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INTRO
It was Bronx
The most controversial borough of New York
Notorious gangs
Bowery Boys and Dead Rabbits
Fought their battles daily

John lead the Dead Rabbits gang
John's cousin brother's 18 year old son Rock
Fell in LOVE with
The 17 year old daughter Zane of Bill Poole's
Bowery Boys Gang Member

Rock and Zane
met as rivals, fell in LOVE within 4 days
of meeting each other..

This ballad presents their secret LOVE hidden
behind their false exterior animosity

XXXXXXXX

ROCK: (to Zane)
I drink LOVE
I drank nectar of Venus
From your gorgeous eyes
Don't make me drink more now
I'll fall right in your feet of LOVE

I am your enemy - The Bowery Boys
Your LOVE eyes turns me into an infidel


ZANE:
(Looks at Rock with a smirky smile)

ROCK:
Oh NO! I told the truth
I broke the law of my gang
I will be now sacrificed by Dead Rabbit Gang
For the dis-loyalty to his gang ethics


ZANE:
(Sarcastically laughs out loud, and starts
walking away from ROCK)

ROCK:
You walk away as if You've shot me dead
If I fall dead in your LOVE
I know, YOU too will lose your life
because YOU carry the LOVE in your heart for me
You won't be able to live without me


ZANE:
Get out of my way
Otherwise my boss Bill
Will shoot you dead


ROCK:
I'm not that type
I'm not one of those kind
That will be scared of Bill
I'm in LOVE & I'm not scared
I will not run away from YOUR LOVE
No one should come in my way of LOVE
Zane, I will embrace you with my whole heart


ZANE:
(joins the song with a smile)
I too am not kindda of girls you meet
I'll not feel shy, and coy
I won't submit to your LOVE
And curl within your arms
I myself will take a knife
And cut you into pieces
If I can't **** you with my own hands
I will cut myself to death


ROCK:
Z, In the hurricane of my LOVE
Your fake anger will blow away
Like a thin small twig of grass


ZANE:
R, Before your breathe touches my skin
You'll be fallen under my feet
Kneeling and broken into pieces


ROCK:
Z, If that is the case
You take my knife
I surrender to YOU now
I'm ready to sacrifice my head
In the path of your LOVE


ZANE:
Oh.. I do not like such emotional blackmail
You call yourself my LOVERz
You are not even my friend
Today I will decide
Here and NOW
Whether you'll be alive to LOVE me
OR I will die in your LOVE


ROCK:
YOU need not cut me into pieces
If you look at me
Once with the LOVE in your heart
I will die in front of YOU


ZANE:
R, Who are you by the way?
YOU are my enemy
The member of the Dead Rabbit gang
Who am I to YOU?
I am your enemy
The member of the Bowery Boys Gang

So let me tell you this
We can't LOVE each other
One does not LOVE arch rivals & enemies


ROCK:
Z, It is YOU who shot me
With your LOVELY gaze
Let me tell you this...
YOU can only **** a person
with a two barrel pistol
Not with your two oceanic eyes


ZANE:
I'm not a fire-fly you think I am
But I'm a deadly ILLUMINATING lightning
That will convert YOU into ash
Even if my breathe crosses path
With your breathe
YOU will fall down unconscious
Under the spell of my LOVE


At that time
ROCK pulls ZANE
And puts his lips on hers
They kiss each other passionately
They breathe within each other
They swirl into each other's arms

And we hear a CHORUS behind:

"They are not the kind of people
Who are scared of being born as enemies
They are not the type of people
Who will run away from FALLING IN LOVE
Now, no one should come on their way
As they have FALLEN IN LOVE
In the KISS EMBRACE
They became ONE"






The lights in the silent night alleys of BRONX
Lit up and the members of two rival gangs
The Bowery Boys and The Dead Rabbits
Choreographically fight with each other
Surrounding ROCK and JANE
Who are dancing in the center
Kissing each other in LOVE embrace
Glenn McCrary Jun 2014
"A mended brain, and heart, and soul are all fine. But being stolen away in the night by new, soft, and clawing hands makes the stitching break. And when you wake up you find that you were never fixed in the first place.” ~ Jade Day


SCENE ONE

[All is black. Strobe lights of various colors flashed throughout the land. A mysterious woman casts an atrocious glare as she is passing by. She had dark brown shoulder length hair, hazel eyes and french vanilla colored skin. She was wearing a jet black dress. Her left hand was slightly moving around in a circular motion as a gesture of guided conversation. Her hand then gradually descended just below her waistline.]

DO: AAAHHH!!!!

[Do woke up doused within sweat and heavily panting. Spore and Gum came running into Do and Sweat’s room to check on Do.]

GUM: What’s going on, Do?

SPORE: Yeah, we heard you screaming from across the room.

DO: I’m fine… I-i… I just keep having nightmares and they won’t go away.

SPORE: What happened in this nightmare?

GUM: Yes, tell us Do.

DO: I do not wish to speak much of it at the moment, but all I will say is that a strange, mysterious woman keeps appearing in my dreams.

GUM: Who is she?

SPORE: Gum let’s not hassle him.

DO: I can’t remember her name at the moment. All I can remember is an incident happening that shouldn’t have.

SPORE: It’s okay, Do. You can tell us more about it as you start to fully remember what happened.

DO: Yeah, I suppose you are right.

GUM: What do you guys say we head down to the cafeteria? It’s 6:00 am and breakfast starts in half an hour.

DO: That actually sounds really good right now. I’m totally down.

SPORE: Yeah, I’m a bit hungry myself. What about Sweat? I mean he’s still sleeping.

GUM: Sweat has always been a deep sleeper.

SPORE: How would you know?

GUM: Because he’s my friend but thanks for implying that I’m a ****.

SPORE: I’m sorry but weren’t you the one who had an infamous reputation for random hookups?

GUM: That was a long time ago, Spore. I don’t do it as often as I used to.

SPORE: But you still do

GUM: Of course. Everyone needs some good, fun, casual *** every now and then.

DO: Guys can we talk about this later? It’s too early for this *******.

SPORE: We’re sorry, Do.

GUM: Yes, we don’t know what came over us.

DO: Look it’s okay. I’m over it. It happens to the best of us. Let’s just get going shall we.

SPORE: Great! I’m going to go take a shower and brush my teeth.

GUM: I call second.

DO: Actually, Gum you can use our shower. It will speed up things up a bit.

GUM: Oh yeah. You’re totally right.

[Do chuckles. Gum smiles back in response as she heads to the bathroom. Gum had bubblegum pink hair, bubblegum pink eyes and creamy white skin. Do leans over and gently shakes Sweat awake.]

DO: Sweat! Come on buddy wake up! Breakfast is starting soon and the gang wants to grab a bite to eat.

[Sweat slowly turns over yawning while rubbing the tiredness from his eyes.]

SWEAT: Ok, ok I’m up. What are they having for breakfast today?

DO: None of us know yet until we get down there.

SWEAT: Well what are we waiting for? Let’s get movin’!

DO: We will. Just waiting on the girls to get out of the showers so that we can do the same.



20 MINUTES LATER…

GUM: The guys should be dressed by now don’t you think?

SPORE: Let them take their time, Gum. Breakfast ends at 10:30. There is plenty to go around.

[Do and Sweat enter the room fully dressed and ready to go. Do was wearing a white long sleeve shirt, white jeans and white shoes. Sweat was wearing an outfit of an identical nature.]

SPORE: You guys both look very handsome and acceptable.

GUM: Yes! Yes! You guys look marvelous! Can we go now?

SPORE: I don’t know. Are you guys ready?

DO: Well, I know I’m ready. What about you Sweat?

SWEAT: Been ready.

[Do, Spore, Gum and Sweat make their way towards the door.]

DO: Oh, and Spore?

SPORE: Yes, Do.

DO: How far has life taken you by being acceptable?

[Spore looks at Do with a very confused ****** expression.]

DO: Exactly.

[Do, Spore, Gum and Sweat exit the room.]


SCENE TWO


[Do, Spore, Gum and Sweat exit the elevator and make their way to the cafeteria. They enter the line and patiently wait to order their food.]

SPORE: By the way, Do all food is free at the asylum on Saturdays and Sundays for those who don’t have a registered meal plan.

DO: Thank you for the heads up Spore. Remind me to sign up for a meal plan later.

SPORE: I won’t forget.

[Spore and Do smile at each other. It is now Spore’s turn to order.]

BREAKFAST LADY: Welcome to Black Wick Asylum For The Mentally Insane. For breakfast we are serving Pancakes and waffles with your choice of 3 sides. Your choices are eggs, bacon and biscuits with brown and white gravy. We are also serving donuts, bagels and pastries. What can I get for you today?

SPORE: I think I’ll have three waffles and three biscuits covered in white gravy. Also, I’d like a donut.

BREAKFAST LADY: What kind of donut would you like?

SPORE: What kind of donuts do you have?

BREAKFAST LADY: Sprinkled, glazed, powdered, cake, jelly filling, red velvet, chocolate covered, etc…

SPORE: I think I’ll take the jelly-filled donut.

BREAKFAST LADY: What kind of jelly do you want?

SPORE: Blue raspberry.

BREAKFAST LADY: Anything to drink?

SPORE: Orange juice, please.

BREAKFAST LADY: And what can I get for you three?

[The breakfast lady began looking at Do, Sweat & Gum as she eagerly awaited their response. Gum decides to place her order first.]

GUM: I think I’ll have a short stack of red velvet pancakes, a couple of blackberry jelly-filled donuts and four scrambled eggs please.

BREAKFAST LADY: Ok and what would you like to drink?

GUM: A cup of tea would be nice.

[Gum lightly smiles at the breakfast lady as she says this then continues walking forward in the line. The lady points to Do and Sweat signaling them to come and place their orders.]

DO: I’ll take a full stack of buttermilk pancakes, two poached eggs, and a bagel with tea.

BREAKFAST LADY: Ok. What about you sir? What would you like?

SWEAT: Yeah, I’ll have two waffles, two biscuits, two fried eggs, two strips of bacon and a cup of coffee

BREAKFAST LADY: Will that be all?

SWEAT: Yes.

BREAKFAST LADY: Ok if you will please move to the end of the line your food and beverages will be placed through the delivery compartment next to the condiments.

[Do, Spore, Gum and Sweat move to the end of the line to get their food and finish preparing their beverages. The four of them then leave the condiment area and begin seeking a table to sit at. Eventually they find a table and comfortably take their seats.]

GUM: You know guys I was thinking. We have two weeks until the grand opening of Hyper.*** right? Maybe we should use some of that time to go and shop for some club appropriate attire.

SPORE: Maybe you’re right, Gum. I mean look at us. Do you really think anyone in the club is going to want to be seen with us if we walk in there wearing this?

DO: No.

SWEAT: Hell no.

SPORE: What did you have in mind Gum?

GUM: It’s not about what I have in mind. It’s about what you feel. Your outfit should project your emotions.

SPORE: Say now that’s pretty deep, Gum. Thank you.

DO: I think this is a good idea, Gum. We should do that. I mean what’s the worst that could happen? Besides I am tired of wearing these boring *** white clothes. Gotta love uniform policies.

SWEAT: Yeah, we are beyond the level of comprehension that these idiots cater to.

[Do, Spore, Gum and Sweat begin to chuckle together.]

SWEAT: So where are you thinking about shopping, Gum?

GUM: Well, actually, there is this clothing store a couple of blocks from here called UP. They are the premier shop for all things party wear. We should be able to get what we need from there.

DO: When do we leave?

GUM: As soon as possible.



SCENE THREE


TWO WEEKS LATER…

[Do, Spore, Gum and Sweat arrive UP in cab. The four of them get out of the cab and begin walking towards the store. It had a glowing neon blue sign with the word UP in big white letters. The sign also had white equalizers on both sides of its logo. The store had a clear exterior that allowed customers to see directly through the store.]

DO: This store looks fairly interesting, Gum. I like the look of it and what it seemingly appears to represent.

SWEAT: I definitely agree with you on that bro.

SPORE: I have an idea guys. How about we go inside?

SWEAT: Say that is a genius idea, Spore.

[Do and Gum begin laughing as the four of them walked into the store.]

SWEAT: What an exciting new discovery! Upon your death you shall never be forgotten!

SPORE: Ok, Sweat. That’s enough.

GUM: Yeah, Sweat. We get it.

SWEAT: Ok. I’m sorry.

[One of the male sales associates spots them and approaches them. He had jet, black hair, blue eyes, and five o’ clock shadow. He was wearing some black slacks along with a cerulean blue shirt with the company logo in the upper right corner of his chest.]

SALES ASSOCIATE: Hello, there and welcome to UP! My name is Zane. How may I help you today?

GUM: Yes, we have come to shop for and possibly purchase some night club and/or party attire.

[Spore pointed at Gum.]

SPORE: It was her idea.

GUM: To which you agreed.

SALES ASSOCIATE: Clearly. What type of night club and/or party are you going to?

[Do hands the sales associate his business card. He takes it and briefly looks at it.]

SALES ASSOCIATE: Hmm Hyper.*** eh? I’ve been hearing a lot about that new club. It seems like it’s going to be a lot of fun. I just hope the experience lives up to the hype.

DO, SPORE, GUM & SWEAT: We do too.

SALES ASSOCIATE: Do any of you know where it is going to be at? The card doesn’t seem to mention any sort of location.

GUM: What?

SPORE: What in the hell?

DO: Let me see.

[Zane hands the card back to Do. Do grabs it and starts frantically scanning the card.]

Do: Good eye, Zane.

SALES ASSOCIATE: Thanks man. Okay guys follow me. I think we may have what you are looking for.

[Do, Spore, Gum and Sweat follow Zane to the back of the store. There was a small blue sign hanging over the isle. The sign said “Casual/Blend’.

SALES ASSOCIATE: This area consists of our casual and blended clothing. The kind of clothing that we place in this area is specifically designed for party-goers who are new to the scene. Now since you all seem to be ill-informed of your club’s whereabouts, I thought this selection and style of clothing would be perfectly fitting for you.

GUM: Thank you, Zane

SALES ASSOCIATE: No problem. If you need anything else I will be at the front of the store.

DO, SPORE, GUM & SWEAT: Thank you!

[Do, Spore, Gum and Sweat continue to browse through the clothing for the next five minutes.]

GUM: Okay guys I think I have found what I like. This pink tank top and skirt along with these white high heels. I think they would look fabulous.

SPORE: That’s great, Gum.

GUM: Have any of you found anything you like?

DO: Well I saw some solid black t-shirts, jeans and sneakers that I like. I also saw a black fedora and some aviator shades that I really like.

SWEAT: I think I’ll just wear one of their generic company logo shirts with some blue denim jeans. I saw that they were selling some on clearance.

SPORE: I think I’ll go for that baby green dress and black sneakers that I saw.

GUM: That’s great. I guess we are all set then.

SWEAT: Yeah, I think so too

[Do takes out out his business card again and briefly glances at it.]

DO: You know I just can’t believe that those girls invited us to a club without informing us of its location. I mean how are we supposed to find it? How are we supposed to get there?

ALICE: By private jet

ANNA: To Switzerland

ALICE & ANNA: One way.

[Do turned around really fast appearing to be in a state of confusion. Alice and Anna were standing behind him with blue bags in their hands. Alice was wearing a plum purple dress, purple framed sunglasses with black lenses and purple sneakers. Anna was wearing an electric red dress red framed sunglasses and red sneakers to match the electric red highlights in her hair. ]

DO: Alice? Anna? What are you doing here?

ALICE: We’re here to shop silly.

ANNA: Yeah, we know the club scene like the back of our hand.

GUM: So do I.

ALICE: Excellent.

SPORE: What part of Switzerland?

ANNA: Zurich

ALICE: It is a neighboring country to France.

ANNA: Don’t worry we’ll have you back by tomorrow afternoon.

ALICE: Remember the grand opening of club Hyper.*** is in two days.

ANNA: Our plane leaves Friday morning at 10:00 a.m. sharp. We will be flying first class.

ALICE: You are to meet us there at approximately 9:00 a.m.

ANNA: And not a minute later.

ALICE: Be there or be square.

SALES ASSOCIATE: Bye ladies!

ALICE & ANNA: BYE ZANE!!!

[They wave at Zane as they are walking out of the door. Zane turns around and looks at Do, Spore, Gum and Sweat.]

SALES ASSOCIATE: You guys ready to pay?


SCENE FOUR


24 HOURS LATER…

[It is now 8:55 a.m. and Do, Spore, Gum and Sweat are only just arriving at the airport. The four of them walk into the airport where they are greeted by Alice and Anna.]

ALICE: Bonjour! Il est si agréable pour nous d'être à nouveau réunis!

ANNA: Oui, c'était très agréable d'avoir couru dans les quatre d'entre vous hier! Avez-vous les gars obtenez assez de repos?

DO: J'ai dormi comme un bébé.

ANNA: Bon, je suis content.

GUM: Will we be needing plane tickets?

ALICE: Not at all. You are flying via our private jet. A ticket is not needed.

ANNA: By the way how old are you all?

DO: 23

SPORE: 21

GUM: 25

SWEAT: 26

ALICE: Great. Then you all are old enough to drink then.

ANNA: We serve but only the finest liquor and wine aboard our jet. I think you’d enjoy our selection immensely.

SPORE: Do you guys also serve chocolate?

ALICE: Yes, we do.

GUM: What about meals?

ANNA: Of course.

DO: Good.

ALICE: Told you we’d take care of you.

ANNA: We weren’t kidding.

[Spore glances at her watch to check the time.]

SPORE:  Anyway, it is coming to 10:00 now. Shouldn’t we be leaving?

[Alice and Anna glance at their phones.]

ALICE: Oh my! You guys are right. It is now 9:55 a.m.

ANNA: Well I guess we had better get going if we want to make it to the event on time.

ALICE: Yes, so we should.

ANNA: Alright, kids follow us outside to the jet.

[Do, Spore, Gum and Sweat follow Alice and Anna outside the airport. A big, white jet was sitting just across from the airway.]

ALICE: Well, what are you waiting for? Come aboard!

ANNA: Yeah, don’t be such a loser. Come on! Come aboard all of you!

[Do, Spore, Gum and Sweat climb aboard the jet. A tall, muscular butler approaches them. He had a dark, brown afro, dark brown eyes, and golden brown skin.]

BUTLER: Hello, there young lads! My name is Owen.

[Owen gently grabs both Gum and Spore’s hands simultaneously as he planted a soft kiss on the backs of their palms.]

BUTLER: I was informed that the four of you would be flying first class today, correct?

GUM: Yes, that is correct, Owen.

BUTLER: May I escort you to your seats?

GUM: Yes, you may kind one.

SPORE: Please never hesitate to ask.

[Gum and Spore let out a few really **** giggles.]

BUTLER: Right this way.

[Owen escorts Do, Spore, Gum and Sweat to their seats. The four of them take their seats and begin to relax.]

BUTLER: What can I get you guys to drink?

GUM: Do you have strawberry wine?

BUTLER: Yes, ma’am. I believe we do have that.

GUM: Could you get me a glass of that please?

BUTLER: Yes, of course. Is there anything I can get for the rest of you lads?

SPORE: I’ll have a blue raspberry soda.

DO: I’d also like a blue raspberry soda.

[Spore looked at Do with a wide grin on her face as she began to blush. Do returned the expression.]

BUTLER: Ok I’ll have your drinks out straight away.

DO, SPORE, GUM & SWEAT: THANK YOU, OWEN!

BUTLER: You’re welcome!

[Owen turns around and walks straight to the cockpit, types in the security access code. The door to the cockpit opens. Owen walks right in and closes the door. He then puts his hands over his face and aggressively clenches and pulls the skin off of his face baring a the face of a beautiful female. This female then removed a hair net from her head revealing jet, black shoulder length hair. She also had winter blue eyes, and black lipstick.]

NURSE YUCKI: The kids totally bough
Mark Toney Jan 2020
Zzzzz
Zzzzz

               -Zzzzz
               Zzzzz

Zz...
(???)
Zoe?

               -Zzzzz
               Zzzzz

Zoe??

               -Zzzzz
               Zzzzz

ZOE!!!

               -Zz...!
               Zane?

'Za,
Zucchini,
Zinfandel?

               -Zzzzz

Zoe!

               -Zz...
               Zane?!

'Za,
Zucchini,
Zinfandel?

               -Zaxby's
               Zalad

Zaxby's
Zalad?

               -Zzzzz
               Zzzzz

ZOE!

               -Zz...!
               Zane?!

Zaxby's
Zalad???

               (???)

Zoe,
Zaxby's
Zalad?

               -'Za,
               Zucchini,
               Zinfandel

Zzzzz
Zzzzz

               -Zane?


© 2020 by Mark Toney. All rights reserved.
1/4/2020 - Poetry form: Alliteration - Each poem in my Alliterative Alphabet Series describes conversations between two or more people while only using words that start with the first letter of the title of the poem. I’m publishing the poems as I write them on Wattpad.com, not necessarily in alphabetical order. My goal is to write at least 26 poems to cover each letter of the alphabet. I hope you find the concept interesting, maybe even clever. Most of all I hope you enjoy them :) - Copyright © Mark Toney | Year Posted 2020
Richard Riddle Apr 2014
The store would soon be closing-
it was fifteen to the four-
When the bells began to jingle-
as the old gent came thru the door.

A "dapper" chap with a bowler hat-
a three piece suit, to look his best-
And when he turned, you could see it--
a watch fob, draped across his vest.

With a pale, and wrinkled fist
in his hand, he firmly grasped-
A black, and polished "walking stick",
which added to his class.


He stood there, as if frozen,
poised upon the floor-
As his eyes perused the displays,
neatly placed throughout the store.

"Gentlemen, I would like to see,
your "time pieces" of variety-
Pocket watches, by which they're known,
and since a child, I've always owned."

From his accent, he was English-
with a bit of Scottish brogue-
Perhaps, here on a visit-
or on a trip around the globe.

"Allow me sir," the clerk replied-
to show you all our stock-
"Some pieces are rather old and rare-
and kept under key and lock."

He laid his hat atop a case-
and propped the stick against a wall-
Then began an examination
of those "time pieces", one, and all.

The mantle clocks began to chime-
and a cuckoo came alive-
The old gent seemed astonished-
that his "time piece" noted "five."

"Gentlemen, I must apologize",
showing a little red upon his face,
"But, I'll be back on the 'morrow'
to this fascinating place."

With hat in hand, he placed it-
hiding hair of solid gray-
Then doffed his hat, and smiling-
stepped through the door and walked away.


At closing time, they still weren’t through-
for they all had a job to do-
They had to clean the entire shop-
and each had a choice, broom, or mop?

Shades were drawn across the doors-
as each began their chosen chores,
When one called out, in a voice so thick-
“that old gent forgot his stick!”

There it was, the "stick", often called a "cane",
for their use is much the same-
Standing *****, against the wall,
with a shaft, a half inch thick, and thirty-six tall

But, it was the "hilt", the handle,
also called a "haft”-
That was the perfect compliment
to that "straight and perfect" shaft.

It glistened, and reflected-
and a joy to behold-
For that haft was fashioned
in 18 karat gold.

Oh, it was beautiful, don't you see-
from a pharaoh's treasure, it could be-
How could such a piece be left behind,
a piece so intricately designed?

On many accessories of it's kind-
there is a space, that is designed,
Either on the top, or on the side-
to which a name can be applied.

Ah yes, a person, perhaps someone of fame-
for in old fashion, style, and script,
Was etched the name of
"Noah Zane."

The cane was wrapped in  jeweler's cloth,
and placed inside the safe-
For the "old gent" would be returning
to this "fascinating place."

With a sigh, I have to tell you,
tho' sad, but it's a fact-
That "old gent" who had the stick-
he never did come back!

Shops of like were "queried"
both jewelery and the pawn-
And neither hint, nor clue was found-
for that "old gent" was gone.

So, what has come of the "stick",
or "cane" you wish to call?
I'm sitting here looking at it-
for its mounted on my wall.

(Thanks folks, for your patience)
copyright-richard riddle- April 15, 2014
The walking stick/cane has been in possession of my family
for 83 years. In 1932, San Diego, California, my father was employed as a jeweler/watchmaker, and was working the day the "old gent" visited the store.
Richard Riddle Feb 2015
The store would soon be closing-
it was fifteen to the four-
When the bells began to jingle-
as the old gent came thru the door.

A "dapper" chap with a bowler hat-
a three piece suit, to look his best-
And when he turned, you could see it--
a watch fob, draped across his vest.

With a pale and wrinkled fist
in his hand, he firmly grasped-
A black, and polished "walking stick",
which added to his class.


He stood there as if frozen,
poised upon the floor-
As his eyes perused the displays,
neatly placed throughout the store.

"Gentlemen, I would like to see,
your "time pieces" of variety-
Pocket watches, by which they're known,
and since a child, I've always owned."

From his accent, he was English-
with a bit of Scottish brogue-
Perhaps, here on a visit-
or on a trip around the globe.

"Allow me sir," the clerk replied-
to show you all our stock-
     Some pieces are rather old and rare-
and kept under key and lock."

He laid his hat atop a case-
and propped the stick against a wall-
Then began an examination
of those "time pieces", one, and all.

The mantle clocks began to chime-
and a cuckoo came alive-
The old gent seemed astonished-
that his "time piece" noted "five."

"Gentlemen, I must apologize",
showing a little red upon his face,
"But, I'll be back on the 'morrow'
to this fascinating place."

With hat in hand, he placed it-
hiding hair of solid gray-
Then doffed his hat, and smiling-
stepped through the door and walked away.


At closing time, they still weren’t through-
for they all had a job to do-
They had to clean the entire shop-
and each had a choice, broom, or mop?

Shades were drawn across the doors-
as each began their chosen chores,
When one called out, in a voice so thick-
“that old gent forgot his stick!”

There it was, the "stick", often called a "cane",
for their use is much the same-
Standing *****, against the wall,
with a shaft, a half inch thick, and thirty-six tall

But, it was the "hilt", the handle,
also called a "haft”-
That was the perfect compliment
to that "straight and perfect" shaft.

It glistened, and reflected-
and a joy to behold-
For that haft was fashioned
in 18 karat gold.

Oh, it was beautiful, don't you see-
from a pharaoh's treasure, it could be-
How could such a piece be left behind,
a piece so intricately designed?

On many accessories of it's kind-
there is a space, that is designed,
Either on the top, or on the side-
to which a name can be applied.

Ah yes, a person, perhaps someone of fame-
for in old fashion, style, and script,
Was etched the name of
"Noah Zane."

The cane was wrapped in  jeweler's cloth,
and placed inside the safe-
For the "old gent" would be returning
to this "fascinating place."

With a sigh, I have to tell you,
tho' sad, but it's a fact-
That "old gent" who had the stick-
he never did come back!

Shops of like were "queried"
both jewelery and the pawn-
And neither hint, nor clue was found-
for that "old gent" was gone.

So, what has come of the "stick",
or "cane" you wish to call?
I'm sitting here looking at it-
for its mounted on my wall.

(Thanks folks, for your patience)
copyright-richard riddle- April 15, 2014
The walking stick/cane has been in possession of my family
for 83 years. In 1932, San Diego, California, my father was employed as a jeweler/watchmaker, and was working the day the "old gent" visited the store.
Don Bouchard Apr 2013
When ranchers decide to do a thing,
Sometimes they just go through it.
What follows is a little fling
A neighbor did...don't do it.

The clearing of the land requires a little fortitude
Some ingenuity, and luck, and not a little courage.
So A.D. Volbrecht's story, though a little crude,
Is only strange to those who eat milk toast and porridge.

Rather than tear an old house down to clear a farming space,
A.D. enlisted help from his oldest son to haul the thing away.
Together then, the two grown men took on a moving race
To see if they could jack the house and move it in one day.

The morning saw a Donahue, low slung and meant to haul,
Waiting as the house was raised, (unsteady on new legs)
Then slowly lowered down again. T'would make a feller bawl
To see the old home place prepare to pack its bags.

Son Zane began a steady pull to move the old house home,
And A.D. took his place in front, flashers and flags to warn.
Slow going was their pace, and traffic stopped up some;
The actual move was tougher than the plan they'd formed.

So seven miles became a half a day, and challenges arose
How ever would they move the thing through town?
The power lines and traffic cops were obstacles; who knows
What kinds of tickets they'd be writing down?

Up ahead the airport gleamed, the tarmac shimmered black.
"Aha!" old A.D. cried, "I've found the way around!"
Hard left he turned on a county road, and cut the fence in back
And guided Zane and the old home shack to airport ground.

Western Airways flight was due sometime that afternoon;
Old AD rattled on up Runway One, old pickup running fast,
To find a gate to let the old house through, (and none too soon);
The tractor and its load sputtered through the parking lot at last.

In June a few years back, a farmer and his son pulled off a heist.
Stole some runway time and cut their journey short...
No harm done, though they'd never do it twice
Without winding up defenseless in the county court.
Richard Riddle Mar 2016
The store would soon be closing-
it was fifteen to the four-
When the bells began to jingle-
as the old gent came thru the door.

A "dapper" chap with a bowler hat-
a three piece suit, to look his best-
And when he turned, you could see it--
a watch fob, draped across his vest.

With a pale and wrinkled fist
in his hand, he firmly grasped-
A black, and polished "walking stick",
which added to his class.


He stood there as if frozen,
poised upon the floor-
As his eyes perused the displays,
neatly placed throughout the store.

"Gentlemen, I would like to see,
your "time pieces" of variety-
Pocket watches, by which they're known,
and since a child, I've always owned."

From his accent, he was English-
with a bit of Scottish brogue-
Perhaps, here on a visit-
or on a trip around the globe.

"Allow me sir," the clerk replied-
to show you all our stock-
Some pieces are rather old and rare-
and kept under key and lock."

He laid his hat atop a case-
and propped the stick against a wall-
Then began an examination
of those "time pieces", one, and all.

The mantle clocks began to chime-
and a cuckoo came alive-
The old gent seemed astonished-
that his "time piece" noted "five."

"Gentlemen, I must apologize",
showing a little red upon his face,
"But, I'll be back on the 'morrow'
to this fascinating place."

With hat in hand, he placed it-
hiding hair of solid gray-
Then doffed his hat, and smiling-
stepped through the door and walked away.


At closing time, they still weren’t through-
for they all had a job to do-
They had to clean the entire shop-
and each had a choice, broom, or mop?

Shades were drawn across the doors-
as each began their chosen chores,
When one called out, in a voice so thick-
“that old gent forgot his stick!”

There it was, the "stick", often called a "cane",
for their use is much the same-
Standing *****, against the wall,
with a shaft, a half inch thick, and thirty-six tall

But, it was the "hilt", the handle,
also called a "haft”-
That was the perfect compliment
to that "straight and perfect" shaft.

It glistened, and reflected-
and a joy to behold-
For that haft was fashioned
in 18 karat gold.

Oh, it was beautiful, don't you see-
from a pharaoh's treasure, it could be-
How could such a piece be left behind,
a piece so intricately designed?

On many accessories of it's kind-
there is a space, that is designed,
Either on the top, or on the side-
to which a name can be applied.

Ah yes, a person, perhaps someone of fame-
for in old fashion, style, and script,
Was etched the name of
"Noah Zane."

The cane was wrapped in  jeweler's cloth,
and placed inside the safe-
For the "old gent" would be returning
to this "fascinating place."

With a sigh, I have to tell you,
tho' sad, but it's a fact-
That "old gent" who had the stick-
he never did come back!

Shops of like were "queried"
both jewelery and the pawn-
And neither hint, nor clue was found-
for that "old gent" was gone.

So, what has come of the "stick",
or "cane" you wish to call?
I'm sitting here looking at it-
for its mounted on my wall.

(Thanks folks, for your patience)
copyright-richard riddle- April 15, 2014
The walking stick/cane(banner photo) has been in possession of
my family for 83 years.
In 1932, San Diego, California, my father was employed as a jeweler/watchmaker, and was working the day the "old gent" visited the store.
Richard Riddle Nov 2015
The store would soon be closing-
it was fifteen to the four-
When the bells began to jingle-
as the old gent came thru the door.

A "dapper" chap with a bowler hat-
a three piece suit, to look his best-
And when he turned, you could see it--
a watch fob, draped across his vest.

With a pale and wrinkled fist
in his hand, he firmly grasped-
A black, and polished "walking stick",
which added to his class.


He stood there as if frozen,
poised upon the floor-
As his eyes perused the displays,
neatly placed throughout the store.

"Gentlemen, I would like to see,
your "time pieces" of variety-
Pocket watches, by which they're known,
and since a child, I've always owned."

From his accent, he was English-
with a bit of Scottish brogue-
Perhaps, here on a visit-
or on a trip around the globe.

"Allow me sir," the clerk replied-
to show you all our stock-
Some pieces are rather old and rare-
and kept under key and lock."

He laid his hat atop a case-
and propped the stick against a wall-
Then began an examination
of those "time pieces", one, and all.

The mantle clocks began to chime-
and a cuckoo came alive-
The old gent seemed astonished-
that his "time piece" noted "five."

"Gentlemen, I must apologize",
showing a little red upon his face,
"But, I'll be back on the 'morrow'
to this fascinating place."

With hat in hand, he placed it-
hiding hair of solid gray-
Then doffed his hat, and smiling-
stepped through the door and walked away.


At closing time, they still weren’t through-
for they all had a job to do-
They had to clean the entire shop-
and each had a choice, broom, or mop?

Shades were drawn across the doors-
as each began their chosen chores,
When one called out, in a voice so thick-
“that old gent forgot his stick!”

There it was, the "stick", often called a "cane",
for their use is much the same-
Standing *****, against the wall,
with a shaft, a half inch thick, and thirty-six tall

But, it was the "hilt", the handle,
also called a "haft”-
That was the perfect compliment
to that "straight and perfect" shaft.

It glistened, and reflected-
and a joy to behold-
For that haft was fashioned
in 18 karat gold.

Oh, it was beautiful, don't you see-
from a pharaoh's treasure, it could be-
How could such a piece be left behind,
a piece so intricately designed?

On many accessories of it's kind-
there is a space, that is designed,
Either on the top, or on the side-
to which a name can be applied.

Ah yes, a person, perhaps someone of fame-
for in old fashion, style, and script,
Was etched the name of
"Noah Zane."

The cane was wrapped in  jeweler's cloth,
and placed inside the safe-
For the "old gent" would be returning
to this "fascinating place."

With a sigh, I have to tell you,
tho' sad, but it's a fact-
That "old gent" who had the stick-
he never did come back!

Shops of like were "queried"
both jewelery and the pawn-
And neither hint, nor clue was found-
for that "old gent" was gone.

So, what has come of the "stick",
or "cane" you wish to call?
I'm sitting here looking at it-
for its mounted on my wall.

(Thanks folks, for your patience)
copyright-richard riddle- April 15, 2014
The walking stick/cane has been in possession of my family
for 83 years. In 1932, San Diego, California, my father was employed as a jeweler/watchmaker, and was working the day the "old gent" visited the store.
Oh,
I loved Zane Grey,
the way his cowboys
shot through each day,
the tinhorns and telegraphs,
funeral directors and their
funereal laughs.
It's not the same since
Zane went away.

The range looks grey now.
How
I miss the grits and hominy,
if only Zane had
stayed
we could have played
cowboys and Indians
for real.
Kriti Gupta Mar 2014
The first time I saw you a bass was being cradled in your calloused hands.
Tousled hair
And I can't find the words to explain how ridiculous you looked covered in all that anger and the I'm too cool for anyone attitude.
It made me laugh
Your laugh made me laugh
It was contagious in the way that even if someone in the room hated you at the time they would release the smallest of smiles just because of you.
I don't have any photos of us left.
But I have memories worth a billion years.
The stupid code names and the stupidity in yourself

I remember the summer of 2009-2010 and how you became super reckless after you moved to New York and I moved back to Australia.
Jumping off your roof onto the trampoline
Getting into motorcycle crashes
I was 13 by then and you were 15 ready to take on the world
But you saw me as an equal
You saw all the things in me that no one else did
I was never a little girl to you
I was just...
Your girl
We kept each other just for each other
Not letting others affect out friendship or know about us to some extent
That's what made it
What made us so truthful

I remember when you told me about the leukaemia
I hated you
I yelled
Screamed
Cried
How could you let me in like that just to tell me that you're going to die soon and there's nothing I could do
And you didn't even tell me in person
You waited till I was back to the other side of the world
All those mystery appointments finally started making sense
You were dying the day I met you
You were dying when we played music together
You were dying when we had to say goodbye
Only I refused to say goodbye cause I was convinced I'd be back next vacation
I didn't get my goodbye
You were dying while I was flying over Europe
You were dying while I visited Paris and thought of you
You were dying while I travelled around India
While I celebrated my 13th birthday and you didn't know if you'd even make it to your 16th
You did though
But not your 17th
Or your 18th
Your 19th
20th?
And later this year your 21st
You didn't get to graduate
We didn't get to have our planned reunion
Or go on all those travel plans
Play music around the world
None of it came true
Because six months after your 15 they were scattering your ashes into the ocean.
So that you could go and visit every corner on the globe anyway

Tell me Zane
Is the world really as beautiful as we want it to be?
Because there's so much I could say about how much I hate it
How much I hate you having to go away
How I hate that I've spent the past four years not hearing your voice
How I hate that you chose to go away in the end
Because you knew you were dying and just like everything else you wanted control over it
You were so stubborn
And we fought so much
There'd be days where we would refuse that the other existed cause we both wanted hold over the situation
But in the end you'd scrunch up your eyes and I'd punch you lightly in the arms and everything was perfect

I miss you
More than anything
I'm constantly reaching into the air trying to grasp any remains of you
You would think after four years I would be used to it but the space that you occupied is empty and it's hard not to notice
I'm still drowning in the fact that you loved me as much as you said you did
I'm still praying that tomorrow when I wake up you'll be here
I'm still remembering conversations and tiny details
I'm still never going to let you go
Because even though you're not here, your the reason I'm still breathing.
I can never put all these feelings into words and if I had the time to write about you all the time, there would be a **** book saga by now and you would pay me out so much for it.
I love you Zane. So **** much. I've never stopped, I don't think I ever will because it's not possible.
Rest in peace my beautiful boy.
aurora Sep 2014
The innocence of childhood
Is stuck in my mind.
I remember that pale boy with the comic books
and bowl cut, black hair.
And how we'd stay up all night together
playing and laughing, innocent.

But then we grew up and apart
and we were no longer innocent.
We found lust and we found hurt,
but most of all we found life.
and then
you found death.

I went to your viewing and you looked so good,
boy who was once a friend.
Zane2976 Nov 2015
There was a time I doubted myself
Helped along by your insistance
I cut myself away to pretend for you
I hurt myself just to please you
And to hope that maybe, just maybe
If I tried hard enough I could make it work
If I could just push it enough
I might not have to struggle with this
After all it would be easier if I could be this way
To wear a skirt because "you're a girl"
To paint my face because "its what girls do"
To adorn myself with lace underwear because "you can't deny your womanhood"
I wish I could
I tried so hard to show you I could be that
I tried so hard to show myself I could be that
So desperately I've longed to 'just be' how I am 'meant' to be
But I couldn't
I can't
As bad as things got between us
I will always thank you for showing me this one thing
That I cannot pretend any more
You showed me that I need this
Just as I need oxygen to breathe
Just as I need food to sustain myself
You taught me that I cannot pretend forever
You showed me that this is who I am

I am male.
I am Zane
No one will ever take that from me ever again.
Thank you.
Zane Safrit Mar 2019
The CAFO trucks roll past
Smelling of hog **** and ***
Their passengers squeal maga,
We are not afraid, they cry
Our **** is in your water
You breathe our **** all day long
Who’s crying now?
Maga, they cry. Hahaha

Copyright © 2019 by Zane Safrit. All rights reserved.
Copyright © 2019 by Zane Safrit. All rights reserved.
wes parham Mar 2017
Our lot was not to stay all night;
In kneeling praise by bathroom stalls.
Alcohol numbed your honesty's bite,
wrote her destiny on the divider walls.

And we weren't the kind to cheat, don't believe,
All the loose lips half-cross town,
Last call patrons who watch me leave,
And shut this ****** down...

Like Zane and Beckett, so convinced,
Their **** would last forever,
Bad enough to make you wince,
If they spend one more second together.

Or Jane and Kinney, young, driven, and full,
Of lust or something similar.
Don't be surprised, you've seen this fire,
The end? ...all too familiar.

And pretty Syd had all the gall,
and Pony Boy thought he knew the score...
but he's just a **** like so much Pyrex,
Stuffed inside his paper *****.

But Ashtray Woman with ***** Mouth,
And monster's blood on toilet tissue,
Is just another frightened girl,
With real and dangerous daddy issues.

Now, here, at the close (I'm still glad to say),
You deserve almost everything, that you've won,
Our karma arose ( and, in time, took the day ).
Now I ponder regrets in the hours before dawn,
It wasn't the when, or with whom we may lay,
or the time in the morning before I should be gone,
It's more about how we desired to stay...
When we gazed into stars lying flat on your lawn.
I once craved your poison but, now, in my way,
I'm actually glad
to see you gone.
I don't write the darkness very well.  Need practice to make it less cliche.
Zane Safrit May 2018
Death metal
This Valentines Day
Mass shootings and
Congressmen pray

This Valentines Day
This Valentines Day

Trump says he’ll pray
This Valentines Day
Does he know the words
Can he read them?

This Valentines Day
This Valentines Day

Way-Out Willie
On the stage now
Hand jiving us
This Valentines Day

This Valentines Day
This Valentines Day

Copyright © 2018 by Zane Safrit. All rights reserved.
I wrote this on Valentine's Day, sitting at a little club, enjoying the band and the ambiance. Forgot about it until last week.
N Paul Nov 2015
Drinks, articulate, a friend and his friends, all strangers
New faces and talk and chortle chortle
Har har har but same old, same old
Little Jimmy looking for I-don’t-know
A zap, a spark, zane for the brain
A flash of brilliance.
Electric hope
Fear, but fear of the good.

Glides in the Girl,
The boy perks up.
O, Heaving youth, lithe
Smiling with mischievous intent.
And the boy is alive.
** ** **, he makes her giggle
And never a more electric ******
Could you hope to hear
As he sits, dropping crystal
Shards of intensity sparkle between
Through a veil of shimmering liquor.
And the strangers begin to fade

So, alone, they talk

And O!
How full of colour and ringing joy it is
Bursting through the grey pallor
Of those strangers
Of the terrific tiny talk of tiny types
The chatter of proud people- of thoughtless things
And improper imperfection
(That fear of the bad that can make good people
Gobble on like gluttons;
Gossip their glistening gloop)
And the plastic nod nod nod, har har har
Ever bound to ragged boredom.

But She is different;
A scattering of the light.
And they laugh and zap
They bite and soothe
And play and croon
And find themselves lost, but quite content
In a world of delirious joy
A sacred place reserved for sleep
And the welding of atoms.

As Her furnaces of laughter
Roar their blazing joy,
Her hammering heartfalls
Pound upon this lost boy’s soul
Melting it into hers.
The flying sparks begin to meld
Along with hope and hopeful fear,
Til a second Sun reigns proud amidst the dawn
Shining high above its peer.

Morning.
Zipping their separate ways,
The heat of twin Suns firm against their backs,
So bright the light,
It takes time before their eyes behold
The second glowing orb they made
And gaping in disbelief,
They find themselves rushing back
To fold into each other’s arms
Tired and aching and dizzy.

On the verge of wakefulness,
They glance back at grey strangers,
With a smile, laying in perfect silence,
They sleep.

And, filled with goodly fear, the couple wonder
And marvel at their fortune.
Zoe Sue Apr 2014
We died that day
I can see our mausoleum now
Stacked stones
Memories, overlapping
Beautiful and meaningless
Wasted space in heads too young
Too young to see the facade of this house
Falling away
As you fell away from one another
In different beds now
But mommy and daddy's would always love each other
Right?
Permanence was supposed to be spelled in your names
I dared not think it any other way
Collapse was hearing my fathers cry
From seeing mine
Choked by some unseen force
I think we can call guilt
We weren't meant to stay together
Alive
This family
Fate fiddled with the idea
Fabricated smiles
Serving dinner to the ties of your marriage
Us
No
That day aged us years I swear
Reality thumped in chests
Where blind faith once lived
Zane was old enough to know
Family meeting meant goodbye
Zara young enough to hold concern only in our puppy
Asking with a quivering lip where he might go?
I excused myself
From the room
The idea that this was real
And it must've been my fault
I thought
The blame must live in me
I see the sorrows in my parents eyes
I know the blame must live in me
Somehow
How could I have known?
The good in this
Seeing my mother's smile light up in another man's eyes
Someday
And now we're buying our new house
To replace the old one
Building it with empty stones
We've yet to make memories of
My new step sister
A step mother  
And none of my fathers cries
How could I have known
I wouldn't still be bringing flowers to the steps of our mausoleum
That life moves on
And how beautifully bittersweet that could be
Elipsis Mar 2014
I am a little boy again
Is the supermarket empty?
I am the ugly duckling
Is there life outside the pond?
I am a cub in a giant cage
Is there a zookeeper?
I heard there was an oasis beyond the desert

My warmth adds up, the numbers don’t
My spirit searches, my mind wanders
There are a billion faces behind my own
Is one of them me?
I clutch my teddy, violated
Looking for a lake to wash in

I slap on a face before I go out
Zane, Zack, Z’karyah, kotch, Psalmspitter,
Tenderfoot, Buddha, Dylan, Matthew, MiaR
I look for shalom, but find chaos
A thousand roads forward and back
Do any of them lead me home?

Where? What is that?

Sides draw battle lines, I am cut in two, or three, or four
As the little boy inside me tries
To figure out what to search for.
2014, age 20
Zane Safrit Jan 2019
Loan me a dime, he sang
A dime is all he asked
Is that too much
To bother you

Worn hat, gnarled hands
I need a dime
He said, that’s all
Loan me a dime

Back tomorrow
I repay you
If you loan me
a dime, he said


Copyright © 2019 by Zane Safrit. All rights reserved.
One of my current favorite tunes is Boz Scaggs and Duane Allman's cover of Loan Me a Dime https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oTFvAvsHC_Y. I was listening to it the other night and the tune stuck around for a few days.
Zane Safrit Feb 2019
There is a house in
Southeast iowa
It sits all empty
Waiting for us there

Big porch, a bigger yard
Golden fields, open skies
A moon so full
I’ve watched and sighed

Star light, the stars bright
They shine for us tonight.
Some day someday soon
We will see them all.


Copyright © 2019 by Zane Safrit. All rights reserved.
I got to humming Neil Young's 'Helpless.' Neil's a bit more eloquent...
Julian Sep 2020
Loony warbles creeping like a shark bite tucked into the night
I saute the solution of aghast has-been epigones filibustered brunt and brittle by hemlock aspirations of curated fright
Temulentia recognizes the sane from the inane and tragedy from travesty
Flowder imaginary crackjaw Samson skulls of donkeys dissuaded by varnished agony
Skipping through punctuated times the sheepish will profane me with beleaguered notions of time
Blind to the orbit of the eccentric zeitgeist of hopscotch chockablock cohorts deliverance finds no crime
Goose noose Howard Hughes wooden stilts of the gargantuan swerve
Only the alpenglow of hijacked jujitsu spar against redintegration of adversaries with penniless nerve
Sifting through the silt
I barnstorm the ire of glistened tribunes plagued with insipid promenades of set-up still-frame guilt
Enemies became friends deranged like roosters fleecing hens of henpecked anomaly grafted and built
The wasms of moribund prose absconding with latticework of lacrosse in vogue
Temperatures sweltering the quaky schleps of Maverick moons never more rogue
Flashbang grimace parched with slivers of an acclimated post-modern ******
Intimates the intimacy of the flock decorates bolted balderdash too winsome to deprive an earnest plea for peace and please
I conquer the wallbaggers of novantique with the temulentia of mystique
Rarely remanded by the cul-de-sacs of Giants demolishing social rust with a deteriorated sweep
Trip the jostled rhymes of confluency of rhapsody and rapture consummated by nickel gambols by design
Ridiculing the contumely of ragged turgid Reservoir Dogs canine to the itch of foggy moonshine
Yet I dance to the rhythm of a jockey mechanical when devoured by incarceration flimsy with attrition
Lurid livid welters sparkle in damsel jokes of remission against Back to Mine sequence counting Dracula by division
Outtatime in this march of Thriller sublime
Cornered by the otiose Chipotle of musty mangers of egalitarian grime
Blandished by shattered paradigm parallax in circumlocution by mirrored irony
Livid are tepid latticeworks of rax and sedition frozen by limpid “Teachers” piracy
Never was once forever in the dormant daydream
Seamstresses waltzed in autumn woods knowing Hoffa firebrands of wasted Scream
Bloodshot swank is a rackrent of cineaste rakes of dominions of half-baked dishes of disco zenkidu double-take
Limbering languidly through the procession of sectarians seceding from agitprop monopoly
Boarding the Ticket to Ride train authentic never squirmy with illusions of the fake
Slackened Eels slapstick the brackish bracket of appeasement in appeals
Confluence of formula endangered by euphoria that Limerick question is a grubbed dicey deal
Fortunate summit dreaded nadir
All that resides in throbbing hearts tethered like Four Squares littered with boondoggles of fear
Showcase the Shakespeare flown through rickets of balderdash as Bald Eagles the mascot of frisk and wretch
Time to own the Pony Show charade of a mimicry of dilettantes brave in the cradles of antiquity knowing rarely the mummification of symbolism of thirty years of slavery to hallow one veranda upon a kissed by an ***** rose starvation grave
Looted by the pernicious bootstraps of those computed
We ring true the epitaphs of Pine City Stage on the rundles of the marginalia that overflows with Ire refuted embarked on solid cremation for sagacity in tatters of rage denuded
Punctilious liars edgy in facetious gambols in Joker menace flushing hygiene for starlet screen
Malingering on quaffs of sedate aplomb yet to preen
Scrabble superlunary bastions of gabble and garb
The gawsy preternatural séance rather nimble to Duck the Badgers weaponized barb
Fustilugs congregate around ashen rot of cacophony marveling at temerity in contortion for epiphany
Episodic marvel of two lynched paragons of sweltered margins ribald at witwanton persiflage in a campaign for suffrage.
Defected fire crackling with the joy of cacophony
Relishing every maskirovka pedigree of rackrent sovereignty
Slipshod fustilugs burrow bilkey in doctored Hubbard hubs smoking gun for dwarfed sins of blinded light staring Poison Ivy Appetite for Destruction mainlined by profligate amphigory a splintered shard
Complexion fulminates AIM with scourges of backtrack upon backwater miracles of Lake Placid confusion
Envoys to scuttled aliens marauding like they own my street in distinct slender confection even as the odd berates my diffuse dissuaded cineaste direction
I slummock with the slurvian alveolate bonism of prized poverty for Pine City Stages a delope of antelopes torn asunder by the athletes of formidable retention
Minute Mayday MaiDEN curls the forelock of a tucked hedged blush of no greater stupidity than a furrow of piglets in the pews of lyrical surgery
Slowpoke in acerbic flavor I countermand the denizens of urged regency decapitated by orbit if not by ******
Consummated on every brain that God himself believes that liberation can entrust
Enthusiastic chameleon of Mojo Grooves for the languid auditorium of a Revered time behooved to the gallops of threshed figurative sloppy slush
Funded by killjoys emaciated by slippery lies on craven deposits of sedimentary inertia quelled by amusement, grounded into Orange Crush
Urbacity is the usucaption of illegitimate ******* filigrees Armed to the Teeth but respecting the Tree
Winsome is obligatory for a Winslet flippant elder quorums contemn as a malapropism for syndicated armory in chuckling White Broncos evading a Houston test in the gricers of Autumn Heaven lingering with germane plight only reserved for luxury at its best
Aborning sidereal alpine brevity is a scry of evidentiary might of totemic dissolution alchemy so bright
That the chalkboard erasure is a confabulation against simultagnosia in acidic Phuture Bound sight
Because Mission Impossible cavorts with the exotic frictions of the nefarious Biocyte
Trailblazing heydays memorializing an Alpha Bet for September 2004 maydays
Of the scriptural series of mishaps and misadventures for barley grain in deadstock Indiana Jones wayward wayspays
Time to count the Dracula of venom drenched from the aceldama of gritty Gurley lies of a city yet loved because too many oases are despised
But Westwood becomes Eastwood with ******* Grotto as the centripetal but monogamous prize
Hot Tub Time Machine soaring among the cognoscenti of burlesque organized ***** crimes of lullaby Manzarek disguise
So toast to the dead captain of the psychedelic fountain pen of revolution Lorraine Baines fields arise
Time is an adventure that blinks only secondary of truce rather than guarded sheepish mustache of panmixia in genocide widely guillotined without scruple for newsy folksy prejudice on gallywow pride
Yet the sentinels of dirigisme anoint the Caesar of Nostradamus infamy of a Deep Impact symphony
Heard by asteroids and asterisks lurking with Thriller to the end of time known only as enumerated infinity
But enough petty battles squandered on sinking U-Boats torpedoed like ransacked crambazzles from Tucker belligerent with a “War” burnt heated calentures of scorching torches of rigged Scarface cockroach
Because there is no elementary Zion that is chosen to emerge in the barnstorm of flukenhague fluke
Time to rest my laurels on the depredation of safety
Reminding with a glower that saving our city is not an Autopilot of Buccaneer Brady
For the Grand Master Architect is princely in Jerusalem but heralded in Mecca because for too many storks all they want is another baby.
And my answer is that my Terrier Bonds are shaken and stirred by many a yes, probably and maybe in that order of illusion shaken into cocktails of cobblestone gravy
The Soy Sauce livid on mistake exerts a dementia on attrition to enthuse Kansas City joy all too crazy
Swimming in an ocean of Carly Ray Jepsen "Calling Your Name" Queen of Highways' Titanic fortress of Armada music beating the Village People silly over their gabbles against Navy
Born and Raised in a Colorado Springs cage I am snake eyes without crafty disguise  in authenticity to a Patriot Point Break Heist  of the probable doubt of the Zany Billy Zane entrapment of prestige gone madcap with Raiders of never the ambitious but always the lazy
So meditate on my word crimes as I elude detection as Hawthorne Nevada alights with 200 earthquakes in two days in Gray design
Wow what a marvel it is to always know that  you are always Stayin' Alive as the splinter of time capitalizing on sensual crestfallen vibes of a pendulum tsunami "Us and Them" saw wavy
And to the 1776 practical joke that gouges Samson even when thousands of Philistines get crushed in delope
Consider this a declaration of war against your pathetic screwball maze of fog to make a sane man livid with a blushed bravery too fraternal to old craven owls of cruelty beyond the maze of convolution of Istanbul collectively shrouded by lies no stomached demise would appreciate for being gatekeepers of terminus exorbitantly hazy
Zane Safrit Jan 2019
I want to be a magician

How nice it must be,
to have a vanishing act,
to disappear,
at the drop of a hat,
to dazzle and amaze
all of the days,
and sleep at their end
with a smile on your face

I want to be a magician


Copyright © 2019 by Zane Safrit. All rights reserved.
Zane Safrit Mar 2019
Dinners are quiet, we sometimes speak
In our heads, 2 MMA fighters circling
Looking for a knockout punch
Pass the salt, please

Laughter’s a runaway
Been missing for a year or two
Never filed a report
Needs pepper, doncha think?

We shadow box through the house
Oops excuse me, that was close
Then retire to our corners
Facebook and Instagram, y’know


Copyright © 2019 by Zane Safrit. All rights reserved.
Zane Safrit Jan 2019
The remote don’t work,
but my baby can dance,
the remote don’t work,
but she can prance, prance, prance

She slides to the left
Shimmies to the right
Makes me smile
That lasts all night

The remote don’t work,
but my baby can dance,
the remote don’t work,
but she can prance, prance, prance

I’m missing sports center
Netflix too
Having watched a ballgame
since 2002

The remote don’t work,
but my baby can dance,
the remote don’t work,
but she can prance, prance, prance

The remote don’t work
And I don’t care
The remote won’t work
And we don’t care


Copyright © 2019 by Zane Safrit. All rights reserved.
Zane Safrit Jan 2019
Painful misunderstandings
complicated altercations
Confused mashup
of regrets and hope

They cumulate, proliferate
who adjudicates
We all step up
For another ride


Copyright © 2019 by Zane Safrit. All rights reserved.
M-W's Word of the Day for today and Jan 22-24 were Adjudicate, Proliferate, Cumulate, Imbroglio
Zane Safrit Jan 2019
Raddled, addled
oh my goodness
some dimes in the
jukebox baby

A substantive
No gargantuan
Evening awaits us
Only question

Do we grab it
Race like wildfire
Down our road
Never look back

If the wherewithal
lies within us
God’ll forgive us
Might even smile at us


Copyright © 2019 by Zane Safrit. All rights reserved.
The four words today are: Raddled, Substantive, Gargantuan, Wherewithal.
Zane Safrit Mar 2019
I wanna live
With the asana girl
We could be happy
Drinking our ghee
With my asana girl

She speaks in their slogans
I nod and say yes
We roll on our mats and
Breathe through our noses
My asana girl

Twelve yogis humming
A sitar for show
The raja relaxes
And waits between chants
For his asana girl

I don’t need no money
I’m happy as hell somehow
Karma’s a ***** y’know
You see it’s all a big show
Om... om... om


Copyright © 2019 by Zane Safrit. All rights reserved.
This is a new-age take on Neil Young's 'Cinnamon Girl.' https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3lZ6bBeJ488
Zane Safrit May 2018
Hold on, hold on
I keep telling
Myself, I say
Se'f you gotta

Hold on, Love is
Coming, Hold on, Love
Is coming, hold
On, just hold on

Copyright © 2018 - Zane Safrit - All rights reserved.
Zane Safrit Aug 2018
I’m not making it
I think I’m going to die
I’m not getting out
It’ll happen one day shy

One day shy of the
Job of my dreams that coulda
Matched finding the love
Of my life again, return

Yeah, I’m not gonna
Make it, shake it or wake it
This life already
****** me dry, bit by slow bit

I’m laughing somewhere
In here, behind another
Sour riposte
Letter they send me each day

No one wants you, and
Neither do we but hey we
Wish you luck today
And in your career journey

Tomorrow, today
You are not gonna make it
So just go away
Call it a day, go away.

Ain’t it a **** shame
Sure is but for who, me you
Never was gonna
Make it. Joke's on me'n you.


Copyright © 2018 by Zane Safrit. All rights reserved.
Zane Safrit May 2018
You just happened to smile
For you, no big deal
For me, the true sun shone
deep inside me, warm

Another day, maybe two
You did it again
Confirming my theory
Smile equals Life Inside Me

Yeah, Science is Dope
Your smile is crack and I am
Addicted to it
And there’s no rehab for me

Copyright © 2018 - Zane Safrit - All rights reserved
Zane Safrit Jul 2018
I saw Him on the street
He walked right on by
I waved and I danced
I even said “hi.”

I went to His House
I knocked on His door
Jesus Himself
Said "There’s room for no more."

God, He don’t know me
And if He does
He acts mighty strange

I call him at night
Sometimes daytime too
He asks for my name
Says, who, who are you.

God, he don’t know me
And if he does
He acts mighty strange
God, he don’t know me

Jesus, please help me
Y’Dad’s forgotten my name
He laughed and He laughed
And He said "Ain’t that a shame"

Copyright © 2018 by Zane Safrit. All rights reserved.
Zane Safrit Aug 2018
A silver smartphone
Hides on a silver bedspread
Wise is he who knows



Copyright © 2018 by Zane Safrit. All rights reserved.
Zane Safrit Mar 2018
Heard all the news
Read all the sites
Talking heads views
Little sound bites

I just don't care
I really don't
Cause I got you
Cause I got you.

Trump's up in Flames
Our world is too
No one to blame
It's all boo-hoo

I just don't care
I really don't
Cause I got you
Cause I got you.

Children got fear
Adults got guns
The NRA cheers
We're all undone

I just don't care
I really don't
Cause I got you
Cause I got you.

Black man at home
Waving brand new phone
Cops shoot him dead
20 shots center mass

I just don't care
I really don't
Cause I got you
Cause I got you.

© Zane Safrit, 2018 All rights reserved.
Just a riff

— The End —