"welder" poems
I'm trying to meet new people and everything in between.
I like to get drunk on patios, porches, tailgates, and float trips, and any outdoor scenario.
I have a definite weakness for all things sweet.
Pipeline rig welder in the making.
Ask me, voted most likely to succeed in highschool.
I watch too much netflix and enjoy crying over Frank Ocean.
I am going to sue the **** out of you.
I'm a guy that sometimes carries a pocket thesaurus.
Socially conscious dude who probably drinks too much.
Amateur chef. Banjo Jedi.
New to this Midwest life.
Jan 9, 2016
Jan 9, 2016 at 3:19 AM UTC
Just as a boy grows into teenager,
he is bound, to one day, grow into man.
I think it's when he is just five years old,
he becomes a demolition fan.
At that juncture, it's all about the tools.
To dismantle what works perfectly well.
They may begin plastic at the start,
but it triggers something in their cells.
A teenager will start with something small,
a lawnmower, dirt bike, then on to cars.
Then as he ages and gains life experience,
the quest for tools is written in the stars.
It starts with a simple set of wrenches.
Then moves on to socket sets and ratchet.
Not just ASE, they need metric as well.
A tool store is a veritable banquet.
Metal worker, wood crafter, mechanic,
Plumber a welder and electrician.
Wrapped up in a testosterone package,
needing a new tool for the next mission.
Watch as his eye light, when reaching for a tool,
that's new to the market, sitting on display.
It's no longer about simple fun in an old cardboard box.
It will be tools from now till his dying day.
Nov 12, 2010
Nov 12, 2010 at 3:27 PM UTC
In March of 2010 a 46 year old white male was brought to this hospital after a severe 'episode'. He was placed in the Mental Health Intensive Care Unit . He was diagnosed with " Major Depression ". This is considered Slow Death , a treatable disorder by the AMA currently . Artist and Architect will lay out Hallucinations and conceptual designs , Engineers , Mathematicians and Surveyors will coordinate more pills at higher doses because minute details to within fractions of an inch followed by schizophrenia by Earth moving equipment , graders , bulldozers , psychotic episodes , dump trucks , Carpenters and Concrete , bi-polar disorder and Bricklayer will labor different Help treatment methods because the drugs are having absolutely no piece by piece constructing form , pylon , shoring embankments for Steel Worker and Welder ,Pipefitter and Increased risk of suicide was reported for Plumber and all manner of tradesman , supplier and Pharmacist ........
Psychiatrist and Psychologist will formulate a treatment plan which will include drug therapy and counseling sessions with Electrician and patient and Spouse plus other family members if needed in order to reach the island Drowning which will be a difficult task . Emory Hospital is conducting new research because they finally admit to depression drugs not working in Freak more than half the patients today , like every other building bridges in hopes of getting to the island that is depression .
Sep 27, 2015
Sep 27, 2015 at 9:42 PM UTC
Squint scurried.
From rooftop to rooftop,
He skipped and he flipped as he
Scrambled amongst the tiles,
The blur of slate was his domain,
As, through the haze of reckless speed,
The slowly revolving City
Did imprint upon his vision.
So that as his sly lids descended
Its outline he admired;
Its screaming centre he desired.
In the end even Squint cannot run forever.
So he will slow, and shade his eyes,
Catch his breath and gaze and sigh.
And when he’s had his fill of the sights and the smog.
Down he slides amongst the pipes
Of better folk; of harder folk,
Of those with Proper Names
Like ‘Welder’ and ‘Melder’
And ‘Roland’ and ‘Fairer’.
Names that came after a ‘Mr’,
A ‘Lord’ or a ‘Sister’.
Names that one Day he would have for his Own.
For in the Glass City, Names were always changin’ hands.
Squint.
Not much of a Name,
Even for one so young as he
It would seem he would deserve
A Name of much more worth
Than simple, humble ‘Squint’.
But Squint lived up to his Name.
He may look young and full of fun,
But crouch on a wall and you might just
Be appalled to see that not a moment after
Squint is left alone, his eyes will glitter.
And if any Man’s flesh could ever express such malicious scheming,
It was the writhing face of our humble Squint,
Once his eyeballs set to gleaming.
Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 5:42 PM UTC
When they ask you to identify
my body, it is okay
if you reveal our secret –
how you move the hair from my eyes
with paper clips
and melt them into my skin
to try to make me indestructible.
Sep 27, 2013
Sep 27, 2013 at 9:37 PM UTC
full grown light magnesium burns on the corner bright
now
now that false dude with the habit
has been removed from the bushes where he shagged
and scared little girls
and the punk drug dealer stood
near the bushes in the dark was
removed by what light
that burns like welder's torches
belches the sun at dark onto sly daredevils those
**** buckets
and the users go around to another place now
the young girls play basketball there
safe into the dark hours
and the brightest light saved
another generation
and it only took two deaths
there
to make it happen
Jul 15, 2017
Jul 15, 2017 at 10:15 PM UTC
White Helmets.
Construction site discrimination
was rampant when I was a welder
back in the 70s, but we were
exempt, anonymous, just as Zorro,
The Lone Ranger, Batman or
Ned Kelly, because one can't weld
and wear a helmet.
The rank n file wore orangee yellow
hat, the electricians were blue etc.
I remember being one a job, where
there was a question team from each
of the trades, including the labourers,
even management, (white helmets)
A tie breaker question between the
yellows and blues, was,
Which English King had 6 wives?
I was the question master (not enough
welders on the job for a team)
Charlie Kelly was the head of the Yellow
Helmets, the team conferred, but Charlie's
answer left me in no doubt that he got an
oblique peak at the answer on my desk.
Up went his hand, out loud and proud, came!
" HENRY ViLL"
Sep 15, 2018
Sep 15, 2018 at 6:34 AM UTC
Breaking into pieces and trying to super glue the parts together
Being twisted and damaged and acidic corrosion
Getting a welder's mask and tools
To melt the pieces together
And nothing is the same, forever.
Jan 16, 2016
Jan 16, 2016 at 1:51 PM UTC
Hot box a cigarette , sawmill gravy and country ham ,
Entrenched in the morning paper , dishes scrubbed , drumming of pots and pans ! Blue collar people with somewhere to be , buoy's chained to the bottom of the sea ! Sweet black ribbon covered in fire ants , May honeybees , wildebeest crossing the wild African plains..
White smokestack dens of endless toil , black tar factories , dead fish waterway , boiling star infrastructures !
Biscuit , tobacco , hot coffee welder , plumber and electrician
Caviar , flounder , after dinner mint doctor and lawyer ..
Goody powders , soda pop cures , work induced migraines for
societies 'riff raff' , high atop steel skeletons , life hanging in balance .
Xanax , blue cheese , marriage counselor soccer moms , yoga , wine party ..Young people lie in their own blood , candle light vigils are like all others . Repetitive anguish falling on deaf ears , billion dollar football stadiums , homeless freeze to death , Good Morning America focused on the Grammy Awards or someones *** , Miley's tongue , Scientology or Donny and Marie !
Bath salt possession , teenagers are shot full of bullets , Kelley and Michael promote Hollywood garbage , their so ******* cute !
Nov 9, 2015
Nov 9, 2015 at 10:35 AM UTC
Old car batteries, jumper cables and a squeeze toy
lay strewn about the playpen,
saliva and battery acid intermingle there,
a jagged-toothed mobile slowly revolves overhead,
the arc-welder spits brilliantly as we mend teddy’s arm.
The walls shudder from pounding machines downstairs,
the scent of spilled hydraulic oil and grease waft in,
is dinner cooking?
Teddy’s arm is healed,
the weld a rippling scar,
we take him by the arm to the forge
and draw a bath,
climbing in we turn molten again.
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 4:47 PM UTC
Even a master welder
could not feat these bars
that wind and twirl
encasing, interlacing
your thoughts with the world
for all may be what never was so
where a smile once beamed
a soft glow, now resides
torn from the out, inside
feeling weakened and tried
because you tried and you tried
but your fire was put out
by eager firemen
with hoses that spewed
and skewed, the world you once knew
for things you could not understand
but you learned to understand
grew up and found you can
live without starting a fire
and live to aspire
to be
important
but when the town falls asleep
my thoughts slowly creep
back into my conscience
ready or not Im
ready
and something so small as
barefeet or chopsticks
become the most important things
at all
red lipstick and straw hats
a smile and a wave at
someone Ive never met
how good it can get
when i havent heard yet
what I need to know
the need to go
and learn on my own
miles of road
on an endless mind
that only interprets
what goes unfiltered
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 12:57 AM UTC
Upon arrival, it was instant
survival because of the
knick knack, tip tapped
circus rings that are on fire
being bare handled.
Welder's hands is what Uncle
John has. He always grills
the burgers. Medium is usually
the better of the other
two anyways. Old ways are
are gone with trees of England .
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 8:21 PM UTC
Summer came and went
And with it my soul split and shattered
You threw the rock
But held the welder to put me back together
I reflected only what was there
And there wasn't much
So I became a window
Birds flew and grass grew
But I was stuck
Rooted to the spot as if I were an oak
Weighed down by branches
That gave nothing but took all
No leaves grew
Only thorns
And I was protected
Summer came and went
And ended as it began
Broken
Branches snapped
Thorns dulled
And I was left
Grass withered
Birds flew south
Trees were cut for fire
And I was no different
Ragged, I waited for summer to return
But when you did
You only went
Summer came
But no longer
Aug 14, 2013
Aug 14, 2013 at 12:18 AM UTC
I'm crying,
I'm dying,
I'm giving up hope,
I'm giving my life to a world full of dope,
I'm trying,
I'm trying,
But never succeeding,
I try to hide my pain but it won't stop bleeding,
Pouring out my eyes,
Tears of a broken heart,
First breaks the heart then the life falls apart,
And it's so hard to fix,
When other ******* people just break you for kicks!
Break me,
And shatter me,
When I try so hard,
Birth is a cut,
And life is the scar,
Experience the operation,
Watch the one's that go far,
And the one's that fall down,
Into a life of a frown,
Two arms with no hugs,
Two lips with no kisses,
His mind is on drugs,
So he swings and he misses,
Himself high above the rest,
Only because heaven's near by,
Flying so high that I can kiss the sky,
I'm so close up to heaven I just want to die,
Cause the pain that I feel,
I cannot take anymore!..
Don't tell me you love me and walk out the door!
I would never do that!
And I never ******* did!..
Why don't you talk to me instead of acting like a kid!..
You can't hurt someone like this!
Not without pain,
What do you feel!?
Because I feel shame!
I was born a mistake,
And I'm not good at math,
But you plus me,
Seems like the right path,
I know cause I've learned,
How much I love you in truth,
Real love like this can exist in a youth,
But a youth no more,
And a man come true,
You have no idea how much pain i've endured for you,
And I'd do all ******* again!
All this ******* **** for you!
Tell me what the **** else that I have to do!
To you I have no worth,
With no idea why,
People always ask why even try?
I try because I love you,
And care beyond the love an elder,
A mistake can be fixed,
Ask a teacher or a welder,
Ask how can you fix it,
A problem such as this?
All it takes is a hug,
Love,
And a kiss,
Don't you remember the past?
When you would make my day?
When we talked to each other like always something to say,
Well I got a lot,
And you don't ever listen,
You treat me worse than ****
But your eyes still glisten,
I look into your eyes,
And you know what I see?
I see what I've always saw,
Me...
Aug 21, 2013
Aug 21, 2013 at 7:24 PM UTC
Of all things sentimental.
She came through the door wearing a suit of armor.
The door closed behind her with a rattle and tick of swaying arms.
With rust around her eyes she longed to be melted down.
A drop left in her can of oil.
The metal on her chest plate dull, full of dents.
She explained that her heart stopped working.
That the gears and springs just won't turn.
With a screwdriver jammed in the middle and a bolt or two missing.
I heard the man behind the counter say that he could repair it but she too insisted in a louder voice.
Its not worth the trouble, that she'd rather be melted down.
Too much time has passed, she wants to finally feel the warmth of something genuine.
I watched her as she walked into the welder's shop.
Some people laughed. Others wore a look of wrinkled eyebrows.
Revealing their defect. Noses turnt sharp in the air.
Beauty comes in all shapes and form.
A beautiful shape molded into tin to protect how precious she was.
Dings and dents from the rocks they'd throw.
The world is a cruel place.
Her operator forgetting her name, A reflection of alzheimer's not done intentionally.
The damage of watching everything around you slowly change.
The insecurities of home no longer being home.
She pierced a hole over her heart with a screwdriver.
Jamming the gears. Causing nuts bolts and springs to bounce everywhere in a buildup of steam.
Rust composites in the duct of her eyes.
I watched her walk through the door.
Making brief eye contact before walking through the door myself.
When I walked in there was no sign of her.
Just the man behind the counter setting out a new watch stained in rust
Mar 23, 2017
Mar 23, 2017 at 12:30 AM UTC
I see you in all your worldly goodness.
Bright as a welder's arc. Sudden.
Stark. So stark against the mind's sky.
Oh my sky, my new found hand -
Of God, or Donne. Who will tell of this?
In a year, ten years, the century to come?
The encounters you can't calculate that matter.
Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 1:52 AM UTC
To the initiate
the blank specter of the welder's mask
looks more intimidating
from the inside.
And you want to take it off
to see the grinning shadows thrown
by your own hands.
And you want to be blinded by your work
and burned with the holy fire.
Feb 9, 2013
Feb 9, 2013 at 7:29 PM UTC
tied down by chains
I welded myself
steel pricking into my irritated wrists
I am no martyr
I die for nothing
this is all I have to give
my own personal prison
I maintain the walls
I let this happen
I love the fall
Sep 17, 2016
Sep 17, 2016 at 3:20 AM UTC
Ode to magic,
ode to life,
little by little we all say goodnight.
Open the box to find your dismay,
innocence is merely an illusion they say.
I think not,
The fiery embers in a dragon's gold eye,
the brilliant blue in a indigo dye.
The light might be bright,
but the shadows are brighter,
come all ye faithful and bring me a lighter.
Find War and find Famine,
bring them to heal.
Look for death and Pollution,
make them deal.
A little magic can go a long way,
the broken and fallen know where they lay.
Ode to the trickster,
Ode to the fool,
ever protected by the honest ghoul.
A bit of salt over the shoulder,
a bit of luck to be bolder.
Over the rainbow,
and through the woods,
promise to all it will be good.
Some truth for the youth,
and some lies for the elder,
a life without love, or some steel with no welder.
to be dishonest,
to be a slave,
ode to the magic we gave.
Jan 30, 2018
Jan 30, 2018 at 9:01 AM UTC
You left the kind of impression on my heart that singed my insides. It branded your name on my tongue and everyday I couldn't stay away from the connection. It was so strong that it made an atheist believe in God again. Over and over you told me that one day things will start looking up on me and that you just needed the time to heal. What a fool I was to believe that love existed in a man who played with fire. You easily burn me with desire, passion a never ending sadness that only grows like a **** deep inside the cracks of my broken heart.
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 11:15 PM UTC
The fire in my belly
the boots on a dancefloor
the felt hat i wear.
Texas is my home
no one can take it away
lone star state of mind
Allan, Waylon, George.
my idols growing up.
Texas is home
frio river, gulf coast
fishing in summer
barbequing in spring.
my home sweet home
is the country music
in the truck
my home away from home
is in the shop
with my brother and a welder
Apr 21, 2018
Apr 21, 2018 at 9:40 PM UTC
The Finest Health Care System in the World
In a wheelchair – his body mostly broken:
“I wish I could go fishing. I was a welder.
How long’s that doctor going to be? I’m tired.
I just don’t know how I can pay for this.
“I was doing okay ‘til I fell and broke my back.
Thirty-seven surgeries, would you believe it?
And my arm too. This catheter’s infected.
The last doctor just wouldn’t take it out.
“My Workman’s Comp’s all gone. I just don’t know.”
In a wheelchair – his body mostly broken
Nov 18, 2017
Nov 18, 2017 at 4:03 PM UTC
*A gloveless welder will one day suffer a burn
A carpenter in the rain awaits his turn for a blackened nail
The careless goat herder will soon receive the wrath of the buck
The citizen too busy to vote garners the scorn of an elected schmuck* ...
Nov 9, 2016
Nov 9, 2016 at 8:21 PM UTC
I'm always good, I have to be
People don't care,
Otherwise
But whatever, the corneal pain will speak on behalf
I know life's a ***** but there's always help
The best remedy comes from Maryland
And it's a big, tall glass of beer
Yet I settle for wet potato skins on my eyelids
Because drinking brings out the monster in me
That's when people care
But yeah, I've woken up with sand in my eyes
There's always a first, and you're new so you'll be next
I'll be running at you with a blowtorch
Just waiting to make contact
Nov 16, 2017
Nov 16, 2017 at 7:09 PM UTC
The journeyman of sounds;
A welder of the pain.
From the land of abundant treasures
And alternative domains.
Dyed black mops.
A youth spent alone —
In a room full of darkness,
Save for your glowing tones.
Just another gutterball outsider,
But the star of the dejected.
Your poems sung of promise —
We ask: why were you not protected?
Roads “long and weary”;
You were just as lost as us.
I guess that’s why you were lifted:
To The Highway you were ******
Now no more Black Holes,
Nor Seasons of “endless winters”.
And no more Curses —
Your side free from thorns and splinters.
Although I never really knew you,
You helped encourage me to tread.
I’ll do my Jesus Christ Pose.
For you Heaven isn’t Dead.
Nov 29, 2019
Nov 29, 2019 at 4:11 AM UTC