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"washingtons" poems
I wanta write a poem for the ages. For the George Washingtons of my generation. I wanta write a poem for the ages. For the Thomas Jeffersons and the Benjamin Franklins who aren't afraid to dream of words that haven't been created and things that have yet to be designed. I wanta write a poem for the ages. For the Revolutionaries who have yet to be born. For the Paul Reveres who have yet to take their midnight rides one if by land, two if by sea. one if by land, two if by sea. I wanta write a poem for the ages. For the modern day Lewis and Clarks who explored a land beyond exploration's eye. For the Sacagawea guides that guide from a shining sea to a sea of gold. For the immigrants who traversed waters of salty tears made solely of their own fears. I wanta write a poem for the ages. For the slaves held captive not by their captors, but by their own fears, hopes, desires and dreams. Afraid to pursue a land just slightly beyond their own R          e          a          c          h. I wanta write a poem for the ages. For the conductors of the railroad that was unseen. The one that ran not on coal and steam, but the one that ran on Dreams. I wanta write a poem for the ages, for the Teddy Roosevelt conservationists and the Stravinsky concert pianists and the Maya Angelou performers, and the, people. I wanta write a poem for the ages. For the soldiers battling for a cause they didn't even start. For the lives that gave their lives for a cause, because they believed in The cause. I wanta write a poem for the ages. For the Daddy who's still looking for work, For the Mommy who has given up Hope. For the widow and her orphan, For the soup kitchens that can't stay open long enough. For the failing Economy. I wanta write a poem for the ages. For the mustached man in Germany rising to a power ever Grand. For the nations willing to ignore it if they can. For the day that everything changed. December 7th, 1941 will forever live in infamy. I wanta write a poem for the ages. For the unconquered Jews who fought back. For Anne Frank and her family. I wanta write a poem for the ages For the modern day Martin Luther King Jr.'s. For the ones who Aren't afraid to challenge a System designed to fight against them. For the modern day Claudette Colvins. The ones who aren't afraid to sit down to make a stand. I wanta write poem for the ages For the modern day Buzz Aldrins who are altogether underrated Just because they came in Second. I wanta write a poem for the ages. A poem that speaks louder than words and goes beyond generations. So I wrote a poem for the ages.
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Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 2:06 AM UTC
a poem for the Ages
I wanta write a poem for the ages. For the George Washingtons of my generation. I wanta write a poem for the ages. For the Thomas Jeffersons and the Benjamin Franklins who aren't afraid to dream of words that haven't been created and things that have yet to be designed. I wanta write a poem for the ages. For the Revolutionaries who have yet to be born. For the Paul Reveres who have yet to take their midnight rides one if by land, two if by sea. one if by land, two if by sea. I wanta write a poem for the ages. For the modern day Lewis and Clarks who explored a land beyond exploration's eye. For the Sacagawea guides that guide from a shining sea to a sea of gold. For the immigrants who traversed waters of salty tears made solely of their own fears. I wanta write a poem for the ages. For the slaves held captive not by their captors, but by their own fears, hopes, desires and dreams. Afraid to pursue a land just slightly beyond their own R          e          a          c          h. I wanta write a poem for the ages. For the conductors of the railroad that was unseen. The one that ran not on coal and steam, but the one that ran on Dreams. I wanta write a poem for the ages, for the Teddy Roosevelt conservationists and the Stravinsky concert pianists and the Maya Angelou performers, and the, people. I wanta write a poem for the ages. For the soldiers battling for a cause they didn't even start. For the lives that gave their lives for a cause, because they believed in The cause. I wanta write a poem for the ages. For the Daddy who's still looking for work, For the Mommy who has given up Hope. For the widow and her orphan, For the soup kitchens that can't stay open long enough. For the failing Economy. I wanta write a poem for the ages. For the mustached man in Germany rising to a power ever Grand. For the nations willing to ignore it if they can. For the day that everything changed. December 7th, 1941 will forever live in infamy. I wanta write a poem for the ages. For the unconquered Jews who fought back. For Anne Frank and her family. I wanta write a poem for the ages For the modern day Martin Luther King Jr.'s. For the ones who Aren't afraid to challenge a System designed to fight against them. For the modern day Claudette Colvins. The ones who aren't afraid to sit down to make a stand. I wanta write poem for the ages For the modern day Buzz Aldrins who are altogether underrated Just because they came in Second. I wanta write a poem for the ages. A poem that speaks louder than words and goes beyond generations. So I wrote a poem for the ages.
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132
In place of calm, read stirring ocean, Scylla and Charybdis, between a rock and a hard place. 
In place of comfort, read your body, transient, missing, on a plane somewhere in a car somewhere on a boat somewhere without your phone somewhere somewhere somewhere somewhere that is not my apartment or my arms but somewhere where you smile. Somewhere where your eyes finally focus. In place of sleep, read blood between the floorboards and moving boxes scattered, read burst capillaries and a savings jar full of Washingtons and no idea what I’m saving for. In place of stasis, read one fast move or I’m gone.
0
Oct 10, 2018
Oct 10, 2018 at 5:02 PM UTC
Transience
I know what it feels like To be isolated stranded on an island in a sea of meaningful conversation so remote you need binoculars to find people holding hands thats not us today not you second mom not me failing educator but us jovial and talkative skipping down mainstreet stopping in pocket parks to plan our towns future i want to take you somewhere that place that we used to go well not together that breakfast place 's been around for a half century well its not there any more its a bar now look ill buy you a shiner and you just sit there look pretty and write on this dollar and thats what she wrote "b [star] [heart]" with the shapes there instead just over washingtons face and i made for it a frame just in the corners and the new bartender stapled it right in plain view above the ***** section down at the end where the old men talk about the ways that it hasnt or never will work out for them you embody their silent shrine now you are reigning over the space where they come to be lonely but talkative though the place where they come to find people with whom to hold hands to skip down main street to stop in pocket parks and talk about the way things need to be changed and how [we] can change them
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Apr 7, 2013
Apr 7, 2013 at 2:16 PM UTC
B Star Heart
Gall, dad If I had my way with money I would make something out of it A house of credit cards Write my poems on all that paper with no true value I mean You trade your thoughts for George Washingtons and Abraham Lincolns Well I keep mine To help make more People Like the ones on our currency, but currently I don't think you understand where I'm coming from And as I sit here Tapping away with my thumbs on an electronic device that you thought made up for my childhood I wonder What did you trade for me?
0
Jan 12, 2013
Jan 12, 2013 at 3:40 PM UTC
What I Make of Money
This might be the Real Transmission Mechanism The niggerly water lubricating a Trickle Down Greens in Rich hand gets miserly saved Yet earned on Poor back miraculously makes it Rain Washingtons fall a few Jacksons scorch land in lap Even a Benjamin swallows Trick Dollar to **** a positive cash flow Bills stick on teats just enough to buy a comfort Doritos bag a Brand name snack for her little boy So he'll grow up knowing What value-added Marketing taste like.
0
Feb 4, 2019
Feb 4, 2019 at 10:56 AM UTC
Low Bound Theory
Where’s your soul dear actress? Is it drifting on the paper cranes made from spent Washingtons?
0
Jun 27, 2014
Jun 27, 2014 at 11:28 PM UTC
Plight of Moguls
i was never a daisy. i dislike the term "dainty" and i'm tainted with dark and broken beauty. instead of absorbing water i leak it my knees go weak when my freakish mind is left behind see my blue iris eyes don't always symbolize faith and hope like the iris flowers do peonies can live through winters and bloom in the spring but that's not really my thing and january days can make me wither away under skies of gray oh those nights oh those nights i'll slay my own brain one of these roses have thorns, thorns have roses but i wouldn't buy a bouquet of me for fifty george washingtons in this garden held in by a white picket fence you won't find me, i promise. tiger lilies have spots on fiery orange petals that grow wildly not mildly i was never a daisy. or an iris rose peony right now i'm a tiger lily because i'm inventing myself again. but being a princess in neverland means i never have to change again so sleep tight, i just might have found me.
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Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 12:31 PM UTC
flowers.
Sestina From The Home Gardener These dried-out paint brushes which fell from my lips have been removed with your departure; they are such minute losses compared with the light bulb gone from my brain, the sections of chicken wire from my liver, the precise silver hammers in my ankles, which delicately banged and pointed magnetically to you. Love has become unfamiliar and plenty of time to tend the paint brushes now. Once unfamiliar with my processes. Once removed from that sizzling sun, the ego, to burn my poet shadow to the wall, I pointed, I suppose, only to your own losses, which made you hate that 200 pound fish called marriage. Precise- ly, I hate my life, hate its freedom, hate the sections of fence stripped away, hate the time for endless painting, hate the sections of my darkened brain that wait for children to snap on the light, the unfamiliar corridors of my heart with strangers running in them, shouting. The precise incisions in my hip to extract an image, a dripping pickaxe or palm tree removed, and each day my paint brushes get softer and cleaner – better tools, and losses cease to mean loss. Beauty, to each eye, differently pointed. I admire sign painters and carpenters. I like that black hand pointed up a drive-way whispering to me, “The Washingtons live in these sections,” and I explain autobiographically that George Washington is sympathetic to my losses; His face or name is everywhere. No one is unfamiliar with the American dollar, and since you’ve been removed from my life, I can think of nothing else. A precise replacement for love can’t be found. But art and money are precise- ly for distraction. The stars popping out of my blood are pointed nowhere. I have removed my ankles so that I cannot travel. There are sections of my brain growing teeth and unfamiliar hands tie strings through my eyes. But there are losses of the spirit like vanished bicycle tires and losses of the body, like the whole bike, every precise bearing, spoke, gear, even the unfamiliar handbrakes, vanished. I have pointed myself in every direction, tried sections of every map. It’s no use. The real body has been removed. Removed by the ice tongs. If a puddle remains, what losses can those sections of glacier be? Perhaps a precise count of drops will substitute the pointed mountain, far away, unfamiliar?
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May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 5:47 PM UTC
Diane Wakoski
Sestina From The Home Gardener These dried-out paint brushes which fell from my lips have been removed with your departure; they are such minute losses compared with the light bulb gone from my brain, the sections of chicken wire from my liver, the precise silver hammers in my ankles, which delicately banged and pointed magnetically to you. Love has become unfamiliar and plenty of time to tend the paint brushes now. Once unfamiliar with my processes. Once removed from that sizzling sun, the ego, to burn my poet shadow to the wall, I pointed, I suppose, only to your own losses, which made you hate that 200 pound fish called marriage. Precise- ly, I hate my life, hate its freedom, hate the sections of fence stripped away, hate the time for endless painting, hate the sections of my darkened brain that wait for children to snap on the light, the unfamiliar corridors of my heart with strangers running in them, shouting. The precise incisions in my hip to extract an image, a dripping pickaxe or palm tree removed, and each day my paint brushes get softer and cleaner – better tools, and losses cease to mean loss. Beauty, to each eye, differently pointed. I admire sign painters and carpenters. I like that black hand pointed up a drive-way whispering to me, “The Washingtons live in these sections,” and I explain autobiographically that George Washington is sympathetic to my losses; His face or name is everywhere. No one is unfamiliar with the American dollar, and since you’ve been removed from my life, I can think of nothing else. A precise replacement for love can’t be found. But art and money are precise- ly for distraction. The stars popping out of my blood are pointed nowhere. I have removed my ankles so that I cannot travel. There are sections of my brain growing teeth and unfamiliar hands tie strings through my eyes. But there are losses of the spirit like vanished bicycle tires and losses of the body, like the whole bike, every precise bearing, spoke, gear, even the unfamiliar handbrakes, vanished. I have pointed myself in every direction, tried sections of every map. It’s no use. The real body has been removed. Removed by the ice tongs. If a puddle remains, what losses can those sections of glacier be? Perhaps a precise count of drops will substitute the pointed mountain, far away, unfamiliar?
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40
the man in the fine suit gave me three hard quarters--those Washingtons were smiling at me, waiting to be swallowed by the machines at Horn and Hardart's Automat, where there was but one old lady standing, still as a statue, in front of a machine her reflection on the glass staring back at her, a haunting twin, from a different mother. I could taste those ham sandwiches waiting, but when that first quarter chinked its way into that dispenser, the old woman and her reflection turned to me, hungry for something I couldn't taste; so I gave her my other quarters, and hurried into the night, chewing my food, still hungry when done, but far from her tired eyes, far
0
Jun 7, 2016
Jun 7, 2016 at 3:50 PM UTC
the brief feast
Garage-sale-picked for 5 Washingtons the American Eagle patch was fading like my eyes every time I see Hillary Clinton, Bill Clinton’s wife, the former first lady, the liar, whoever she really is, hits the debate stage. The jacket was worth a pretty penny, but with the market crash, the seller is lucky i even paid her cash. Credit is how 58 million billion dollars of debt came to ruin America’s perfect JFK looking face in exchange for a growing tumor-like deficit. Maybe I’m too subjective, a conservative. I’m mean could Hilary be so bad? Or Bernie? Or even Putin? I just wanted a cheap jacket. I just wanted something that was mine and wasn’t ruined, but the patch was fading, like my faith in making our America, country, United States, better than the past.
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Feb 28, 2018
Feb 28, 2018 at 6:19 PM UTC
green jacket