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| For His Daughter©
Posted: 12/31/2007 6:19:43 PM | And in a cold, dark room
She sits within her gloom
As her cheeks provide a pathway for her tears.
Within the blackened mist
All her memories still exist
And years blur past in recollected smears
Years of passion and desire
That superficially lit her fire
Are a canister filled with collected fears
Abandoned morals and values too
Responsibilities that she blew
Now mock her with their hollow cheers
There’s no one left who cares
She’s met with empty stares
This is her life for all her future years. | |
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| Let’s Change Fate©
Posted: 2/15/2008 4:57:25 AM | He sits by the window, bathed in it’s light
But within his mind it’s … black as night
Hate: His companion. Depression: His mate
Silently, quietly he plans out his fate
His classmates: All bullies. His Parents don’t care.
And all around him there’s no one aware.
Teachers: Too busy. Counselors: Aloof
All their demeanors are uncaring proof
Into himself he now has withdrawn
He knows soon his miseries all will be gone
Up from his chair, and with firm resolve
He turns t’wards the hallway – his problems to solve
A gun in his coat, and a shotgun concealed
His deadly intentions are now revealed
And my children, there in that school
Had they to this boy been a bully or cruel?
Had I taught them to be kind and a friend
To everyone - even those who offend?
Will they fall victim to hatred and fear,
From the boy with the guns drawing so near?
All our children, yours … and mine too
Can fall victim to Fate’s turn of the screw
Unless we teach all of fairness and right
Not of wealth, or the vainness of might
Be not a bully of ridicule voice
Be understanding and make the right choice
For when halls are walked by a boy filled with hate
For our children, it may be too late. | |
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| Pain ... Forever©
Posted: 2/17/2008 7:28:05 PM | All the "word" crap was over, and when they’d asked me if I had any “last words”, I’d given them a belly full of what I thought about them, the society and the world in general, and I was feeling pretty good about what I’d said.
Then they commenced to set me down.
The seat is much more uncomfortable than I had imagined. And cold through my prison pants.. For some reason I had thought it would be warmer. I shifted a bit as I set down, trying to find a more comfortable position, but there wasn’t one. I guess this chair isn’t for comfort anyway.
Almost immediately a guard kneels in front of me, and begins strapping my legs in place. Simultaneously, another guard starts strapping my right arm to the arm of the chair. The time crawls by, and I think to myself I wish they’d hurry up.
The guard that had been working on my leg straps, stood up, and moved around to my left and began strapping that arm to the chair as well. I think my arms straps are too tight, but say nothing as the guards continue there work about me.
Some guy in a cheap gray suit comes over from somewhere, and checks the strap-in job the guards did, but says nothing.
I suddenly get the sensation of a wetness on the top of my head, then realize it’s the sponge.
Some one behind me says: “Lift your head up”, and I comply.
A very cold metal cap is placed on my head, and under my chin a very rough, leather smelling strap is hitched in place, and someone whose face I can’t see, asks if the chin strap is too, tight.
I smirk at the remark, and say: “What difference does it make?” but my comment garners no response. They were all trying to be so polite and considerate. What bullshit. I wondered where all that “politeness” was during my trial and my many incarcerations!
Out of the corner of my eye, I get a glimpse of the cheap suit guy, but he walks behind me and disappears from my field of vision. Then I feel someone fiddling with the metal cap on my head, and figure it’s probably the same dude.
Then, from above, a rubber-ball gag appears, and drops down over my face. The guard tells me to open my mouth, and I tell him to go **** himself. I ain’t going to open my mouth, and I ain’t going to have that gag inserted. I had already told them I didn’t want that damned black hood over my head, so at least they didn’t try pulling that on me.
There is some discussion between a couple of dudes behind me about the gag which lasts a couple of minutes or so, and then someone speaks into a microphone, because I can hear the electronic sounds his words make: “The prisoner has elected to dispense with the oral restraint”.
Shit, I say to myself. Oral restraint, what crap … they have these stupid ass names for everything. It’s just a damned gag. Why don’t they just call it a gag!
There was a response from someone else, to the dudes comment about the gag, but I didn’t catch it.
A guard appeared at my feet again, this time with a long insulated black cable, and began to fumble around near my ankles. At the same time someone was again screwing around with that cap on my head.
The guard at my ankles finished, and the cheap suit dude comes – again – and checks my ankles, then, when he was satisfied, he walks around behind me and fiddles with my metal cap.
There was more muffled discussions behind me, but I couldn’t recognize the voices.
Then, I hear the shuffling of feet, followed by the closing latch of the door.
Of course I just sit here … waiting.
While I’m waiting I start wondering what my ol’ lady is doin’ about now, the ****. It’s Friday night, so she was probably down at …
The jolt hits me like a freight train!
In one single instant:
Raw seething pain; Hot, immediate and all encompassing; All my teeth shatter and my jaw bone breaks as I bite down from my jaw muscles going rigid with the force of a hydraulic steel press; I feel my eyes shoot out of their sockets; my spine snaps at my pelvic bone, as the rest of the muscles in my body violently contract from the intense high voltage; Blood shoots from my nose, as my facial muscles viciously turn into hard, hot steel bands; The hair in my nostrils and on my head vaporizes and smolders; The searing hot pain of the current shoots through me like a head-on car wreck; All nerve endings are white-hot and melting; I involuntarily urinate – HARD; My bowels erupt; I scream through fried vocal chords …
I bolted upright in my bed, sweat pouring off my face. My heart was racing, thumping so hard I thought it might come right through my chest.
Quickly I looked about me, but I could make out nothing in the darkened room. Slowly, my eyes became accustomed to the small amount of light, and I looked down at myself.
What was that on my wrist?
It was a dark band of … something. I brought my arm closer to my face and as I did I was stricken by a foul smell, reminiscent of burnt meat. Ignoring the odor, I examined my arm.
The band was about two inches wide with little white spots in a row that seemed to completely encompass my wrist. I touched it with my other hand, and the flesh fell away from the band mark.
Then … I understood: My God! It wasn’t a dream!! OH NO …!!!!!! I wasn’t in bed, I was in the process of being transferred … to … Hell.
Then came the eternal blackness in which I would carry my last instant of intense, horrid pain, living it constantly over and over … forever. | |
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| Let’s Change Fate©
Posted: 2/22/2008 5:13:47 PM | PosterChild4Ugly
I have tried to message you but had no luck.
Do you have any of your poetry published. I would like to buy the book if it exists.
Thanks for your time
Jeeps | |
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| Jeeps-R-Fun
Posted: 2/22/2008 7:43:44 PM | It's ironic you should ask, "Jeeps", because just this past week I entered into negotiations for publication of my first book of poetry ... I have NO idea how long that process will take, I'm assuming several weeks - then there's all the re-writes, edits, etc. ect. But ... I'll certainly let you know when that puppy hits the books stores! Thank you for asking ... I'm flattered.
I haven't checked my POF mail in quite a while ... if I missed your email, my apologies, If you write again, I'll be sure to email ya' back ... I promise.
Do you write ...? PC4U | |
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| For His Daughter©
Posted: 2/22/2008 10:02:46 PM | i am a cherry in your mouth
but your mouth
does not taste
my sweetness
it only probes
for the broken tooth -
for the pain it misses | |
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| Jeeps-R-Fun
Posted: 2/23/2008 4:55:37 AM | Yes I wrote PC4U. I think one of your filters is blocking me. I dont know which one. It 's kind of odd.
I wish you well on your book. I will be first inline to purchase it.
Thank for your time and effort
Jeeps | |
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| For His Daughter©
Posted: 2/23/2008 5:38:59 AM | | Silverswan ... very insightful. A good write. You are welcome here anytime. PC4U | |
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| Makes Sense©
Posted: 2/23/2008 6:15:05 AM | Spring, (‘tween alternates of rain and sun),
Explodes with color everywhere, but not to be outdone
Summer rides along behind pushing Spring to maturity
And prepares the way for Fall, when we can stop and see
Indian Summer there, and it’s autumn color flows
T’ward the years’ ending months, and all of Winter’s woes.
And next year when these seasons all repeat
As new life appears, others meet delete
In pushing of the winds, and shifting of the sands
Posterity is handed off to the next new pair of hands
And you and I will be there, one year sometime hence
And pass the record of our lives – it’s why it all makes sense. | |
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| Insatiable Greed©
Posted: 3/1/2008 3:28:17 PM | Until the end of time
From whence ever it began
Greed will be: The shameful scourge of man
For all those who sought it
And those who seek it still
In a nation’s fall … its blood will surely spill
Those who embrace avarice
Who bed insatiable greed
Eternal misery … is that which they shall breed | |
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| Insatiable Greed©
Posted: 3/1/2008 4:25:13 PM | tyrant's shadows
rupturing love
casting long blows
with corpse words
cast in lime
leading to oblivion
as final as the dark | |
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| Insatiable Greed©
Posted: 3/1/2008 4:54:56 PM | | Silverswan ... a VERY good write! thank you for posting ... come back anytime! PC4U | |
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| Insatiable Greed©
Posted: 3/1/2008 5:42:52 PM | One’s will is not shared, it’s imposed
Causing another will to be foreclosed
- And within such foreclosure
- There is our exposure
And the tyrant proceeds … unopposed | |
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| Shared©
Posted: 3/10/2008 7:50:14 PM | I am not your knight, I am not your savior
I am not your judge, I am not your slaver
Nor do I own you, nor you own me
But our world is shared … for all eternity | |
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| You, I and Life
Posted: 3/10/2008 8:04:44 PM | The Mind,Indeed The Mind
Beautiful,brazen so gentle raging thoughts
Mind itself onto each vision explored into days
Sail away into dreams
The Mind indeed,The Mind
Set in waves crashing against shores
Surfing lifes ideal within moments cast in sands
Footsteps explored before one is lost
Wave scattered memories bring smiles
Untill the edge be near
A smile
The Minds Eye reflection...
Indeed The Mind
Reflects | |
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| Perchance©
Posted: 3/10/2008 9:13:58 PM | Oh my. The day we met
Never, ever will I forget
Our meeting …quite by chance
An unplanned happenstance
On that day my heart was shorn
You … The Rose, I … The Thorn
There I stood within a trance
Mesmerized by your glance
Then came courtship, you and I
Oh, so quickly did time fly
Lost in love of our romance
My heart continued its’ expanse
Marriage - our joyful day
Then we two, sailed away
The years began their advance
And all held circumstance
Your illness – quite a blow
I realized I loved you so
Our life together – had been a dance!
Thank God we met … just … perchance. | |
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| It Goes On ...
Posted: 3/13/2008 5:57:06 PM | It goes on …
I said it didn’t hurt … but I lied. What else can one say when future plans are cast aside? When the someone with whom you wanted to share your soul, loves that which is voided of competition. I knew the name of her new love and I grew to hate it. Lives were wrecked – hers and mine – and joy can never come again. She found that’s the way it is when love is named Cocaine.
But Life goes on. The sun rises. The moon sets. The oceans move. The rains come and go and still we breathe even though sometimes we wonder why. There is no desperation save that which we create ourselves, for no matter what else occurs Life survives.
The tides ebb. The winds blow. Seeds sprout to blossom. Spring gives way to summer, and all things mature – even we.
I miss her, but then, only speculation provides what our life together would have been. | |
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| The Queen©
Posted: 3/14/2008 1:31:43 PM | His face was wrinkled leather
Scarred by Father Time
Furrowed deep by etchings
From widely varied clime
His hands were calloused hard
Evidence of work that strained
But it was his eyes that showed
A soul so deeply stained.
No one knew his origin
No one asked him where
He might have been before
He’d ended up … right there.
His stance? Over six foot ten;
With strength of many men
His chest? a redwood tree
His temper ran too violently
Anvil fists could kill or maim
Breakin’ railroad ties was just a game.
Had breath like kerosene
His name was: Nasty Mean
Then one day, the story goes, a female came to town
Seems no one had seen her there-abouts around
She weren’t that pretty, fact some say: it was Homely She
But Nasty Mean he liked ‘er – ‘n that’s how it was to be
Nasty come up to that gal, ‘n said: “Hey, I’d like a kiss”
Guess it was his words to her, that got her so damned pissed
She whirled around quick as lightenin’ an’ smacked Ol’ Nasty’s face
The air went deathly quiet … not a sound within the place.
Faster than a freight train, she quickly squatted down
And with a leg extended, she spun herself around
Nasty took a swing that whistled through the air
‘Cause that Homely She, wasn’t standin’ there
Her leg caught Nasty Mean just behind his knee
Then he hit the ground like the fallin’ of a tree
The ground shook like thunder - dust was ever’where
Nasty bellowed out - his hatred raw and bare.
Nasty began to rise - scramblin’ to his feet
Homely She moved in quick, and didn’t miss a beat
Her leg shot out – it was nothin’ but a blur
Nasty swung two times but both times missin’ her
Her kick caught Nasty on the right side of his head
When he fell so hard, we all thought he was dead
But Homely She wasn’t finished with Ol’ Nasty Mean
What she did next, put an end to what we’d seen
She bent down, and spread Nasty’s legs apart
Then delivered a mighty kick to Nasty’s private parts
Involuntary was Nasty’s passed-out groan
Homely She had provided pain that went down to the bone.
After pain she did impart, Homely She just walked away
Thinkin’ things were over, but … there’s more we have to say:
No one could believe it … Nasty Mean had met his match
And after that one moment, to her he was attached
If she was to go huntin’, well Nasty’d be right there
I’m sure she got tired of it … but he followed ever’where.
He even brought her flowers, what was that gal to do?
She couldn’t shake Nasty Mean, she was in an awful stew.
Then Nasty Mean asked her, for her hand to wed
Guess that did the trick, ‘cuz nothin’ more was said.
After that Ol’ Nasty Mean changed his devil ways
He don’t go out fightin’ or settin’ barns ablaze
Got themselves married, by the preacher from Wolverine
And now her name is: The Queen of Nasty Mean. | |
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| The Queen©
Posted: 3/14/2008 1:53:32 PM | The queen of nasty mean
Got suckered for esteem
So rosey
...was the dream
She believed the whole damn team
Of lies from nasty mean
--But when the truth appeared
One night when in Algier
Her vehement side did rear
Awoken by the sight
Of nasty did ignite
A spark of ill re lite
She twirled around with flare
And tossed her derriere
Upon a horse and plunged
A dagger down and held
Her victor flag of peace
A mighty many year
Did flourish under rule
And reign referred to now
in reference to the duel
"Queen 0f Nasty was no fool
--harkening a Historic Cool
--Era of intuitive tool
--resourced in natural Pool "
| |
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| The Queen©
Posted: 3/14/2008 3:19:08 PM | The queen of sheba
was renowned for braiding
her arm pit hair
which momentarily stopped the
mongul hordes in their tracks.
She learned the trick from
an egyptian exile who
bottled the wind of her farts
to cure diseases
that attack badly constructed
sock monkeys.
yes.
i did say sock monkeys
for time immemorial
there have been sock monkeys.
you didn't know that did you? | |
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| The Queen©
Posted: 3/14/2008 9:44:17 PM | bottled wind of sock monkeys
distilled in fragrant fig
coersed the multiple seedlings
to make paste of hasty swig
now fig paste and monkey flatulence
they carry on cavorting
a collaborate wind contorting
in a bin..., there
done that jig | |
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| My Life’s Ship©
Posted: 3/22/2008 10:28:42 AM | My mind was loosed from its’ moorings
And demanded to float free
My thoughts were then assimilated
By a theory I could not see
Controlled, then would I follow
Thoughtless and expressionless be
For that is the way of religions
The dictate of their deity.
No longer permitted to question
Myths or miracles read
Blindly was I to follow
All that the deity said.
So it had been with my parents
And with my grandparents, too
Just accepting words written down
By earthmen that they never knew.
Authority never questioned,
Unchallenged in total control
Is not a world to live in
While I am taking Life’s stroll
Religion is but a theory
Conjured by shaman of old
To explain phenomenon
When no explanations unfold
I believe there is a Power
A mere mortal can’t understand
Maybe it’s too immense,
Or small as a grain of sand
I’ll never see that Power
Nor will any of you
But I’ll no longer fret about
What in the next world to do
Around me the world is in turmoil
Too many things that are vexed
Fix the things in this world
Before we consider the Next.
So, for me, I’ll take my mind back
Out of religions grip
And once again I’ll be
The master of my life’s ship. | |
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| My Life’s Ship©
Posted: 3/23/2008 7:54:51 AM | Been free
Been abused
so where does this leave me?
Sunshine eyes that are lonesome
...yet NO ONE owns my time now
without me uttering
......yessssssssssssssss
and the first word I learned as a babe
was
.......nooooooooooooooooooo | |
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| Another Ride
Posted: 3/23/2008 7:30:07 PM | “It’s my life! I’ll do what I want with it!”
I’ve heard that said time and again, but actually our lives are only rented, not owned.
If everything we see, do and know in life, is cyclical, then why not Life itself? If the moisture in the air turns to vapor, and condenses as clouds, and falls as rain to again become a vapor and continue the endless process all over again … why can’t a similar process be applied to the essence of Life?
My theory:
Somewhere there are endless lines of Lives. The roller-coasters of Life stop, lets off former passengers, and re-fills with new ones, then takes off again. The chain is endless and unceasing. When you get off one of Life’s roller coasters, you immediately go to the back of the line, pickup your new ticket, and wait to board again. It may be this year, or next century, or in another millennium all together, just depends on how long the “line” has become. Oh, and another thing, there’s no guarantee what universe or country you’ll end up in, or what parents, or what color you’ll be, or what religion (if any) to which you’ll adhere. It’s the Grand Daddy of all lotteries.
So, you never “own” the ride, or the experiences on it. You just “rent” the ride, and take your chances.
Geez … you may have already been on this roller coaster a million times before!
Okay … hold on … Here we go! | |
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| Heart Wrenching Decisions©
Posted: 3/31/2008 11:09:22 AM | He was an older, retired man, living on nothing more than a very small Social Security fixed income, and was at the brink of becoming “aged”, and he had health problems … potentially serious ones.
He was also an American Veteran, (from the Vietnam Era, as the Veterans’ Administration terms that particular part of American history). As a veteran he was entitled to Veterans Administration benefits, and one of those was medical, (but not dental or eyeglass), coverage. This coverage wasn’t “free”, but it was provided at a substantially reduced price, with a “co-pay” arrangement between the veteran and the Veterans’ Administration.
The old man heard from one of the VA doctors that a malady the old man was experiencing could have fatal results, if an expensive operation were not performed. Such an operation would include a “hefty co-pay” assessment that would seriously impact his meager income.
Upon hearing the news the old man replied:
“Then, I’ll just have to die. I’m on a fixed income, Doc. That limited income provides me but few things, but few as they are, I enjoy them immensely. Were I to have the operation you mention, I would enlist a debt that would all but destroy the levels of enjoyment I am now able to experience. So, if I am faced with a decision of a longer life without the benefits of my current life style, or … a shorter life with the pleasures I now enjoy … I’d have to make my decision for the latter. I just can’t see living longer just so I can pay a creditor, when I could enjoy what time I otherwise have in the company of my remaining friends without additional indebtedness. Quality of life means more to me that it’s length.”
So, he didn’t have the operation. The old man enjoyed the three years he had left, and, at the time of his death was smiling, and, I might ad: debt free.
It is a tragedy of our age that people are forced to make such horrific decisions. | |
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