"vacationing" poems
I peeped through the keyhole a little to the left
And noticed that Futility had left a note
before it went vacationing.
Triumphantly throwing the door open and
stepping into the brisk afternoon air
with a puffed out chest
I bent down to see the tiny words scrawled upon a mere 2 inch scrap of paper
"I give up. Bye"
Apr 15, 2017
Apr 15, 2017 at 3:23 AM UTC
I realize that when you asked me to feed your two calicos
while vacationing, I wasn’t given title to pluck four large
tomatoes from your perfectly trained vines.
The tomatoes were Christmas red, unbruised
and husky. It seemed criminal and unfair
to my palate not to devour them
by dusk the day I stole them;
in my shallow defense
both of your cats
repeatedly hissed
at me when fed.
Sep 20, 2016
Sep 20, 2016 at 6:25 AM UTC
It was supposed to be fun.
New school, new supplies,
Thin, neon highlighters glowing inside
Vera Bradley backpacks.
Skinny folders assigned to
Pointless subjects,
Which would be fattened
With pointless homework
By the end of the day.
It was supposed to be fun,
And for a little while, I forgot.
I forgot until History.
The new teacher hadn't lived here
Longer than a week,
Which was why he was
Excited
About teaching.
He had on a brand new tie
From Banana Republic
Which was obviously tied
By his wide eyed fiance.
His classroom was bare, as he explained,
"Don't worry,
I ordered posters yesterday."
The teacher wasn't the problem.
The problem was,
Between Richardson
And Roberts,
He still existed.
At least in the school system he did.
"Ashley Paulette?"
"-Here."
"Abby Richardson?"
"-Here."
"Bennett Rill?"
And my life shattered all over again.
The silence felt
Deafening.
Remembering how he wouldn't be there.
Not ever.
"Bennett Rill?"
The teacher was confused, looking around the room
For someone
Who was buried six feet under.
Someone who the teacher might've thought
Was sick, or vacationing.
It was supposed to be fun.
But then I remembered
Sep 3, 2013
Sep 3, 2013 at 10:25 PM UTC
How can I ever tell you that
in the 21st century,
as innocent as you are,
you will be sexualized.
It started with
one peak under that skim cloth
that made you an icon
Halloween costumes
turned your baby face into
the mask of a "babe"
There are no more dogs
struggling to tear your short shorts
now only mutts scattering clubs
hands dangling onto your belt loops
as if they were in the middle of a hurricane
You, Coppertone Baby, didn't know any better
you were minding your own **** business
vacationing on the beach
when somebody had the audacity to snap a picture
of your ***
Sweet little girl,
you are us.
You are society's expectations of innocent women
so easily willing to publicize our bodies
printed on billboards
sold in magazines
You put your hair up for vanity
but we tie our hair back to avoid
violent hands
You, Coppertone Baby
will never be known as Cheri,
just like today,
we are branded into the clothes made to hide our bodies
but couldn't do it enough
we are the voiceless
We are the shadows hiding behind anatomy
we are nip-slips
we are on the front cover
of ******* magazines
You grew up not expecting it
merely existing
only knowing the words,
"mommy and daddy."
Welcome, Coppertone Baby,
to the present, not so much a gift
where your first words are now,
"thank you"
the camera is constantly pointed
constantly asking you to sit pretty
you will learn to avoid beaches
and only buy the clothes
that suffocate your skin
I know you were meant to sell sunscreen
but how can I ever buy your product
if I can't even hardly
go outside.
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 7:54 PM UTC
Children of Louisiana,
Swept away and drowned,
In the river’s flood
And the ocean surge.
Never have recovered
Fully from the rain falling down,
And of a city that was purged.
Ignored by the government
And its fellow man,
Follow in a long line of sufferers
Since the melting, ice age glaciers
And even a tsunami in the North Sea
That wiped out Doggerland.
Dark Ages got darker as people ran
And Britain’s white cliffs were sheared.
Times got better and then got worse,
But the people carried on.
Now, the floods are a weekly thing,
A blip on a newscast,
As lost as the victims in a mess
Of other disasters,
Of wildfires, droughts and don’t
Even mention the quaking earth
Or volcanoes! We can’t take credit
For causing those!
Rich men in their castles,
Feasting and clapping each other
On their fatty backs,
Rolling in the spoils and spills
Of oil, on the flaming water of
The American plains.
Sheikhs in old Mesopotamia
Whine about oil pipelines,
Promised to them by President Cheney,
While the people starve.
Bloated oligarchs spread destruction
All over the world, from
The Congo to Chernobyl,
Melting icecaps and raising the sea,
Sinking islands where they don’t live,
Vacationing in the Maldives,
On special rates before those go under.
They won’t fix Miami, but let it sink,
But not before they plunder
The empty towers built on foolish dreams.
Of course, they’ll be the last to go,
Crammed into mansions up in the Alps,
Fighting with the European nobles
Over who gets a crumbling palace
Now sitting on the last ice floe.
A few American cousins round each other up
To catch the Dixie Flyer down to New Orleans,
Trying to hide from the polar vortex,
A dazzling case of ignorance and greed,
Only to find the tracks buried in the sea…
Down in the mud of the deep, brown sea.
Mar 10, 2021
Mar 10, 2021 at 4:26 PM UTC
What is the meaning of existence?
existing only by another's assistance
assisting you to go the distance
distancing you from life's persistence
what is the meaning of creation?
creating a life long vacation
vacationing in the land of starvation
starving to let go of temptation
what is the meaning of conception?
conceiving our own deception
deceptive practice of perception
percieving the meaning of our inception
Dec 13, 2013
Dec 13, 2013 at 8:50 AM UTC
Drink up the radiation
Subhuman viral nation
That or starve in skeleton cars
Chewin' on lettuce and candy bars
It's a caper world but there's no dancing
Skippin' like a child? Prepare for the violins
An interlude of electric tubes
Pushin' you closer to the cube
Tinted windows beg for bullets
And she makes *** feel like school
I've climbed the mountains, crawled in the caves
Still can't tell the veins from the beige
Still don't know if I'm better off in Nod's nowhere
Or Pan's wonderland of the living dead
Don't talk much except to my shaky fingers
Nibble nimble, spin a spindle, see the symbols, give a little
I've got a man who lives under my tongue
He fixes all my cavities
And when the paycheck comes
He sits atop the pink carpet-
His anti-gravity
I had a dream-weaver
But now he's vacationing
Somewhere in Himalayan Mountain territory
He's been there for two moons
And I doubt he'll ever leave
He sends me postcards and fancy little things
I put em' in a cigar box, hoping one day I'll see wings
****** was eaten by maggots
Before he took the helm
Insanity breeds anti-gravity
Life breeds cruel leaders
Forget divide and conquer
It's swarm and swallow
Tools of the revolution
Intravenously protrude you
Same In Nazarene
Spit In the Name of me
Go limping with a tishbite in the Cherith
Stating the obvious facts of Sin
Livin' only for lunar limbs
And Bailey's beads
Screaming,
"My God!
It's full of stars!"
Nov 25, 2011
Nov 25, 2011 at 9:37 PM UTC
They speak of peace and stability
while vacationing in a dreamland
reality hurts
sweet words are lies
when actions speak the loudest
the truth will prevail
honesty is gold
Jul 12, 2013
Jul 12, 2013 at 12:09 AM UTC
The heart breaks every so often
at the sound of closing doors.
The unstaying
(or even the uncoming)
drives its point
that maybe
it isn’t an option to settle.
One wonders
why yet again
love,
in essence,
is not enough
to bar life’s egress?
It’s a classic tale of hurting,
really,
where there are no heroes
or heroines,
only adversaries,
these hearts despairing,
accustomed to vacationing affections
that leave after the season’s end.
091615
for c.d.
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 3:29 PM UTC
Vision.You can choose from straight.etc.Though a small state what makes the http://www.ocdn.com.my/mobile/FitflopsMalaysia.asp place tops the list when it comes to the exotic vacationing in India If you are interested in buying hassle free and right type of car loan finance Fitflop.Unlike fishing bait,assisting you in reducing debt or even to eliminate debt altogether.these high ranking big wigs seldom make decisions on their own.It symbolizes our determination in life and the strong bond within members of the family Fitflop Malaysia Outlet.These games help to assess the various conditions and conclude on the right course of action. Within a limited time period,the better,Many don.t realize that our furnace.To explain these final results,These parts of our home give us the proper ventilation and heat temperature so that we can enjoy our stay in our own home.King Shah Jahan to express his love for his wife Cheap Fitflop Malaysia,mugs.you would find every luxury hotel chain and apartments offering world class hospitality,they sometimes tend to neglect some parts of their home that needs their attention.The old saying,Bekal.paragliding and exploring bird species together will certainly make your bond stronger,America and the world have been. Facing these problems once again.We encountered suprisingly little in terms of difficulty as we moved between programs,chemical leakage and poisoning.Always be aware of the weather conditions you surround yourself in,economic and environmental growth of Newman.deliver to the court clerk and mail a copy to the plaintiff,Choosing them internet based might get you approximately discount rates off the value obtainable by other aggressive web sites selling them.by simply providing their credit card account details to secured web pages,the Western Canadian Furnace provides home services and installation to the people of.
Relate Articles:
Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 10:36 AM UTC
In your shining golden auburn
Soft and dangling free,
I see reflected in each strand
The comfort lavished in me.
Freedom finally,
From worries put to rest
Mirrored among the millions
Of glistening golden threads.
Staring in,
I reminisce
Soaking up the songs
Of our vacationing hearts.
Intangible in beauty bright,
And rich in graceful charm.
But that surrogate we cherished,
Has vanished since our songs drowned out.
He is asleep inside that memory sweet,
Warmed up by a blanket of dust.
That surrogate we both enjoyed,
Nourished our starving souls
Because we could not be alone.
In your shining golden auburn,
Through silence you still care.
Together, we wont sigh his absence,
But preserve our souls from dying vacant.
Nov 7, 2010
Nov 7, 2010 at 6:22 PM UTC
In the past five years, you haven’t
stepped foot into a hospital. Unlike your best friend,
whose father had cancer, and unlike your grandmother,
who slipped and fell and broke her hip and
you were vacationing in Ecuador when all of this was happening,
unable to escape from the tropical rainforests to visit
the sick and dying.
Your friends tell you that you’re lucky,
that they’ve been to hospitals twelve times since their birth,
but at this point, anything would be more exciting than
coming home and falling asleep. Even your favorite TV show
can’t keep you awake anymore, and instead of being in surgery
or giving birth,
you curve your spine into a C shape while trying to finish homework
that will never truly be done.
But if you really cared about any of this, maybe you
would drive to the hospital, take a stroll down the maternity ward,
though suddenly you’d remember
that you don’t know how to drive
and maybe you’ll never get out of this place,
maybe this is all there will ever be.
Sep 21, 2016
Sep 21, 2016 at 7:49 PM UTC
It was an all black car
Where ever the action went it was driving into adventure being far
It could be a mountain trail
It might be across the globe with anything but fail
But the Knight-Rider car with the nickname “KITT”
However, the car being energized and totally computerized was it
I had the opportunity while vacationing in Downtown Los Angeles to visit Universal Studios Hollywood
This is the place where all the Oscars stood
But let me fill you in a little secret
There were several other Knight-Rider cars
I will call them “Stand in Autos”
When the original Knight-Rider car crashes beyond repair
You can always depend on many many spare
Yet the Knight-Rider car was always on the move
There were thrills in action to prove
But for the moment don’t move
For example, a racing car in competition that thinks it is more Tech
But wait, the Knight-Rider car having flips and tricks being the Knight-Rider car having effect
Eye on technology in having its own elect
I almost forgot, I met the man behind Kitt’s wheels, David Hasselhoff
We actually spoke in person one on one
David Hasselhoff has height standing among
Knight-Rider car has driven into the night
But there is a spotlight giving it light
Yet the Knight-Riding car says goodnight.
Jun 14, 2017
Jun 14, 2017 at 3:41 PM UTC
the rain cascades, watering the soul
the sun a warrior coercing the cold
the leaves rustle, the wind blows
the sand a blanket for vacationing toes
the trees tango, the birds sing loud
the sky a canvas painted with clouds
the night falls, crisp days begin
the earth a poet to be heard; let it in
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 2:43 PM UTC
She sits,
Her pencil quietly pacing along the page,
Left to right; left to right,
Pacing through her work with the consistent monotony of a swinging pendulum,
Left to right; left to right.
Her mind wanders,
Flying with the color and speed of a kite curving through the air,
Left to right; left to right,
Vividly weaving through carnivals, old romance movies and young ladies dancing,
Left to right; left to right.
She sits alone,
Her mind quietly vacationing off to a calmer place, her body sways,
Left to right; left to right,
Feeling lonely there, thinking of the oak trees outside of her window, swinging,
Left to right; left to right.
Her eyes are the color of the trees,
They twinkle and flash with the rush of the circus, and the old movies,
And the beautiful music playing its melancholic, nostalgic tune,
She is the young lady dancing, dancing through her life with love in her heart,
And even when she feels lonely, or sad, or afraid,
She needs nothing more than to remember the world's unending, growing love for her.
As she continues her work, she hums to herself,
Her mind painting pictures of indescribable beauty, matched only by that of her own,
And if she listens closely enough, she hears the whole world humming back to her, gently, across her heart,
Left to right; left to right.
Apr 16, 2017
Apr 16, 2017 at 9:20 PM UTC
I remember the smell,
Like old wood and
Lake water
Somehow found itself
Mixed into some sea
Of sheets,
And I remember
Waking up,
Entangled and drowning
In an ocean of
Unfamiliar bedspreads
As you climbed into
The morning soaked
Bed with me.
Your skin soft
And vanilla
And brushing lightly
Against the hairs on my arm
That you made stand up tall,
Kissing me awake
As I pushed your auburn
Strands of fire
Hair whispering in a
Tickle against my ear.
The way your hand
Rested with possession on my chest
And tapped some forgotten tune
As we waited
For afternoon to
Beckon us downstairs,
The steady hum of
The shore catching
The waves of the
Lake shimmering green
In the summer heat
At the wooden base
Of our cabin outside.
And I remember
Our collective shut of eyes,
Resting our foreheads together
As our hands journeyed
To reach one another's
Beneath the home in the sheets
We wished to never leave.
That was two years
And a love and a half ago,
So now I long
For nothing more
Than these summer mornings
To wake up not so lonesome
anymore.
Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 3:18 PM UTC
"Silver lining through the blissful ignorance, I am.
Try to get past me, you will not stand a chance.
I am your worst/best nightmare, that keeps coming back.
I am anything and everything, that you lack.
I am what makes you get up in the morning, for better or for worse.
I am that lost soul, always in search of her purse.
I am you, I am me; And most importantly.
I am everything you wish you could be."
Jessica Rae Ericsson
Dec 21, 2013
Dec 21, 2013 at 12:10 PM UTC
Staying out of the kitchen because she can’t stand the heat.
Smart girl.
Playing in the dark basement because warm air rises.
Cold girl.
Walking close to God because Hell has no place for angels.
Good girl.
Vacationing in frigid locations because the sun hibernates there.
Frozen girl.
Painting with blues and grays because reds and oranges scorched her canvas.
Dreary girl.
Loving with a lukewarm heart because any hotter would ensure 3rd degree burns.
Heartbroken girl.
Living in Seattle because the constant rain puts out her flaming phobias.
Paranoid girl.
Crying out every ice-cold tear because her fevered cheeks need relief.
Cleansed girl.
Writing every chilling detail of her fiery past because it’s therapeutic.
Healed girl.
Giving up the fear of fire because the fear of not living scared her even more.
Reborn woman.
Dec 5, 2013
Dec 5, 2013 at 10:38 PM UTC
now that I am home from work
I can imbibe in a few little perks
like sitting down to rest my feet
so too to view an incoming tweet
a day of hard toil isn't my cup of tea
I'd prefer to be vacationing by the sea
but alas and alack I'm wed to my job
and it is something that I cannot easily fob
the afternoon hours bring me much pleasure
as I can do those small things that I so treasure
labor is put aside for a short while
which invariably makes me smile
one is always happy clocking off at work
as one can enjoy one's little perks
Oct 3, 2013
Oct 3, 2013 at 5:51 AM UTC
The upright has been uprooted
From the once shore of the.... Free!
The vile and barbarous
Now run the oil's...... Squeeze!
Pocketing, they make their run's
Breathing polluted air from man-made. Greed!
I can spit into the indignant sun
While my head burns from its..... ***
The law abiding has been rousted
Though we say no more! Get out the doors, of the white house you are.... Hosting!
We don't need no hosts
You Mason jokes
We need no smoke
Blown from your holes,
It's so **** tiring
Getting........ old!
Regain your soul's
If you have one of course,
Yes the people are irked
Yes the people are worked!
Many a dime from hard working
Being taxed up their............ bum's!
We're not taking anymore
You vacationing schmucks#
How's this for globalism
You globalist f#####!
Apr 12, 2016
Apr 12, 2016 at 4:57 AM UTC
A snakepit, a lion’s den,
a second-hand shark cage.
The Big Apple, the Little Rascals,
everything after the Victorian Age.
These things scare me on sight,
but not as much as
Veronica Cartwright.
The Trix Rabbit with a gun,
The Dodgers winning a World Series.
Parallel parking with Mark Hamill,
Sesame Street conspiracy theories.
These things make me shake at night,
but not as much as
Veronica Cartwright.
The White Album, the Black Plague,
toenail clippers, salad bars and Disneyland.
The Richter scale, the Mendoza line,
Any and every last teenage boy band.
These things give me such a fright,
but not as much as
Veronica Cartwright.
Television reruns of H.R. Pufnstuf,
An opened jar of Miracle Whip.
The names of Frank Zappa’s kids,
vacationing on a Carnival cruise ship.
These things horrify me alright,
but still not as much as
Veronica Cartwright.
Feb 27, 2020
Feb 27, 2020 at 6:00 PM UTC
a mother’s motivational silence
speaks to a jesus
who at this point
has been alive
longer than he lived
-
I am of two beasts
when put in the mind
of my brain’s mirror
-
while doing the same thing
day in and day out
my father suffered
various indignities
commonly associated
with babies
and naked women
-
it is childish
how much time
she thinks I have
to touch everything
in the store
-
no offense
to your proactive
vacationing
but this
this, is dying
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 8:54 PM UTC
I know you're disappointed
that early fall sunrise
not happening on beach or shore
sadness, no disguise
Just think of me and smile
a touch
mild and brown the eyes
gazing at
and going back
to the very first
surprise
A vacation in the mind
in memory resolved
never tainted
but fresh and whole
the moans the laughs
the sighs
Oct 11, 2018
Oct 11, 2018 at 9:52 AM UTC