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From Potent Treasures despite Five Months past
The Sixth Great Angel suddenly appeared
Reminding my Lost Voice which Virtues last
And preached the Sermon of True Self revealed
How Wonderful must your Header advise
Being the Younger of your Sister's sprite
From there Unknotted Loyalty devise
Though snubbed by Pink Dandelions in spite
Now I can see why he chose over you
His Charming Sense knew your Heart was that Pure
And please keep on; Keep that Silver Disc blue
Coat them with your Wings from being demure.
Yes I Agree. Of your True Coating's stand
Thank you so much for reminding me at hand.
#daleysangels #katierobsonx
Theresa M Rose Oct 2018
A time in hand-cuffs;
… This was in 83’, I remember when because I left for Boston just shortly after Rose and I watched Thorn Birds together on the television in the basement; she allowed me to help her do a spring cleaning and ready everything for Easter Company. We cleared out the pantry closet upstairs putting new paper on all the shelves; we cleared out the kitchen-cabinets and fold and organized the all the linings in the hutch and best of all we enjoyed watching the mini-series together. I love spending my time with her; funny how I see so much of my relationship within the structure of this movies theme.  
We, Lisa, Denise and myself, we’re coming home after a grueling four week gig up at The famous Pussycat Lounge in Boston’s Combat Zone; I was the last on stage that night and after getting off I threw on an old-lady dusty over my costume  and began to rush about packing-up all my costumes. We run out to the van; and after tossing all of the bags and me into the back we start our long drive home;
My Agent, Lisa, with her broken leg in a cast, has out the road-map, her wig’s in her lap and she had a nylon *****’s on her head  she’s in the passenger seat; Headliner Denise (AKA The Luscious Lady double D’s Dynamite) the driver is dripping of the make-up remover on her face… she’s in nothing more but her bra and *******?! … Least I threw on my dusty. I’m on the floor in the back with a flashlight digging through the bags trying to see if I have all my new costumes I won at last night’s Show; we worked a big Jell-O Wrestling Tournament up in Cambridge... Hey, I win four costumes and I want to make sure they weren’t left behind! So, here I am all over the floor in the darkness with my little beam of light as a good hour and forty minutes go by…  I’m still going through the bags. Suddenly, I realize this intense quite?!  I pop up my head; there’s nothing out there; nothing but darkness, no highway, no streetlights just this long silent single narrow road we’re on. I climb up grabbing a hold of the bearskin spread pull myself onto the platform-bed back here and I look through the portholes on each side of the van to see the view… the view could only be described as Sod-Farms as far as the eyes could see; with this misty darkness looms above. It seems to gently illuminate over a kind of rippling sea of blackness stretching out from both sides of the van. I crawl back down onto the floor. I look forward out the front window as far as my eyes see… we’re on a road, small dots roll beneath the van but ahead nothing… our headlight lights diminish into blackness it seems darkness is gobbling up all things beyond us and we are on our way…
“Lisa?” Saying this hesitantly; …, couldn’t help myself there wasn’t a single set of vehicle lights anywhere and where we are being as dark as pitch?!
“Where are we…?”

Lisa turns in this growling tone,“ Someone did not want to go through Connecticut!”

Denise giggles,” Oh, come-on?!  I’ve been this way before… it’s faster taking Rhode Island! It’s an easier drive! ”

So, we go; yeah, down this road three gals’ in this converted van which looks like the red-light-district on wheels; driving somewhere in the middle of No-man’s Land, Rhode Island… At 2 O’clock in morning.

“Oh, ok.” I went back with my flashlight counting up and pairing off shoes.

All of a sudden out of darkness comes… in complete silence, flashing lights!
Denise begins popping brakes; bags dart about … as she sets the van to the side of the road.

Lisa, starts yelling at Nissie , “ You had to…; Had to take us through Rhode Island?!
Two, ******* Black //////////s and a little white cotton-ball lying over luggage in the back! You know… You know we’re all in jail tonight!!! You take us into the only northern state that thinks they’re south of the Mason Dixie “

While Lisa yells, (Huge bags Denise uses at high-end private parties falls from hooks and falls open contents toppling over me.)
Lisa turns to see how the van looks… Here I am; on my *** on the floor with boas dangling off me and an yard-long two header rubber buddy as ‘slap‘ hits down into my arms. There I am bellybutton high in whips, chains and the rest of Nissie’s extensive selection of ******* gear and every kind of Joy-toy which has ever brandished a battery and…

“Jesus!!!” Lisa yells, “Look at …! We look like a Traveling *******! Janice, don’t just sit there! Put that thing down…. Hide all that **** before that cop…”
Bang, bang, bang; suddenly, a cop’s metal flashlight s rapping and taps up the side of the van; the cop stands side of Denise’s door for what feels
He flickers his light into her face.

Lisa yells, “Open your window, Nessie!!!”

Remember… in nothing but a bra and *******!? As dainty as you please, “What’s wrong officer?”
She is saying this while the window handle’s giving her a hard time and she’s trying to wipe make-up Schmitz from her face.
“Why are you stopping us?”

Lisa leans …”Yeah! We’re just trying to get back to New York?!

The officer shines the light right into Lisa’s face then towards me in the back.
“Can I see your license and registration?”
And, I need the Id of everyone-else in this vehicle? Please.”
I call out, “I know mine is in one of these bags; this will take a minute please.

I am freaking and in a yelling whisper, “…, Oh Crap?”
Thinking, ‘There’s easily more than fifteen bags back here on the floor alone??? Half these… open and half empty all over?!
“Crap, crap, crap!” I start pulling at all the bags rummaging through everything.” Crap?!”

I hear the cop say, “Did you realize that you were speeding?”

Lisa and Nissie , “What ? Speeding? It’s the middle of the night?!  What the hell are you….”

‘Holy Hell; they’re fighting a policeman?! Their arguing with a cop about, what time of day it is… And, I can’t find my id???’ I’m pushing and shoving things into piles… All of a sudden…The side door flies open!
“Please; Step out of the vehicle.”
Like some startled meerkat my head pops up, eyes wide, from the piles surrounding me.
“What???” I crawl out.
Now; standing out by the side of the van with Lisa and Denise: And…,
I look down. My dusty snaps burst open.
Here we are! It’s the middle of the night and we’re on the side of the road;
Three women; One, the driver, standing barefoot in her everyday bra and *******; One, Talent- Agent, resting up on the van with crutches and cast on her leg to the upper thigh; And,… me…  I’m standing there in my freshly ripped dusty, revealing a pearly pink sequins bra-n- G string set, black fishnets and matching pearly-pink 5in. Stilettos.

The police-officer looks at me,” Did you find Id?”

“ Sir, no?!  No, not yet Sir. I was looking when you told me to get out … But?!”  I try to head-back into the van,” Let me find it…”

The cop grabs me by my arm and pulls me away from the door; he places me in hand-cuffs?!

“When you can find someone to bring you your Id we will release you to them.”

“ But sir…Please I have Id!? If you would just?!  Please, please allow me back in there?!  I’ll find it?! Please sir, please!”

Lisa and Denise, “Well, we have ours! Let us go!”
Lisa,” Keep her if you want but let us the hell out of here.”
Both of them; “We want to get back to the city!”

Lisa waves at me saying,” Stop by the office when you get back. I’ll store your stuff until you get yourself out of this…”

“Sir, please?! I have to get back home for my kids? I don’t have anybody able to come here and get me. I know, I have my I…”
I yell out, “I remember where it is!” homeward bound   “I know where it is!!!”
I begin pulling myself and the officer towards the front of van;” Lisa, Lisa you have it! Lisa has it! It is in there under her seat! My bag… My bag…?! It’s underneath her seat! Sir, look, Look it’s under there… Lisa! Remember, I gave you it before so you could get our pay from the owner at the Club?!  You said you’d put it there?!

“ Oh yeah; that’s right.” Lisa reaches under the seat and tugs my little bag free.
” Oops…; I forgot all about you giving this to me.”
“ Here you go her Id; could she now leave with us?”

The cop unclasped the cuffs and says, “I don’t want to have to see any of you here again; Drive carefully mind your speed.”
Back on the road and on our way home Lisa screams over and over; “Never in Rhode Island! Never again…!”
I sat there thinking, the two of them were going to leave me back there?  I’d be back there…. without a penny; no money; not even a way home.
Whelp, not the worst night of my life.



Please, I know this to be a short story  but could I ask for opinions?
This is a small segment of the book I've been working on.
Valarola Nikola Jul 2018
The demons just want me to be dead,
They want to bury the secrets in my head,
Sunlight kills their dark souls,
And there's no light to hold,
I'd give anything for a savior,
Give my firstborn as a favor,
I just want to not fight for every breath,
To not fight inside my own head,
I'm so tired, so tired, so tired,
And the voices multiply like a choir,
They tell me what to say,
To make everyone think I'm okay,
But inside I'm punching myself over and over,
And I try to quiet it by not being sober,

But you can't stay high forever,
I always nose dive and take a header,
Straight into the ground of which I bleed upon,
This life just seems played out and done,

I'd pray to God if I didn't think he'd forsaken,
This child of which followed him with other children,
But then I found the dark side of life,
The kind that has no spark of life,
Who's dull eyes stare out from sunken skulls,
Knees aching on basement floors,
Don't be fooled by the bible,
The devil is a female,
And she takes innocence,
While faking she's innocent,
So beware of golden hair,
And skin that's fair,
Because it'll make you wish for death,
For the rest of your entire life,

But you can't stay high forever,
I always nose dive and take a header,
Straight into the ground of which I bleed upon,
This life just seems played out and done.
onaono Nov 2013
I’m not the one who sails with grace
Tempestuous seas
broad as the moon

I’m not the one who stood in her firm legs
Sorting waves of ambition with equilibrium

I’m not the one who resisted equable
before unearthly weather
I’m not the one who faced bravely
A simple stormy header

I’m not the one who surfs
oceans of emotions
I’m the one who swims from dot to dot
I’m the one who knows who I am not.
Carl Barton Jul 2013
The game is played on a pitch,
or a field if you will.
With eleven players to each side;
some with extra special skill.
There is kicking and passing,
and sliding and tackling.
Three officials call the game
and some players tryout acting.
Shots saved by the goalkeeper
or blocked by a defender.
A corner kick sails in;
leading to a game winning header.
The crowd, so excited,
they shout out and chant.
Losing is a myth,
we know our club can't

A glory some know as soccer;
it's football around the globe.
Who will win the world cup,
and head home with the precious gold?
Geno Cattouse Feb 2013
would walk out of the city on Sunday afternoon after Sunday Mass
Dinner at noon was the custom. then the city would slip into  Sunday coma.
Mantovani, Acher Bilk, and the BBC wafted from the Television less homes we passed
on our way to the river.

Old chocolate men reclined on rickety old wooden porches smoking hand rolled
whatever as we strolled by giving us the lazy eye. All knowing , know nothings.
Sun beaten and calloused to lives of hard labor. every now and then one would just give a
jaundiced nod and look away/ Live to smoke another day.

Half paved tar and gravel roads simmered and writhed in the distance.
but our bare feet.
slapped in rhythm .cut off knee pants and skinny bare chest attested to sparse living but we
never knew it cause the mangrove jungle was minutes away and big
unwanted catfish to hook and throw away. Disdainful (Kiatto).

Off the simmering road now hopping toads. Johnny fiddler ***** for bait .
The canoe awaits us two small school boys in our natural state. One seven one eight.

Pelicans survey slowly above where the river meets the sea A small ripple and down he goes. He knows where school is in for mackerel and terrapin. Bone fish too.
We small boys with no fear . Innocence a pole and cork. One hook apiece is our gear.
Knee deep in mire as we push of and jump. A paddle apiece as we stroke against the tide to traverse the emerald river wide. The far bank. My Aunt Doris's shack.

Man over board to tie of the. Bow.

A snack of tortillas and beans then up the river no fear. Fun and the fish
Sun and the wish for an endless Sunday. We hate Monday. Back the priests and nuns.Slate writing board and times tables.
Let's fish.
Let us dream.
Tied off in the mangrove shade.
Swatting horse flies quietly. Quietly?

Like bird dogs we study the floating cork.
A wiggle, a bob. A bob. Set the hook and out comes the prize.
Then more. More flapping underfoot.we can hardly.walk. The glee
A bonanza.
All fried up and crisp.Catch and release. What madness. Catch and consume.

Day is done in the Carribean sun.
Home eastward. The pitch road is more forgiving on bare feet now
with the September sun at our backs. A leisurely stroll back to the
house. No worries,

A bath  and change for the Sunday evening show.
The Thief Of Baghdad or  maybe El Cid.
The Duke Audie Murphy in a double header.

The walk home along the moonlit seaside.
To start another Halcyon stream.
Another time and place rooted firmly in my memory.
Read  THE RIVER ROCK. More from Memories of a childhood in Belize.
Stephen E Yocum Aug 2013
There was a Double Rainbow
in the sky, over my house today,

Any special meaning there you say?
Double Luck, Double Trouble,
Double Dip, Double Bubble,
Double Up, Double Down,
Double Dutch, Double Duty,
Double Play, Double Header,
Double Cross, Double Jeopardy,
Double Negative, Double Genitive,
Double Dealings, Double Whammy.
Double Jointed, Double Hung,
Double Pleasure, Double Fun.
I'm quite sure I could go on like this,
Beyond the ordinary, If only I had  
my copy of Mister Webster's Dictionary.

Working this over in my mind,
running it up and running it over.
The best conclusion I can reach,
Two stripe rainbows are nothing more,
than what you see and what you think.
A pretty painting in the sky, and hence
Of no other particular consequence.
michael capozzi Jun 2014
she sat next to me near the window
at starbucks on
41st and madison with a journal
covered in pastel lines and a black backdrop.
on the top center read “2011 was the year i screamed
**** life’ and ‘**** me”
as a running header. she ran
through my head, tilting this little snippet
of her brain
towards me and i swear that she looked at me
but all i could do was make the sign of the cross
hoping god heard my muffled voice, drowned out by
the sounds of yellow taxis on the crosswalk and
whispers of angels on the corners asking for my pockets.
i’ve never tasted sixty miles
per hour but i can imagine it’s the same
as when she writes “your shirt looks like my thoughts”;
i’m falling in love too easily.
i want to read every inch of your body; your arms
have the bible etched in your veins and a fifth of my poems
are scribbled on your aortas; my mother’s wedding vows
are in my right eye and my father,
my father just takes care of himself. i don’t think my eyesight is
getting any better, you slid the note two spaces down
and i think i shed a tear but i can’t remember whether
you were smiling for joy or the fact you missed my hand.
seven in the morning. god doesn't wake up for my prayers in time.
Jeremy Betts Oct 2022
I followed the order handed over to the T, I swear, I checked every square inch of the interior in that musty, empty chamber as well as the outer perimeter
And, just to make sure to cover all of our bases, a land surveyor calculator was used so no one would have to return to confirm the number later
He soulda, woulda, coulda but didn't prepare for the worst,  should have taken ques from one of them openly mocked doomsday prepers
Just in the event there was no search and rescue coming together to push the radius wider
I'll say this, there's nothing you could compare to what was in there other than a twisted flair of a taboo desire for a living nightmare
Keeping it honest here, there was no proper way too decipher if pain or anger fed the monster in turn fueling the inner and outer warfare
After all this time the why is still unclear like an over exposed Bigfoot picture under the blur of an out of focus layer with the top half blacked out by a fat finger
It's mostly ever operator error, there's no proof of any attempt to even remove the lense cover
Resulting in snap shots that fully render the emptiness of a gut wrenching, heart breaking type of forever
Walking through the bare walled entry erected the neck hair, instantly on anticipatory high alert, predicting a jump scare
I'd never go back there but if you dare, prepare to soil your underwear, best to bring an extra pair
It's far eirrer in there than I imagined it'd be with the unbalanced nature of finding tragedy has bled into the comedy so frustration and the for mentioned anger seemed not only justified but fair
One might expect a shrill chill to fill the air befitting the general atmosphere likened to the hollow echo of an abandoned aviator hanger
There was an uneasy stillness in the helplessness seemingly coming from nowhere and everywhere
The nonconsentual caress of chaos looked to have been ramped up a gear, allowed to feast on the bounty of self loathing and fear
I don't know if you could consider one over the other being better while not sure who's the bigger threat, the dark passenger or driver?
Neither should have been allowed to steer especially after the request to hold so and so's beer
Looks like nothing penetrated the barrier inside each ear that, according to the guest sign in on the counter here, had been garded by a couple demon friends made during his very first winter
Just prior to the proverbial greener pasture being engulfed by an arsons fire lit by the land owner
And oh how it wreaked of dispair, heavily punctuated by the stench of failure
It lingered like a stocker predator peering over top the chip and bolder on what's been dubbed an unworthy shoulder
Progressively more violent as the one under investigation grew older, evidence shows a temper that consistently boiled over
The life destroyers lurkin' behind every door down a never ending corridor, waiting in the cover of darkness found around every corner
You don't know from where but can hear screams of terror as you pass a single motivational poster that reads, "being dead inside will allow for the skipping over of the coroner all together"
Buyer beware, this particular first stair is a header, the warnings couldn't have been clearer
A lack of empathy stains character but if lead by example it's plain to see why someone might refuse to care
Or would even know how to for that matter, solely focused only on the neighbor who's grass is forever advertised as greener
Didn't do the work on the personal endeavor so it didn't get any better, attitude towards it all seemed very cavalier
An obvious what not to do trend setter, a self proclaimed and locally agreed on idiot of the year
Missed all this YOLO banter, acting like a pop of the trunk would reveal a spare
Who's life is it really if you're not even a content creator in it much less the engineer
Come to think of it I don't recall that even bein' offered up to this poor sap as a qualifying career
It should be but that's neither here nor there, what's done is done and every other cliche you can pull out of the air
To put it simply, he wasn't known as a fighter so he threw in the towel and tossed innocence out with the bath water
The belief that life was beyond repair was a thought he struggled to alter, positivity was something he never learned how to gather, had a horrible teacher
It didn't help hearing a proper confirmation message from both a soothsayer and palm reader with no reassurance from his supposed maker
Proof that it's always safer to separate judge, jury and executioner, it's a no brainier
But he wore all three hats plus at his core was a sinner, it could've been his last meal every time he sat down for dinner
So he no doubt knew there was no scenario where a man like himself was gonna come out the winner
And now that I've seen the bizzar aftermath from every angle I can say with far more confidence than when I began to explore that I don't know how he managed to even get this far
The violence was real, the battles weren't staged, it raged on behind the fleshy mask he wore to keep us from witnessing the horror
But every day his anchor to a brighter reality got weaker, thoughts and surroundings becoming darker faster than he could remember from the days before
One can only be expected to hold on for so long when you're the nail trying to resist the hammer
He was neither hero nor imposter, just the next mother fuucker to fall victim to his own future
she plants her lipstick
on my cheek
or forehead daily;

her stamp,
she says

leaving her puckered claim,
she says

in case some young *****
with game
throws a slow hanging curve ball
over my plate

and I'm tempted to hit it
like a-rod,
hgh and all,
up and over the outfield wall

then slide into home base
later

like it's batting practice
or

a double-header...

~ P (Pablo)
(8/7/2013)
Tommy N Mar 2011
Rather the clouds were a motorcycle,
Jesus rides up, lowers his sunglasses.
You ride off with him into the sun
not setting, but crashing violently
into the ocean. Rather, you receive

an inconspicuous e-mail, that you write
off as spam. “Save Your Soul Pls Read”
in the subject header was easy to ignore,
easy to delete. Jesus on the other end
of the illuminated screen was trying to reach
you. Even now his hand comes out of the
screen like a cartoon odor, beckoning.

Rather, you hear three thuds on your door
and Jesus bursts through, shattering
the components of your door-****. He is dressed
in fine clothing, soft, his *** looks great.
“Come on. We are getting you the **** out
of here.” He still has his sunglasses on.

Rather, a firefighter runs down the stairs, turns
the iron on, starts the dryers, and hits the circuit
breaker with his axe. You are on your belly, gripping
smoke in between knuckles, fingers. Emerging
into daylight, Jesus rides your pet Rottweiler,
like a horse, out your front door.

Rather, a 1995 Honda Civic sputters
towards you. A boy in plaid stumbles
out with a briefcase that stumbles
open. Cassette tapes stumble
out. “Would you want to go
for a ride?” There is a moment
where the road disappears over an arc.
You two are falling together.

Rather, it is  raining walls of white
foam. Jesus is in a bright yellow poncho
laughing heartily. He throws your body into salt
waves. At first, the shock of cold muted
the harpoon in your gut. Jesus is dragging you
as you spin the harpoon inside you
                                                            f­irst horizontal then vertical.
Written 2011 during the MFA program at Columbia College Chicago
Andrew Rueter Apr 2018
They keep ratcheting up the pressure
They keep hatcheting for good measure
They keep laughing at their leisure
They keep blasting guns for pleasure
Creating a series of tubes
Where every which way I lose

There's an existential
Differential
From my potential
That's unintentional
For I want to be better
Than the scarlet letter
That's my resume header
And my pain embedder

But there's a series of events
That keep happening
That leaves everyone incensed
They start attacking me
Until I take my mask off
They uncomfortably back off
Get in their rocket and blast off
Until it's humanity I'm the last of

There's a pattern
That gives me purpose
So I climb a ladder
Of fruitless searches
For a freedom purchase
From a shame merchant
Who offers the joy of fantasy
At the price of a crushing reality
So I can hear Satan answering
As a doctor trying to cure my malady

I feel shame
Then humiliation
This repetitive game
Provides inspiration
To avoid every friendship
Because my love will end it
And bring a torture endless
So either way I'll be friendless
After I reluctantly ask
And they say no
Am I still expected to bask
In their beautiful glow?

I see a range of emotions
From pathetic pity to anger
Always leaving the notion
I live in a city of strangers
And walls of concrete
That can't be beat
One must take a seat
And accept defeat
Then repeat
Thousand years ago, the world somewhere began
an escape, a thousand years later still trying to get to the end, but my body becomes a decorative piece, becomes of a number one digital romano ... that turns into flames cinch and dressing this base disencounter ; that is my physical, on an all, regardless of who will manage and the rule ... "

... I find it hard to breathe ... i do not know if i can continue what i have proposed ....
there is so much to say. i never wanted to write about it. and now i am here, changing the paper by words.
   better...... so nobody will remember anything, thanks to the evanescence. I have nothing to leave, no one for whom to stay here. i just hope to leave my soul in peace ...
   ... tonight i die.

**** dreamer who i am! i never got anywhere by myself. i never got to be what it was if it had not been for someone else.
   my days, my whole life governed by feelings ... they left me?
  
Inserts 1 - full moon in three shooting lights threshold pierced window shades sea view. there were three golden stingrays. they went to his room versailles, with some electricity that flowed from their bodies corps plans were roots electro-magnetic. upon entering threshold, their bodies pressed proportion to the input capability, but yes, each tidily came one after other. snipf believed to be asleep yet, but ***** it finding that was very real., many thought to pray, the saint who heard his confession had derived dimensional elsewhere.

Each stood before him. they looked with your eyes ldeep blue, relighted one in your iris reddish tint. your long antennas your heads caressed her room like recognizing them. snifp raised his arms as if embracing them, but put them over his head like imitating them, so began to turn, as if he were at the bottom of the ocean. this way, began to rowing with his arms in the room. the four members looked at each other, until snifp stood in between them, restarting your memories and confession to your new species of visitors. - no doubt their gods were they who visited because they were the ones that helped him in difficult and conflicting tasks. they must be highlighted; no le imposed a religiousness, only you your matches proposed delayed stages,

Four together, sit finally, focus on one thought as he took him to snipf arm for lease gate reality. aso these blankets emit a high-pitched noise that made snipf his new travelers to dream where would be the master sea and land beside them.

Romanticism is only rain emotions between winter skies sweetened; it is the cessation of rain from storms deaf. those deaf people who never believed in sentiment. Perhaps they have died without discovering it, and so poor and eager to continue living. instead i say goodbye to my land, my things, my memories. i'm so overjoyed without missing anything because what i miss is dead.

Insert 2 - feel distant sounds thunders and lightnings - some cats stumbled after feeling loud noise.

   I was born in 1832, dressed in beautiful costumes me, but i was on saturday mornings bathe with my blankets friends, all that leave very soon because every day stuttered more, and i found it hard to beat in my talk. They moved me with all my belongings to higher school, even only place to hear the bells of the cathedral, filled me with hearing loss and mortuary pain inside me was a place that then fled, over time i graduated from journalist, without anyone in my family believed in me. they never could understand my lack of realism. some call me naive, not without reason, i must admit.

   It's curious. whatever it is that one wants in life, always have obstacles from the people closest. from them comes the pain of misunderstanding and apathy. of them come from the larger wounds heals any ointment. Until i met a fisherman near a marina rivera long in a bar, then he told me his adventures and i became the eager boy children's stories. that night made me drink and drink until you drop at the side of a fishing terminal on the deck of a great ship.

Insert 3 - sleep - my in between growth stingrays, they were flying at night over my house, and sometimes brought me messages about the new season climate. interrupted my homework prepared, and most important, including, the most important; me included among the best, to sail with them. some among their ranks, me and took me taught to fly, although i always kept my body cold, completely oblivious to provide me own will enough heat. they gave me when stuttered or epileptic seizures, they did me your riding world where no disturbance physics i was afraid. But my blankets, me covering, me had in his pilgrimages slitting sea, sea to own and only, just for me. noises in them moderated my ears oversensitive, and for the first time vi from the sea depth rain fell as planting the ocean, as vast brightening the room he shared alongside them.

Insert end -

my life was empty without a firm helm, but ... god!
   she was several years younger than me. a beautiful creature in sight and confined to good feelings. i met a rainy night. she was with hat, with umbrella. we were heading to the same place where there was no one, because the activity had been suspended. after waiting and exchanging timid and nervous words we decided that we would be together forever.

   I do not mean it was love at first sight. rather, it was like finding my soul mate. and although we knew that the road would be hard and painful, we launched into a destination built by us and our struggles.

it's beautiful outside, with the moon through the trees can they see me sitting here or your mind round inside me?
   All of me are gone, even the children we never had. they left me in the cold. she will not sit in front of my fire more, because now she is snow.
    Is dark outside, trees writhe can they wait or live without me?
   but his fingerprints are still marked, marked in the snow left in me. everything is so white that hides the traces of tears that you never saw. everything is a blanket of snow falling on the memories you used to have. But even heart aches as before, i can not help feeling that someday come back from the dead to take your hand.
  
it's warm outside; the trees are gone. my soul took another turn. he never appeared someone like her. if your fingerprints are still, and i can see them in the snow! Everything is so white that covers the trails that she was not allowed to continue. everything is nothing, that clouds the movements that made me.
   But my heart is still suffering as he did. you followed the path that never again will bring.

I am confined to my bed in a dark room. i have a window overlooking the sea from the east, and another that puts me in front of the forest. i left on my bed a wooden box with yellowed leaves are the letters we sent her and i for so many years. yet i keep them all ... no, it's not true, many were lost in the fire flash - she will walk through the park until a curtain falls separating both. - pauses then your thinking and strongly bites pencil in her mouth was.

But no matter, i have the words engraved in my memory. and that will continue.The branches of the tree, which adjoins east window of small ones are ways to my walking, like war heroes. further, on stretchers, bring my faithful subjects in about trust management mi. but to raise my head like a big diving, they come see some maimed, come without it, come without his presence, bring only pieces of his body.
    
Our whole life, a very short time we were together, and not that we would not be, but there was always something that separated us. first the family, then the distance. We were separated and had to go in your search. at that time i was studying and trips were long, tedious and very damaging to my career, by the way, my family did not look favorably upon our union, rather than being recognized by men had communed in the sky ...
  
How i detest this ancient time! it is not day nor night, and i am not a man more educated to think more than this ... i hate to see the sun when i pray to the west, but someday she will take my dreams where the stars shine, where all they talk with their hands, without anguish nor grief, where all secretly want to go where the beauty sing constantly.

[ellipsis n 1]  

Adulthood - in the municipal choir - snifp came with his briefcase wondering if had kept all their material header, then trying to put his hand to pocket inner his coat, pulls out a key, this will be falling from his hands, and could realize there was a leaf on the floor, announcing a performance coral group in the premises of the municipality.
[end ellipsis 1]

[ellipsis 2]

Children age - in the conservatory - this brings another memory your memory with air fire, a dense air, movement of people, unable to help each other. it was toward the end of his second childhood, with his mother ran near a school where she thought enroll for classes theater.  mourn strongly but his mother, asking what was wrong? she said nothing for you not to worry. small but was snifp intuited by the uncertainty of their economic resources. he hugs her and says he has talent, that will come after all. snifp for a moment lets his mother and a photo seen in someone like his father, leaving the building and walks cobblestones wetted by the ***** of a vil exploited horse, and suddenly caresses their hands caress end the cabinet of the lord of the book store. and see i was like his father, but this time had the pipe on the left hand and lenses in the right hand. then, scare away horse and scared snifp trying to crossing the street leading the news to his mother. Her, i had signed up for next season.

[end ellipsis 2]  

After his assistant will take a reactant concoction snipf felt memories of those rejuvenated, making faces on the wall of his room. some of them were very funny and some not. but suddenly crossing the fingers tightening strongly and fix your clothes. buckle his belt. to sing is arranged, to shout and satiated to see if it really true the spirit that motivated him aires to be acquired new life. gets, fell knee, runs open window. try to touch everything with his hands, then kick chair to sit down and write. for each paragraph writing was setting and take off  lenses. for every paragraph, she took a sip of boiling concoction that was with him at that time

   Many of these letters were written thought in poetry. some might object letters "form", but the content, our feelings ... they can not be judged by anyone. I can not symbolize things. for me a bottle is a bottle. i need to reach a level of abstraction, because i recognize that everything beautiful i've seen i remember; because i know that to forget, everything will fly in the wind. so i can not symbolize anything. on the other hand, i know that everything that meant something to me, i could never do completely reach your heart. i hope to be wrong.
- get your consultant with tray in his hands unite.
snipf lord, your medicine. remember that leave this excerpt stingray than recommended by your doctor. You and your advisor and the look before opening the door thinking it would the last time i'd see him, then snipf recommences his speech ._
... i consider myself a failure fledged. some of those past failures are transmuted into fertilizers for ephemeral successes, lost in the sound of the wind beneath me accommodating my feet to tie them to my chair inquisitor.  TO  BE CONTINUED
SCREENPLAY ONIRIC POEMS - MAIN CHARACTER SNIFP  THE STINGRAY - under edition
SøułSurvivør Sep 2017
"It is a dreadful thing to
Fall into the hands
Of the Living God"

Hebrews 10:31

---

"When He rolls up His sleeves
He ain't just puttin' on the Ritz...

...our God is an Awesome God!

There is thunder in His footsteps
And lightning on His fist...

... our God is an Awesome God!"

And the Lord wasn't joking when
He kicked 'em out of Eden
It wasn't for no reason
That He shed His blood
His return is very close
And so you better
Be believing that...

... our God is an Awesome God!

from "Our God is an Awesome God"
by Rich Mullins

---

Is it happenstance
Or is it fate?
Does repentance
Come too late?
Is it check
Or our CHECKMATE?

Irma is a brutal force!
How will this monster
Run her course?
Is it hell, or is it heaven?
Wreaking havoc 9/11?

On the heels of Harvey's wake
Be astonished -
The earth will
shake
How much more
Can the U.S. take?
REPENT NOW, FOR
GOODNESS SAKE!

The world reels
The heavens shudder!
The earth will flood
The people stutter!

You worship creation
"Mother Nature"
But "she" can turn
To be a *HATER!


Who MADE the
Heavens and the earth?
Doesn't GOD deserve
ALL WORTH?
God's the One who
Writes the story...

Doesn't HE deserve

ALL GLORY?


He laid His life
Divine Preemption
Creation groans
For our redemption!

Can't you see
His love for you?
He's just and jealous!
You know it's TRUE!


His heart is GRIEVING!
Yet He yearns!
His love is passionate
In holiness BURNS!


On 9/11 we'll weep & mourn
Another tragedy is born!

Will we take
Another header
Saying we will
"Come Back Better"?

Our pride is great!
It's overweening!
We'll come a cropper!
We'll be BLEEDING!

WHY IS IT WE CAN'T JUST SAY
GOD'S IN CHARGE!
HE'LL HAVE HIS WAY!


When Irma hits -
Gouges! SLASHES!

We'd best REPENT IN
SACKCLOTH & ASHES!



SøułSurvivør
(C) 9/8/2017
"Be appalled at this, you heavens,
And shudder with great horror,"
Declares the LORD, "my people have
committed two sins:
They have forsaken Me,
The spring of living water
And have dug their own cisterns,
Broken cisterns that
Cannot hold water."

Jeremiah 2:12,13

"If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and I will forgive their sins and will heal their land."

2 Chronicles 7:14

When Nineveh heard Jonah
Preach their destruction, they
Repented in SACKCLOTH and ASHES.
From the King on down to the
Lowest slave.
That's what it will take this time.
God warned us on 9/11.

THIS COULD BE JUDGEMENT DAY.

He could have MERCY on us
BUT WE MUST NOT LONGER
BE PROUD & REBELLIOUS!

IT'S TIME TO
WAKE UP & SMELL
YOUR BREAKFAST BURNING!
vermin Jan 2012
[one]

love is:
a recipe without quantities, the pages all torn out and set back at random
here you are, take it, put the pieces back together
with no frame of reference
no identifying features
each part has innumerable intricate delicate machinery
that you will break, clumsily.
because you have no idea how to use it
and if you break  it
you can neverever put it together right.
it will always be half unfinished
a line with the ending word
- minused
cut
dropped

forgotten or misused
lied to and abused
abandoned or pursued

[two]

this betrayed feeling can't begin to cover
the dismay when reeling from a bitter lover
in disarray fleeing from a sinful tether
bells gently pealing to mourn a death letter
unencumbered kneeling before a cement header
diving, graceless, screaming descent forever

praying without hope to a remorseless deity
something like asking a black hole for salvation
like looking into the mirror and seeing the Void
staring out at you with those self-loathing eyes
and knowing why you let that Beast reside

cupping in your hands the black foam that runneth over
glass teeth disintegrating in a holocaust skull
chewing up love like the last morsel of gristle
drunken tales told to bewitch the last symbol
but you're not bold enough to release the animal

so it rages inside
terrified
alive
cage-eyed
wild
the treaty for your freedom is in your peaceful kingdom
find it and flee from all the things you've become
sit down to rest your weary in the warmer season
but the fear will always find you
when the bravery has lost its reason
Xavier Apr 2016
Raging on my thunderbolt
Flying through dreamy clouds
And with drunken eyes
I scream aloud
"All you've given me is lies"
Fly close to the sun
Live this life of luxury
It's never ever forever fun
Unread love letters
You're my mind's main header
In glamorous flames
I fall to earth
Wrecking trees & I witness
My birth
Gently murdering silently
Telling in high vocals
Swiftly pass through
To your heart's face.
Keep an open mind.
John F McCullagh Dec 2011
The Polo Grounds, when first seen,
are a most magical shade of green.
Hand in hand, me and my Dad
head for our seats in the right field stands.

It’s the Cincinnati Reds in town
to play the New York Mets.
There’s a double header scheduled,
How much better could it get?

Cincinnati took the first game
by a score of three to nil.
My hot dog was delicious
Dad had a beer to swill.

The nightcap was a wild affair
The Mets won thirteen- twelve.
You could look it up, as Casey said,
if you should care to delve.

We rode the subway home that night
side by side, me and my Dad.
We reminisced about the game
Like the most knowledgeable fans..

The Q44 from Flushing took us
up Queensboro Hill,,
past Carvel and Booth Memorial,
I remember it well still.

My father turned to look at me
as five decades creased my brow.
Making us the self same age-
What he was then, so I am now.

Thirty years, about, it’s been
Since last I saw my Dad.
The dead don’t get to baseball games,
Which I think is rather sad.

He can’t enjoy a summer night
on the wrong side of the grass.
And an ice cold beer is greatly missed-
He can’t pour himself a glass..

In memory, we still can walk
With those who came before.
So I took my Dad to a baseball game-
What was I waiting for?
This is a poem about memory. The games in question took place during the 1963 season. As the Father and Son take the bus home past places that no longer exist to a home that no longer exists, the poem abruptly switches from memory to the present. the structure is strange but I hope you like it. Dad saw his last game in 1981
A planet with a layer of blue, is it really blue?
A horrid gas in-immune and unbearable to our soft and fragile lungs.
How fragile we are, us humans.

A planet so toxic to us
May be a ****** paradise to them.
The Elite.

Are they really?
Are They Elite?

Or are they simply not as stupid as the human race. . . ?

We do not foresee what our intelligence can do to those around us. What will the future be?
Will we destroy our paradise before the universe's time to do it on it's own? In it's own time?

Ha. We're a joke!

I think that back then a woman's number one priority was to be a good mother and to be a mother because now more than ever is the age in which the human race is farthest away from it's instinctual mentality. Just like your header " Go back.". Humans have built their own mental instincts . How fragile a race, yet how complex the intellect. In the future, nature won't be able to touch us. What once was the need to breed and populate became the need for knowledge and the expansion of the human brain's potential capacity. Man kind doesn't crave the need to populate. Only to satisfy their intellectual and physical properties. The human race doesn't give a **** about the human race. I just wish things were the way they were before...

But I'd be selfish to wish upon a life of strife, illness and pain. I'd be cruel to wish upon us a life of short living - a life of death dodging.
We have it awfully good, us humans. &we; don't even know it.
I love this life, I really do. I mean, when was the last time you had to fight for your food? We desire power, but also love being victims.
We love the bravado but we always know how to be timid.
Don't we all just love being weak? No masks, no muscle, just guns and white teeth.
Corporate monsters rule the world but the world only wants to be ruled. It's easier that way, it easier to just pretend to be fooled. Man loves power, but is disgusted by responsibility.  
The human race is ruled by blood lust disguised as lust after power. Must it be so?
Damaged Apr 2014
Like maybe speed.
That way I could run far away
So you aren't the one that has to find me
Gun in hand
Blood on the floor
All from this blackened world which painted her so poor
Johnny Noiπ Oct 2018
'No' means 'no'. ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| || |||||||||||| || || || You may be criminal, and I do not ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| ||| || || | |||||||||||||||||||||| ............ .. ... ... ... ... .. "............" "No," |||| | | || | |. | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |.
5 More ...               cards to save 3:09 Gabon,
The Gauls, the camp is the USA, the money in Spanish
Italy, the Italian region that draws in February 1894;
The company started from Muscat Mbeşsee in 1894
on another job. Hong Kong has a *** problem.
Board of the US government should have as its distribution
in the time of Charles the first on November 12 green "Vive!"
"If you have a lot of fish and a guest.
My mother and stressful "does well.
And the evening and morning, some ...
The simple roots. Traditional "Judge," a species of animal.
In the picture, three after a month in a basket
and female models click on the person,
and 12x10 (1000) to their CO2 Esau fell
to 19% 2922 1929 50 without fear of [L] Atlas am
17 9 179 879; The American and Canadian storage
products (525):   The creation of the modern Spanish culture.
The best player in the fight against you.
Rome was founded upon. For example, by its own
Lips: Whose mouth hath spoken it for a long time
I have been able to see. Secondly, the terrible heat -
In several cases healing the region. Work will be taken
from the chariots, and after that the students want?
This is not a problem that generates errors,
For this reason, at the end of this time,    dispensers of
Life is delicious. Love and Wisdom;
knowledge. Our freedom is the encouragement
of up to half of life, the price of articulus does not match.
about and a little mouse. In any case, I will ask you
In a meeting of experts in the city. It is not that he did not think
no item had a price in the faith. the vehicle reveals reversals in
A player's damage to the salon!              Easy to use.
It is difficult for the original love. Many cultures and cultural life.
This is eternal life, deliver it to the array. e.g.,
|"But the survival of many nations in the game reserve play
a large role in the city's Tibetan primary school".............. :)" No "|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| || |||||||||||||| "........... :)" no "|||| No one, not even the crimes
of your business? § ........... .............. .............. "......... :) :) "is not" |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| ............. .... .. .. ............. ... "............ .." "no," ||||| | |||| ||||||||||||||||||||| that ........... 5, there is nothing to offer me. ......... .. .. ...
Cicero, Nigeria. The 3:09 p.m. To execute the story is sounding
like an undergraduate m-thesis "USA CAMP, French or Spanish,
Italian style"; If another screen is unrighteousness "in the Access
Mascherata project In February, 1894, and Mbeki,
The company started working every month, 1894;
Hong Kong and six teams. Fighting off the competition in the US.
November 12 at 1, Charles cards to speak guitar:
Grendel on Live!                       "And if you have a very beautiful
Woman, I think with a lot of regret? Proof:           'Well, it seems
more morning and evening ... on the other hand;
or rather, what is beyond this is simple,       it is that which is in
antioxidants.                "And partly in another judge's cucumber
species"; There are also 3 on behalf of the suggestions of the women,
After all the years, two months, my man, we (1000) 12x10 dear boy,
& when they click on 19% 1929 922 50 2: 1 CO2 musical will find
you and finally, with the header [9-50],        New 17 17 9 9 1.9 879
Secrets laws in Canada and the United States (595);
I am writing to create a culture in Spanish,
The best player in the game to face Paul;
I wrote to Rome on his march to her from every side on every side?
Force of the wind was sharp sauce, and the second time.
Log in thermostat - set to Anxiety -
words in many ways,                          and entertainment
companies.            || One of the girls' school Definitions
wants to start running graphics of his medication:
Chapter one,  some questions
in a modern male and\|/or error
from the taste, the tip to wit, youth, however, is that the parts which is
wise and prudent. A common mode, though the driver will love you,
Comfort ye, comfort ye, for a half of life,
Comfort is not simple,           centralized
During storage time and coated with a minimum of decomposition,
the tips in our countries in the state in criminal cases,
the one who has a husband, who was very good, and is of the soldiers,
a captain, and captain of the 500: by the form of it, for, trusting to,
storage, networking, working groups of experts
from the the cities
by chariot, I pray thee, not in all the public places;
do not ridicule the sum of money I need.               There is, however,
not to all the people, having been already born in your heart
and my King, with the rage of a delivery vessel, makes me well,
just like a normal game of fun!                    Easy easy easy easy,
the easy to use the charity of very many middlebrows
raised? There are all things, add his life to the lifestyle,
this is a normal lifestyle of the shop and
an example in general;                Generally, storage, installation,
Traditionally famous                     Orthodox areas in great cities,
social groups whose division,                   and to the Tibetan leader
'No' means 'no'. ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| || |||||||||||| || || || In order for you
to be criminal, and I do not ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| ||| || || | |||||||||||||||||||||| ............ .. ... ... ... ... .. "............" "No," |||| | | || | |. | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |. 5 More ... cards to save til the 3:09 to Gabon,
CAMP USA saves money in French and Spanish,
Italy, Italian draws another region              "in February 1894;
The company started from Muscat Mbeşsee In 1894  on
another job.        Hong Kong has a *** problem.         The US
government has for the first time Charles' distribution
Board starting  November 12. Viva green? "If you have a lot
of fish and a guest. My mother was very stressful.|
"does well. And the evening and morning,
                       to some ... The simple
roots. Traditional "Judge," the voice
of an animal species. In the picture, three
After a month, the basket ladies models
Click on the man's 12x10 (1000) to their
CO2 Esau fell to 19% 2922 1929-50
Without fear of [L] Atlas a.m. in        17 9 179 879
The American and Canadian products stored (525),
The creation of the modern Spanish culture.
The best player in the fight against you.
Rome was founded upon.    At the instance of his
Their mouth has been able to see for a long time.
Secondly, terrible heat -         |     In several cases of the
Sound region, away by car and the students want?
This is not a problem that generates an error;
The cause of the end of modern man: Life is delicious.
Love and Wisdom; & knowledge.   The encouragement
of freedom of the half living, This Articulus' price does
not match. Generally the little mouse. In any case,
I will ask you for the place of meeting of experts
in the city.  It is not with all his heart that he did not now think
the money in the trust. the vehicle reveals
The player' damage to the salon!  Easy to use.
It is difficult for the original love. many Cultures
and cultural lives. And this is eternal life;     Life,
and deliver it to the array. e.g.    But the survival
of many nations in the game supports a large
role in the city;            Tibetan primal school
Dedicated to the brilliant Keira Knightley
Martin Narrod Oct 2016
Your parade makes me purple, it makes me thin as an alphabet, I don't know, I don't wanna understand. I'm an estimation, I'm over and not in great abundance. Don't defend me, I'm not the header atop your letter.

Open me, I'm like your chimney, inside your mouth I am the lips you dip your tongue through, growing with sensation. See me and seam me to threads and tow me through your ****** lines-

little piece of flesh
Just a little dance, Just a little romance
Keep me in your pants let me be your postcard
I'll float across your eyelids.

Let me know your name
You can ******* skin. You can see my seams bend, my hours grow a little tired
Lifting up your dress, I can taste your pastes, your pastel belle comes floating at me sideways.

Ours and again, you ask me, "is it a nightmare?"
You ask me, "is it a car crash?" You say, "I can feel you breathing." This is not a spell, there's nothing left, not even a little lie I can play with in my fingers, you say, "is it the moon in the stars." And I stop you from ruining the sound of words to preserve a moment. Something a silence and a dollar doesn't buy you. I ask, " is this you my love? You're an imaginary process I'm never going to be interested in prosecuting perfectly. I'm not- an extroverted invert, a spirit floating in the corner of your eyes. I'm over zealous, a zealot, full of youth, using grief to keep your eyes
Mark Toney Dec 2019
Here lies the body of Jamie McGraph
Who decided to write his own epitaph
Thinking a selfie might make it better
While taking the photo he took a header
Off the edge of a cliff into oblivion
"Came to a sticky end" the fitting idiom
12/4/2019 - Poetry form: Epitaph - Copyright © Mark Toney | Year Posted 2019
Ben Jones Feb 2013
Don John Shaughnessy
Tamer of the beast
Crasher of the party
Spoiler of the feast
Always in the gallery
Never in the dock
Don John Shaughnessy
Roller of the rock

Don John Shaughnessy
Burster of the bubble
Terror of the timid
Beginner of the trouble
And who's that conducting
Directing at the back?
Don John Shaughnessy
Leader of the pack

Don John Shaughnessy
Rouser of the mass
Thrower of the bottle-bomb
Header of the pass
Never leaves a fingerprint
Never any clue
Don John Shaughnessy
Turner of the *****

Don John Shaughnessy
Keeper of the keys
Lender of the loan shark
Breaker of the knees
Driver of the getaway
Watcher of the coast
Don John Shaughnessy
Drinker of the toast
Ray Savill Jun 2014
There! The boiler is fixed upon the wall
Radiators beneath each window
With another in the hall.
Forty five millimeter pipe
Marches away from boiler
To feed a pump beneath the floor
With warm refreshing liquid.
His look, smile, said so much more
Or was it all just imagination?

The pump beneath the floor
Will circulate liquid to bring warmth
To the radiators beneath each window
With another in the hall.
A touch upon the skin adds mystery
Or was it an accident?
All just imagination?

Forty five millimeter pipe
Reduced to fifteen
That feeds each radiator beneath windows
With another in the hall
With warm luscious liquid.
Words sound a strange suspicious melody
Which fill imagination with mystery.
  
A fifteen millimeter tube rises in the loft
***** and true
***** to connect
The header tank
Away erected in the loft
Gentle stroke upon an upper leg
A smile that say's so much more
Eyes that enchant to speak a mystery.

Tees Elbows with connectors
Join together lengths of copper tube
Beneath the floor all out of sight
Will all connect to the boiler on the wall
With radiators beneath each window
And one in the hall.
Skin touched by lips that smiled creativity
To circulate a warm luscious, liquid mystery.

— The End —