"winnings" poems
I say unto you with a sniveling snarl,
Will you go on and be friends with an owl?
Why, YES! I said boldly with a pompety grin
My new owl friend will be lucky and win!
He will hoot and toot a most beautiful song
He will win a singing contest and sing all day long
We will take all his winnings and spend it on mead
We'll sing, drink and be merry, indeed!
we'll capture a horse and dress it in tweed
then ride to the sunset on our horse named, "Sardine!"
Sardine might get hungry so we'll feed him some hemp
We'll lay down to rest on a bed that's unkempt
We'll wake in the morning to see Sardine's fate
Sardine has died from starvation this date
The sorrow we feel is so hard to beat
So opon his flesh we started to eat
w'ell pair it with taters all mashed in a pan
we'll eat up our dinner as fast as we can
but hold on a second, how silly are we!
We tripped on some mushrooms we found on a tree!
our minds started swirling and twirling; so dizzy!
my owl friend shrieked and then started to tizzy
he gouged out my eyes and laughed at my pain
I fell to the ground and made peace with my name
for I never did say from whence I came
cause stories like this are not easy to tame
I lay here in misery, my friend's not to blame
It's all in my head, this silly word game
Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 12:48 PM UTC
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;
If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools;
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!
7.7k
I'm so tired of scammers!
There are so many around!
For every situation,
A scammer is to be found.
There's the email message
From a "friend" stuck overseas
Whose money has been stolen--
Who needs your help, please.
Have you received the phone call
Saying that you're in big trouble
With the I.R.S. and insisting
That you must pay on the double?
Computer hackers will take
Your PC hostage and say
That you'll lose ALL your computer
Data unless you pay.
What about being a winner
Of a contest? All you must do
Is forward them some money
And they'll send the "winnings" to you.
If you by chance get a call
From "Microsoft" or "Dell"
Saying your account's in danger,
Tell them to go to hell.
Scamming probably reaches
Far back into history.
The demise of the Neanderthals
Might not have been a mystery.
Did early **** sapiens
With carefully planned persistence
Scam neanderthalensis
Out of its earthly existence?
If scammers had put their know-how
In a positive direction,
We could say, "Three cheers
For natural selection!"
But, no, we're stuck with scammers--
A problem that clearly shows
That if we want to survive,
We've got to be on our toes!
- by Bob B
Nov 6, 2016
Nov 6, 2016 at 8:16 AM UTC
There is a time for all things
There is a time for all things a time to laugh and love and live
A time to receive a time to make and a time to give
A time to work a time to play and a time to be blessed
A time for talking a time to listen and give it a rest
There is a time for all things a time for weeping and for sorrow
A time to remember the past and time to look forward to tomorrow
A time for family friends and loved ones a joy to be around
A time for knowing where your hope and joy are found
There is a time for all things a time for loss and for gain
A time both for times of growth and with them time for pain
A time for time alone with God in prayer and in thanksgiving
A time to ask for help when life seems unforgiving
There is a time for all things a time for healing and for prayer
A time to know that in all things God is always there
A time for peace a time for mercy and grace
A time to see in others Christ Jesus’ face
There is a time for all things a time for life and for death
A time to belong to Jesus through our last earthly breath
A time for ends and time for new beginnings
A time to take what seems like loss to change it into winnings
There is a time for all things under the moon the sun and stars
A time for learning and maturing and finding who we are
A time for trying to find our place in this world and God’s will
A time to thank him for his love and ask that our souls be still
There is a time for all things God has got the plan
A time to know just what God see’s in the heart of man
A time to question a time to walk by faith and not by sight
A time to believe that God knows best and he is right
There is a time for all things glorious and great
A time for love and a time for hate
A time for building and a time for destroying
A time for rushing and a time for enjoying
There is a time for all things in the time that we have here
A time that is important and something we should hold most dear
There is a time for all things
And for it, joyful, my heart sings
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 12:29 AM UTC
Gettin’ sh!t on like I’m The Villian,
got this queasy feeling on the line reeling,
coming undone at the same time wound up and spun,
I’m done playing but stuck at the table with The Dealer still dealing,
want to throw myself up out of myself,
can escape every position except the one I’m in,
can’t escape yourself if knowledge is wealth,
then I’m loaded & still spending my winnings,
got Karma Credit but I’m morally cash poor,
because I just fckt my girlfriend as if she was a *****
and I feel terrible or rather horrible about it,
because i think I’m infected by what neglect did without a cure,
no one is pure,
at least I’m not that’s for sure,
I'm tainted with devils in my head painted with what I spilled I’m red,
sick with the sort of illness that can't easily be cured,
in fact got a bad case of the blues,
but instead of strumming a guitar I’m taking things too far,
cut her so bad with my fingernails,
that I fear it might leave a few scars,
tied her up so tight,
that her wrists turned purple,
see she’s attracted to bad boys,
and I warned her that that’s the type of attraction that can hurt you,
little girl shouldn’t be out past her curfew,
nothing good ever happens past midnight,
but we’re both running from something,
both stand outs in the in crowd still something doesn’t sit right,
I’m uncomfortable,
because I think maybe all humans are disgusting,
maybe we just cause each other pain and trash the earth’s surface,
maybe we deserve to feel guilty & that’s why we are all fcking distrusting,
maybe I’m gonna fckn **** myself,
but this is a card game so then again maybe I’m bluffing,
maybe everything’s going to be alright,
maybe I’m being uptight for nothing,
but I’ll tell you what I feel like the **** of my own joke,
but I don’t give a fck so instead of changing I’m just shrugging,
mean mugging every person I pass suspicious of every bloke,
because these days crime pays and everyone’s always up to something,
and I just want to get ghost,
but I can’t and I guess that’s the way it goes,
so I’m sittin’ in the uncomfortable position,
of being both a role model as well as a criminal,
Gettin’ sh!t on like I’m The Villian,
got this queasy feeling on the line reeling,
coming undone at the same time wound up and spun,
I’m done playing but stuck at the table with The Dealer still dealing…
∆ LaLux ∆
Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 7:18 AM UTC
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Nov 15, 2018
Nov 15, 2018 at 7:37 AM UTC
where do they go?
to mountains of synonyms
pushing lilac or purple
or puce or lavender
from valleys
of russet metaphors?
do verbs frollic?
nouns place themselves
before mirrors
asking themselves
"who am I?"
adjectives, do they
answer?
do the long words
most people don't
understand
do they go on
spending sprees
with their
million dollar
Lotto winnings?
do conjunctions
play matchmaker?
or hitch up
boxcars for
the more expressive
poetic engineers
to haul through
the long winds?
ghosts of past tenses
invade present
and mixed metaphors
haunt the nightmares
of learned readers.
gerunds run on
their little wheels
and stuff their cheeks
with prepositions.
where do words go
when they die?
they must hang as
DANGLING
PARTICIPLES.
May 17, 2017
May 17, 2017 at 7:26 PM UTC
Get me on my stomach and rub your stubble-like brambles against my cheek
breathe your humid heated desires on the backs of my ears
and into my coal
entangle your feet in mine
verbalize but don’t make much more than senseless noise, drag it out
sloooow
Grind that ribcage into me
As you make sweet, sweet silent passion into me
Dont get too comfortable so long as you're entwined just as me
Reel me a little further
Pull me back
don’t play too hard
you should know well
it's who we are
I'm more useful when I'm not besot by the torment
of not getting to feel the things that make me fall
Tangibles of your love, the winnings
of our games
I want to be enslaved by your grip
touched by your eyes
With tenderness to my viability
and my liability
I want to be the object of your affection
never the only one
That makes your sensible mind up and slip
Legs and bones tousled
Our heat displaced in-between
warm flesh slipping in and out
we move like one majestic animal
I'll make you move like a victim in my web
of endless sensualities
yowl like a hidden cat
in the dark
if you pounce my softness with your depths and integrity
to the moment
to what we besot
with our foolish tendencies
I'll be like talons
in your shoulders as I kiss your collar, gingerly
open me up, open me up wide
much like you, cringing by your side
let your inhibitions fall,
and your heart, next to me
your vulnerability is my sentimental call
let your head spiral
down my silhouette, hungrily
lay bare your tenderness
so I can sip, you can maul
untilll we fall
to primitive tendency
lap my primordial waters with your lulled tongue
lolling up in the cosmos
like our heroic sun
we know that we’re one
braid your fingers up into me
as we
as we
as we
loose ourselves in faceless time
loose ourselves, lovingly
I won’t own you, I don’t dare possess you outside of this bed
just give me this,
this one meaningful thing
to me in it’s stead
May 12, 2013
May 12, 2013 at 7:10 AM UTC
She wanted to be loved, to be seen and heard.
She cried for help and was met with distaste.
She learned to stop asking for help.
She learned to rely only on herself.
She carried herself for many many years.
She waited patiently for something
to come along to lighten the load.
While she was carrying the weight of these things,
it began to rain.
The burdens became soaked,
which made them heavier.
She kept dragging on with a smile,
she knew that she couldn’t ask for help.
She knew that if she didn’t smile,
nobody would want her around.
So she suffered in silence.
Year after year, she put on a mask
as it became more and more difficult to hide
the strain in her face as her legs got weaker.
She was becoming exhausted and
couldn’t find any other path
to go down or a place to rest.
She just had to keep going.
She walked for 28 years
before she could no longer
handle the blisters on her feet.
She took her shoes off.
She left them somewhere
in case anybody else had to
walk this treacherous walk.
She walked into what seemed to be a dark tunnel.
She kept walking and waiting
for the light at the end, but it never came.
She walked right into her own demise.
A trap. Tunnels don’t always have
the promise of light at the end.
She never saw it coming.
28 years she walked only to find herself at a ledge.
She was tired. She stepped down.
She walked right into the void
and fell down a never ending hole.
She let go. She surrendered.
She waited for the thud,
but nothing came.
She just kept falling with all of her burdens in tow.
Everyone wondered where she went.
Where she ended up.
They never saw her again.
They found her shoes before the tunnel,
but nobody dare walk in them.
Nobody followed her path.
Nobody felt brave enough to enter the tunnel.
Nobody heard her story.
Nobody knew what she went through.
People would visit the spot where
her shoes remained and stare at them,
Puzzled.
Never understanding how she got so lost,
why she made such poor choices.
Nobody knew that the burdens
she was carrying all along
were whispering lies to her.
Bags full of snakes.
Bags full of painful memories
and harmful judgements.
Bags full of reminders of
everything lost along the way.
Bags full of taunts and torment.
Bags full of daggers she had to pull from her own back.
She was wounded.
Nobody saw because she wore a mask and a coat.
She bound herself to stop the bleeding,
so as not to alarm the masses.
Nobody ever asked.
They just envied her for her strength
and for having all of the things
that they assumed were trophies.
They just thought she was carrying
her winnings around to show off.
Nobody ever understood what was happening,
they just envied her smile.
Nobody ever once asked,
are you okay?
Where are you going?
What are you carrying?
Nobody cared enough to ask.
Nobody stopped her from entering the tunnel.
She wanted them to, but they never did.
She walked through the valley
of the shadow of death
and the shadow consumed her.
Alone is how she came into this town
and alone is how she left.
Apr 10, 2023
Apr 10, 2023 at 1:45 PM UTC
Aborigines in the Australian outback
Among starving dingoes
A drug deal going on behind the bowling alley
And a butterfly knife waiting to be put into someones gut
Show some skin
Then maybe you will get somewhere at the customer service desk
Buyer beware, consumer keep cautious
Lay waste to that place and get your money back
They sold you an amphibian and told you it was a marsupial
The clerk wrote your inconvenience off as null
Off in Puerto Rico there's a cockfight
Pass the bug replant
Dos cervezas por favor
It's a steel cage grudge match
Brought to you by the courtesy of some man who's name I cannot pronounce
I got my invitation to this thing in a basket of tropical fruit
Someplace near substructure homes
I see a man in a bandanna looking at me
He turned out to be a free lance astronomer who has a thesis on starry quadrilaterals in the sky
He thought by betting on the bigger rooster he would hit pay dirt
But it was I who met pay day when I bet on the smaller, faster one
The astronomer had so much hate in his eyes I thought his corneas were going to burst
Be pulled out a blade and chased after me and all my winnings with the intent to puncture my torso and pillage my pockets
But had to go see a man about a horse named "Nunya"
Luckily I got away clean to tall the tale
Jun 27, 2014
Jun 27, 2014 at 2:44 PM UTC
epitomize
and optimize
imitate
and recalibrate
streamline
and recombine
the evolutionary "line"
fireflies
and theorize
circulate
and gyrate
guideline
and divine
the galaxy and the stars
moonrise
and clockwise
death rate
and procreate
sunshine
and lifeline
laws of nature are defined
maximize
and re-size
penetrate
and migrate
bloodline
and decline
the story of our world
allies
and despise
prostate
and dictate
enshrine
and benign
generations throughout time
endings
and beginnings
losing
and winnings
and everything
in between
is what we find
Mar 4, 2010
Mar 4, 2010 at 4:44 PM UTC
They had *** everywhere.
In the car,
Parked at Costco,
She teased him,
Bra-less under an unbuttoned shirt,
Her agile hand coated with a thin primer of Vaseline,
She stroked him slowly, precisely with a twist,
As somnolent sad faced suburban Sherpa,
Their neighbours and fellow citizens,
Hauled their apocalypse supplies
Across pristine acres of fresh asphalt,
Doped by fear,
Trapped inside the pixels of an infinite routine,
Unaware and
Unable to imagine life as a movie.
Out on the highway, as he drove,
She pulled up her skirt
And pulled down her tube top
Trucker’s horns roared their musical approval,
The benefits of a long haul driver were scant and skimpy,
Her ***** alive and anonymous,
Guilt free and aroused.
They ****** in washrooms,
Molested each other on escalators,
Texted friends while they copulated half clothed,
Shared their pride with angels dressed as ******
And counted their ******* like winnings at a casino,
Excited by the number and the game,
Their brains hot-wired,
Life a blur of alternating currents of sensation.
Death is constant state of ****** he told her,
When we leave this organic realm,
When we have finally turned the oceans into pudding,
And caged all of life,
When it is over,
We will enter into a cosmic stream of pleasure.
This is why the universe is expanding, he told her,
Pleasure is a colossal force,
The big bang was God’s ****** after all,
Her consequence the stars, the galaxies,
The dark palette of her entropy.
He was ******* her on a balcony while watching the moon
And waving to the woman with binoculars
When she asked,
Why is it so difficult,
Why do so many ignite pain and cant despair,
How did the curl and cling of hate
Take such deep root, she asked.
We fear death too well, he said,
And
Within the quick boundary of this moment
As they searched their waft and scent for clues,
They heard a whisper.
Inside the swell,
On top of a crest of acid clear thought
And without regret,
They forgave destiny,
Only to fly to the ground and beyond.
Feb 22, 2016
Feb 22, 2016 at 2:28 PM UTC
There was talk of exploring
empty lots
until the sun came up
And laying dotted lines
on empty maps until
We found ourselves new homes
With softer beds and warmer sheets
Make it as far as frozen streets--
decide to paint it black
when
We've run out of red
Our hands are getting chapped
and
We've been running ourselves dry
Out here beneath polished winter skies
Then right before
our hazy, crossed out eyes
Come falling
snowflakes from the clear
Think they must be the
first five of the year
And lately, I swear all we get 'round here
Are busted plans and second tries
The chips are falling
so let's cash our winnings
out and sup on underpinnings found
as tacit answers start to drift
As tacit answers start to drift
the question's seeding up
the frozen ground
And rougher textures make for traction
so I'll get a grip and count
out snowburnt seconds
'til we find the map to another
point of black.
Nov 5, 2012
Nov 5, 2012 at 10:54 PM UTC
A little picture frame fell
Full of innocence, youth, ignorance, bliss
It’s me in the millennium
I wasn’t
Too Tall
Yet
While in my clatter it crashed from the mantle
Why is it even here?
Wasn’t that yesterday?
The past will never go away
The past will never go away
But only a dream, a conscious façade
A memory is only a faulty tape
And we find we recall love not time
The things that child left behind
Were mended by grace
And cast the lines from his face
The future grieves, what is mine?
What's time but a coffin of sin
Yet I heave the shining frame to the mantle again,
Hoping to gain a childlike grin
It’s not about the past or future
It’s not about misplaced winnings
It’s the chance a man has for a new beginning
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 3:09 AM UTC
The carpet was tacky, in more ways than one
As I fed the machine to see if I'd won
I inserted my life in its ravenous slot
Thoughts, motivations, actions, the lot
I pulled the lever and to my surprise
Metallic applause announced a big prize
Under glittering lights I fumbled around
I felt for the riches I had heard abound
But my winnings were not a fortune in gold
Just three long nails. Hard. Rough. Cold
I shuddered and turned to walk away
But a voice behind me bid me to stay
An attendant, dressed fully in brilliant white
Appeared from nowhere and stood to my right
"Can I help" he asked gently as he saw into my eyes
I showed him the nails and exclaimed my surprise
"It happens to everyone" he quietly said
"This is always the prize for those who are dead."
My blood froze and I started to stammer
For as he reached out he was gripping a hammer
And over his shoulder, through the open door
I saw another man crouched and bruised on the floor
The man in white pulled him up to his feet
And I saw that his face was pale as a sheet
I knew then the purpose of my cold metal prize
As a dad killed his son for this lord of the flies
Eternal justice said the ****** was my place
But I was forgiven by astonishing grace.
So what of the dad and the son that was killed?
A spirit raised him in promise fulfilled
Oh the father, the son and the holy ghost planned it
To offer salvation from life's one armed bandit
Aug 17, 2010
Aug 17, 2010 at 12:08 PM UTC
Face cards are considered at the top, we get greedy for them,
Learn to take what comes your way
Different cards pop up every time as different faces.
Joker is ignored while playing, such unwanted things in life should
be avoided for a good play
Winnings are not always at your step.
Four Colours makes us believe life is colourful and attractive
Wait for your turn to showcase your excellence.
Ace leads the face cards
Reach the topmost level, so no one can pull you down.
Mar 22, 2021
Mar 22, 2021 at 1:14 PM UTC
I bought a ticket
For a friend;
Do I really
Want him to win.
Is this what one
Calls a sin?
Venial, mortal,
Let's crank it up a notch.
Let's involve the cops,
Or the color of your skin.
Is this what one
Calls sin?
Cardinal, deadly.
Let's raise the ante.
Say you're near the body
Lying on the floor,
The evidence is clear,
You're the next of kin.
Is this what one
Calls sin?
Wherein is the sin?
My friend kept all the winnings.
Cops are on the take.
Our brother's in the gutter,
Our confession came too late.
Our sins are mere mistakes:
At worst call me ingrate.
Jul 16, 2015
Jul 16, 2015 at 9:40 AM UTC
Your name
Snowballed once inside my brain
And was gone –
(I don't know the Russian for 'one' or 'two'
But for a minute I knew the Russian for you)
So go spend my winnings on the days you've lost,
Your blind-eyed perfect smile is worth the cost,
Good fortune means more to me than luck
But don't sit so close, love,
My poker face is ******
(You were so good,
Your taste went on for days as no taste should)
One day soon I'll recall your name,
Where I'm from
All the snow melts in the rain
Oct 29, 2015
Oct 29, 2015 at 9:39 PM UTC
I have a killswitch in me
You could call it a failsafe
It happens when you look at me
And tell me that you feel safe
Quickest way to make a coward run
Just tell em that you're counting on em
Everything about love frightens me
Bubbling up the sickening flight in me
Tunnel vision always looking towards the end
Believing even one false move could break me so I don’t even bend
One foot out the door but still pretending I might stay
Set up the pieces I claim the winnings before you even start to play
Roll the dice thinking gotcha now I’ll hide the aces up my sleeve
I lift my tongue and tip my hat make it so **** easy to believe
Knew love was just an innocent still I tossed it to its jail
Locked up my feelings for the life of me I won’t ever post the bail
You think I’m what you want see me glitter think I’m gold
Spray paint my lies with pretty colors fake my warmth to hide what’s cold
Jan 23, 2017
Jan 23, 2017 at 8:27 PM UTC
To live my life with out you guys thats my biggest fear
And Im steady failing in my efforts to get you hear
Look at it here, Now
this green faced man
burning my hand
Keep you around,how?
Old white men i dont want to see
Even tho without you i cant eat
Philantropist providing me with a place to sleep
But I cant keep you around me
You run through my fingers
for hopes to gain more
as my posession walk out the front door
Left from my pockets lint still lingers
Dead men of honor
that I loose on the battle field
with hopes to have my accounts filled
only leaves Fields of horror
As Me, My Hands and I's
Loose sight of saving
and look for Winnings
Assasination of the living, hope dies
As You leave myside I shed my many tears
Lincon,Jackson,Frankilin,I just cant keep you near
Jan 17, 2012
Jan 17, 2012 at 11:03 AM UTC
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;
If you can dream---and not make dreams your master;
If you can think---and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools;
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings---nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And---which is more---you'll be a Man, my son!
Apr 11, 2014
Apr 11, 2014 at 8:56 PM UTC
Gods, you’re terrible with dice.
Playing, ignoring the price
it costs us all when you roll.
Don’t you know you’re gambling souls?
Your coin is hearts, not diamonds
to be split up for your funds.
You say you’ll share the winnings,
that in the end we’ll be kings.
But when we are merely pawns
forced to play your game in bonds,
our end sees us locked in stocks,
chained and sent to mine the blocks
for building the Capital
where you’ll sit to roll and hedge
your bets against any edge
we could ever hope to gain.
Gods, you’ve caused enough pain -
but we know your weighted die
still beats everything we try.
Apr 1, 2021
Apr 1, 2021 at 11:34 AM UTC
for the part-time writers, who write in deeds untill indeed
the mundane Mondays till the fully fried Fridays,
the too short beginning weekends when
you celebrate your lottery winnings,
mega millions of
chores
wheeeeeee
these some,
poet poem poetry, latter-day saints
yet to be arrived-arresting,
good lord,
writing time -
a time slot that doesn’t
appear on your unscheduled
cellphone
calendar
so this what needs remembering, us,
these days are the
storage days
the professionals screen stare, self obligatory
demanding the page output,
the disciplined work ethic,
self torture this work,
that they would pay to do
these some
access accessible accessories in actual time
when
a time clock is punching them back,
time immediacy, a mistress,
needing a wife’s daily attention
the rest of us accumulators,
hoarder-recallers; off-site monthly
storage unit renters for old reusable furniture memories
until the dissembling assembly of the pieces,
with the arrival of the year of the hour of the day
is an urgency spilling
and the consumption urge
eats you alive from inside out,
your patience is rewarded
no screen slave you,
just a spigot turned twice
and over flowing winks bring/ring
the-no-longer-stowed stored eye pics,
poems for a someday
and the waiting was worth the waiting price
some people
us, juggle jiggly *****
tend to drop them all...
till we don’t...
May 27, 2018
May 27, 2018 at 12:03 PM UTC