
And then Black man's life changed FOREVER.

Should I write about the intimidation from other white families
in the neighborhood, should I write about how the Local Socialist
Party got involved, and launched a propaganda campaign about a black Conservative member dissing the Working Classes,  should I write about how one of his beloved dogs was
killed, should I write about a rumour campaign that black man was a wife-beater, a ****, a con man, a greedy parasite, should I write about sudden hostilities and bullying at his work place, how his wife was also sacked, about being randomly insulted and abused in the streets, about kids spitting on him, about being shunned inexplicably by locals
he's known for years. Should I write about outrageous fabrication, smears and humiliation.
Should I write about political victimization, about the black man 'who thinks he is better than us all,' about how a wedge was driven between him and his wife, till she broke and upped and left without warning,
should I write about how strangers shouted 'solidarity with the working Class' at him, should I write about daily torments and constant harassment everywhere he goes, should I write about Criminal gang stalking,
should I write about being informed they were going to ruin his career, ruin his marriage and ruin his reputation, check, all done. S I write about how they said they were going to chuck mud at him everywhere he went and blacken his name forever, should i write about pure isolation, about being made a target and being  hounded and stalked and disrespected everywhere. Should I write about how they stated they were going to drive him insane and drive him to suicide.

If so, WE WILL BE HERE ALL DAY.
Just  know that somewhere in London, a decent, law-abiding progressive, and innocent black man, is now on his own, broke, in debts and on Welfare benefits, unable to find a job, friendless and isolated, discredited and shunned.  He is still being stalked, harassed and hounded, round the clock. All for daring to stand up to CRIMINALS.

IS THERE JUSTICE IN THE WORLD?
IS THIS WHAT ENGLAND HAS BECOME?
I've asked myself to start looking at things not easily seen
Like the pieces of you, you smother between sheets subconsciously
For example, your compassion
I gulp down my empathy in hot tea so the person sitting across from me
Never knows how I really feel
Society said most importantly do not feed the animals
Each slimy creature comes with claws and fangs and each slight difference you posses is a dangle of fresh meat destined to be torn at the seams
So you spill
Each pill you take makes you fall deeper inside the well
Tell each of your wishes, fare well because with each passing hour another hole is dug
Another life swept under the rug, with a pull and a tug
You fit
Into every gender role, stereotype and statistic
It's like our life is a mission of self hatred and wrong decisions
So we can slip in to more fitted opinions
Like we're living in the terms and conditions made up of fine print and "read between the lines"
Because the lies were fed taste like a sugar and dread
But we turn our perfectly make-upped cheeks because it's served with a smile
All the while we live to die, it comes slowly, but I break down and cry at the thought of me not living compassionately
The thought of me not loving unconditionally
The thought of me not being happy being whatever the **** I want to be
So now I'm uncovering the pieces of me I previously smothered between sheets
And I encourage you to do the same
Stanze smith Nov 2017
I.
My parents worry about my brother,
he gained a lot of weight during middle school, and it isn't getting better.
Twins yet, nothing alike,
I have always been small, and honestly hope to stay that way.  
This is why I worry,
worry about my brother and his health and myself, my health.
I cannot help but think,
because we are twins, one-day will it happen to me?
I'll be fat.
Is there anything I can do? I must take control. I cannot turn into him.

Today at lunch,
I watched him eat two ice-creams, I had a salad and a milk.
No one notices.
At dinner mom took away the pizza after his 5th slice.
I had only one,
but I didn’t feel hungry enough to eat more than that.
They watch him,  
what and how much he eats and the exercise he gets.
But not me,
I can take care of myself, I know that I won't get fat.
I have control.



II.
They know I'm an immigrant, my English is rough
They don’t believe I'm from Jordan
"but, Jordan is in Africa, Africa is poor."
I used to love my gold bangles
Mom asked why I don’t wear them anymore,
They distract me in class, I say.
She seems so sad, although we are doing well.
Other immigrant girls wear cheap clothes
And watch me with hateful eyes.
My classmates make fun of them
For they are sad, poor immigrants.
       What am I?



III.
I came to America, for freedom
I came to America, daring to dream
I came to America, as an Islamic Idiom
I came to America, for enlightening education
I came to America, with bright beliefs
I came to America, it seemed simple
I came to America, to be called negative names
I came to America, to learn my label
I came to America, to find fear
I came to America, only to live lonely

I came to America, not as a terrorist
I came to America, seen as a terrorist
I came to America, to leave as a terrorist  



IV
They say it is the pastor's son you need to watch out for,
They have no idea
When I first felt it, I knew what they'd say, I knew I would struggle
You are going to hell
Now I have a secret, a fake identity. I CANNOT TELL ANYONE
I'm living in hell
Whatever happened to, all are a child of God?
I'm only a child
Whatever happened to, love thy neighbor?
Oh, if the neighbors knew.
Everyone else calls him father, and so do I
But not for long.
When I come out, I'll only have my god.
Father will disown me.
I may be Catholic, and I am defiantly gay
Am I loved?











V.
Nonna?
Yes, my tosors?
What is Predu-ou-jise?
Prejudice, she sighed.

Prejudice is when they won't hire your father, because of our name
Prejudice is when your brother cannot get into school
Prejudice is when the girls won't let you dance with them.

When I arrived, I could not work
When I arrived, I was to stay at home
When I arrived, I had to be married

Out in the world, I feared for my babies.
Out in the world, no one could work.
Out in the world, we face walls.

In my casa, I raised my babies.
In my casa, I worked and cleaned.
In my home, I kept up the walls.
  
Generazione,  
You'll live with Prejudice
Don't worry, you won't find it here.    

I am Nonna, you are bambino
Italiana live with love,
not Prejudice.  

      


VI.  
There are many reasons why people get sick, but I am different, I am a sick that you cannot see.
Depression feeds off me as I lay in bed, while Mom tries to feed eat breakfast
I can't, I am empty. Empty in a way food can't fill. I am only full of junk
  I have lost myself, again behind all the junk and  I'm not sure why
I thought I was doing well But in the end, I am still just broken
Depression causes Frsuteration Anxiety starts it all,  
All day and everyday I am less less of myself
Each drug, coping method, and session
But in the end, nothing can help me
They say a person has to want to change
I have wanted  change for so long, in every way
But every day I just wait until the shadows creep up
They creep up, **** me dry, dump my body for others to find
When people find me, they are shocked, can such a smart friendly girl
Be such a broken soul with so much pain, they wonder why I hide, yet they are the reason
VII.
First it was due to stress.
Then, the variabiles made me shake
They call the variales anxiety
They said that boys dont usualy have this problem
They said the anxiety caused this problem
They said the drug would help

First it was feeling far away
Then, they upped the dose.
They changed it once
They changed it twice
They said I was showing signs of improvment
They said I could get back in the game

First I felt better
Then I felt off
They said it was whatever was left over
They said I desrerve to be healthy
They said I’m not broke
They know it’s all in my head, literally
They said I’ll get my head back in the game

First off, I hate feeling like this
Then I look in the mirror and think
How selfish
How broken
How stupid
How weak

I have one of the better situations in the world;
I am a White, Middleclass Man,
I am getting scholarship to college.
I have no reason to complain as I do,
I am fed and housed
I am a privileged person
I have freedom to swim in
I have a supportive family

Why am I so unsure?
I am taken aghast by any change in pattern,
Will I ever be emotionally stable?
Are they ever going to look at me the same?
Will my team accept me again?
Am I going to make it to college?








VIII.
no one trusts me anymore
Why do you think that?
well, pretty sure its not cause im black
Okay, so what do you think causes people to not trust you
i dont know i just a reg guy tryin to make friends
Do they think you are trying to get something from them?
why would they think that?
Because you are an addict
right…
… and…
im trying to get better honestly
Possession?
yes
So how hard are you trying?
Tyrone says i need treatment
So do I
k, but youre supposed to say that,
Yep and you are supposed to trust people that you call friends
They say those things because they care about you
k, ill talk to dad again
Thankyou, love you <3
have a good night sis.
All I have left is her silver spoon
and in the corner her high chair
I wanted to watch her grow up
had all her schooling planed
but she upped and crawled away
all because I confessed that I was gay
she was too small to realise
that when I said that I meant happy
but it looks like now
that I won't be changing any nappies
no more goo goo gar gars
no more sunshine in my life
for she's upped and gone
just her silver spoon in my hand
she's finished with me I understand

By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
By NeonSolaris

© 2011 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)
Craig Harrison Apr 2014
Like a drummer playing base
my heart beats
Most of my life it has been playing a slow tempo
but recently it's upped the pace like a song at a club
If you listen quietly you can hear it echo

Like a singer singing
my heart sings
not Pop or Rock but Opera
in the beginning it sang a slow tempo
but recently it's upped the pace like a song at a club
If you listen quietly you can hear it echo

Like a drummer playing base
my heart beats
Like a singer singing
my heart sings
Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it, if you have any questions please ask them and I will try to answer them a.s.a.p.
Big Virge Sep 2016
"Order, Order !
We will have ORDER !!!
Order in the court !
or, the doors to this court
will be closed to cohorts !"

" Order "... is the call
within... our courts of law

Well here's...
Big Virges'... view...
of how these laws
will... Surely... be used...
and what... these laws...
will finally... Do... !!!

You see...

" Order's "...
being... " Summoned "...
in the... " Lords "...
and in... " The Commons "...

and... " The Cure "... to...
Current Problems ...
is seen as ... " Martial Law "... !!!

Police will now ... ENFORCE ...
without ... " Probable "... cause ... !!!

" Stops "... and ...
" Searches "...

upPED on ... Corners ...

What's their purpose ... ?
... " Public Order "...

But .....
Cameras on streets ... ?

CCTV ...... !?!

Isn't that meant to ...
" Keep The Peace "... ?!?

" OKAY, they're there
to make movies !
So, what's the deal ?
Can you paint the scene ? "

"Sir, move along please
your act's been seen,
our decision, you'll receive,
once you've been screened,
at the end of the week,
with your, Charge Sheet !
When it comes, answer truthfully,
because any deceit, may well
result in penalties, with no release,
especially if, we have to cheat
by using, yes, our editing team !"

You see ...
That's the ... " Trick "... !!!

So ... take these words ... " IN "...
and ... Read them ... CLOSELY ...
cos' these words ... Run DEEP ... !!!

Our lives ... BELIEVE ME ... !!!
are now on ... " Floppys' " ...
... Micro-Chips ...

and Drives named ... (C:)

So ...
What is humanity's ... destiny ... ???

Technology ....
Patrolling ... our streets ...

Armies ... of police ... !!!

Freedoms. .................................................... obsolete .... !!!!
for those ... wanting ... Peace ...

Sounds like a movie ...
I've seen of ... Armies' ... ???

" OH NO ... it's T3 !!! "

" ORDER is "... The Key ...

Restriction of ... Rights ...
to simply be ... FREE ... ?!?

NOT TO TAKE ...
Violence ... from our streets ... !!!!!

I'm YES ... A Supporter
of ... " Public Order "...

Let partying tribes ...
INDULGE in ... " Good Vibes "...

But .....
What kind of party ... ?
sees people ... Pull Knives ... !?!
or call for ... " Gunfights "... ?!?!?!?

But let's ...
NOT TELL ... " Lies "... !!!

Crime is ... on the rISE ... !!!

Crimes of ... ALL TYPES ... !!!
from ... Corporate Crimes ...
to young ... " Homicides "... !!!!

But .....
Ask yourself ... " WHY "... ?

Is it because ... ?
The young are now ..................................... Lost ....... ?!?

or ....
Could it be ... THIS ... ???

Highlighting ... Young Fights ...
as if .... EVERY NIGHT ...
Another kid ... DIES ... !!!

May simply ... "FIT IN"...
with Agendas ... Contrived ...
to simply ... Keep Minds ...
AFRAID ... and ... " DENIED "...
of living ... their lives ...
just like the ... " Rich Guys "...

" Directors "... who Earn ... ?
from ... " Fraudulent "... work ...

How many of them ?
will face ... " Stop and Search "... ?!?

Those in ... Governments ...
and ... " Corporate "... Hybrids ...
whose parties are ... "PRIVATE"... !!!!

with much ... " Nicer Climates "...

ENJOYING ... themselves... !!!
because of ... " Their Wealth "...
with women who ... " Sell "...
Their bodies like ... " SHELL "... !!!!
have done with ... " Oil Wells "... !!!!!

" Take Time ".....................................
Think it ... through..................................

But ....
Here's some more clues ....
as to why ... I Now Choose ...
to ... " Today "... take this view ...

Youth have died ... " Early "...
For YEARS ... on streets ...

But back then ... WEREN'T Worthy... ?!?
of ... PRIMETIME TV ...

But Now ... THEY ARE ... !?!

Terrorists .... are at Large ... !!!
is now the ... BENCHMARK ...

That's what's being ... " Used "...
to fill .... TV News ....

and ... " Sadly "... ABUSE ...
our LOST ..... WaYwArd ... youth ... !!!

Will .... " Eton "...
and ... " Harrow "...
REALLY SEE ... " Stop and Search "... ?!?!?

It seems ...
kind of ... " shallow :"...
to think ... They'll ... " Concur "...

Do ... " The Rich ...
have a ... THIRST ... ?
to walk with ... What HURTS ... !?!

Guns and Knives .....
amongst the ... " Rich Types "... ???

Why would they ... do that ... !?!
in ... " Daddy's New Pad "... !!!!!!

I guess what i'm saying ...
is ... " Stop and Search "... BLATANT ... !!!!!

is MOSTLY ... for blacks ... !!!!!!

"Well, blacks do the killing !
Which is shown now, to millions !
Everyday, all over the place !
So, answer that Virge !"

is what ...
" They "... will say ... !!!

Those who feed ... LIES ...
into minds and ... " Numb Brains "...

Those who ... DON'T THINK ...
BEYOND Links ... in the ... " Chain ".... !!!

The ... " New Order "... Preys ...
on ... Ignorant Strays ... !!!...

NOT those ... on streets ... !!!
but those who ... Compete ...
for a piece of ... " Their Cake "...

that has a ... FOUL TASTE ... !!!!!!

"ORDER ORDER !!!
We will have ORDER !!!"

" Must have ORDER ?
Man, just hold your corner ! "

Who exactly are ... " They "... ???
to treat people like ... " Game "... !?!

What makes you think ... ?
that they can train ...
the brain of a ... " Pig "...
to actually ... THINK...
and NOT behave ...
like some ... " Supremacist "... !!!
who's just ... Too **** ... QUICK ...
to suspect a kid ...
because of his ... Colour ... !!! ? !!!

" RACIST Mother F..... !!!!! "

"Order ... ORDER ...
You're out of order !!!"

" OUT OF Order ?!?
Are you a Coc' Snorter ?
I'm not a Big Baller,
or Gangsta' shot caller !
I'm just a straight talker
who's CRISP, just like Walkers',
when airing my views, about
Real Issues, that clearly confuse
and are used to abuse, our right to,
yes, choose, when and with whom,
we choose to make moves !

How would you like ?
to have THAT, done to you ?

My name AIN'T, Jack Horner !
Why should I be cornered ?
Searched and questioned
in the name of nonsense ! "

It's all a pretence,
to turn people against,
those they ... Don't Hate ... !!!

but ... each day ...
have to face,

from ... Council Estates ...
within the ... UK ...
to Projects ... They Blame ...
in the ... United States ...

These issues relate ...
and yes ... Correlate ... !!!

So .....
DON'T MAKE ... Mistakes ... !!!
and ... Mis-Read ... " The Game "...

What's happening ... There ...
is coming ... BEWARE ... !!! ...

Just think of it ... " This Way "...
George ... and ... Tony Blair ...........

They told you ... A WAR ...
was coming ... For SURE ... !!!!!

So ...
What'd you think ... NOW ... ?!?

Has ... THE WAR ...
Reached ... " Your Door "... ?!?

Or ...
Do you feel ... " Clowned "... ?

Or ...
Are you ... like me ... ?

A ... " Public "... ENEMY ... !!!

Who'll face men in ... " Gowns "...
because ... when I speak ...
I do so ... FREELY ... !!!! ...

and ... NO ...
WILL NOT ... Stand down ... !!!

" Order "...
is the call ...
as I said ... Before ... !!!

But ....
What is it ... for ... ???

for the ... " Weak "...
and the ... " Poor "...

NOT TO ... Fight anymore ... ?!?

or simply for ... " Borders "...
to keep them from ... " Hoarders "...
and ... " Midnight Marauders "... !!!!!!!

and TRUE LIFE ... Reporters ...
whose views they want ... "cornered"... !?!

because of ...
Their call ... to ... ENFORCE ...

.... " Public Order ".....

Listen Here :

https://soundcloud.com/user-16569179/public-order
My vision from some 8 years ago, of where we were headed, and sadly, much that I thought, has and sadly, continues to come to pass ..... These words are not those suitable for weak hearts, or those who like to play the well .... Y'all
know.

Listen Here : https://soundcloud.com/user-16569179/public-order
Geno Cattouse Sep 2012
When I was just a little lad
I never knew my mom and dad
My big brother was my hero.

He raised Pidgins as a hobby.

One day he upped and promised me
a pidgin of my own. Oh goody.

One day a storm blew into town and blew his pidgin
coop aground.

The sole survivor of the storm was one pathetic squab.

Here little brother says my sib.He's yours.
so I fed him,and built a nest for him, and
hugged him, and pet him,  and loved him.

He was me and I was he my little buddy Pete.
and every day I wouldn't stop to play but run
home to my Pete. Oh my brother George is my hero.

One day I ran home  to my Pete and found no sign of him.
I asked George where my Pete boy was. He said he had no clue.
I found out later That sum-***** sold Pete.
That rat ******* sold my pidgin.
Martin Narrod Apr 2014
Wicked nether-land. Nether world, white, askance. Capitulating mangroves, verdant trees spliced with hyperbole, onomatopoeia, and manilla envelopes; her world is stuffed with secrets, she listens to gorillas cracking mussels a kilometer away, near a rill. Never she thought. Nothing that could provide....providence. Mangled heliographs  sprayed all over the everywhereworld.

"Don't be S.A.F.E.," she whispered. A bouquet of gorse, cistus, and pimpernels squished in her small fingers. She climbed her way through the pedimented stairway, then collapsing on the porch. Legs spent, and spread out upon the desiccate grayed four by four planks of the portico.

And as time elapses, the shuttering shake of the hemlock, which writhes through her skinny nimble dactyls, upwards straining the heart as its toxic bends appendages- crisp cerise lumens bend on the Titanium White walls, where only shadows bend time. The hour, still nine. Every adornment, furnished with red and its hues. Not purple, periwinkle, or any masked enhancement.

These are the symbols that reticulate splines, that curve temperatures, perverse hemispheres and debunk worlds. Upped antes, verbs that terns flirt worth, birth words. Ooh. Aah. Camera. The forest wraps her in its verdant pasture, where at last the moribund tamarisks disperse.

While at the plateau she is quiet and longing. Arms astride, dangling. Vaunt with highs and bliss- a kiss of withstanding pleasure serves her the cure for a lifetime of whining. This, yesterday where her body rattled through crooked vines. Square ships toasting her vocal melancholy in the sweet-waters of Time. So that all of her ripened limbs could grow, no more sheepishly than the magic she knew as a child. Stress free. First among the Earth-words, verbed-up and made jealous by pronouns that encompassed her joy-brimming hide. Closing down her voice and hugging her from behind.
Nigel Morgan Dec 2013
Alone but together
over the Christmas days
time was not running out
for once the kitchen clock
had stopped looking at him
meaningfully and she

today a thing of beauty
of gathered curves
flowing in and from
that special frock
bought for an opening
(and perhaps worn once?)
she was lovelier then
than any woman
he had known or seen.

Earlier that morning in place of falling
ever falling towards passion’s state
he had lain peacefully beside her
and from his pillowed space in bed
had gazed . . . instead

They did the usual things
but with an unusual care
taking time with presents’ paper
savouring wine between sips of water
cutting into that well-iced cake
and sensing from a distant room
the scent of candles glimmering

On St Stephen’s Day  
they’d upped and offed
into the glen that rose above the town
that held her world of work
of children house and home
walking up through bare winter trees
where far below a stream rushed valley-ward
undrowned for once by the traffic’s noise
and the sudden rush of the railway's train.

About to turn for home
he saw her stoop
to look to gather to pocket
Some sixth sense told him then
an idea had formed itself
when as between her fingers
she held five acorns from the path
not squirreled-perfect shiny ones
but damaged and in need of care
these cups and fruit garnered about
with slivers of broken oaken bark

Later she left them lying
on a sheet of card
their winter colours
true but hard
in the kitchen’s light
objects suddenly
removed from all disorder
of a woodland way.

An hour or so perhaps later
still with her small fingers
she had stitched until . .
no not stitched she said
darned with blue and red
and silk-golden thread
in between and then around
these fractured acorn shells
picked from the path with
the cracked and shattered
broken bark now made
good as new and mended well

Her smile expressed a triumph
and a joy of a doing done
and from laughing eyes
and heightened voice
he sensed something
stretch into time’s distance
something wholly private
she would guard
and hold and own
to be only hers
and only hers alone.
Francie Lynch May 2014
Uniformed and re-upped,
We are the mind sweepers,
The navel gazers moving lint,
Waiting for the image to strike.

We are the missals
And the launchers,
Looking through cross-hairs
From think tanks.

We captain verse vessels to shore,
Unload and return for more.

We are the Romantic
Ancient sub-conscious mariners
Stitched in hammocks.

We are rocketeers.
A force
To reckon.
radiating
street lamps
ionized the
indigo blue
haze charging
the night air

sparking the
city’s eclectic
currents coursing
through the
abandoned raceways
and empty streets

energizing the
phantoms of
the city’s
restive spirits

the ghosts of past
Great Falls Fests came
jitterbugging back
to life

transparent
veils lifting
and falling
with it, a voltaic
indigo blue
billowed out of the
abandoned stadium
pouring smoking
oboe moans
into the cavity
of the great gorge

“I was one of the last
to perform at
Hinchliffe Stadium”
Duke proclaimed
with his usual  
distinguished air

“it was also one of my
last concerts”, he added
with a tinge of
sorrow in his voice

“the band was rockin
the Art Deco tiles,
splintering and shattering
into bits of earth toned graffiti
the last vestiges of
a bygone Jazz Age
dissolving into the
disco fizz of the
Seventies”

the indigo mood
clamoured off
the rocks absorbing
the sonorous waves
like a stand of
hallowed
sequoias

“I’m trying to
remember what
my last tune
was that night.

was it Caravan?
or a Prelude to
a Kiss?  No no
too mellow
we always ended
on an upper
a real crowd pleaser,
I recall the boys swung
a medley before the grand finale
that medley included
Mood Indigo, Caravan,
Sophisticated Ladies,
Prelude to a Kiss.
We opened with Kinda Dukish
Rockin and Rhythm
we closed with
Satin Doll
Yes I’m quite sure
I waltzed them
off the floor
that night with
Satin Doll”

Duke ran his
fingers through
his processed hair.
He grabbed my shoulders
raised his baggy eyelids
And looked me straight
In the eye

“Yes, we followed
Tito Puente, he killed it
we upped our game
He was just starting out
But at this time Silk City
was going Caribe
Juan Tizol was
out of his mind that night,
I thought him and Babs
we're gunna jump ship
and join the Salsa Circus
Yeah El Rex and Celia Cruz
were that good

El Rex had the place
jumpin and jivin
it was a glimpse of the old days
livin in the here and now
just like the old days
I couldn't compete with that
so I waltzed them off
the floor with Satin Doll
a little cheek to cheek swoon
maybe some guys got lucky that night
and maybe some girls fell in love
Yeah Paterson was changing,
the ***** Leagues long gone
the last ****** Auto Races
crossed the final finish line weeks before
when the raceways in the stadium
replaced the raceways to the factories
we knew it was coming to an end
and with it all the good paying
jobs, whatta shame
just like me and the boys
watching El Rex
the Duke was dethroned by a King
just like Silk City
we had our day in the sun too
a Satin Doll Sun
Those were some good times,
sometimes”

Duke scratched
his head,
and he looked down into
the swirling noise
of the Great Falls
“on a night like this
the mood indigo
takes you into the
darkest hues of blues”

fragment from
Silk City PIT 6:
The Great Falls

Duke Ellington, Coleman Hawkins
Mood Indigo




Oakland
3/30/13
jbm

(FRAGMENT WORK IN PROGRESS)

Part 6 of extended poem Silk City PIT.  PIT is an acronym for Point In Time.  PIT is an annual census American cities conduct to count the homeless population.  Hope and Labor is the city motto of Paterson NJ, nick named The Silk City.
(FRAGMENT WORK IN PROGRESS)

Part 6 of extended poem Silk City PIT.  PIT is an acronym for Point In Time.  PIT is an annual census American cities conduct to count the homeless population.  Hope and Labor is the city motto of Paterson NJ, nick named The Silk City.
Helen Nov 2013
I hate digital alarm clocks.

The eerie way they light a room in the deep of night and that silent way they have of counting down the hours of life left.

It just leaves me exhausted!

At 12.47am I woke to a flickering red haze across my bedroom ceiling that seemed to spread like a stain down the walls to pool on the floor.
Now, I know I should not be reading Amityville Horror in bed, on a full stomach and I’m pretty sure that the block of chocolate that I snacked on while reading may have upped the ante in the endorphin stakes but combined with that evil digital alarm clock I was wide awake at 12.47am and the curtains at the open window were flickering across the harsh red numbers.

The oddest scene was playing around me, like a bad play where all the actors rolled around in a vat of blood before they stepped up.

Kratos and Ares, in full battle regalia where crossing swords with a ferocity of a westerly wind fleeing from Zephyrus himself. The clang of steel was loud in my head and beat a pulse behind my eyes that watched them move around the end of the bed and along the wall along side of me.

The breeze slithering through the trees and through my open window bought whispered entreaties to my ears…

“She mine Ares! I saw her first, I will have her. She is my Yin! I will possess my other half!”

Clang, clang, grunt, clang

“Kratos, you do not know me well to think that I will not fight for the one that can stand with the God of War! I will have her”

Clang, ******, parry, clang

Now, this is where I got really confused.

I was starting to think that the red haze fluttering around the room was from my bleeding eyes because it was now 4.27am and more than 3 hours of my life were gone.

How was I supposed to get that back?

I was idyllically pondering what a Yin was while being gobsmacked by the fact that I was actually the other half of something. But being the other half of Strength?

What does that make me?

Weakness?

What would my Greek name be?

Profligatus?

But that didn’t concern me more than what Ares wanted with me? How strong did he think I was? Sure, I’m a bit prickly at times but for the God of War to focus on me? ****, and I thought I had curbed my enthusiastic condemnation of humanity… Obviously I had not!

But who am I kidding! It was really very nice to have them fighting over me. I’m not really sure who drew first blood (because of the ****** evil digital alarm clock glow) but I’m sure I would have swooned into whomevers arms reached down to claim me had it not been for the sound of the evacuation alarm.

ER ER ER ER ER ER ER ER*

****, ****, ****, the sun has crept over the horizon and has lightened the darkened theater that is my bedroom and it’s the alarm clock that is shrieking a warning that it’s time to start a new day.

****! I’m not ready for this. I’m tired, I want more dreaming, or awakening, or whatever the hell that was!

Most of all I want to know…

What did it all mean?
Erenn's Collabs Jan 2015
Coffee stains on these lips you stained
Your breath I can still feel, whispering 
"I'll never leave"
But promises are feigned to be broken 
Deigned with trust, words that matter unspoken
Fate played its twist, karma hit me like I deserved this
Past loves I slaughtered, they'll be laughing now
"I hope he'll die a loner"

These lips are stained
With more than just coffee
They are stained and tainted
With the ghost of your memory.
I still recall, last fall,
When you took the words 
I love you and 
Breathed life into them
As you whispered them gently
In my ear
And stamped your name
Underneath my rib cage
I remember how sincere
You sounded,
How so willingly 
I plucked them from the air
And surrounded
Myself, in their warmth.
I'll never forget, 
The yield of regret,
That comes with not 
Building up walls
And putting up a safety net
For all of those times you
Let me slip
Between your fingers
And the pain it still lingers.
Your promises were made
Empty and broken
The lies and deception
Apparent yet unspoken.


Life's expectancy to decree what I believed 
That our love was bound by fate
If only I didn't get my coffee that day
We would never have met
And I won't be dealing with this heartache
I hear but I can't see
Blinded by your Iloveyou's 
Those 7 letters, three words will be the death of me
Clinging on to hope, hoping you'll be my last
But like the others you left, 
For the first time, leaving me broken
Helpless and leaving me wanting more
Was it even real for you at all?

I thought that maybe
I had finally found the one
But past lovers
They too, had upped and gone
And I'm left thinking
And wondering

*Is there something wrong,
With me?
Italics Hayleigh
First ever collab with the beautiful talented Hayleigh!
I was always in awe with her writes. Her love poems always leaving me wanting for more. And u finally get to collab with her:)
Check out her account guys!
http://hellopoetry.com/hayleigh-kicks/
Bijan Nowain Feb 2015
Strong is the foundation,
but renovations needed
Signs of wear from past involvements
Darkness settles, absence of power
Then an unexpected luminescence
Out of the fog and into the light
Broken, healing, mending
Like an emotional carpenter,
She begins to repair his wounds
New relationship is formed
But scars from the past causes doubt and fear
Stubbornness, insecurity, irrational immaturity
Relationship agreement null and void
Heart dipped in liquid carbon
Shattered across the slab
Alone again, button of
Self destruct almost activated
But a change is brewing
God is present, never alone
Lessons learned, heart at ease
Sharp is the mind, priorities clear
Calm and peaceful, open heart
Confident, self worth known
Fixer upper upped and fixed?
Only time will tell
Judy Ponceby Nov 2011
I was 'bout a haf mile down Shadow Holler, lookin' for my dog Jack.  I rounded the bend long the river and thar he sat just lookin' up at the moon that was back dropped behind him.  I was so entranced I stood stockstill in the chill evening air.  He raised his head and let out with that beautiful soulful baying only a huntin' dog can make.
Then he took off tearing through the woods like his tail was on fire.

Well, I commenced chasin' ol' Jack down, but I swear evra tree in that holler was out to get me.
My clothes, they was ripped up and my feet were on fire from being torn by briars and such.
I finally, upped and caught up to Jack.  He was pacing the bottom of a Sycamore that was glowing white in the moonlight.  I heard some cacklin' up in that tree and I looked up to see a sight that I nev'r saw afore.  They was a **** up in there just grinnin' down at Jack like he was playing with him.  Now Jack was in a right tizzy over that ****.  He leaped up the side of the tree as high as he could, barking treed as though his life depended on it.  That **** was doing a bit of glowing in the moonlight itself.  I'd never seen a Cinnamon colored **** before, but thar 'e was, bigger 'an life.  And while it was grinnin' it was busy collecting some twigs.  Next thing ya know it was chattering to beat the band and throwin' sticks at ol' Jack.  Well, I can tell you, Jack didn't appreciate the humor in this sitcheation.  He backed up and made a leap so high I thought shore he was gonna take flight, but he got nothin' for his trouble but a whack in the head as he collided with a big ol' twig thrown by that ****.  

Thinkin' that Jack had had about enuf I tried coaxing him home, but he was havin' nothing to do with it.  So, I told Jack I was heading home and he could come if he had a mind to, but I wasn't staying out in the woods all night while he made an *** of himself over a **** that was makin' fun of him.  I started off and then heard a loud yelp.  All of a sudden Jack came blastin' past me, and not far behind was that old Cinnamon **** giving it all he was worth.  Well, as he was headin' towards home I followed along.  Just at the mouth of Shadow Holler, and not to fer from home I found ol' Jack.  He was up a low slung tree whimperin' like a puppy.  That **** was pacing the trunk, back ****** up, teeth bared and laughin' out the side of its mouth.  As I walked up on this pathetic scene, ol' Jack took one look at me and started crying fer help.  Well, I took pity on the poor fella and walked up on that **** with a right big stick.  And right afore my eyes it just faded into nothin'.  Scared the bejeebers outta me!

Took me an hour to coax ol' Jack outta that tree.  And then I couldn't keep up with him once he headed towards our cabin.  At home I told Pa all about our lil adventure, and he bout whooped me fer even goin' into Shadow Holler.  He said, "Son, I tole you to stay outta that holla.  They's ghosts and spooks down in thar.  Old Lady Jalson disappeared never to be seen again until the Smith boys saw her wanderin' a trail down there.  On'y problem is they cud see through 'er.  They's all sorts of stories 'bout shadows roaming free and playin' tricks an' worse on folks."  

Well I never seen my Pa so scairt as when he was tellin' me that, so now I just keep away from that holler.  And, ya know what?  I ain't never seen ol' Jack even turn in that direction since that night.  Musta learned himself somethin'.
This is what comes of visiting my family in very Southern Ohio... :) And I did actually see a taxidermied cinnamon raccoon at a person's house once.  It was kinda eerie.  Did pass a sign to Shadow Holler while I was down there too. :)
Vivian Jun 2015
Trick or treat
Hide and seek
Ring around the rosie

Battleship
Candy Land
Trivial Pursuit 2

Basketball
Truth or Dare
Multilevel Beer Pong

Strip Poker
Slot Machine
Russian Roulette Gun Play

As We Age
Bolder Games
Someone upped the ante
Marisa Hope Aug 2014
I’m that girl that no one likes.
The one who tries so hard to be liked.
I’m the one who goes to lunch alone.
The one with no one to call.
I’m the girl who always gets one-upped.
I can never just bask in my own success.
I’m the girl who feels like a burden who can’t see through all the *******.
I’m the girl who’s never had a boyfriend.
I’m the girl that no one wants to date.
I’m the girl that is seen but isn’t.
I’m just that girl.
Sa Sa Ra Jun 2012
Did you not take my breath away

The one gift
you can not give
and still stay

Tethered born
from belly
connect
and belly torn

Did I not thrive for life
suckling sure
gulping love
sipling strife

Were we not
all apples
before what eyes

Before the fall
of yours
and mines

Sorry apples
nuts and rut
would ***** come
poured down
the thriving throat

What is regurgitating
other longing
re urging
swallowing
submerging

To diaphram
disruptive
falsely claiming
urgent distractions

What is to liver
becomes malaise
all jibberish

Shoot me
some adrenal-ish
before i get in
or get out
of that monster
fish

Fry me
in your pan cre-ole us
to the suet of your filet
digest me
your way

Something in this burpling
will no longer
pass thee usurping

Hick upped
or gassing passing
selling poses
of the sweeter
smell of roses
After the kickoff of 'Dubbed Drumming':
This, a punt!!!
July 10th, 2012

The Kickoff!!!
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/dubbed-drumming/
Onoma Oct 2013
Frisked at customs...sphere-d Muzak...
upped and away...rife, with non address.
Photonic personification...perceptible, yet...
imperceptible gestures Godspeed-ed--
sheer forgetfulness...the genius of remembrance--
Expiration Dates.
Bardo Apr 2020
She was a lovely looking thing,
A beautiful young blonde girl/woman
She hadn't been with us long... at
   work
She was smart and sassy, even a little
   scary
Held strong opinions on some things,
She lived close to where I lived, only
   a few miles away
So I was sitting amongst them one
   day, the girls/the ladies
They were a little bored that day and
   for some sport
Were trying to draw me out, to get me    
   to open up a little
To reveal some more about my ways
   and my life
So I thought I'd have some fun with
   them
I told them I did some painting as a
   hobby
And that my speciality was 'the
   female ****'
But alas! I had a problem, I had no
   one to sit for me
"If only I had some beautiful nymph, some haughty Queen, some dazzling princess", I lamented
And then I'd gaze over at Her, give her
   a longing look,
Then of course, someone upped and
   said the obvious
" Jen....don't you live close to where he lives, would you not go sit for him "
My face it lit up and I smiled
"No! I would not!!! she said
   emphatically, disgusted
Now I knew from the Christmas party
   she liked to drink Gin
So I said enticingly "I'll throw in a
   few bottles of Gin"
"I'd never pose **** for anyone", she replied again emphatically, "it'd be embarrassing, it'd be degrading! Sitting naked before some man!",
" But ", I replied, " you wouldn't be embarrassed sitting for me
'Cos when I paint a **** I insist on
   being in the **** myself as well
So as to make my Sitter feel more at
   home, more at ease
Yeah, Me! I'm very... Avant Garde"
(said with a devilish twinkle in my eye)
Still she resisted my painterly
   charms
So as to further entice her I said
"I'll even cook you breakfast, no one can resist my lovely sizzling sausages".
I felt as though I'd dangled my carrot
   right in her face
But still she wouldn't take the bait.
I suppose I was lucky she hadn't for if
   she had of (agreed)
I would have had to have learnt how
   to paint Nudes real fast
And how to cook sausages and other
   breakfast repast.
More ****** and general nudiness. A bit of fun and a belated Happy Easter (think it was cancelled this year).
Hayleigh May 2014
If morning had never graced its presence that day,
Would you still have upped and gone away?
And if the sun had never shone that dawn,
Would I still be alone, this early morn?
If the stars had never ceased,
And the darkness had kept its presence,
If the night had never drew in
And the moon stayed ever crescent
Would you still be laying by my side
Would there still have been that change in tide?
Because since the seas direction changed
I've been left in the remains, off shore
Fighting for something,
Though for what I'm unsure.
I've been treading water at a steady pace,
But there's only so long, can race
Before time comes and takes our place.
And the seaweeds are starting to pull me under
And the clouds in my mind are starting to thunder,
I search desperately for shelter, solid ground,
I long to be found,
But the shift in tide has bound
Me
A daughter of the sea,
Alone, trapped in we.
And my heart lays heavy,
In a bottle of sherry
Too heavy to keep afloat
So send out your rescue mission
Your men and boats
But they will not find me,
I am entangled in chains,
And the remnants and remains
You cannot see.
So as I drown, in this bottle of whiskey
Consumed by the taste
From the last time you kissed me,
Fuelled by the solace at our loss of history
Do not try to save me,
You are the one who deserves to be free.

If morning had never graced its presence that day,
Would you still have upped and gone away?
Or would we have stayed, forever embraced, fingers interlaced,
In a morsel of romance.
And if the sun had never shone that dawn,
Would I still be alone, this early morn?
And would we still have had to mourn over our loss?
If the stars had never ceased,
And the darkness had kept its presence,
If the night had never drew in
And the moon stayed ever crescent
Would the tides of change still have to flow,
And form a drift between us two,
Would we have to mourn our history,
Would we still be through?

Though maybe if the morning had never come,
and if the sun had never shone,
and the stars had never ceased,
Your chance of happiness would be gone,
And I treasure that of yours,
More than I do of mine,
So let the sands of time sift between us two
Let the stars shine and the moon not confine, you.
Let dawn break, as we awake to a new day
Let the tide change
And let the remains
Embrace you in all the joy you deserve.
am i ee Jan 2016
life flows in
odd and beautiful
ways

the divine moving
through the manifesations
experiencing through
each

time comes when
the wisdom
of the creation
seeks
to alter course

indiiferent to the
play, to the events,
it will however
whisper gently,

"a correction is needed
my little manifested one"

deaf to the subtle
requests and warnings,
the ante is upped,
the impetus for correction
is increased

some hear early
& alter course gently

others learn only
under more difficult,
harder ways,
louder ways

circles of hell
on
earth
we wander
we wander

some caught forever
in a circle
some moving in &
out among them

sometimes with ease
sometimes with much
difficulty

sometimes alone
sometimes with
a multitude of support

the end is the same
the course of life
is corrected,
altered.

whether
here & now,

or some next life,
for death does make
the final correction......

die to yourself now
in this life

the little you...
realize you are
so much more than
this
so much more
than what you
think you are

for you ARE only
what you think
you are....

set yourself free
from the thinking mind
find out Who YOU really are...

Who Am I?
January coming to a close... peace descending.... time to return to solitude and prayer
Sean C Johnson Mar 2013
I never folded the hand dealt
facing your ice cold poker stare, feeling mine melt
as I knelt
in the pools of water, jeans soaked through
There was always an ace up my sleeve, until I gave it to you
gave you the innermost intimate memories that I held as my last ditch safety net
I never folded the hand dealt, only upped the bet
in false hopes this bluff was enough
to call you all in on your false love...
Nigel Obiya Jan 2013
I saw these neighbourhoods
I grew up in these neighbourhoods
I saw these streets
I grew up in these streets
I lived passed them… sort of
I didn't end up in jail, a ******… or deceased
Still, whenever I walk through them today... I feel at home
A sense of belonging
A nostalgic longing…
To remain here forever
But realize that forever would be too long
I would be fed up by month number five
Getting high every day… getting into fist fights
That was no way to live a life
It was just about getting through the day…
Survive
Exist
Eat
Be alive
These things are very different from living
Because the devil that gives you certain heights… compliments them with issues
And he just keeps on giving
I see the junkies, a hardened lot
Taking their ‘cut’ from the public service vehicles plying their route
And woe be unto the tout that refuses to pay
For these scavengers get vicious, they scratch, punch… and loot
I call them scavengers because that’s what they seem like… true
But as I look into the crowd, their ‘gang’, I realize that I know one of them… actually two
They cross over to me; we bump fists… a way of greeting
We’re still ‘boys’, but if I were to describe them now as ‘wayward’?... Fitting
I cannot do that though
We may have taken different paths in life, but there was a time when we hang together
A time when we were young, running around these streets and I called this place home
Now, what sort of man would I be if I just upped and forgot where I came from?
*For the record, I never did that hard stuff... wasn't that dumb...
It ***** when you struggle
Because someone always has it worse than you, and you know that
But on your worst days you just want someone to talk to
And everything you have to say falls on deaf ears, or gets one upped by people who have it worse.
I know that I don't have it bad, I know that I am lucky.
But it doesn't mean that my problems are less real. It doesn't mean that I can throw my feelings under the rug.
Tell me how it feels to be second class because your life feels and seems so put together when your glue is melting at the seams
Tell me how to avoid drowning in the deep blue of your feelings that are overtaking your chest
Tell me what happens when your only friends don't have time for you anymore
And your complaints can't fall on the ears of the infant who didn't ask for a mess of a mother
Tell me how to live the way I'm supposed to in my glass house filled with dark corners of hiding away my needs to better serve the needs of others
Tell me how to survive
Mary Gay Kearns Jan 2018
Enter down concrete steps
To the basement flat
Iron railings
Black door
Red painted hall
Condensation on the floor.

Two up, two down
The basement flat
Scrunched together
Back to back
Three sisters, mum and dad
Then the brothers quickly had.

Grandad's face always stern
Impeccably dressed
In shirt and vest
Roast dinners
were the best
Plates on a dresser rest.

Out the back a concrete patch
To play a cricket bat
Across from that
These tenement stacks
Elm trees give a screen
To this suffocating scene.

Street life was the choice
It gave freedom a voice
The boys gathered out late
Playing football with their mates
Fathers called from indoors
Time to stop that ****** noise.

A mile or so stood the hoards
Of Wormwood Scrubs' prison floors
Then there was the track
White City and greyhound backs
Chelsea loved by all the boys
Arsenal just upped their score.

The skyline filled with birds
The trains go rattling by
And yet from this place
My father took himself a pace
Up the street and far away
On a bright and sunny day.

Mary x
visiting my grandad and nana with my father
In the 1950s.
For my dad who worked hard to give his children a better life.Thank you Dad love Mary ***
Tim Knight Feb 2013
You don't know what you want
nor know what you'll become;
but in the years that'll drum on
you won't know what you'll have
before it's upped and gone.

Let palms and backs of hands
burn with pain, the wound of the twine.
Keep your kite from landing within the lambs,
break you back, but not your spine.

For your ambition is an anchor
in the deepest of seas;
it'll reel on down through the
breeze, past the knees,
collecting and acclimatising,
running towards your needs.

But only are they realised
when you're down on your luck
struggling to breathe.
No longer are you dynamic and living,
but a soul sat down
quietly remembering.

So keep your kite close
to your heart
and that anchor in the sea,
for no one knows what you'll become,
nor where you'll end up and leave.
facebook.com/timknightpoetry for more free poetry to your feed.
'Ten years from my successful seventeen, and a cold voice says: What have you done, what have you done?'
Sylvia Plath - journal entry Wednesday 4th November 1959.*

Now, like a typewriter ribbon,
worn-down and weak
as a shrinking pencil,
but there are white days
among those fruitless, bare ones,
spasmodic,
where the machine
gorges on characters
you create.

Multi-coloured rhapsody,
confident stories
have upped and left,
what can you do,
what have you done.
Feast on unknown delights,
astrology or foreign waffle
and wait for them to come.
They will come.

Ten years, ten calendars gone,
now your hair is up
rather than tumbling down,
need some buoyancy in a bottle,
medicine again,
take twice a day.

What you need,
crave, long after seventeen
sleeps inside you
silent
and will come alive,
your small siren,
as will every pitch-black word.
Written: June 2013 and April 2014.
Explanation: Another poem that may be used for my third year university dissertation. The quote at the start of this piece explains the title, and the rest of her journal entry for that day helped with the writing of the poem.
Mike Hauser Jan 2016
Just when I think I've seen it
All throughout this  land
They went and upped the anti
On the classic can of Spam

Those with the higher power
The ones that run the show
The Spam men of the hour
In a bunker buried way down low

Have added different flavors
To this meat of mystery
From Teriyaki to Tocino
That's bacon to those who don't speak Philippine

They heat it up with Jalapeno
Helps to liven up the slime
Those bunker boys as they're fondly known
Have really out done themselves this time

Aloha from Hawaii?
Imagine Spam in a Hula skirt
As they pull out the Leis and go all the way
Adding pineapple to those Spam burps

Exciting rumors have it
They're in talks with Oreo
There's no place in this universe
That a good slice of spam won't go

The only thing they need to work on
Is the dipping in the milk
They have yet to solve the problem
Of the massive oil spill

Yes they've taken what the rest of us
Never thought could be improved
Just goes to show what ingenuity
And a touch of crazy genius can do
Helen Sep 2012
there was a time when everything
was important
things that were huge, ginormous,
in proportion,
importantly huge..

then there was the little things...
like the walks in the summer rain
where you never cared that I was wearing
my best dress, you preferred me naked anyway
Dinner at Antonios,
getting caught in the snow
I didn't have gloves to warm my hands
you didn't either so you tucked me inside
your jacket and held my frozen fingers
to your chest, I didn't protest
but you told the passerby's that we were
conjoined
and when we were caught on the train
without a ticket you closed your eyes
and I lost my voice and confusion reigned
We walked home for miles after being evicted
you couldn't stop looking at me
and I couldn't hold my tongue

Then you left...
just upped, to walk another path
one you said you swore an oath to
but solitary a road still
but you may come back for me
but it doesn't matter, you see
Everything that was important
is no more
and everything you taught me
about Love
doesn't matter anymore
because you aren't here
to share the unimportant moments
with me
Feeling bold, I walked into the garden

- where i saw the fireflies, the light posts, the moon shining down

- the moon gave a direction, the lights upped the way, fireflies spiraled through me in the wind

- seeing a bridge illuminated, two koi directly under it had been circling each other in a dance

- i walked across, and through my footsteps, did the rain droplets in that pond ripple time

- the fireflies fell first, the light posts shorted out, the moon left orbit

|dimming|shrinking|flickering|

Fading. The koi were disappearing, my footsteps slowed to a halt before the coming darkness. And before I forgot what they looked like - they all merged and flashed.

Bursting white, hot, light,

+ bleeding gold, the sun broke the sky
jeffrey robin Apr 2014
^__^
0    0
&
-----

Gone!
( the compassionate smile !)

••

( Where are you ? )

--

We were all together on the beach
Under the blanket of dreams

••

ONE BY ONE !

you upped and gone -- away

••

Petty the games

( Meaningless )

Petty the pain

( Useless )

••

Just flesh

( who gives a **** )

••

ALAS!

petty the vanity

••

Crying for lost lovers

But we too
( we too )

Simply
"Upped and went away "

From the union on the beach
Of simple joy and lasting love
And true known peace

••

Compassionate smiles

Twisted scowls of hate

We have chosen

Haven't  we ?
Yesterday's lies fell like the cards
from the sleeve of a dying gambler
clutching a pair of deuces to his chest
while kings and aces littered the floor.
He was dealt a decent hand
but played her badly.
When she upped the anti
He should have folded
but foolishly raised the stakes
hoping to call her bluff.
A big mistaken
At the flop he showed his hand.
Claiming honesty as the one-eyed jack
She flushed him out,
but didn't celebrate.
The *** was full of chips
each one shattered from her heart.
Laura Jun 2014
a  handshake
sincere smiles all around
i laughed as my feet hit the ground
we had so much in common
i must have retold all my favourite jokes to you
because by the second time we hungout
i found you reciting the same jokes to all your friends

a pinky swear
with more to say then just drama and secrets
we found ourselves connected by unspoken truces
and the promise to stay there for more
not knowing what "more" stood for, scared me
but you said i could trust you
so of course
i did

a thumb war
subliminal targeting with unprepared words
sometimes i wasn't sure if you even meant it
other times i questioned who had the upper hand
was there even a hand to be upped
or did my stubburness seem too pretentious to recognize
and my fatal flaw was not recognizing yours

an arm wrestle
stuck between what we knew and what we wanted
ambitious ties and flawed questions
maybe sometimes flawed people
but mostly unrecognized confusion and dismay

a punch**
it was really quick and it hurt like hell
i guess i didn't have my guard up when it happened
not sure what you took out in the process
but we both lost something
that something i didn't realize till now
i never really lost in the first place

— The End —