Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
lily staples Sep 2013
I remember it was the middle of winter when the family I met became my only summer. The cracks and pops of the exhaust made me so deaf to the common banter, that when I heard this group from across the dive, I knew they weren’t just another group of leather-vested dropouts. Initially it was the liquor store cologne stuck in their beards that attracted me, but I stopped and stayed when they told my back how beautiful blue eyes were. In the few minutes it took to inhale a whiskey coke, they had seen the thirst I had for freedom flowing out of my pores. They said that I reminded them of those dead flies in the corner, turned over and lifeless from the exhaustion one puts themself through when trying to live life so hard and so fast. And they were right; I had made an art out of living fast and crashing hard. When the skin on my palms tore and bled all over the pavement, it was like fine art to any peanut gallery.
    That was the night they taught me to ride. To unpin my curls and let them flow and crash in the wind like a desert ocean. They had found their horizon oasis in me. But Big Jimmy still hated me the most. I knew his secret and he saw that I had figured him out. He was a master at turning his cheap improperly functioning parts into his best character traits. But above everything, he let me learn that the open road will heal any scar.
    I’d been at war with myself. Before I knew that a desert sunrise on chrome was the best alarm clock, I only ever thought that the way I’d wake up was with rushed embarrassment to grab the ***** tip. Big Jimmy weaseled my ****** heart out of my sunken chest, and was gettin’ twitchy now that I had my hand on his. He always said at every pit stop, life was too short for traffic. And when I stepped out of the 7/11 that chilly November morning, I could hear the sounds of distant engines, howling laughter and a single tear hitting the asphalt. I was alone again. But this time, I wasn’t at war.
prose poem
Erom elims Oct 2014
Random messages itched our thoughts
Ambitions freezing my finger tips
cold winds sneaking howling
Biting lonesome dark skin

I met you once again
freshen ideas nightly time munching breakfast at midnight
Hearing pictures in words and laughter pouring in cups spilling smiles on my face

Embraced snuggled zipped splitting air molecules
Gusted besides us swimming via scootercycle
Dreams on asphalts streets
Playing vibrating strings singing lavish harmonies
Making pathways and circuits planted and rooted in my dreams
A lovely scene laid mingled behind sheets
Sprinkled animal hair from dot’s fleece
We serenaded feet graced your arms and hands for seconds it seemed the darkness was retreating

As the morning devoured stars in blanketing arrays
I noticed aglow from the bronze dragon reflecting sunshine
Until days passed
You remained clandestine
As I held purple pink red spastic gloves hostage from this mischief-maker  
I weaseled on spinning two wheels cutting frigid wind-chills
Delighted from this venturing and burning bright globes ahead
Bundled and weaved into festive scarf’s waving behind my ears
Pasting the vacant lots and ghostly streets of mesa
Hearing your sweetly voice echoing

Remembering champagne mystical eyes jolting deeply into my psyche
I step into zoo-esque animals smells greet my senses
Relieved phoenix frostbitten man from a angelic charismatic being
Imprints permanent smiles
emitted ukulele sounds drifting nonchalantly hugging guitar chords speaking nouns

As we migrated past starry night skies hopping walls trekking dirt fields
stayed planted infatuated
from
shooting star enchantment blazes across a cimmerian sparkly flowing
river of objects in the sky
and a constellation under her brilliant champagne eyes
Stills my heart
leading to skipping beats tangled under burgundy laced with hair and our blanets meet

Us
knotted and mangled limbs beneath captive sheets
Eskimos kisses first speaks before our lips meet
Vibrant moans and your kaleidoscopic beauties creeping gently on my ears
Happening in seconds seemingly hours in realities end
Meeting of docile spirits tongues shake hands on pillows creating imaginations laughed
Grinning at this gorgeous peachy feeling giddy
intoxicated each sensation
which moonstruck my consciousness
smitten with a lust illusion or something transcending meaning
since you fascinate me more than a bee to a sweet flower
more than the pull of gravity
more than the tug of earth yanking down rain from the fluffy grey clouds
greater than light auras that attracts insects from a far
You’re a surreal dream in person
Always leading my brain sparked in unspeakable domains
AFR Feb 2016
"look at anxious annie, anxious again"
"why is anxious annie always crying"
oh annie how naive are you
you can't have nice things
you don't get to have true friends
best friends never keep secrets
you told her everything annie
you told her how anxiety was the only thing that could hurt you if people made jokes
when she suddenly decided to call you anxious annie you should've known
you built up those walls so high but she weaseled her way in
but when you forgave her that was your fault
you told her about carving your wrists
you shouldnt have been surprised when everyone knew the next day
or when people started staring at your wrists when they thought you couldnt see them
after all annie
isn't the phrase
fool me once shame on you
fool me twice shame on **me
Melissa S Nov 2015
He weaseled his way
into my life
Saying what he thought
I wanted to hear
Empty promises
Lie after lie
That's on him, on him

Me letting him
into my life
Believing his lies
even after my
gut told me no
Something is not right
well then
That's on me, on me
Trust in your gut :)
“Come 'n see ‘em
Come 'n see ‘em”
Comes a shout
made Whispered by years.
Weaseled through shoulders
as I do, to meet
an Equilibrium.
“See wot I caught boys”
From deepest London, “great dark sea boys.”
Curiosity baited and displayed.
come see a show of inversion.

Now, my monsters.
We are more than fascinated
by all their fingers and their unwritten skin.
Clean-shaven faces cleared of rings and pins
there are no chain links in their ears.
We palm read faces here
lifeline scars and portholes
like a moonscape hung with silvers
creased by the visiting sun
and those pink fleshy penholders
never received any Iodine.

So they lie, just like sardines
in line, below water-jars.
Naturally packaged, for you
in business suits of scales.
Stops at the neck
where the knife comes in
as a sweet partition
where the eyes are set.
Above the hook
so they can’t even see it.
Look, look, at the consumables

How disappointing.
They lose the beauty of their shoals.
One jigsaw piece, I’ve seen before
which gasps and gasps.
Poured on the rocks
As we look down
on the equilibrium.
They look up
at our differences.
Herbice Apr 2014
T’was an overcast day in the month of October
And you made bad decisions over and over
You weaseled your way in my life

A bad girl, promiscuous…
Yet full of much promise
And swore you had conquered your strife

You had more than one chance
Future still in the balance
My love unknowest to me was lust

Your beauty and charm
Ignored the needle in your arm
That milk was more important than us

Blinded by elation
And soul excavation
Heart and head filled with white noise

“Don’t try to change me”
said my sweet Pixie
“You’ll always be my favorite poor choice”
So full of hope and innocence at four years old.
Always a good girl did as I was told.
"Come here sis lets play a secret game"
All I felt was shame.
Told "its our little secret mom and dad can't know"
Trying to hide my tears not letting them show.

Withdrawn 6 year old doesn't speak her mind prefers to be alone and read.
Sisters boyfriend "come here I know a fun game but don't tell your sister its our little secret "
Screaming NO in my head but no words come out. I comply to his wishes and pray for it to be over soon.

Sexually confused 8 year old practicing what she learned with friends. The little secret continues.
friends brother caught us and joined in but he wasn't kind.
"If either of you say anything about this I will **** you both"
Having to hide the bruises from my parents was difficult but successful.

****** abuse became the norm for the 14 year old who started letting boys play with her so they would like her but they always left her behind.

By age 16 she wondered why they only wanted *** and why noone wanted to be with her .
She started to wonder if it was something that was wrong with her. She tried harder to make people like her .
But she found out they only wanted ***. So she started using them instead .

By age 18 she was so sexually active that people called her easy and a **** and that's when she realized she didn't even enjoy ***. So she gave it up for new years resolution

At age 19 6 months without *** met someone we talked for hours.
Instantly became friends and then at the 11 month mark I broke my no *** rule.

20 and pregnant scared not knowing what to do everyone telling me to marry him cuz its the right thing to do so my child is not a *******.
So I convinced myself I loved him which I did have love for him but he hadn't earned my love yet

21 alone with a daughter with no clue where her husband is decided to go to college.
Husband shows up on daughters birthday when he hadn't been there all year and decides to ****** me unfortunately it worked and I was pregnant with child number 2.

22 on bedrest complications with pregnancy husband nowhere to be found. I had to pause school.
Got better went back to school.
Gave birth to a beautiful little boy. 6 weeks later my husband welcomes another son.
I filed for divorce.

23 graduated from college.
Got divorced .
Found hand mark on son my daughter said other mommy did it.
I filed a report and then left the state so they couldn't hurt my children.

24 started work as massage therapist. Loved every second of it.
Stopped for a hitchhiker on way home, we talked the whole way it felt like our souls connected.
He stayed and we started dating ,
Everything was going great he even got a job. But then I got pregnant and he showed his true self an alcoholic. I told him he couldn't stay if he didn't give up drinking so he left .

25 pregnant ready to pop trying to get ahold of the father. Finally his sister convinced him to be apart of the birth.
He came back waited on me hand and foot for 3 weeks till our son was born. Then when our son was born convinced me to take him back.
The rest of the year was good and bad he went to jail twice and it was cuz he was drinking behind my back

26 a decision on my door step in form of Cps making me choose him or my kids.
I chose my children.
But sadly it didn't stop there he repeatedly tried to convince me to take him back .
It wasn't easy to stand my ground but I said its either the alcohol or us he said us but chose the alcohol.

27 a friend asked me to house their friend I said I would.
He slowly weaseled his way into my pants and then said we were dating, I stayed silent.
After awhile he showed his true self angry lazy gamer that picks fights over not getting his way.
Kicked him out but both him and my sons father harassing me.

Ex husband wanted joint custody and wanted the children to live with him for the year I said "not without me there"
So me and 3 children moved in with ex.
He was acting like he was trying to be a good father but unfortunately what I didn't know was that he was abusing my children while I was at work and made my children repeat his lies.
I was taken by surprise when Cps contacted me telling me what was going on.
Before I knew what was happening they took my babies.

28 years old
Just got new job new house and doing everything they asked me to do. Listening to the caseworker.
Asked caseworker what I had to do to get my kids back she replied "you must admit you failed as a parent"
Caseworker refusing to place my children with family because foster parents want to adopt.
My children constantly telling me that they don't like the foster parents crying and throwing fits when it was time to leave also taking off saying "Please mommy don't make me go back!!!"

Foster parents wanted me to use their parenting style and use their rules.
One rule was "no touching"
Foster parents upset at me for playing with my kids. I fake wrestle with them and they use me as jungle gym.

Took my visits away because my daughter tried running away to my house.

29
Working long hours saving every penny.
Rarely getting to see kids.
Wrote letters to every state officials that I could find no one would help me.

Caseworker lied to me every time I talked to her.
After complaining 6 months she was finally removed but she got to keep her job and testified against me saying that I had it out for her and that I worked against her which isn't true she had it out for me and constantly lied to me and my family.

30 present
Parental rights terminated

Crying on my sons 5th birthday because I couldn't wish him happy birthday.
This is the sad story of my life I may be broken but im not dead.
Lemme titillate thee
regarding myself daily soldiering thru breastworks
read out loud to experience
where dangerfield lurks
twenty five years a husband
unknown marital perks
bachelorhood to die for, cuz warp and weft
courtesy webbed and wedded bliss
incorporates life threatening quirks.

Hazardous beyond belief
analogous crossing a landmine good grief
ensnared yours truly mistaken for Baghdad thief.

Impossible mission to step up pace
when ambling one room to another
footfalls of generic guy approximating brisk,
cuz one misstep could find me flat on back
with damaged spinal disc
worse fate than experiencing
strong arms of law reach out his hands that frisk
old meister wordsmith
merely ventures innocent risk,
yet may as well surrender self to Taliban,
who would willingly whisk

Garden variety Caucasian American bloke
afraid to tread amidst belongings strewn
pell mell outranking rating tornado 5 courtesy
enhanced Fujita Scale
whereat Good Housekeeping ostracized spouse.

As precautionary safeguard, I carry amulet
to ward off ill luck toward life and limb you bet,
especially when gingerly
taking one step after another with lights turned off
owing steadfastness to prayerful debt
intoned toward guardian angel to get
self groping in dark without bifocals
envisioning severely myopic
(blind as a bat generic guy
without spectacles) met
bedded objective where
menagerie of stuffed animals
(albeit Woodstock favorite pseudo pet),
which aforementioned Peanuts character
called warm fuzzy as sobriquet.

The missus bursts out laughing,
whom I damnably scoff at and berate
as I trip head over heels
cursing said spouse ever since first date
at Tex-Mex restaurant
in North Wales, Pennsylvania,
a gut level intuitive sense -
even then our sealed fate
cursed analogously crashing thru Hades gate
antagonistic altercations in actuality
displaced suppressed anger toward parents,
which father and mother (both deceased)
their sole son of did hate
for afflicting psychological trauma
regarding them furiously irate
doling out ultimatums
interestingly enough comfort found
within company of loving mate,
she weaseled compassion
evidenced by poetic prattle I prate,
whereat ye can (of course) highly rate
feedback I eagerly await.
Jade Lima Jul 2019
My misconstrued fate left me with nothing.
Believe me when I say that when it came to the truth I was never bluffing.
They used to have so much power over me, and they’re always ******* me over.
Maybe that’s why I never had a chance.
And in the past anything that came to mind was spoken.
I’d rather be me and the way I was when I was broken.
I’m still damaged beyond repair but in a different sense.
Things are so distorted now, trust me it’s immense.
So many people weaseled their way in.
And now I’m left with my own sins.
Maybe it’s not much but I regret it all completely.
Is it fear I’m holding? Or did they really make me worse than them because I’m still breathing?
I can’t accept myself or any of this mindless nonsense.
Why do the get a thrill out of the torment?
I don’t get how people end up like this unless it’s provoked.
I just hope things start to get better because I don’t know what’s left of my hope.
Circa August 18th, 2021
three years ago to date,
nevertheless I count blessings,
so please do not hashtag me
as worse than an ingrate
or one whose dire financial straits
attributed to flimflam scam artist,
who when he/she
asked direct questions
heavily trended to obfuscate
which penury now finds me to vacate
unaffordable costs living social on premises
of highland manor apartments.

Lemme titillate thee
regarding myself daily
soldiering thru breastworks
sidestepping veritable landmines irks
read out loud to experience
where dangerfield lurks
then twenty five years a husband
unknown marital perks
bachelorhood to die for,
cuz warp and weft

courtesy webbed and wedded bliss
incorporates life threatening quirks
analogous to demise Ottoman Turks
dissolution of said empire courtesy
by treaty and came to an end in 1922,
when the last Ottoman Sultan,
Mehmed VI, was deposed
and left the capital of Constantinople
(now Istanbul) in a British warship
courtesy Harris armaments works.

Hazardous beyond belief
trumpeted courtesy commander in chief
analogous crossing a landmine good grief
ensnared yours truly
mistaken for Baghdad thief.

Impossible mission to step up pace
when ambling one room to another
footfalls of generic guy approximating brisk,
cuz one misstep could find me flat on back
with damaged spinal disc
worse fate than experiencing
strong arms of law
reach out his hands that frisk
old meister wordsmith
merely ventures innocent risk,
yet may as well
surrender self to Taliban,
who would willingly whisk.

Garden variety Caucasian American bloke
afraid to tread amidst belongings strewn
pell mell outranking
rating tornado 5 courtesy
enhanced Fujita Scale,
whereat Good Housekeeping
demonized, insulted, and ostracized spouse.

As precautionary safeguard,
I carry treasured amulet
to ward off ill luck
toward life and limb you bet,
especially when gingerly
taking one step after another
modus operandi cachet
with lights turned off
owing steadfastness to prayerful debt
intoned toward guardian angel to get

self groping in dark without bifocals
envisioning severely myopic
(blind as a bat generic guy
without spectacles) met
bedded objective where,
menagerie of stuffed animals
(albeit Woodstock favorite pseudo pet),
which aforementioned Peanuts character
called warm fuzzy as sobriquet
wordsmith evinces, identifies,
outshines wit to whet.

The missus bursts out laughing,
whom I damnably scoff at and berate
as I trip head over heels
cursing said spouse ever since first date
at Tex-Mex restaurant
in North Wales, Pennsylvania,
a gut level intuitive sense -
even then our sealed fate
cursed analogously
crashing thru Hades gate
antagonistic altercations in actuality
displaced suppressed

anger toward parents,
which father and mother (both deceased)
their sole son of did hate
for afflicting psychological trauma
regarding them furiously irate
doling out ultimatums
interestingly enough comfort found
within company of loving mate,
she weaseled compassion
evidenced by poetic prattle I prate,
whereat ye can (of course) highly rate
feedback I eagerly await.
Self immolation as sacrificial bleating lamb
promises eternal martyrdom
awaiting voluntary die hard protester,
where countless vestal virgins provide blissfulness
(think ******* mansion on steroids)
synonymous with delightful
grand view garden of Eden
transmuting mortal flesh
(clothed in lovely bones)
into burnt offering
mummifying and searing
once robust sacred heart
courtesy hungry, and angry forked flames.

Escape said hell on Earth I must,
which hopefully convincingly
explains the above nightmarish scenario
awaking me from an otherwise pleasant siesta.

Livingsocial here at Highland Manor
sparks the matchless following hyperbole,
whereby overactive imagination
fosters grim statistics of suicide in general,
and setting her/himself afire in particular,
yes no matter the truism, we
(yours truly and the missus)
can attest to a roof
(recently reshingled) over our head.

If only the (laugh-in) fickle finger of fate
would bless with doggone sudden wealth,
or bestow beneficent altruistic philanthropist
to bolster my very anemic
checking and savings accounts
which still smarts nearly eleven months
after weathering a blitzkrieg assault
iterated umpteen times
within previous poems,

and even posted a gofundme page,
whose soothing telephone voice
calm, cool and collected (sotto voce) belied
blood thirsty Machiavellian
scheming compute hacker and fraudster,
who called himself Harvey Specter;
One scheming scammer,
who made out like a bandit
 after he fleeced one naive sexagenarian.

No matter psychological services
found the author of these words vilifying
above named malevolent online marauder
who initially (convincingly) weaseled his way
thru the milieu of cyberspace
zapping this Apple Macbook Pro laptop,
claiming to be holier than thou
by disabling access to the Internet,
I fell prey to his charade,
binary enfilade, and façade
entranced and mesmerized,
subsequently feeling wretched
after carrying out the bidding
by unforgettable referenced clip artist,
which incident of being bilked
reported to the local police,
whose promptitude responding
offered small consolation.

Little forgiveness yielded toward
a punning wordsmith,
still seething, fuming, livid with rage
and mad as a hatter at himself
for following hook, line and sinker,
an older fella ordinarily tentative and cautious
when commingling with persons unknown.

— The End —