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 Apr 2015
Roger Turner - Poet
Time to meet the family
At least, that's what I heard
But, she asked me when the game was on
So, I didn't catch a word

We'd be heading out a week from now
Back where it all began
To meet the wife's whole family
every woman, every man

When she said she was from the hills
I didn't ask her where
But, once he started on our way
I was always looking out for bear

They lived way up in the wooded parts
Off the road, you couldn't see
I didn't see just where they were
But, I felt them watching me

We pulled on up and there they were
They made the Clampett clan look good
Eighteen folks all standing there
and two were chewing wood

The one's I thought to be her folks
Were her sister and a dog
The one that cozied up to me
Had a leash walking a hog

There was hugging and some kissing
Lots of tangled beards and hair
Then they stood and looked at me
With that mountain kind of stare

you know the one, deliverance like
where you wonder flee or flight
It was just then that I wondered
If I'd make it through the night

Her ma came up and spun me round
slapped my ***, and said "he'll do"
I wasn't sure if that was good
And I would end up in a stew

A bearded one came over,
shook my hand, and said his name was Clem
He said that mama liked me
Now, I was one of them

they was fixing to go hunting
Which was something new to me
The last time I went hunting
I shot a canoe and a tree

They said that they were hunting
The most elusive mountain prey
I was gonna hunt for ginseng
And if we found some it would pay

First, though, time to have some drinks
Eat some greasy, stinky meal
I think it was a possum
But, it might have been an eel

They said we'd get a good night's sleep
And they started howling at the moon
Time to hit the sack they said
Hunting time is coming soon

My Appalachian in-laws
Made my sphincter close up tight
They had 14 teeth between them
And I don't think one of them could write

We hit the trail next morning
It felt like miles up that hill
I thought that I was dieing
And I hadn't left a will

A sound was heard, a gentle coo
And we was running, in our boots
Clem was out in front of us
And he'd discovered ginseng roots

I picked them up, all scraggly
Like a parsnip,  dried and dead
When a holler came from brother Boo
A monster known as Red

His beard was black as coal could be
His eyes looked at each other
They called him Red not for his hair
Just 'cause he liked the color

They filled the bags with what they found
And back down the hill they went
I thought that this was insanely mad
And then Clem got a scent

Someone else was on this hill
Out hunting Appalachian gold
That's not what I would call it
But, I just call things as I'm told

We found the truck and sped away
To get paid for the days find
We had to make sure all were there
And that we left no one behind

The gun shop and the bar and grill
Was where we would get paid
Thirteen hundred bucks a pound
Almost three grand had we made

We went back with the cash in hand
Howling at whatever we saw
I guess that I'm now one of them
An Appalachian outlaw in-law
 Apr 2015
Roger Turner - Poet
Another day, another beating
Into himself, he was retreating
His parents did not call a meeting
It couldn't happen to our son

Every day he came home bloodied
His clothes all torn his face all muddied
The family name was being sullied
It couldn't happen to our son

Remember Chicken Little
The Sky is Falling Down
This surely couldn't happen
Not here in our small town
Chicken Little told a tale
But, they only saw the sun
Chicken Little told his story
Now, Chicken Little's got a gun

Every afternoon they'd wait
Four of them out by the gate
They left early, best not be late
It couldn't happen to our son

Our son would not ever fight
To say he does, would not be right
But, sometimes he comes home a sight
It can't be what you're thinking

Remember Chicken Little
The Sky is Falling Down
This surely couldn't happen
Not here in our small town
Chicken Little told a tale
But, they only saw the sun
Chicken Little told his story
Now, Chicken Little's got a gun

Finally he'd had enough
Even though he was not tough
He was made of sterner stuff
And he showed it on the news

Chicken Little took a gun
He was showing everyone
Now, was time to have some fun
He took out twenty two


Remember Chicken Little
The Sky is Falling Down
This surely couldn't happen
Not here in our small town
Chicken Little told a tale
But, they only saw the sun
Chicken Little told his story
Now, Chicken Little's got a gun
 Apr 2015
PrttyBrd
A worst-case-scenario mentality
Breeds emotional nightmares of what-ifs
Methodically feeling the pain in each possibility
Preparing for Hell, knowing it is impractical, improbable, and unkind
Each reaction gauged
Smiles erupt in each better choice
A familiar road traveled often
Lead only by a history of pain
It ebbs and flows, bobs and weaves at will
This reality is organized, easy to understand

Random thought of an unlikely, unfathomable future
Vivid like a film
Unwavering, persistent
There is no control
ling its outcome
Forced to watch the images forged in a broken mind
Tears burn flesh and a naked heart bleeds
Stop rolling, just...stop
No amount of pleading slows the images
The pain is overwhelming
Far beyond self-inflicted, torturous, methodical thoughts
Uncontrollable, inconsolable
True and real
So very real

There is but one way to stop that future
The one shown in visions of just deserts
The future that smolders through present joy
Preemptive pain is just not an option

I've seen the future my heart has built
The shards of a shattered soul
Offer no comfort


My worst-case-scenario was but a benign freckle on the elbow of a body invaded by metastatic melanoma
4315
spoken word, haibun
 Mar 2015
Roger Turner - Poet
bayou baby

She comes from the swamplands
Back in the mangrove
Back where the stories say
Magic runs wild
The devil plays host
And all who visit must stay

Witches and Zombies
Together by night
Gators and Snakes there as well
The river, it changes
Cut you off in a flash
And then you end up in hell

Hair as black as Kentucky Coal
And eyes green as the sea
She's the witch queen of the swamp to most
But, she's a Bayou Baby to me
Born out of the magic's world
Where the mystic world runs free
She's the witch queen of the swamp to most
But, she's a Bayou Baby to me

She comes to town
to get supplies
That's where I saw her first
I followed close
Back to the swamp
And saw her do her worst

A simple boat
A single lamp
An oarsmen, long, long dead
A different route
Through water black
To a place where most folks dread

Hair as black as Kentucky Coal
And eyes green as the sea
She's the witch queen of the swamp to most
But, she's a Bayou Baby to me
Born out of the magic's world
Where the mystic world runs free
She's the witch queen of the swamp to most
But, she's a Bayou Baby to me

She saw me
And I looked back
She knew that I would follow
She slowed down
Her travel home
And she trapped me in the hollow

I never told
Another soul
Of who I go to see
I travel out
At night alone
My Bayou Baby waits for me


Hair as black as Kentucky Coal
And eyes green as the sea
She's the witch queen of the swamp to most
But, she's a Bayou Baby to me
Born out of the magic's world
Where the mystic world runs free
She's the witch queen of the swamp to most
But, she's a Bayou Baby to me
 Mar 2015
Camellia-Japonica
Tonight the moon stalks my steps,
it watches me with baleful stare
daring me to break my pact.

I know it wants a sacrifice
a body laid out on ice.
But I dare to return your stare.

These iron bars cast lines.
Lines I cannot cross.
Crimes enshrined in moonlight.

You stalk my mind, my soul, my dreams.
You keen to me, to be seen.
You beg more bad to be done, you stalk me when there's none.

My life, this pantomime
© JLB
31/03/2015
03:17 BST
 Mar 2015
Roger Turner - Poet
From day one he was trouble
His parents knew on sight
Their bundle of pure joy and bliss
Was somehow, just not right

It wasn't in his nature
To be part of a gang
He like to be off by himself
He liked things that went bang

He was troubled in his school years
Never getting real good marks
He didn't get along with other
He was burning caps and making sparks

But when this boy found fire
Well, then....his world became real small
Never mind the big explosions
He would go and burn them all

Small fires set in dumpsters
Behind the shops, by where he ran
He'd set fire to the garbages
While he trapped a cat inside the can

He progressed on up to buildings
Made that jump, in one big way
He torched a crack house, all abandoned
Buy using gas and old, dry hay

But, the thrill was not a keeper
It wore off as fast as it arrived
He had to extend the feeling
That made his body feel alive

He knew to see his fires
He would have to volunteer
First he would go set them
Then, help put them out...I fear

It was a stroke of pyro genius
He'd set them and he'd put them out
He'd learn what gave them trouble
And he'd give them more without a doubt

He never killed another
Never burnt a persons home
He always set his fires
Where buildings always stood alone

They caught him late September
He'd burned a building late one night
It was supposed to be abandoned
But, was full of squatters, out of sight

The picture, it was famous
A hippie shaking someone's hand
It was on the front page of the paper
And it was shown through out the land

A fingerprint was lifted
A switch, that burned, not like it should
And from there, it was no problem
To lock this boy away for good

He was sent away to prison
He was gonna die there, bet on that
And on his first day in that prison
He saw an old man, who just sat

Sitting in the corner
by himself, no one around
Sat a man, all old and wrinkled
Lips were moving, but no sound

Came forth from this man's mouth,
his lips all cracked and dry,
You could stand right there and listen
And hear nothing if you tried...
For Eileen, who asked about why the second man was in prison. Here's his story Eileen...hope you enjoy it.
 Mar 2015
Naomie
Lovely crazy fox man
Swinging through the forest
I have a special spot for you
By the Hanging Tree

Lovely little Lizzie
Sit right beside me
I have a special seat for you
By the Hanging Tree

Crazy little fox man
I know you love her
There is no else above her
So do this special deed

Pretty little Lizzie
Do you know he loves you ?
There is no one else above you
He'll love you till he bleeds

Crazy ol' fox man
They're about to lynch me
**** everybody
Then you'll have her heart

Lovely little Lizzie
Chop your mommy and daddy
**** everybody
Then you'll have his heart

Lovely crazy fox man
Pretty little Lizzie
They love each other
In sweet insanity
 Mar 2015
Julia O'Neary
Does the wolf hunt the deer,
or does the deer offer her
body? As nourishment
If she does not run
must she die?
Her blood
stains
fur
 Mar 2015
Dev A
You broke me
But somewhere deep inside I always knew,
You and I were not meant for forever.

I always knew we wouldn't last;
Something in me told me that.

But over and over
My mind runs through our time
And I wonder why?

Why does it hurt when I knew we'd end?
Why does it hurt knowing I won't see you again?
Why do I wish for one more day? One more night?

My mind tells me to move on forward,
But my heart, it wishes for just a little more.
I'm at war with myself,
Logic and reasoning
Versus
Wishes and dreaming.

My mind says move on
But worse off
My heart says what if?

You broke me
But deep inside I always knew you would
And yet I still hurt.
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