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Narrative Adventure Poems | Narrative Poems About Adventure

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Details | Narrative | |

A Mouse Family's Christmas

It's Christmas Eve and through the house 
there creeps a curious little mouse.
He climbs into the big arm chair 
and finds the cookies waiting there .
He only takes the smallest bite.
Santa will find his treat tonight.

He gazes with wonder at the tree
and the bright wrapped gifts left there to be
a mystery tale to tell his spouse,
when he gets home, this curious mouse.
What an adventure it has been,
he has drunk of some spilled gin
that had been left upon the table.
His wife will think it is a fable
he has concocted to amuse  her.
She is homebound, we must excuse her.

He once came home all out of breath
to say he had been scared to death
by a huge rat with fluffy tail.
She noticed he was very pale.
"While I was nibbling off some cheese
to bring to you, my love, to please,
he almost had me in his paws.
I'm sure he wasn't Santa Claus".
But this night is so very quiet.
He spies some fruitcake, has to try it.
It reminds him of that sip of gin
and wonders if his head will spin.
He hears a noise, runs for his life,
carrying fruitcake for his wife.

Christmas morning, spread before their eyes
for the baby mice, a grand surprise.
Their mama had fixed a Christmas feast
from food their dad had saved from beast.
A bit of butter, a glob of jam
and a fairly good-sized piece of ham.
Bread crumbs saved from other forays.
They had enough to eat for days.
Those little mice would never waste it.
If they didn't like it, they'd still taste it.
This food their mama set before them,
their dad risked his life to get it for them.


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Light On the Devil's Chord -Day 1

And the music began,
And with power so strong, I nearly fell back from the force
Snarling, smiling, demons held me upright,
As the Precarious Prince began,

“Dare you in silence come to me, Daughter of Eve,
To challenge my wisdom with your lust to sing,
A child of God—you provoke His flea,
A monster in the dark—a sight to see!

In meditative silence, I was ever blooming,
The passion for power in my mind consuming,
In silence, my brilliance berated all other
My beauty, shocking, my wings of color

Etched in golden array, 
Silence was my everything,
A bud so tight, so light, so moist,
In heaven bright—its beam rejoiced!

And now, as knowledge, as power do burst,
I sit in silence, though in the worst
A quiet so perturbed your stomach curbs,
I long in luster for demons to disturb

Silence, once a subordinate to my wit,
Had found its way into this grimy pit,
Where now your God has given me,
A work of sloppy treachery…

Had I been He, and He been me,
I would throw His heart into the sea,
And watch the eels suck each artery
And listen to his lullabies for a century,
To feel his spirit sweat in the flames of my power,
I would shred his head on the highest tower,
Give him something to really Bab-bel,
Make him wish Eve had crushed that apple” 

He smiled at me with teeth protruding, 
Head craning,
Keenly waiting for my reply
My throat was insanely dry, and my heart racing
I had expected more, yet expected less…
And now all my wits were a wretched mess

Yet still Death severed those deep bass chords..
I began as a child would, with a doubtful sigh,
I wondered yet again what kind of trouble I was coming by
And inspired by The Reaper’s little push, I began

“In my days in your presence, dear one
Silence shall not roam too close,
I do not sing to disdain you,
Rather to know you, 
I do not grow quiet,
To decompose you…”

I stopped for a moment, 
To see him staring rather attentively,
As if he were expecting a miracle
His almost angelic expression changed as quick as it came…

“Go on…” He demanded. “Sing me what your God would have sang…”

“You speak of silence, in the fogs of doom,
In your pit you dwell, and with a child you make room,
I have ached long in the vision of your cries,
Watching the happy children, and the relieving sighs,
I imagined you just as I see you today,
A beautiful sufferer, with wit, bite, and sway
Crushing courage in your wake,
I implore you—you quake
Moments like these I will never forget,
To win, to lose, to KNOW I wait yet!
What is it with man and his thirst for the truth,
Leading him to fall, to intercede his youth,
And as I do now, wrong or right,
By God and his angels has found delight!
Allowed me with confidence to face you Prince,
A sauntering being of ire and impertinence
I see where your attention bleeds,
I see your mind and I see your needs
Such darkness must now allow some light,
By accepting my challenge—a bravery so bright
Do I mean to admire you, accept you, despise you
Am I hear to judge you, taunt you, transpire you
You and you alone I come for, oh Prince
To show you I care, to break the silence
To share with you the precious gifts of song,
To love, to sing, and in turn…belong…”

The demons chimed with laughter dark
As the Prince sat close beside me
He stood very slow, towering over me,
And took me by the arm

“Charming voice, darling,
You sing quite well,
Shall we sing for as long as you say?
Will you not be missed?”

He pointed above me, and stared at me deeply
There was warning written all over him
A threatening, distant eye,
The other full of desire

“I am missed by you, though I stand before you,
This I say, Prince
I shall stay with you 40 days and 40 nights, 
And then I shall leave you, in the breaking dawn of day…”

His grip tightened upon me,
“I have you, child, woman…light…
For 40 Days and 40 nights… 
Before then, let us make history of song
Yes, my dear... let us both belong…”

The demons gasped,
And Death stood still…steadily strumming a pulse of daring life

----Thank you once again, Justin Bordner, for the title to this work. 
This may be confusing if you have not yet read the other parts to the poem.  If you are interested, they are called Light On the Devil’s Chord – Part 1, Part 2 Part 3 as well as The ChallengeThanks for reading friends! ~Laura

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Granny Panty Annie, the Tranny

Lemme tell ya' about a
*ding-bat skit-zo 
bee-hotch* tranny
named Annie...

I met her one night 
under disco lights 
up at Candies

She was 
starin' at me
grittin' her teeth
aimin' ta' see 
if I wanted a piece
of he 
of she 
by way of flashin' granny panties

She was
shootin' pool
actin' a fool
so I 
took a shot
and one tiny glance 
but got caught

So I
lit up a smoke
and tried to play it off cool
but it was too late
she had pulled up a stool

She slurred,
"Hey young felluh, where ya' been all my life!"

I replied, 
"Sorry to burst yir' bubble, but I got a wife!"

"That don't matter kid, what she don't know won't hurt the girl" 
as she fisted my collar and yelled, "I'LL ROCK YIR' WORLD! Annie the Tranny is what they call me. Bet you been wanted ta' bone me since you first saw me!"

Fear and frustration danced on my face
I begged the bouncer to 
"Get this he/she outta the place!"

My pleas were to no avail, 
and that sea donkey lurked hot on my trail
flailin' it's arms and grindin' bar stools with it's tail

Speakin' of tails...
a shiny blue wale tail crept up her back
Her jeans were mean, but couldn't hold her underwear's elastic slack
but at least it beat feastin' eyes upon her crack
then she... 
wrapped her grimy hands around my neck and asked, 
"You n' me, boy, what the heck!?!"

I screamed,
"Look here lady, you seem real nice for a tranny;
ya' see...
ya' need 
to hit the bricks,
and yir' Granny Panties!"

At that point the joint started to really heat up
people were glarin' like they really wanted me beat up
I can't recall how the hell I got out of there 
alive and free
it was like a big manly freight train
headin' dead at me

I'm pretty sure I owe the good Lord a big favor
that beast was the devil
and Jesus was my Savior!

It's a night I thought would never end... 
the night at Candies Bar n' Grill
Granny Panty Annie got a thrill 
tryin' to make me her sexy friend!!!

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Pride of the Motherland

Riding an elephant
Down the narrow trail looking triumphant
Scanning the golden landscape
Like Hannibal with enemies in flight
Sight from a lofty height
King of the jungle moving
With lioness by his side

Climbing Mount Kilimanjaro
Guides by my side with packs on their backs
Some paths steep with rocks
Boots slipping below our tired feet
Beautiful birds in unison flight
Moving with terrestrial light
Stunning sunlight summit on the peak

Praying in an Ethiopian Church
Preserved in rocks built by humans’ hands 
Never touched by conquest plans
Protected from the invaders’ footsteps
Queen of Sheba and Solomon’s nest
Touched by Arch of the Covenant
Mary, Joseph, and Jesus once slept

Eating yam, sipping palm wine, and tasting milk
Freshly squeezed by experienced hands
Taste of life in the mosaic grassland
Sustaining and soul refreshing
Cradle of humankind adorning
Invaded for its gold, riches, and human capacity
Birth of life on earth with tenacity

Respecting its living and arduous journey
Essence of life once was and is again to come
Riding a camel across the hot Sahara sand
Once wet now dried, exported gold from Mali…
Treasures from the hearts of once African empires
That which was, is, and shall forever be
Africa the birthing Motherland
We still love and respect thee!


Seventh Place Winner
"African's Pride" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Adeleke Adeite
June 30, 2010


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Tea Leaves On The Bosphorus

Tea Leaves On The Bosphorus

Seated at a table by the stirring water,
My eyes absorb the shore of Asia.
Minerets and aged worn stone
Stand haphazardly along the banks.
Istanbul is a lady with secrets
She'll lure you with her unrevealed virgin beauty,
Then seduce you with her ancient lovers.

Grilled sardines filled my charger
Fish pulled from the strait just minutes before,
Lay garnished with parsley and mint .
Red pickled turnips and warm flat bread
Are the implements that help feed me 
And scoop up the humus,
Turkish nourishment for my soul.

The empty plates are cleared by a handsome waiter
With dubious intentions I feared,
But I was flattered none the less.
A bowl of yogurt was placed before me,
And my admirer arrived with a comb of honey.
He held it high above the creamy cloud and let the heavy ochre
languidly pour atop the milky whiteness of delight.
After his seduction,he left me alone to my pleasure
As I lapped at the sweet and sour heavenly temptation,
that parted my lips and elevated my being.

As I recovered from my rapture, two eyes caught mine.
The heathen that destroyed my diet approached the table uninvited.
He pulled up a chair and sat down across from me.
In his hands, a cup.
He offered to tell me my future.
White, small, as fragile as an eggshell with the top lopped off.
Within was a dark tea with floating leaves.
In a chivalrous attempt at English conversation,
He handed me the libation and the offer to read the remains.

I, alone in a man's world, unmarried, and of a certain age,
Did not need encouragement and I accepted his offer.
I drained the tea in one gulp and returned it to his hands.
He placed the cup in one palm , then turned it upside down,
Allowing the remaining fluid to drip out around the cup and onto the table.
Once the cup was upright again he studied the leaves, then he spoke.

His voice was soft, at times , unintelligible
His reading was honest, and truthful, and painful.
His prophecy, amusing, and entertaining
His vision and it's accuracy were astounding.

Fifteen years later, the leaves delivered on their promise.
Long fluid lines inside the cup foretold of a marriage,
To a man who  would cross a sea to find me.
Two shorter drippings were the children that now delight me.
The  tea ring that he was able to complete around the cup ,
Was the warmth of a love that would soon envelop me.

Tea, anyone?

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New Road

In a new road,
Rain will fall,
Wind may blow,
Swifting our woe.

The road forever on and on,
Many paths to choose,
Many paths to take,
Home behind,
World ahead...

Through the shadows,
Through the night,
Clouds going by,
There we will lie,
Very deep,
Seeing shivered land,
Seeing the dead seas...

Through the edge,
Miles to go,
Singing by,
Darkness rising,
Vanishing light,
Hollow flourishing,
Going by,
World ahead,
Home behind...

Rain may fall,
Through the nightfall,
Through the twilight,
Through the dusk,
Through the dawn,
Beyond mountains,
Beyond stones,
Standing strong,
Wandering lost,
World ahead,
Home behing,
Paths on and on,
'Till the road comes along...

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The Devil's Tide

I looked up at a silver moon 
Peering through a cloud of misty gloom 
As we sailed across the Atlantic Sea 
That fateful night in June 
And as I stood upon the bow 
A furrow crossed my troubled brow 
When I saw a dying star fall from the sky 
As the wind out of the north 
Began to cry 
'Twas then with fearful heart 
I came at last to realize 
That we were sailing 
On a wave of ill-tidings 
Known as 'The Devil's Tide' 
For no omen of the sea 
Brought more fear than thee 
A fallen star -  a silver moon 
Together in the month of June 
If legend true would surely bring us doom 
So with no trace of land in sight 
We sailed onward through the night
I -  the Captain 'Louie Lou' 
With my faithful crew 
Aboard the 3 mast schooner 'Angel - of the Blue' 
On canvas wings we flew 
Upon the wailing wind that blew 
Then suddenly a hush of malaise 
Crushed the summer night
Filling all the crew with dreadful fright 
As all the stars in heaven lost their light 
And the silver moon dipped completely out of sight 
Leaving us to drift without guidance 
To our unknown plight 
An eerie sound began to roll out of the west 
Growing louder and louder as we held our breath 
Until it was upon us and the ship began rise 
As we looked in horror into the Devil's eye 
As the Angel of the Blue began to fly 
Up the Devil's breast she climbed 20 fathoms high 
One by one the Angel's wings were torn away 
As she fought to save us from the Devil's rage 
Screams of horror falling from her timber sides 
As the crew fell into the Devil's tide 
And I -  tethered to the helm -  watched them die 
As we climbed even higher into the Devil's eye 
And as the Angel's body creaked and cracked
We finally scaled the crest and rode upon the Devil's back
Just before I fainted and my world went black 
I woke up in the morning high on a mountain side 
Never knowing just how I had survived 
knowing only that my Angel and my crew had died 
Many years have come and gone since then 
And I am forever haunted by each and every one of them 
My faithful crew and my mighty 'Angel of the Blue' 
I see their faces in my dreams 
As I awaken to their screams 
Wishing, too -  that I had died 
But someone had to live 
To tell the tale of the 'Devil's Tide'.


Author:  Elaine George
Entry for contest:  Legends
Awarded:  First Place

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The road to a Championship

    Early one morning a group of rookie's and veteran's ballplayers emerge onto the prac-
tice field destine to began an grueling season of hardwork and a dedication to an common-
goal of Superiority.  They come out of the locker room after the coach has given assign-
ment's and now everyone minds are on one accord, one agenda and together they all say to
themselve's. "The road to a Championship began when the priority to be the best", "is know
from one and all roads to success is gear towards teamwork and passionate loyalty to suc-
ceed at any means there is".  Loyalty to push on through the inclimate weather, hardwork off
the field as well on the field is approachable only when a championship atmosphere surrounds
itself with ballplayer's and not attitude's disrespectful to the cause of the challenge's to be-
come the best at what you do, and do the best at what not to do.  Teamwork is a do-able part
of the puzzle, but there's more to it then that.  There is hunger, and then all the pieces falls
together when that hunger is fed an astronomical desire that fill-up the body and your minds
with offensive and defensive individual's that love's victory and enjoy's a desire to not finish
the race in last place.  So out emerge's a champion in his relationship to his fellow ballplayers
and to his family as that of maturity and that of unlimited resources of the uncoachable en-
tangable fortitude that seperate the advantage's over the disadvantages that make his or her
teammate's reach the level of sportsmenship unseen and redeem as the fans come to see a
player that value's himself and value the diffucult task of Sunday to Sunday ability to be not
only a scholar athelete but also The road of a Champion is what make's him love to compete:

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Mongrels of Mischief: An Introduction into Mischief Pt 1

It was somewhere in Cambridge, when the amalgam of substances 
began to cloud our judgment. 
The changes were between vague and blatantly obvious, but 
we were masters at this terrifying craft. 
A small dose of opiates added with  
at least two beers causes a distorted reality. 
Nothing too off the wall except for the truth in knowing 
you can’t fly among the stars above the mortals. 
Four misguided miscreants let loose upon the England populous. 
God help poor Britannia! 

Usually at the helm of this godforsaken voyage, was Tony. 
His plans were often of ridiculous proportions 
many which either involved an attractive woman or 
a ruckus full of dangerous consequences.  
 A vulgar yet honest vagrant.
Dante was a force to be reckon with. 
Not only did he talk a big game, but he also delivered. 
He was a Ciroc and Patron connoisseur with a
knowledge of the appropriate attire for any occasion.
A savant of the good life. 
Rico was small but dangerous. 
A mellow individual with words cool enough 
to give the devil a cold shoulder. 
The cool head amidst our savage expeditions 
except when the spirits possessed him 
causing a unique transformation. 
A human wrecking ball of loose inhibitions. 
Finally, there was me. 
A laid back but slightly eccentric hedonist. 
Forever seeking for any instant gratification and 
always serving a dish of offbeat worldly wisdom to the masses.
An aimless joker who does what he please. 

The streets of Cambridge are gruesome at night. 
All types of freaks, monsters and nutcases 
under the guise of party addicts fiending for the next fix. 
We were just like these misfits
 only further down the rabbit hole.  
What seemed like a stroll into the seedy nightlife 
soon became a submersion into another dimension. 

Our mannerisms became over exaggerated. 
The pleasant embrace of euphoria was as if
the good Lord touched the depths of our souls. 
Warmth, peace and relaxation….
Tranquility of mind, body and spirit… 
A transcendence into Nirvana… 
Thanks to the sweet nectar from 
the land of milk and honey. 
Mother of God, this was amazing! 
This is a high we didn’t want to come down from! 
To onlookers we were madmen; 
a product of the uncanny side of the spectrum.  
However, little did they know 
we were gods among mortals.

Our illuminating vibe attracted a 
group of voluptuous women. 
In this instant, Tony decided to seize the moment.
Using charms only he could apply, he 
stated a question: “Hey! What that mouth do?”  
The lovely raven-haired woman of the group 
responded with an immediate action of a lustful kiss. 
It was a mixture of seductive and sensuous 
with a spontaneous flair. 
The woman replied, “That’s what my mouth does.” 
Tony was at a loss for words. 
I had full belief this woman was a man-eater. 
Somehow with a simple kiss she managed 
to swallow Tony whole. 
After the encounter, the group vanished 
within the night.  

Cheshire cat grins encompassed 
our faces. 
Even though this event was minor, 
we knew it was the beginning to a series 
of outlandish events. 

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Fear of Flying

I wonder if my false smile fools anyone at all?
Perhaps I am pulling it off!
Do I look like someone who does this every day?
Do I seem self assured and confident?
No one seems to pay me notice...

I purposely chose an aisle seat
Yes....I'm ashamed to admit it...
I'm one of those you hear about,!...Go ahead...laugh if you like...
Yes, hate to tell you, but I'm cursed with a fear of flying!

Oh I'll tell me all that nonsense about aeronautics
How it's safer than driving the freeways...yeah...right...
Sorry....I can't hear heart is pounding too loudly
My head is hands are shaky, my knees are trembling...

Ahhh.... a deep breath, ...ahh...another....wheww....
Oh-oh!! OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH this is it!!!!!
Ohhhh...ohhh....oooooo we go!!!......

I'll just look at the floor, ...
O.K.  O.K. come on..!! ....Try to think of pleasant thoughts! grass, ....uhh, butterflies,.. flowers,  ...dirt,...wonderful wonderful dirt! ...

What are those for?? Oh yes, I remember,...the small lights beneath our feet
Leading us (HOPEFULLY!!)...( just in know...)
Oh, God...for escaping in the dark!! ....IF escape were necessary (or even possible!!) 
Oh Lord!
Little lights that lead is it??? Oh, there....the exit!!
That's the nearest exit...(must remember....closest one I count is five rows ahead)....
Hmm...better count again....five rows...
Count them, two, three, four, five...

Do NOT listen to the deafening noise of the engines...
What was that??!!  I said... "DON'T LISTEN!!"....

Deep breath.....ahhh

The couple next to me
So animated in their conversation
They seem deeply enthralled by the landscape below them
Just sitting there...joking, and enjoying and pointing.....
Hmm..just a peek....WOW!...Look at that's shrinking in size so rapidly!
Deep breath....
Hmm....well now, ....this isn't so hard...
Actually, well, maybe just another quick look....hmmm.....

If I crane my neck a can see the ocean in the distance
I can see the patchwork of man's mark on the earth
Wow!  Wow !! ...would ya look at that???!
Wow, beautiful !!  ....   Gotta get a window seat for the flight home !!!...
Wow!.....Amazing..........!  That view.....................incredible!!!!

What's that....?? "Oh...yes..a coke would be nice..thank you!"

Hey...this isn't so bad....  Wow....look!! I can see the curvature of the earth....Wow!!!
Hey.....this is AWESOME!!!!

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King and Queen for a Day

We bound down the stairs, out into the light-of-day, and into the blue of the
misty breezes, heavily laden with the smell of wild sea salt roses that grow in 
perfusion along the winding road, that bends and turns in gentle lifts and dips to 
the other side of the bay, where it crosses the bridge and rises up and winds 
away, over the hill.

Overhead the seagulls screech and glide over the ocean spray that washes on 
the rocks on the lower banks behind our house along the Fundy Bay, where we 
run like the wind through the fields of fresh cut hay and make our  way to the 
rocky mantle below .

There in the volcanic plateau, worn smooth as glass by the constant rolling 
weight of the ocean, is our pool, known by all in our village, as ‘Lizza’s Bathtub’, 
created by the eruption of the earth’s inner core, millennia’s ago.  

We slip into the still, salty water that has been warmed beneath the blazing sun, 
and float with the perry winkles and tiny crabs and  listen to the sound of the 
ocean, that roars beneath us as it leaves in the receding tide, while we drift 
away, in our minds, my little brother the ‘King’ and I, the ‘Queen’ for a day on 
the ‘Fundy Bay’.

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Everyone Has A Story

The clouds are now fading,
as the rainbow of life breaks through,
once my tears fell heavy,
but now only a trace of misty blue.

Sometimes we have no reason,
answers can't be found,
but we still stand on our Faith,
praying for stable ground.

Many pathways are given,
that's where common sense can't be blind,
for what we choose today,
can push us forward, or leave us behind.

Years are a blessing,
if we learn from where we've been,
but if we never humble our self,
the clouds will come again.

Everyone has a story,
our journey of tears, and smiles,
we are the keepers of the memories,
and all those lifetime miles.

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The Wedding

Wedding Night in Raqqa



Cyclonic violet vision


Etheral and immortal


She swirls her sand baked torso.


Evoking the initial collision of primordial seed,


Swathed in gossamer purple veils,


Writhing to the stomping and clapping


Of jeweled ankles


And henna stained hands.


The tribes have united for my wedding to their son.


I ,foreign and naive, swoon to the power


Of ancient rhythm and verse,


Ripe, fertile gestures,


Pregnant with  throbbing pulses


And scattered beats of flailing arms,


Bleating tongues, spinning robes.


A cacophony of incessant chant rose from the dancing women,


Growning louder, feverish in their pleasure


And the nearness of release.


I join in the dancing.


They swath me in voiles and lead me to the center


I dance, and I succumb to my wedding night in Raqqa.

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Tickle Trout

In the cool of the evening he laid there basking 
as my fingers touched the gleaming surface of the pool.
Deeper i penetrated till my hand was beneath him,
slowly my fingers engaged his slithery belly,
then gently with a slight single movement
to and thro, then up and down 
his whole body fully relaxed as he rolled a little
to accommodate me.
As he laid there his eye and my eyes connected
each of us wondering no doubt what the next move would be,
while carefully not to let my nose which was just above the surface
play any part in this my devious quest.
Suddenly a water skater bug came floating by
and decided to explore my nostril,
at this point making me sneeze, the force of the blast
sending the bug careering on to the surface.
In a flash swallowed by my impending supper
who then scurried away to the safety
 of the rocky bed of the creek,
to become King Trout for another day.

Copyright 2010
Harry J Horsman

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written 28th June 2013

The place downunder, I'm happy to call my home
 if you plan on a visit, here's somethings you do "need" to know

Kakadu is a place 'you' need to take the time to see
 such magic you will never won't to leave

But...if your arms "outside" the boat...
It...WILL end up down, a crocodiles throat

 Ayres a must place to have on your list, simply this you can not miss
As the sun descends watch it's colours change, you'll be mesmerised by 'pure' bliss

Coober Pedy...for those slightly intrigued with the underground
 for it is here, a quiet town where all there house's are found can still find gold
Well... so I've been told

I recommend...."you" don't swim in the oceans at the top end..
 surrounded by oceans.... the rest, feel free to  jump in

"BUT" if you happen to see a 'fin' I highly 'recommend' you swim

With nights call..'when' offered pull up a chair, grab a beer and relax
 there's just....'one small' catch 

Don't ever be the 'first' to fall "asleep"
 Aussie's find 'extensive' pleasure in an innocent prank when asleep

Enjoy your stay....and from the Land downunder we 'all' say "G'day"
 and look forward to seeing you again, we know you had a great stay

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Other Side of The Rainbow

It was on the other side of the rainbow
When I slid into a dream
I guess at that time nothing was, as it truly seemed
People came and people went
The needle played my blues
Through the rainbow dreams into leprechaun schemes
I was Papa Smurf with the magic brew
I built a Crystal Castle
On the shores of nevermore
I guess sometimes I wonder, “What was I searching for”
Beauty danced with big brown eyes
Though the faces always changed
Many times I slept with gals I thought were rather strange
Magic slides that no one hides
I wonder where they go?
I once slid down the rainbow just to see the show
The stars are bright it’s a beautiful night
Moonbeams illuminating mushrooms all around
Here by my house crickets and frogs are the only sound
Fairies dance like fireflies 
It’s really quite the sight
Ever tripped down Hollywood and Vine on a Friday night
I have lived through many dreams
Shared many angels souls
Shattered dreams and broken schemes, nothing but empty goals
Broken hearts torn apart
Blowing in the wind
Like fairy dust you just can’t trust
Not even your closest friend
I dove into a crystal pool on the other side of the hill
I swear sometimes in my ears I can hear the ringing still
I rode upon the tornado just to go spinning through the sound
Landed in a concrete room bouncing all around
Leprechauns and rainbows
Unicorn’s beautiful and white
When I finally kicked the horse
It wasn’t a pretty sight
Like a frog on the log or a sick old dawg
Just a skeleton in a box
With the strength of Arthur's sword and trust in the Lord
I shattered a thousand locks
Now I’m back on this side of the rainbow
And every thing’s looking bright
My Guinevere is here and I love her dear
She is such a lovely sight
Trials come like waterfalls
Flooding though our life
I truly am a lucky man to face them with my wife
Well let’s gig the frog and fire up the log
We’ll roast us a pig tonight
Life is good in my neighborhood
Nary a single vice
The other side of the rainbow now seems so very far away
I guess that is really about all I have to say

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Coming of Age

My eldest brother, nine years old,
Thought he could break a horse.
Our mother strictly forbade him.
A mother’s right of course.
Her young son mustered all his wiles,
Hoping he could sway her.
Unwilling to be defeated,
He vowed to disobey her.

He gathered a rope and bridle,
Went to the big corral.
He was there to break a wild colt,
Three brothers there to yell.
Our youngest brother, four years old
Yelled, “I’ll tell Ma on you
Unless you take me up there
And give me a ride too.”

In his eagerness to hush him,
His big brother agreed
And lifted him to the bare back
Of that big, trembling steed.
Our father came in nick of time
To salvage little brother,
Then watched as his son rode that colt.
No one told our mother.

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Summer Scent

Summer scent is the smell of freedom
where we can escape the flavor of boredom
so we plan to have our vacation on the beach
where we can relax and fresh air is within our reach

The warm wind tenderly embraced my spirit
I felt excited on this first visit
on an island where refugees can find paradise
an island where spending time is wise

The dulcet breeze gently kisses lush green trees
and the mirthful sun smiles over the vast seas 
Where surfers play with gigantic waves
and are not certain on what road it paves

The fluffy clouds are smoothly sailing 
the birds are singing and harmoniously dancing
There are butterflies that are colorful in hue
like enchanted fairies changing colors from pink to blue

I need my sun block, it's time for swimming
the tables are full because later we're all eating
Ladies are smiling to many cool surfer dudes
Children are hungry seeing delicious exotic foods

I picked a shell that whispered peacefully in my ears
and we built castles that we fancied over the years
out of the small grains of white sands
and all you need is helping hands

God was really great in creating splendid wonders
that were loved by all especially the nature lovers
There are numerous oceans that are aquamarine
and abundant trees and grasses that are green

The brother sun was slowly hiding
because the sister moon was coming
I guess it was our time to pack
but there will come a time for us to go back

Go back to a place of leisure and freedom
where you'll not taste the flavor of boredom
It would be hard for us to say goodbye
because truly we will come back and say Hi!

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A Long Cold-Chill

I watched the penguins woddle along,
On cold-hard ice; where they belong.

From water to land, they scurried around,
Flapping their feet on frozen ground.

Herds of them were standing still,
Settling down to a long cold chill.

Mother passes her egg to father carefully;
Knowing he'll care for it, so, naturally.

He'll protect it from the harsh-cold nights,
In a warm snug pouch away from sight.

For mother must find many fish to catch,
While father stays until it is hatched.

Long-dark days of Winter will change to Fall,
Returning mother, with, her familiar call.

Such a sweet sound for father's ear,
Ending another, long-cold Winter year.

Giving father penguin a much needed break,
For their chick is born and fully awake.

With such a huge urge to quickly eat,
Yes, many tasty meals of fresh, fish-meat.

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They burst forth and charge downwards
Matching uniforms shiny against the grey sky
Their only desire to smash suicidally upon our ranks
We hear the thunder of them coming, and carefully prepare
The vanguard already lie smashed upon the ground
The rest will soon swell the regiments of the defeated
Moments before they arrive we deploy our umbrellas
Countless warriors smash harmlessly inches above our heads
Their watery remains dripping from our defences
Mingling with those of their already fallen brethren

Contest : FALL YOUR CHOICE any theme/any form max 12 lines
Honorable Mention

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The Choice of Bonny Aileas

Through shadowed forest glade she rode
'Midst grey and gloomy chill
No single thought of safety did
A moment stay her will

The mist clung to her nostrils as
She charged into the brush
The creatures of the forest paused
In terrifying hush

Foreboding seeped into her bones
Ghastly, from ages spent
Urging her mount to breakneck speed
Resolve would not relent

To slow would mean downfall into
A consequence of dread
She knew if she but lost an inch
He lover would be dead

This morn she was awakened by 
His servant at her door
And with his last breath utterance
Fell bloodied to the floor

It seems a tartan wearing clan
Appeared in red and green
‘Tis true that a more fearful sight
Is rarely ever seen

Unwittingly, they’d crossed the line
Into the Fraser realm
It was then they were set upon
In stand of noble elm

So, now she raced to intercede
Upon her love’s behalf
To beg for mercy from the chief;
That he withhold his wrath

The secret she had hidden would
Surely offset slaughter
It was true she had been born the
Fraser Chieftain’s daughter

She’d fled her home ten years before
With  young Lord Cameron
The rival clan’s incumbent heir
Her lover and champion

She’d not been sorry up to now
For following her heart
She knew the toll her love would take
Right from the very start

But this would be a sacrifice 
She'd never wished to make
That for his life she would exchange
Hers for the clan to take

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Call Me Gonzo

For thoose of you who may not know.
Just call me gonzo I write the absurd for life is insane and sometimes 
it takes a madman to speak the truth so very clear.

I write for the broken vacant faces that have lost all hope.
To the dreamer who's well is slowley running dry from everyone
telling him to stop wasting his time.

I write like a endless highway fueled by whiskey and wild women 
every adventure leads to pain but life is pain and i love in spite of it.

I thirst for every unseen mile the desert my brother it's people dwell
in the spirt of the west the opium parlors and brothels spirt still linger.
I write with a hint of danger and a promise of disaster.

Im a blues player whos trying to out run the devil.
Im a outlaw riding to cross the border a woman looking to the 
empty range for my return.

I write because I breath in a world were the creative air has gone 
The bottle sits apon table and I welcome any strangers company
I just rather that stranger be a warm woman instead of a 
unfriendly amigo who is a little jelouse.

Write to be more than just part of the highways landscape.
Some may call me crude crazy insane some even vulgar and 
liar and thief.
But aside from thoose compliments.
No matter what you may call me.
Dont ever forget to just call me gonzo.

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Structured AS An Erotic Narrative

When you walked into your room
my heart was beating like a jack rabbit.
You looked at me with those provocative eyes of yours.
Then you told me “take off your blouse”
I thought I’d die. I watched your perfect lips;
how your soft pink tongue curls when you speak.

Slowly, I unbuttoned your top, even though you seemed rushed
I thought I would tease you and did it slower than time.
You said remove my skirt and I swear
my heart was in my throat.
I was staring at your legs and their perfect curves
admiring how thin your waist was. I removed your skirt.

I’m not sure how much time passed before you suggested
I remove your bra but my hands were shaking as I attempted it. 
You followed with a deep vibrating voice
as you asked me to take off your nylon stockings
and you know how that turns me on
what it does to me to touch nylon.

Once that was done as if I needed further instructions
you whispered remove my panties at that point
that you said those words I will never forget.
Even now my body goes catatonic just thinking about it.

It was then you said…

At that point…

It was at that moment…

Yes, I still remember the words exactly.

It was then you said

“and don’t ever let me catch you wearing my clothes again”

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the crucible savant

The crucible savant..    by Steven Hudson
(Crucible: A place or situation in which concentrated forces interact to cause or influence  change or development.
  Savant:  a person of learning…)

Through sleepless, hopeless nights
With liquor on breath and dull head
Alone and cold in lay,
We made our passage to manhood,
Many days in suffer and want
Through tears and hardness of heart,
With sorrow for cellmates
In a prison self-made,
Rather hunger and want 
Then submission to those above,
Wild wanderlust thrust us into darkness
Uncertainty of survival, without care,
Knowing no other way,
We strove to understand the deeds done to us in violence,
Shiver, quake, lie awake, as hopelessness covered us like a blanket,
Thieves and murderers as strange bedfellows,
Ladies of the night for use and forgotten,
Laws of the land forsaken, 
In desperate want, Never knowing if we’d  awaken,
Making our way through this world
Boys living as men,
We threw the line, heaved and toiled
In bright sun and fear,
With hands and feet against the frigid snow,
We lived beyond the breaking,
Many before us have sought their manhood,
While others have had it thrust upon them,
Much has been learned, much has been taught
By the flames and the fire, the crucible savant,
It has been our right of passage
Through bloodstained cloth and scars,
The fathers who came before us, live forever in the Arms,
Painted grey, now I see, the path laid out for me,
By the Infinite Son, whose Glory was won,
Making the savant, a reflection of Thee..

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Soul of an Eagle Life of a Penguin

Soaring in my mind above the blue skies.
Warmth penetrating across my brow.
Diving to feel a cool breeze and soaring again
On strong wings. Time is no importance while on top today.

I look across the vast sea and know I can swim fast and free.
I float, dart and flipper my way to this destination. 
Mostly content though when I gaze upward...
Fleeting thoughts of discontentment come as flashes of light.
My soar as an eagle, majestic, across the sky.

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Before spring came, in late February
to the blooming and jolly hills 
I ran, breathing heavily and frantically,
touching the perfumed blossoms 
of a solitary, old cherry tree;
and underneath it I sat writing poetry
that hadn't a perfect rhyme and beat! 
Weren't my skills marred by imperfections?    

Canaries and red-breasted robins
flew down and rested on my outstretched legs;
perusing my lines to spot their names,
and when they did, they flapped their wings in gladness!
I could have imagined their joyful words,.
if only they had acquired the gift of speech,
and deeper in their thoughts I would have reached:
to dispel the myth that they had no feelings...

After my short poem was completed,
I reached for my harmonica to play my favorite classic tune;
and being surprised by the paleness of the fading moon,
I dedicated that happy melody to her not to let her despair:
by waving my hand to make her farewell less sad, while I whispered,
" Silent moon, eternal companion of every poet,
what's beyond the realm of this universe?...
Tell us more of those invisible suns and planets! "

Before spring came to the dormant valley,
the mountains' peaks allowed the sun to melt their snows,
to create gushing torrents to feed its water to the dry and cracked soil,
which needed rain instead of harmful frost;
and I drank the freshest water and washed my sweaty face,
while fighting off the bees' stubborn rivalry!
That spring has come again to dress herself with incredible splendor,
and this discontent and wishful heart desires nothing more than being there!  

My theme is: Happiness In Childhood

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The Weapon To End All Weapons


To the fighting men and women and to all military personnel,
   I only want to wish for you safety and God keep you well.
We are proud of what you do and you are always in our thoughts and mind,
   I am working on a weapon too that when you shoot someone with it they turn 
from mean to kind.
My Mean To Kind (M.T.K.) weapon is nearly done.
   I’m in a hurry so I can produce enough for everyone.
Just point my M.T.K. and zap them once or twice.
    The more the zap the more the nice.
No more blood will either side ever let,
     Maybe just an honest days worth of sweat.
How cool will that be to finally bury the grudge,
    And sit down with your enemy over a hot chocolate sundae with fudge.
Instead of a hateful staring glare,
   Just zap him once and end warfare.
Heck I may just zap myself again,
    I’ll zap you too and you can be my friend.

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My Husband's Dream

Everything is so still as the morning slowly comes,
from afar, the sound of a babbling brook is heard.
Perched  high up, I wait for daylight to surround these peaceful woods,
as I sat listening to  the dew dripping from the trees.
What a beautiful place to be, on such a cold November morn,
the first day of Deer Season has finally come.
Shhh, listen, strange sounds coming from behind, as I turn to look,
I can't believe my eyes, he is big, so big, sniffing, and grunting
he comes closer.
Counting the points, yes, ten I see, trembling, I take my rifle
in hand, zero in,  he is mine, monstrous rack..
The echo rings through the woods, perfect shot, he is down,
shaking I climb to the ground to take a look at this BOSS of the Pines.
My first hunt of the season, and what a deer, one for the record.

I have two and a half months of this to listen to......
and this is his dream every night, and I hear it every day.

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Fact and Tale

Between the lines, of fact, and tale,
a persons life, we know not well.
Some insight we have, but not all the truth,
between the lines, read by me, and you.
A release of sort, in our words of rhyme,
our therapy to calm, when we feel like crying.
Days will come, and then they pass,
bringing sunshine, and shadows that last.
Thoughts rekindled from yesterdays mind,
reading the words written from a poet in time.
Miles between, separate our face,
but words of wisdom we daily trace.
Explore the words from everyone here,
although very far, they are always so near.

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And Then

And Then…

My work finished
     I glanced back at the clock
Ah… The Witching Hour
     Hung heavy on the next tock
My thoughts raced back
     To childhood days
          To scary stories
               Round campfires haze
                    To daunting dares
                         In dark woods maze
               And then… It caught my eye

A phantom shape
     That just moments before
Had been shadows tossed
     Twixt the walls and floor
And I admit
     Twas’ dimly lit
          Random shapes
               In chances knit
                    Poorly viewed
                         From where I sit
               And then… I saw it move

Just then I thought
     Tis’ time to trust and pray
And steady my hearts resolve
     Should this be the reckoning day
And then I swear
     The room grew cold
          Events purpose
               Moved to unfold
                    My chest I clutched
                         My soul to hold
               And then… I heard it speak

“Time is at hand”
     And those words comforted it seemed
And my God in a timeless moment
     I became one with all I’d dreamed
Tis’ certain this
     Event of page
          Will visit all
               Upon life’s stage
                    Fully quenching
                         Life’s burning rage
               And then…

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Once night Gretta Foster sat in the backyard, 
building a rocket ship that ought to take her a-far, 
she had been working day and night - tirelessly, 
hammering, programming, all so dexterously. 
Then when the sun arose and sparkled in the sky, 
Gretta was still working, that too without a sigh, 
the ship was finally built, Gretta was on cloud nine, 
but going a bit farther up than that seemed rather fine. 
She sat inside the cockpit, tightened her seat belt, 
pushed a few buttons, with such admirable stealth, 
algorithms aplenty - all perfectly aligned, 
as the engine started roaring, boisterously alight. 
The rocket ascended at last, it set sail yonder, 
to the farthest frontier that this universe could conjure, 
and after it finally left the vivid atmosphere, 
Gretta was so happy, she let out a smiling tear. 
Days passed and she was put in catatonic sleep, 
immobile and still, immersed in lovely dreams, 
suddenly with a thud, the ship had landed still, 
She woke up instantly, with a newfound thrill. 
She wore the lunar suit, which she had stitched herself, 
opened up the bolted door and descended the metal steps, 
the moment she touched ground, she turned around, 
and got pleasantly surprised by what she found! 
A red-hatted impish elf, sat crossed leg, 
a large nosed fairy stood, munching on nutmeg, 
two rabbits bowed down to the rabbit goddess, 
and two more pressed her feet, in a soft caress. 
Gretta walked a step and heard the elf shout, 
"oh silly person, take that suit out!, 
we've got oxygen, plenty of em to breathe, 
that suits a waste o' time and energy!" 
Gretta obeyed, and unzipped the heavy suit, 
underneath she wore a dress - flowery and cute, 
"good going, young child, now lemme show you, 
this lovely wonderland which you dub the moon!" 
And the elf was right, they met unicorns, 
box-laden garden paths and joyous little fauns, 
walking and talking scarecrows, nursing little crows, 
small blue doll houses with chuckling gnomes. 
within a crater lived a colony of werewolves, 
but they were nice and fair - specially one named Ulf, 
he'd give her milk and tea with chocolate biscuits, 
and in order to keep her warm, red spotted mitts. 
The goddess too was nice, a wise and lovely soul, 
"be imaginative and create, but don't forget your goal", 
she'd also give her nutmeg of such abundant variety, 
her best friend was a Faun, so strong and mighty. 
and the Minotaurs build Gretta a lovely home, 
with a mushroom roof and walls build of foam, 
"stay here with us, Gretta, you'd have a great time", 
said the red-hatted elf while singing a rhyme. 
Gretta thought and thought, she came to a decision, 
she decided to stay for sure, she looked forward for her admission, 
and from thereon, life for her was perfected, 
all her dying wishes had suddenly been resurrected.

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Paratrooper's Gracious Descent—Mother Earth Below

It was the day I wanted the most
Yet dreaded as the worst,
Seeing the jumpmaster’s eyes
Way up there in the sky,
Waiting for the scream
“This is a paratroopers’ dream
Stand in the door—lean and mean!”
C130 paratrooper’s Jet, 1500 feet above earth
M16 Weapon by my side, ready to hit the dirt 

Knees bent as a dog’s leg on the ledge
Crackling nerves on screeching edge
Cotton dried mouth like a Sahara’s wedge
Soldier before me threw up his lunch
Stomach flipping—fear gripping  
Paratrooper’s static lines scraping, moving
Shinny brand new paratrooper’s boots 
Shivering to a shuffling groove
Trembling to its new roots

Cold palms slippery from sweating
Camouflaged face twitching like electric shocking
Eyes like a road map dredged with red
Boots shuffling towards the elliptical edge
Heard the jumpmaster’s words 
“Go, go, go—jump soldier!”
I felt like a lonely hanging leaf 
Growing from the side of a cliff
Just dangling in the breeze
Like a trapeze with distance in between

The moment of truth arrived
Saw the green paratrooper’s light
Heard the Jumpmaster’s voice—“Go!”
Cannonball leap into the rushing breeze 
Wings of angels—still praying all the more
One thousand…two…three…four…
Parachute opened above—“Puff!”
Then I knew from the Lord
As I descended safely below
I am still His beloved!

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New Paths

A new path is what we seek.
The surroundings are taking a peek,
Going through, very meek,
Seeing no bleaks,
Getting piqued,
While hearing creaks,
In the new paths that we seek...

The new path is what is found,
Going through forests bound,
Going through the path inbound,
With soothing and raging water sounds.
Walking confound,
Silence profounded,
Sight astounded,
Passed through burial grounds...

Seeking for another way around,
Noises resound,
Spirits surround,
The paths newfounded,
Our instincts compounded,
Followed by the hounds,
Echoes in ultrasounds,
Passed through mysterious breeding grounds...

Going to stamping grounds,
Trying to get off this ground,
With those burial mounds,
Death moving the wheels around,
Silhouettes running aground,
Trying to leave safe and sound,
Passing through some hunting grounds...

Seeking for common grounds,
The mistaken path redounded,
Regretful screams abound.
Plans propounded,
Though some are fouled,
Throughout the paths that were found...

However, most are lost and wounded,
Most tended to walk out,
Some minds and hearts full of doubts.
Hearing salvation shouts,
From all these new paths walked and found...

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Oh well I got an angry email to begin my day
Because of my last post on the Jabidah thing yesterday
Galit sa akin but greeted me with Assalamu alaykum.
And kung personal Moro friends ko naman ito 
They know I don't criticize Moro leaders
I always leave that to them to criticize their leaders
According to my friends baka nasa gubyerno or something
Next time I'll write na lang about the sea and the palm trees and the beaches 

Pray and pray nalang para walang provocation
ako nga ang daming nag-message sa akin nagalit sa issue ng Sabah standoff
Ikaw pa kaya na wala namanng masama na sinabi dun
Alam mo ‘buti na lang you verbalized that kasi iniisip ko rin ‘yun
I know you have reasons and you know better kaya; I just read your posts
I don’t have to go against parties kasi both have rights
And the issue must be solved

Wala, kasi sa akin kundi independence lamang ang kailangan
May ganyan din kasing realities? 
Minsan you are being asked or expected to take sides
Yes, my side is peace – with peace is independence
Yes, I heard that sa dating Jabidah Massacre celebration
Somebody said that, “Walang kapayapaan kasi walang kalayaan”
And that is very universal, kapatid.

Moro or non-Moro and writing should always geared towards humanity
That’s why for me it “anti-humanity” if you will not listen 
Or suppress when somebody will talk about freedom.
That’s the problem with Filipinos, they don't listen.
Kasi the leaders may sarili ring interests.

How do you see being Filipino?
Ako, it's a cage, Filipino nationalism 
Agenda ng mga oligarchs and landowners 
Filipino nationalism is violence against Muslims and lumads
Kasi ‘pag ako ang tatanunginmo I will never say I am Filipino
Because Tausug it’s not a name but an identity...
I understand but kaunti na lang kayo

Ako sasabihin ko na I am a Filipino but I have reservations
When I was a teenager hindi ako tumatayo ‘pag Lupang Hinirang
ngayon tumatayo na kasi napapaaway ang mga kasama ko sa sinehan
Yes and identity should be critically assessed and examined.
Kaya if they say Filipino ang mga Tausug masakit sa aking loob
But not all, kapatid. try mo pumunta sa Manila
Yung mga Moro na malalapit sa mga institusyon ng Pilipinas
Bakit iba ang Moro at ibang ang Tausug
kaya sila naging Moro at masaya na tawaging Moro 

May identity na naiiba sa Filipino
Pinag-aaralan ko rin yan and ino-observe ‘yung pag-yield sa 'Filipino'
‘Will give Filipinos a disservice
Because it is tantamount to be an accomplice to a corrupt system
And this system is the one that oppresses Muslims
At alam natin ang Tausug di lamang taga-Sulu
Pati Bisayan, Tausug din

As much as possible I am trying to make my writings 'away' 
Away from Filipino nationalism
That's the right way for me and my writing
I will ask first, “How it is to be human?” 
At super last na ang, “How to be a Filipino” 
And the Bangsamoro struggle is the greatest critique to the violence
And failures of Filipino nationalism

Ang problema kasi kaya di successful ang Bangsamoro struggle
Dahil nagdadala sila ng pangalan na di naman originally sa kanila
How come ang pangalan ko ay Abdul sa rights
Gagamitn ko ang Juan para sa aking bayan?
Kaya war of ideas ito and alam mo naman sa akin, ‘pag ideas 
And perspectives walang kompromiso and peace talks 

I do not compromise my language, my craft and myself, my writing
Filipino is an imagined nation, as well as Bangsamoro
Bakit di natin magamit ang orignal nation natin 
Na based sa Sulu archipelago and Mindanao
Yes, actually diyan ako papunta - papunta

Bakit hindi i-Bangsamoro-ized ang buong Filipinas?
It doesn’t mean na i-convert ang Pilipinas 
But the spirit, the struggle it should mean something to Filipinos
It should kasi ang dami na nagbuwis ng buhay
Kaya ko pa na tanggapin kung Maharlika

‘Yan ang gusto kong ma-achieve: Filipinos should listen to Moros
Siyempre marami pang madidiscover along the way
Indeed. Ikaw ba ‘pag sasabahin ko na ‘Tausug’ ano ang maiisip mo?
Tausug is Moro and Moro for me is something that predates 'Filipino'
But now, I would like to know the concept of “Lupah Sug”
I want to know it, I think there are more and beyond Moro on it

Before ‘Moro’ was named to Mindanao and Sulu people
It was first name to Aceh people, Melaka, Brunei and then Manila
Sulu and Mindanao were the last places to have been called the name ‘Moro’
Sulu archipelago was united under the name Sulu archipelago 
The name of people is Tausug. 
Tausug is composed of different ethnics:
Arab, Banjar, Dampuan, Buranun etcetera.
The concept of Sulu as part of dar al islam 
Is already a nation and state 
Where the government is the people and itself headed by sultan or raja

Yes, and I would like to feel this from the ordinary Tausugs when I get there
I would like to experience this from ordinary Tausug and on from place itself.
In the hinterland of Jolo, their laws still on the ground not of Philippine law

I believe in narratives
I want to hear and feel this from the place and from the people.
And then capture it; I have these thoughts 
That Lupah Sug has something that the Moro concept does not have
And it’s a bit metaphysical but sige lang.

I know my craft can capture it.
I think there is a language that can capture it 
And specific craft that can carry its soul
Not fictionalize but put it in a form like a novel or a narrative
Which have their own logic and truths as crafts.

This poem is made after the conversation and sharing with Filipino writer Rogelio Braga who also serves as the editor of the poem. He is currently in Mindanao, travelling and writing; he will then proceed to Sulu Archipelago soon. 2:28PM, 19 March 2013, Facebook Chat across Sulu Sea!

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Parody not Copied


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Follow the Yellow Brick Road

Follow the Yellow Brick Road As I was walking Along my chosen path Where each step marks A notch this world hath I caught a glimpse of A Yellow Brick Road Like the one from Oz Once long ago told Now how the glimpse Came my way I chose a path to take On a sunny day Back to work from break Strolling merrily along Head held high with joy Whistling a happy song I jumped over a little crack Just purposely out of my way Being sure to be aware Never matters which day As I came up to my office Tapping a rock with my heel Then the feeling hit me The vision seemed very real A comparison factor in our minds Creating obstacles out of fear Or do we step over them To prove we are there It’s our choice to place sunshine On the path we choose to go Thus creating a happy path To Follow the Yellow Brick Road Florence McMillian (Flo)

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Burger Joint

Lucy and Matilda were on the job at the burger joint.
Bad boy Buzz Muldoon rushed in brandishing a gun.
Matilda kicked the would-be robber square in his junk.
Lucy bashed his head in with a badass ball-peen hammer.
The two hard working ladies continued cleaning up the joint.
They chunked Muldoon in the dumpster with the rest of the trash.
Lucy and Matilda opened the establishment without missing a beat.
It was just another typical day right here in the big bad city.
To be successful entrepreneurs in this old turbulent world,
you have to grow a pair of big brass gnarly ones, be you male or female.

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Lobster fishing

                     Lobster Fishing

It was still dark when I arrived at five o’clock
I commenced the day by going to the wrong dock
I was a little concerned that I may be late
When I arrived they were still loading bait.

The boat started up with a thunderous sound
You must stay the channel so you don’t run a ground
Next you head into the safety of the bay
Everyone’s quiet with not much to say.

As we turn the corner the sun divides the sky and sea
A blend of orange, purple and blue explode in front of me
The sea starts to pick up and the boat gets tossed
A peace grows within all else is lost…

You pull the traps up in what’s called a set
You winch them on board to see what you get
My job was to restock the bait
It seemed kind of an ironic fate.

It was pretty hard work yet so much fun
Me, the boat, the sky and the sun
We had a pretty good catch and turned to go back
The auto pilot planned our course of attack

On the way in you wash down the boat
It cleaned up quite well with water and soap.
As I view around me as it was time to go
The sea put on its own picture show.

When we returned to the river the tide had come in
All of the lobsters had been placed into bins 
The boat was too tall to fit under the bridge
Like smooth sailing and then hitting a ridge.

We had to unload the boat so the catch wouldn’t be lost
Our pride and a little work was all that it cost
When we had finished it was time to rest
Having comfort in knowing we did our best.

We cleaned up and had dinner to end the day
This is my lobster tale of today
Everyone found humor in what I had to say
Then we said goodbye and went on our way.

When I got home I fell fast asleep
I dreamed of a bottom far too deep
It was a long day and I needed to rest
The lobster became someone else’s dinner guest.

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My friends and I had midnight hide and seek
One had to stand by a tree and not peek
In my state of hiding great I was hard to find
My friends decided to just be unkind
They all got together and decided to hunt me down
I first hid in the river near my house and almost drown
When they walk close by me I silently move through the grass
It was very hard to see, but I crawled a long time and almost ran out of gas
Then I heard one say that they were going up and wait by the tree
I had an idea that made a way to make them see
A shadow that ran in the distance thinking that would be
I had my horse pull a little manikin to make them think it was me
My friends took their flashlight and shined it toward it
I thought I had them but one thing was clear they did not fall for it not a bit
They all laugh and started to call out my name
They all asked how the heck did you have time to pull that trick that was so lame
I did not answer so they kept on looking for me, but I was so quick 
Some of my friends started to get really mad and tick
I was a master of doing weird things they all knew what I can do
The night was still young and the grass was collecting dew
I decided to make a distraction once again
To think of it, it would probably make the night end
My friends finally surrounded my tree house
I was quiet, so quiet, more than a mouse
I had some rope in the tree house to make my escape
To distract them I made a loud noise like an ape
The tree that my tree house was in was at least forty feet up
I had some stash in my tree house a drink or two in a cup
My final hour is about to end I did not want my friends to catch me till I got to the tree
I took the rope and tide it on a branch and pushed off and that was the key
I landed on the garage roof and sneaked my way to the tree
My friends knew me to well that they plan things before I could see
They had a fish net ready for me to step into
I thought that was kinda wise and some what like pew
The few feet by the tree there was two of my friends that was ready
Up in the tree they both jumped down and pulled me up in the net fast and steady
They thought they had won, the person had to tag me before I touch tree
She ended up having to get something to stand on to reach me
I swung my weight back and forth till I ended up touching and the game ended
My friends and I were so full of surprises and that is what the game handed

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In a Slump

I found him slumped over his Remington No.5, no more "Elite Typing" for this poor fellow. His Fedora was on the floor beside him, flat as a pancake with a stilleto heel print in the centre of it. Other than a pair of McCalls boxers, he wasn't wearing anything. The "Besame Red Velvet Lipstick stain on his crotch, matched the color on the cigarette butts in the black ashtray on his desk. I noticed the ashtray was embosed with a logo from the stork club.

I had been to the Stork club a few times, it's over on 53rd street. Not the kinda place for an ordinary gumshoe like myself. This guy musta been a regular, there were match books all over the apartment. In a place like that you never know who you might bump into. I seen Frank there one time, he didn't give me a second look. I tried to get into the Snub room once but couldn't get past St. Peter, maybe he didn't like that I was wearing a single gold earing. 

I did some calling around, it seems the poor chump was Vincent Scott, a rich banker from Hollywood. He had been about town with a Dorthy Lamour Wanabee. She had the attitude but was a bit lacking in the looks department. Mind you for a balding middle aged banker, she was probably the Cat's Ass. Rumor was that he was planning on leaving his wife and two kiddies. Judging by the two, one way tickets to Cuba in his desk drawer, plans were well under way. I guess that letter opener stuck in the side of Vincent's neck kinda spoiled his plans. 

For Craig Cornish's "Chopped III contest".

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Jack and Jill

Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch some pails of water
Jack climbed some trees while Jill was picking some pretty flowers

After some hours Jack realized that he was wasting time
So he called Jill to hurry up before ‘tis half past nine

So off they went to continue their very long journey
‘Till they passed by an old beggar and gave him some money

When they both reached the well Jack and Jill filled up their buckets
Near the well were some berries which they put in their pockets

When they reached home their momma and papa were so happy
For dinner they had meatballs and soup and chicken curry

 And five bags of bananas which a rich neighbor gave them
The good that you do to others will always be returned 

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Like Gold Dust

Pile up treasures; rise and fall.
And want the lake and not the land fall,
Hold the bizarre beast, I wish wife.
My life is abandoned to the Life.

Behold an ideal idol of a wife:
The down fall will soon be late,
Whilst the crescent lake will wait;
This day will emerge another life.

Now bread and butter set on the table,
But miss the compassionate ring of able,
And call for the lonely wandering widower,
This moment can’t afford losing her.

Should I accept the defeat of livelihood,
And immortalize the spirit of widowhood?

My life is given to the Light.
These episodes of testing I can’t face:
I plant prayer for its erase,
And wind for a save and safe alight.

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A Most Amazing Adventure

Was once a shy and retiring sort Never wanted to draw attention to myself Always listened, never offered my thoughts Never felt I had anything interesting to say That was then, this is now Have you heard the expression “Coming out of one's shell” That saying was invented for yours truly From black to white The transition has been astounding Extreme is another good word to describe it Poetry has allowed me to release my inner soul To say things that have always been in my heart But were never uttered for fear of ridicule The heartfelt joy and happiness That I now possess Is beyond description, it has helped me realize I too, have something to offer And the rewards for me Have been so much more than I could have ever imagined I guess every life has lessons to learn Every step of the way We never stop learning till our final day Life is a most amazing adventure! © Jack Ellison 2014

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Twelve Toes

Catawba Joe, a full blooded Crow, married a cute as a button little Eskimo.
She bore him a son who had twelve toes and an elongated nose.
They named their little bouncing bundle of joy Curly Joe Twelve Toes.
After Curly Joe grew up he fought alongside Davy Crockett at the Alamo.
A Mexican shot off Curly Joe’s elongated nose, so Twelve Toes was no mo’.
The Afro-Americans amongst the brave sons of liberty said: “rest in peace bro”. 

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My Best Friend is a Polar Bear

His name is Roy and he is my best friend. We spend hours each day pretending to swim. If only he could catch a single fish like the rest of his clan. We swim circles upon circles trying to catch just one. Oh he gets so discouraged and then I give him a pep talk. He was ruined I believe as they held him in captivity. And the visitors would continuously feed him lollipops and Snickers. I promised him that if he could just spend more time swimming around the fish that they would begin looking tasty to him.

An old oil rig lay ahead. Perhaps we will find some people food and he could be calm once again. 

Roy, oh Roy! What am I gonna do with you? I should simply call the zoo keeper at the Antarctic Zoo! They could come and pick you up with one of those space ship-sized submarines. If there really was such a place!

Oh Roy, oh Roy! Perhaps we could find a really wealthy family and they could hide you out in their back yard pool! Now that’s a great idea too! Or I could teach you a few good jokes and you could do stand-up comedy. Now that’s a great idea! Or I could help you get your own cooking show! Sushi with Roy! You’d be an instant hit with your cool personality! 

Okay, now back to my reality. I gotta try to survive out here too! It’s about two hours now to high tide! I’ve got some serious fishing to do!

Gwendolen Rix

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She measured only five foot tall,
With her stooped shoulders, even shorter.
Towered over by her strapping son,
My mother and each other daughter.
Grandma came from sturdy stock. 
On her own strength, she relied
To raise her five young children,
After my grandpa died.

Mother was only six years old,
She could barely remember when
Her daddy died of consumption.
That’s what they called it then.  
There was no such thing as welfare,
So Grandma was left alone,
To find a way that she could raise 
Her family on her own.

Opportunities for women
Before the First World War
Were almost non-existent.
The wolf was at their door.
So my grandma took in washing, 
Ironing and clothes to mend.
The enormity of her labors,
I can’t even comprehend.

I have pictures of her and her family,
All so neatly dressed
In crisp white dresses and starched shirt,
Attired in their Sunday best.
Did her children know her sacrifice,
How this woman had to strive
To see they were fed and sheltered,
And to keep them all alive?

My memories of my grandma,
Are when she was old and alone.
She was frail and ill but managed 
To face life on her own.
She had her little garden,
And planted by the moon.
She bragged that no one in the town
Was eating fresh peas so soon.

I never heard her grumble
About her difficult life 
Or that she had been a widow
Much longer than a wife.
My grandma had the steely will,
That has made this nation grow.
Without her kind, we wouldn’t have
The ease that we now know.

So when ever the days are rainy
And I’m feeling sorry for myself,
I start to remember Grandma, 
Take her album from the shelf.
Surrounded by life’s luxuries
Of the kind she never knew,
I wonder at my grandma,
And the way she battled through.

She barely knew of radio,
And  would have been enchanted
With television and its wonders,
Which we take so much for granted.
Grandma was a true pioneer.
Her road was long and rough.
Her granddaughter should be ashamed.
To claim she has it tough.

I salute you Grandma and love you.
I was  proud to call you Gram.
And no one needs to tell me that
You were of sterner stuff than I am.

Debbie:  Perhaps we could have another category such as  "Provider"


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Urge To Smile

Urge To Smile
By Nate Spears

The morning sun rises
My flesh is set back 
Due to my body needing 
Much needed rest
I wonder 
Does anyone else feel 
the urge to smile?
I know right now 
I'm feeling sour

A grin attached to my face
That lights up the sky
Behind my clouds of joy 
There lies a lie
With everyone wondering how?
How can he smile
with so much going on
Rapidly by the hour
People losing their homes

Some can barely feed their kids
The government is gone
They rather spend our money 
On billion dollar drones
Never the less
We're blessed
We're here to see another day
Being healthy and relevant
Gives me strength
To soar into a new day
With unlimited fight 
Packed up under my wings

Another day 
Another chance
For tomorrow 
Thanks in advance
As long as I'm living
I can better my condition 
It's mandatory to smile
A privilege to be living.

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Wolf of the North

Smooth wood 
Worn by water and air
Never polished 
Escaped by the hands that touched it
Ropes and tackle attached streaming up towards the sails
All foreign to a land lover.
When tied at bay she seems so tame and easy to control
But set her free among the briny sea and you will see what she can bring
And bring it she will and take it with pride and gusto
For the winds were made for her sails and masts that anchor them to the deck
The seamen go about their business as though in a dance or a jig perhaps
But one not for feint of heart
They cuss and scream and talk about ones mother all in a days work
Unless of course you cross a line then there’s trouble about
In the night of the galley or the berth were there may lay trouble can find a weak man
And leave him there till day.
But it only takes a warning for each man has a job to do
And without him that means more work for the others
And less sleep between call
So they sort out their business and carry on as one must
But don’t think you can sleep the day away and not get a lump on the head
For they are watching you and you them and never in between shall a man lay his head down before his time.

Now the sea’s rolls in and o’er the bow tis time take on ones rest.  First call comes early and some men like it the best.  I prefer four bells in the wee hours of the morn’
When the rooster crows if you can imagine that at sea and the Southern Cross is high in the sky.  I’ll take my chance with the wind and the sea and see what God brings.  And I’ll swing her around and head for the China Sea if that what fancies me.
For we have been on this ship for more than five years and yet to make land for a day.
A ghost ship you may call us.  Lost at sea and never found.  But our wood is smooth and berths are clean and we never lie about love and women.  For Captain Peterson was an honest man taught us the books of the Lutherans.  But we buried him in an island town about ten years ago.  And since then I have sailed this ship to heaven and to hell.  It’s time to rest and bring her to shore but now no one wants to leave.  Our land legs are gone and the desire to walk with the weak leave us less than desire.  So shove off again and head to the seas and I’m sure the wolf of the north wind will find us.  And we will laugh and cuss till she brings us under.

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Granny And Your last glass of water

He starts singing songs of Ireland and we are home in a jiffy
"What's a jiffy," my mother wonders
"Guess  where we went Granny?"
"I don't know but I have a feeling you are gonna tell me," answers my grandmother
"And Don't call me Granny!"
"We went to church so Poppy could ask secret questions."
"The priest gave Poppy a shot and a beer and Poppy sent me next store and he gave me money for  taffy."
"He told me not to tell anyone especially you about the priest cause it's only for the priests ears."
"He said God would take away taffy and I'd never get another goodie and God would strike me dead if I told."
"So I can't tell anyone."
"He did," and she starts yelling and grabs a weapon,"what kind of idiot would be scaring a little child?"
Granny is standing on  Poppy's toes and and asking him questions of where he'd been and getting a sniff of his breath
"So what did you tell  the priest and him giving you consolation and a shot and beer."
"That little rat ," and thinks about the money for candy
Later, Granny is chasing Poppy with that big iron frying pan and poppy running and singing
"In Heaven they have no beer, that's why we drink it here."
"You damn fool I'm gonna bust you in the head, "and throws the pan at his head
And later
Cousin Francis has bill collectors come to the house looking for him
Granny was four foot seven  inches and she starts kicking him in the shin
My Mother grabs his Dick Tracy hat and she jumps on it and flattens it
I ask my mom where I was when this happened and she pauses
" You were in Heaven Patrick waiting with your brother!"
The truancy officers bang on the door and want to know where Uncle Charles is
Granny shrugs and says, "He is upstairs and the sound of the window going up sounds
They all run upstairs and see Uncle sliding down the tree and running as fast as his
seven year legs can move
He comes home later that evening holding a goose under his arm
And Poppy has a soft-boiled goose egg for breakfast every morning
I ask Uncle what happened to that goose and He said,"one day he came home  and
they had chicken for dinner."
And Poppy was gone to heaven to get me and my brother ready Mom says
And Granny sits my brother and me on her lap and says,"you two knuckleheads listen up."
"This is very important so don't forget it."
"Treat people the way you want to be treated, because you never know who is going to hand you your last glass of water"

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Black Pearl Pirate Ship versus Hurricane Bertha

Black Pearl Pirate Ship versus Hurricane Bertha
August 9th 2014.

Liverpool was a mighty port
New Brighton stood by Perch Rock Fort
The Black Pearl sat on Wirral sands and stone
And against Hurricane Bertha stood alone
Bertha howled and shrieked anew
A massive wind that blew and blew
Waves and tides lashed at Black Pearl 
But could not unseat this ungainly girl
Her wood and flotsam together held 
As the hurricane's fury unfurled
And threw at her all that it had 
But could not wrest Pearl from her pad
Earlier Pearls had sadly succumbed
To other winds and tides and storms
But this Black Pearl finally won
And Wirral's wonder remained undone
Noddy and his motley crew
Had taken precautions and had paid their due
And now as calm is once more restored
Everyone can get on board
Fix her up for all the kids to see
(From 2 years old to seventy)

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Christmas Rebels

Christmas Rebels
It was about a weak
After that night walk
The unknown dangers, 
Made known, turned me weak,
I was managing myself,
After my heart was pulled,
From where it sank,
I was yet in the oven,
Of my haven,
To dry up the coldness,
And the wetness, 
Of that fearful night loneliness,

Today is Christmas,
The whole mass,
Was joyous,
Every home, glorious,
Meat was plenteous, 
Rice and beans.
Was every homes means,
Children bouncing in,
New goat skin jackets,
Mother’s dressed in costly
Beads and all the way,
Father leads.
For Christmas had taking over,
Taking over the African Shrine,
It supplied a joyous sunshine.
Our pockets were full of cowries,
Like a goldmine,
Happiness was mine,
For the usual war seemed 
To be hidden, and our teethes where like, 
“Forever opened”.

Oh! Joyful, blissful, plentiful Christmas.
Providing joy each time it surface, 
But joy has a slender waist that breaks so soon.
Christmas night came, so we visited 
Our beds as night rang it’s bell,

(To be continued in the next, same Poem).

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Corny Dog Man

I am Corny Dog Man,
the fave Super Hero in all the land.
My main mission is to hand out free
cornmeal-batter covered foot long
hot dogs skewered on a stick
to every hungry girl and boy
in the whole wide blessed world.
My sidekick Honey Mustard Girl
is always right by my side
with the sweet tasty dip
for more added enjoyment
for all of my myriad of kiddie fans.
Never fear kiddos, I’ll be there to
make sure one and all will receive at
least one yummy to the tummy meal
before I fly back to Junk Food Paradise to
refill my Biggie Boy Backpack with many more
foot long corny dogs for your eating pleasure.

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God's glance and a fine memory
Poppy snores away sitting in his comfortable chair
And Granny takes a feather and tickles his nose
He  wipes at his face and goes back to his fantastic snore
Poppy from Ireland and his shot and a beer
On payday Granny sends my Mother with Poppy as a reminder
"And don't take any side routes"
He gets his pay and starts to home
They walk to the chapel and  just one
It's always just one
He tells my mother to wait outside and he hands her  25 cents
"Now don't forget when Mommy questions you, where did we go."
 "We went to see Father Duke and Poppy I'm not dumb."
"I'm gonna have a palaver with this priest," as he goes into the bar
"Keep your mouth shut I need to ask the priest some advice."
He drinks a few quick shots and faster beer's 
And my mother buys a taffy
She stands waiting and eating taffy and Poppy happily comes out of the bar
"Now don't forget that we got the pay and I took you to get a goodie."
"But Poppy what about the priest who gave you a shot and beer?"
"Don't be talking and eat your goodie."

For some reason it wouldn't take the whole poem,, That's why I had to continue to Granny2

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In her heart and in her mind

She walked on.  She let herself go where her legs carried her.  Her dress billowed around her feet.  She walked on down the dusty lane, feet touched the ground, mind deep in thought.  People peeked out of their windows at this beautiful girl, her eyes focused straight ahead.   No goal in sight.  No destination in mind.  People stared at her, then in the distance, deciding for themselves where it was she was going with such a dedicated stride.  People assumed, guessed, made up tales that suited their own reasons.  Turned her into the person they wanted her to be.  She walked on.  She either ignored, or didnt see the people, who continued to peek out thier windows as she went on down the lane.  Her face a blank slate.  Yet her heart so full it could burst and her mind so busy it threatened to turn itself into a tangled mess of words and thoughts.  She continued on.  Only she knew where she was going.  Where she wanted to be.  What she was doing.  And where she would stop.

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A Tale Of Vampirates

Busy reading a curious series 
Wrapped in the fantasy 
Written within it's covers
A story of Vampirates

A complex tale of lives entwined 
Destiny shaped before life 
Journeys embarked upon
While sailing the open seas

Set in a time ahead of now 
Throughout the past plays it's part
Challenges faced by siblings divided
Worlds apart their loyalties tried

Enchanting descriptions of a world apart
Removed from reality
Still within its embrace
An epic tale of adventure

Thousands of pages
To tell its full tale
A beautiful story
An original, truly one of a kind

Wanting the story to continue 
For the characters journeys 
To not be through
To pick up where we left off

Sailing through the seas
In search of answers
Of treasure 
And more

Twins who were once sheltered 
Exposed to untold dangers
Denied the truth
To who they are

Centuries of time 
Riddled with tales 
Of more than just the twins 
Conner and Grace

But alas the tale is done
With their unusual stories
Left swinging in limbo
So onto the next one

Written by:  Shannon Deane
Written:  June 9th, 2011
Contest:  Sea Of Words

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Waves of Change

Waves of Change Changes in life descriptionalized In comparison to waves of the ocean Our bodies are made mostly of water A body of water with flowing emotions Now an ocean will flow peacefully Until there is a bit of turbulence Disrupting from a smooth flow With the up and down currents As we walk onto a new path A different kind of feeling steps in New ventures can be scary in thought Of what is left behind when we begin An air of difference can bring on a spin To a funnel effect as does a water spout Sometimes when in the spin motion cycle We are shaded by clouds and cannot see out When actually caught within the spin We do not see the change is there Our sense of direction is lost We become totally unaware If you are the one caught Within that fast paced spin You will not be able to see The shape you are really in That’s the time we need someone To give us a tap on the shoulder It’s not a matter of who knows more Or which one of the other is older You’ll need a friend like Dory was Saying to just keep swimming the sea To never give up your hopes and dreams As changes in life really just happen to be Florence McMillian (Flo)

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Eye ear you

All you imprisoned soldiers screaming for help/
All you sending empty promises to the veld/
Tears that are heartfelt/
Eye ear you/
All you who feel lyrical bullets shooting through your blood vessels/
You Infants drilling a hole through her womb to have a peek of life before that day/
Those climbing evil branches from the tree of life/
Eye ear you/
Those attacked in their own jungle/
Fought with no loud rumble/
Happiest souls eating from the bin like a couple/
Eye ear you/
I am back from my dead/
Spoke peace ate dreams wiped tears in my dead/
His poetic wings shadowed me fed me with my bread/
Eye ear you/
Here's a toast to my dad/
I am an angel i can speak with the dead/

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Baby Mermaid

It was down on Bayou Rumpawpaw
where the self proclaimed semi-professional
fisherman Dub “Stinky” Crank first met
the lovely young mermaid by the name of Jewel.
She swam right up to Dub’s old rusty boat
and popped her head out of the water.
It was a fantastical sight to see
and I know this to be a natural fact
because I was there in the boat with him
when the whole dang shebang went down.
For good old bayou boy Dub it was
love at first sight despite him being drunk.
We didn’t have a very good day of fishing
that day which sort of teed me off at the time.
We only caught a few daggum goggle-eye
before the mermaid incident took place.
It worked out pretty darn good for Dub
and he is my very best friend so in
the long run I say heck the what.
After a short bayou soaked courtship
Dub and Jewel done went and got hitched.
I was best man that day and I have to admit
it was a very interesting but strange event.
The two had the love itch really big time
and nine months after the wedding gala
a baby mermaid came swimming into this world.
They named the little bayou beauty Coralee.
I told old Dub that those swimming lessons
we both took when we were young
would come in handy some day.
I still don’t know how the two did
the mating thing and it’s probably
best for my sanity if I never do.

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Their lived a man once upon a time in Hollywood
Who in peace and war his glory stood
Reaching by far his story could
For he was known to share holy food 
From a holy book in Hollywood

Always alone he used to be
With his broad sword no enemy was left free
He could slash and shriek zubb zubb like a bee
And took a holy book and said, ‘Lord forgive me.’
And finally admitted this is how it’s suppose to be

He went to the coast to enjoy the calm see breeze
And watched immigrant ships telling him to freeze
 He killed people who had pads on their knees
And preached to those who has none of these
And could finally pray as usual in the breeze

He stood for all joy and stood for anger
For he had to use both his book and his panga
As they both worked on people to kill their hunger
He gave a wait to his finger
Which pointed at the book to kill the anger

For his missions he never was late
I don’t know how because there were no calendars to tell the date
Nor clock to tell the time, but sunrise and sunset
When he hunted his need until he would get
And his book and sword was used on time, never late

He was known to be a Hollywood ranger
Who could welcome any stranger
Whether for peace or war he was ready for any danger
On Christmas he used to sing away in a manger
And he was ready to preach and fight as a ranger

Stories were flying about adventures of him
But publishers were scared to publish his film
Nor light on him could beam
For they were afraid of his team:
The holy book, the sword, and him

Now you may wonder how I’m writing about this man
It’s neither because I have a gun
Nor because I’m able to run
But it’s because he passed away and he’s done
And every creature in Hollywood remembers this man.

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Rescue Squad 16

82571 lima echo alfa juliet please respond.82571 lima echo alfa juliet are you there?
This is Harry who's this? Its Tom Mansfield. Tom you realize its 11:30 P.M. Sorry we have 5 climbers missing on the north side of Mooseluck and there has been an avalanche in
 that area. Yea I thought I heard it earlier. I'm on my way up to Your place now Tom do you have an extra battery pack for the lamp mine's pretty low. Yep. I have 
Billy Williams with me, You have extra gear for him. Yep. I'll put the coffee on What's your ETA? 20 minutes. This is 82571 lima echo alfa juliet signing off.
  I'll never understand why these Dartmouth students have to mountain climb on the coldest day of the year, in a storm. Ok snowshoes, therma wraps, lamps, goggles and a map.Waiting for what seems like Hours I hear the bronco finally.
  Tom, Billy I was just going to bed when YOU called, What do we have? Four men and a women Headed up Demon's Bluff 10 a.m. this morning. A women they're usually more level headed than men. According to the Information we have they are all seasoned vets at rock climbing  In the winter time?? They were suppose to be back by 4P.M. 4pm why are we just hearing about it now. Gregg Tilman was the co-ordinator of a college dance, when he didn't show up to MC the dance we got called. It gets worst the only other name we have is his girlfriend, Elizabeth Townsend. I think it's going to be a long night Tom. Absorb the heat from the wood stove finish your coffee and dress warm
                                                           To be Cont.

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Scarlet Portmanteau

Duke Luke by his bateau
Arrived at his chateau,
Had he travelled through large eau!

His mysterious rendez-vous 
with Henry Thoreau
Yielded him a scarlet portmanteau.

Entering his bureau,
he took off his manteau
and opened the portmanteau:

The Snow Man was inside
And though not well could he sing,
Sang he a song of himself:

Stopping by woods on a snowy evening
He met Annabel Lee on a large shelf,
Frightened he was by the raven
And took the road not taken:

Crossed he the mending wall
And hearing the anecdote of the jar
To noble savage Billy Budd an honest fare he paid

Large and far
Travelled he
From spring to fall

Self-reliance: the idea he hath
The American Scholar guided his path;

He slept a long time
In a clean well-lighted place;

One winter he woke up
In a station of the metro:
He fastened his tender buttons
and found a red wheelbarrow;
'No ideas but in things' -
A lovely image this brings!

To his disappointment and sorrow,
He never saw the snows of Kilimanjaro.

Duke Luke in disbelief
Wiped his eyes
And pinched his ears;

The Snow Man disappeared.

Duke Luke
Took a look 
At his portmanteau
In hopes of seeing something

He found


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The Woman In White

It was a cold and rainy night.
The stars were shining bright.
It seemed as if the world was at a pause and not a person was in sight.
I sat quietly in my car, 
the sound of music I heard blasting from a far.
I opened my door,
stepped out slowly and looked around.
Now suddenly the music stopped,
not a word is heard, not even a sound.
I turned my head, looked over my shoulder,
I saw a woman running.
She was wearing a white gown.
I couldn't help but wonder why this woman running
flaunted such a frown.
I followed her footsteps,
I listened for the sound.
Running through the darkness,
one question came to mind,
Who would leave this woman?
Who would be so heartless?
How can someone leave her when she is so obviously distraught?
Abruptly a sound was heard.
I came to a stop.
I listened closely.
It was a gunshot.
Now fearful I stood.
I began to run as fast as I could.
I ran so fast, I could hear my heart beating.
I came upon my car and noticed a woman bleeding.
She was gasping for air.
Someone had shot her and left her to die there.
It was as if they didn't even care.
She reached for my hand,
whispered softly to me
"never trust a man"
At that moment her hand dropped.
I knew her heart had stopped.
I looked at her white gown now dripping red.
I I cried to myself and pondered what she had said.
This could be me.
I could be lying here dead.
I will remember her words always.
They will haunt me for the rest of my days.
This moment I will never forget.
No man should ever be such a threat.

This was the day my life would change.
From this day on I would never be the same.
The lesson I learned here,
never have such fear.
Fear that will keep me from being free.
I learned that I can be happy just being me.

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My Story Telling Can You Trust Me

Gun fire all around, bombs going off in the distance
It was some of the angry mobs and resistance
Father was the king of SafeHaven a small kingdom
Like all other kingdoms it fell in random
Fire started in the castle
And along with it came a battle

It was a distance memory now because the child has now grew
Many things in this child that made memories stew
My name is Mastrey, a young orphan who was there that night
Mastrey saw her in the distance and her father and mother in his sight
Everyone was loud that night and made all the children hide
But that evening Mastrey saw her mother and father die

She ran into the bushes in such a fright
And evil doers were running around with flashlights
Mastrey remember it as he distracted them 
Her eyes was so confused with problems
Mastrey new that it was because of what just occurred
His feelings of what those people did was not awkward

The distraction worked, he went back to were she was
Hiding and very scared she was, he asked her, can you trust me just because?
Her answer that night depended on her lively hood
As Mastrey was their with his hand reaching out to her as he stood
Pulling her up from the ground he looked into her eyes that were SeaBlue
Mastrey had made a life long friend and love, She knew it was true

Next: My Story Telling,  Who is this Princess

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Christmas Rebels (2).

But night’s bell came with tears and without love,
As our bamboo door talked,
Before my voice could speak,
Legs ruined down my door,
Then eyes in different heights
In the starry night like 
Torch lights… attacked 
Me with their voices.
They came in mass,
Some brandishing cutlass,
Some matchets, guns and arrows.
Gang upon gangs,
Displaying their flags,
Blood stained, tattered, hair, shaggy.
They held human heads for their 
Oracles of war.
They were muttering songs as if 
Forced to sing,
They had leaves and grasses in the 
Middle of their mouths, they were mostly teens, 
They were the Hausa rebels… 
“Wait! Wait!! Wait!!!
Where are the bells?
Is this day not Christmas?”
I was asking myself,
A short tick man came out of the mass,
Not looking like human,
He looked backed at the rest,
Feeling like the best.
He weakened my hear drums 
By the manner of his question,
“Hausa or Birom?”.
To send my religion to the bottom?
Whom for this day, is Christmas? 
And sweet Messiah’s Calvary at Golgotha?
I wasn’t prepared for that, 
So the truth came out like a blast
“Yee! Yee!! Yee!!!
Enemy tribes” they shouted 
Like savage talking drums.

(To be continued in the next, same Poem).

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Finally..Mr.Whitman, I understand as my journey is symbolic to yours; but, through my poverty-strickened doors. Fighting your human instincts... while learning your internal glow within. Frightening, enlightening, inviting his omnipresence in and as your reward he transforms you into him. Breathing your FIRST breath again. Loving life from the core of the earth to the pull of the moon. Stuck in the middle yet understanding all of the connectivity; because I'm living in a state of Divinity.

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Mama's Enduring Love

Go to war and you will find out
that everyone bleeds red blood.
Be you red, yellow, brown, black or white;
if you are wounded, bright red blood comes gushing out.
Skin color doesn’t make any difference whatsoever.
While I’m on a railing rant let me tell you another war truism:
if you are mortally wounded and die a slow lingering death,
you will cry out for your mama.
No man cries out for his wife, no woman cries out for her husband.
No one even cries out for their papa.
When you are lying on the doorstep of death’s eternal rest,
you will leave this mortal world with mama on your mind.
Do you want to know why?
Because your mama will always dearly love you
whether you grow up to be a good person or even if you turn out bad.

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Precious Moments

                       I didn't know hearts could speak until we crossed part
               I was walking home, carrying a heart laden with the grief of my brother’s death
                      My mind straddling from the nostalgia of our bonded brotherhood 
                      to the thought of what the afterlife would deal him.
               You were seated at a secluded corner, carrying your hearts in your hands
               And crying out your eyeballs, wishing if God could bring back your father’s life.

      Upon that lonely and rejected wood we, dejected souls, sat cursing out death tirelessly
         For taking away our beloved brother and father.
           That day, I heard my heart speak for the first time; my heart exploded in awe
             And I felt I was captured under a spell; I saw the aura of glory in your eyes.
        It wasn’t your exquisite awe-inspiring beauty that got me lovey-dovey
        But the natural calmness in your voice as you told me your stories. 
          You reminded me of the fabled Arabian princess.
       My emotions turned into Janus- one reminding me of a lost brother
       The other, quite domineering, nudging me in my veins never to let you go.
          You saw the magic in my eyes; you felt the same way I felt
             We were marveled that fate brought us to meet on a lonely path.

    With your amazing pieces of cakes you re-awakened my dead love life on your birthday
   Your cakes were brilliant; you made them from magnificent range of fruits and spices
   The smells were superb. The aromatic smells of the cakes cooking in the oven and smearing your kitchen sent us to an early bubbly romance. 
   We became lovebirds; your crystal steaming room, neatly furnished with vitality bed,,  made for only two- us, was our love nest; we enjoyed every of our love bites.
    That night, you made a tipsy cake; we dined and wined while the stars watched over us
      We sang to our ears; every single love song we played, we made ours
      We danced while we got intoxicated on our own supply
      And before our eyes the night closed its nocturnal doors.

     Under your winter blanket were two figures, glued in carnal brash adventure, wishing the moment would never end. 
       I prayed tomorrow never to come. Alas! Uninvited, the Morning woke tomorrow up
       Under the blanket, we watched the sun set.
    But tomorrow came Janus-faced; with a vice we never wished for- impassioned jealousy
       It tore us apart; pulled us away; and took away our precious moments
    But I still carry in my heart those precious moments.

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In what ways should self-  help guide quod erat 
demostrandum?  An outcast in renowned manor, Hardly given a libate to quodlibets own very existence, And hasten to the fictitious lands of historic romance, Behind the fertility and its 
lucreous, In the ambience endowed with whole lots of nacreous , All worth in many of its returns, Went singeing about that waylayers songs, Like sheep without a shepherd, For that misconstrued word; Even so the local tribesmen; Yet could n’t owned up with terms, But to the unborn were made to borne, Shouldn't one put up symptom in quantum, Rhine wine they said made from grapes only grown in Rhine valium , For they have lost it; More than you could'd  desired it, To know revindications would  upon this days set in, Unto an evil courting, Should In spite of what it seemed, Sac’less in the heart of those we mewed; nothing about And Shall often times chew. All for the fat, the rag on our primogenitor infractions. Before own very machismo, When it becomes a trounce very unremitted to mankind. Should we bid at bay all in kind. or Liege to the cavalries jousting a day after it reveille on your rivalries.

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Golden Windows

A young shepherd living near the hill,
taking his flocks everyday to drumlin.
He wonders deeply while sitting upon the rocks,
looking at afar house while feeding his flocks.

The shepherd's desire is fantasy of afar home,
that has golden windows behind hedge of anemone.
He wonders if the windows of the house are gold
how other appurtenance of the house are mould?

He starts his journey to there, finally after some time, 
going along the way across the hill while biting a loaf of naan.
When arrives, he finds the house in fully collapsed condition. 
There are no golden windows but a poor crumbled house. 

He looks to his own house down the drumlin
surprised by the heavenliness of his own dwelling
The sun was casting back on his house's stained windows 
just like the sparkling on the gold as the sun downs

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For whoever think story telling is that easy,
Would properly from this hilarious incident,
scene or whatever you might call it, would know is not.


Just some couple of months ago, I was invited
by a friend who knows me too well, back then in 
school as a funny guy and story teller and so he taught this
night, that his grand pa (who is a famous story teller 
of his village) had fall sick, I would be in a better position
to cover up for his father's so called responsibility
to his people. "For he (my friend's father, Williams) is a good story teller.
But what about me who has never faced 
the ample crowd with my 'cripple' tale unless sharing it with friends?" I mumbled.

In the middle of this enigma, my friend, John called me to the hot seat
to tell my tale to the unbearable crowd of adolescence. 

"God why am I here this day... But it shouldn't have been this day" I retorted.
The barbarian noise from the seats infront of me showed that truly I was 
in the middle of something and not lost...

"Uncle tell us a story!... Brother tell us a story!" the crowd shouted.

This day, I needed a free moment but they couldn't let me be.
"Once upon a time" they heard me said and they all resited.
" I am sorry, I am sorry let me restart it all over again".

Now in old man's voice, I told my tale before them:

"Once upon a time,
In our mothers' womb, when she
Ate, we ate. Goodnight!"

They all cannot but burst to laughter while I stood and walked to the room with my 

Anything after good night means nothing more till the next day.
Maybe I escaped the night by dissatisfying the emotions of those children,
in that scene, what about my friend? 
"Have I not brought shame to John's family? Did I do the 
right thing that full moon night?". My heart beats!


Not even do the audience remember or care to ask me: (In kid's voice)
"What if my mother do not eat while in my pregnancy, what will happen to her?" or 
probably care to tell me: (Back to old man's voice) "What lesson they have derived from 
the tale before their departure... Oh! No sorry, my bashful departure from their sight." 

Note: The tale: "Once upon....Goodnight!" is a Haiku form of poetry.  

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Broken Treasured Flower

With his persuasive tone he continued 
Until she was convinced that the time was ripened.
After a long-winded foreplay she was stimulated,
Like the first taste of applesauce she wanted it.
Her mind poised as she lay back in amorous stance
But her muscles were tautened.

His fingers seemed roaming, but knows the targeted point
His fingers ambled, exuding great adeptness as she moaned
He asked her if she was indifferent and scared
Anxiously, like a baby’s mouth on mama’s nipple for natural milk
She mumbled pluckily with a not-at-all-response 
As she shook her head in affirmation.
In the twinkling of an eye his finger found the right spot.

Deeply his finger bumped into her
He assured her he would be as gentle as a lamb.
Reaching the ‘boiling point,’ shower of shivers rained over her
And goose bumps formed as her body became twitchy all over.
Profoundly both eyes met in enamored density; chemistry was mutual
She saw a telltale conviction in his eyes; her spirit was re-assured
His sedated smiles laid-back her muscles as her legs became wide-open.
Hush his tubular tissue struck softly-softly into her innermost sanctum.

In ecstasy she began to ask for more, oblivious of pains
She beckoned him for a hurry-scurry as her hunger for more continued.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      
As skilled in the game he understood the pain thereafter
So he took his time as he journeyed in grand pleasure at a snail's pace.
Deeply he invaded her sanctum sanctorum as her muscle cramped
And her network of tissues opened up to avoid 'traffic jams.'
Reality darkened fantasy as she felt pains oscillating insidiously all over her body
And dribble of bloods dripping from the broken treasured flower
Her eyes were filled with tears as she realized her tightly-held pride was gone.

She lay snuggled in his arms as he whispered into her ears lyrics like a lyrebird 
Like the Roman Janus her desired pleasure had fathered a two-faced offspring:
She was gloomy cheerless that her treasured flower had been broken;
She would never be the same again
She was worried that she might be gravid.
But she was pleased to have shared her innermost hush-hush with him
She was delighted that the days her peers’ poured scorns on her were yesterday
She would no longer be left out in their brash adventure natter
She was happy he left an indelible experience ingrained in her memory.

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The Forest

The Forest

I walk through an ancient, gloomy forest.
Everything is shrouded in a dark fog,
flowing over the contours of the earth.
Uncertainty floods my mind, warping what I see and hear.
In the distance, an owl faintly asks his question.
I spin around, again and again. 
Faint padding. The cracking of a twig.
Wind howling, fear takes my head. 
A flash of grey, gone as if never there. 
I flit about, glancing this way and that…
A faint moon reveals my horrors.
A half dozen wolves, grey and black,
crouching before me, ready to snap. 
I stumble away, my back now against a tree.
They close in, readying themselves. 
I unveil my dagger, but to my dismay and distress,
the wolves are like no other.
Transforming on spot, into those whom I love, 
I think, “Am I strong enough for this?”
Before I conclude, they strike with speed.
And before I conclude, my horrors are gone.
Before I conclude, I’m hearing Death’s psalm.

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Physically and Mentally Abuse

I was born in a world of poverty and soiled life of a third world country
The way I lived till I was five years of age was walls of boundary
These walls had towers of guards that had no heart or care
If a child would try to climb the wall they lose their life I swear

Father had drank and threatened my mother with a knife
My father lost his job and wife and that was the hardship of life
He stopped my mother from taking off with me in her arm
Hoping that my father would ignore and left me be with no harm

When my father went off to drink one night and came home with rage
My brothers stood by my crib and took a beating that set up the next stage
My father had woken up to three scared children half starved and in pain
His final words as he walk away from the orphanage gate live life do not go insane

I was still a baby in the orphanage; the caretakers did not really care about the babies
They stole items and materials those wicked men and maternal evil ladies
They starved all the babies because it cost a lot to keep them alive
As a child of that age I could feel the sins and greed that gave out bad vibes

I was ignorant about what I drank and ate, as I see white maggots move in my bottle
As I see them move I thought about how they were playing and some were hostel
They ate each other to keep each other alive in a manner that took me by surprise
In the back round I hear others throwing things with sounds of painful cries

I got very strong at a young age I was able to start pulling myself up over the cage
My feelings were to see my brothers with strong lungs that I cried out of rage
My two brothers came to see me and sneak food into my crib
The caretaker would find the food in my hands as they grabbed it and hit me on my ribs

As painful as it was I kept eating the food with blood in my mouth as it was instinct
I sometimes laid in my crib dazed and confused with smell of death so distinct
With all my might I kept myself strong and climb the small wall
I finally was old enough to get out of the building and I could hear my brothers call

With tears of joy with short legs that ran as fast as my heart
I ran to my brothers arms and held their hands to have a new start
I grew stronger everyday but more things came into my life in a manner of dismay
If my brothers stay by my side I could smile and everyday their would be okay

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My Story Telling Who is this Princes

The night air made her feel tired
As she looked out side all the fences were wired
In the distance she hears crowds yelling
As she was to young to know they were rebelling
Father she asked where are we going?
Mother said to keep quiet and keep walking

Mother yelled in the night air
Father gave out a blank stare
They yelled run my princess run as far as you can
As that moment past her little feet pushed off and she ran
She ran to the nearest bushes and crawled into it to hide
She never smelled the air before as if someone just had died

As she lay on the ground under a bush she heard 
A loud yell in the distance almost to absurd
My name is Angelica, I am just a young girl who does not know 
Angelica just wants to live her life with help to grow
Angelica did not know what just happened she notice a figure in the distance
A little person just like her, a strong but gentle presence

Angelica saw the people who were shouting run off toward the voice
She was scared and she knew that she had to make a choice
Angelica fragile state was so confused and lost
She knew it will take burden on her at a cost
But in that moment of quietness a young but strong voice called out
Can you trust me just because? will you come with me with no doubt

My Story Telling  Together In A Strange World

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Out Of Place, Out Of Time

Not long ago in a faraway place,
Big Jack McCluskey dug up some gold.
Now that he had mucho moolah Jack decided to move
and leave the bleak environs of the harsh Alaskan cold.
Off he happily went to the pleasant warm Hawaiian isles
to spend the remainder of his days where the weather is mild.
Unfortunately, once there, Big Jack McCluskey didn’t fit in
with the laid-back native islanders because Jack is naturally wild.
Being a very accommodating group of people they put up with Jack
despite of his menacing demeanor and his wild changes in mood.
McCluskey has a tendency to be arrogant; he thinks his feces have no stink.
He has a very short temper and even on his best days he is nasty rude.
Unfortunately, money walks very tall and it talks really loud,
so the Hawaiians tolerated Jack’s outrageous boorish ways.
Big Jack is uglier than the devil and smells like raw sewage,
he loves to sing bawdy songs out loud and he cuts wind night and day.
Even the most mild mannered of people have their breaking point,
so when Jack decided to get naked and walk about and around,
thereby scaring all the children and causing sober preachers to take a drink,
the men gathered together, bum rushed him and got him tightly bound.
They threw Jack in a big wooden crate, loaded it in the hold of a cargo plane,
labeled it Cash on Delivery, care of the U. S. Senate Building, Washington, D.C.
The ever caring islanders discussed the entire situation and came to the conclusion
that as utterly disgusting as Big Jack McCluskey is, he had to have family in
old D. C.

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There lied so many footprints along my journey

Initially, I saw so many of them but, as I walked on

I realized some were fading away whiles others

were no more

I noticed a set of footprints facing a specific direction

As though it bearer had a thousand legs

Could it be a crowd of people?

The footprints were headed towards a place where

there were trees with low hanging fruits, so they

veered off the road

I noticed other footprints which were not full as though

it bearers had tip toed throughout the journey to avoid

bruises from the sharp stones

Then I noticed a rare footprint with little blood stains in it

The wind blew and it never fade, time passed and it could

never be written off

I realized other fresher footprints had steps drawn in the

old rare footprints

Immediately, I knew which step to follow and with that I

became a marvel to the on-lookers

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Misty White

Distracting my skin from the icy mist,
The horn booms in the distance.
The black horizon glows,
The moon reflected from our grave. 

Misty white threatens to consume us,
Feet slip and rope drag against the deck,
Their voices grow louder as
Waterfalls of rain pour into the ocean,

My stomach grows as cold as the rocky face before us, 
They hold on for hope and I let go,
Too late to turn back, I welcome the mist,
And all hands are lost.

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So that was how the beautiful piece of heaven they had on earth stopped existing

We live in a world full of anger, hate, mistrust, fear and hypocrisy, but it wasn’t meant that way. Once upon a time, thousands of years ago God created a green, pretty and healthy planet to live in where all the animals could work together and live in peace, but suddenly, all started to change. There was a kind and good-intentioned lion, the king of the world, that always tried to do the best for his planet, taking care of all the animals on earth and maintaining peace all along the different species, but there was also a hyena, his best friend, who was so jealous of the king that he stabbed him on the back. The lion always trusted on his best friend, he told him everything he knew and all his thoughts. He thought he would be there for him whenever he needed him and always sought for his good, but the king started to notice his odd mood and felt like he was loosing his best buddy, he tried to talk to the hyena but he refused. So the king turned to somebody else to ask what was going on with his friend and nobody told him. That was so weird, everybody loved the king, everybody would kiss his ass for free, but not now, everything was different, not just with the king but the mood itself. Everything looked sad, darker, like dead. Then, one afternoon, at the weekly meeting of the Great Council, where everyone was discussing, telling wrongs and rights, the hyena stood and spoke up and turned everybody from the king, he was creating a revolution. With all the king’s ideas, with all the tactics he had, the hyena started to create a new team, he was creating bad people, he created evil. Even though there were still animals in the lion’s side, the evil one was stronger. The king, surprised and devastated by his best friend’s betrayal, he took up arms and started to defend his kingdom, the beautiful world he had. So they all started to fight, there was blood split everywhere, screaming, shouting and violence all around the place, like never before. Nobody stopped until wining or dying, dying was the choice they had to make to live in honor. So that was how the beautiful piece of heaven they had on earth stopped existing.

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Salam, how are you there?
Wassalam, good, Alhamdulillah
How about the issue in Sabah
Nothing to worry
I am worried because you are my friend
I am okay; just want to know your opinion
No probs, what do you think of that opinion?
Does it hurt you personally?
Nope, it makes sense

I am not personally taking part, I have my own problem
Indeed but I am so sad, many don’t understand the situation
They are taking one side condemning Suluk in general
So as the other Suluk in Sulu archipelago 
Many also condemning Melayu in general
I always think about others
My cousin, a policeman is in the frontline

I am so sad, pray hard
Please cry with me
I am here for you to lend your cry
Can I pretend nothing happen?
We can’t pretend to be nothing to happen
Then rest and cry with me
To make people understand is not easy
Sometime we also take time to understand our situation
I am hurt to what happen, we are being fooled by colonisers
They ask us to inherit this misery

Hmmm I am so sorry to hear that
Hopefully you won’t hate the Suluk generally
So, as long as it does not contradict to my stand
What is your stand supposedly?
 At least I have one good friend from Jolo ancestry
I am a good friend because you are good

I know nothing about the war; I just wanted to know the peace
It’s really easy to smile and pretend that you are okay
Rather than telling people why you are sad
It’s not easy to imagine that war
I just want to keep it by my self
I wanted to keep this in my sleep
When I wake up tomorrow 
Peace is expected to blow
Let have this peace to reign right away

The poem is made through the conversation with Malay friends from Kuala Lumpur about the conflict happened in Lahad Datu. We shall never put the bangsa in general as what we are thinking is right: Suluk is bad and Melayu is arrogant. We need a better understanding to conclude that each bangsa like Suluk and Melayu have nothing to do with the situation. It is a matter of siding the truth and rights. I therefore personally accepted if everyone hates me because I am Suluk and that would make the world stay in peace and to save peace, I am willing to be called such: “Suluk is bad and Melayu is arrogant” but the “country and world is peaceful” is achieved. The war declared ended today by Malaysian authority. Let Us All Save Peace. Layag Sug. 11th March 2013, Sandakan, Sabah, Malaysia!

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Well Said My Poetically Challenged Friend

Well said, my poetically challenged friend... 

Your insight is deep and telling of your sage, 
Even if I can not understand your poetic wage, 

Tell us more of your triumphs and travels, 
And don't leave out the blotter and gavels, 

For it is your frailty which entices, 
The calling of the soul, 
And unlocking of the mind... 

For when we read of your glorious battle, 
And become the fodder of which you prattle, 

Remember that these are the days, 
We relished the great dreams you gave, 

Soon you will be left to your own devices, 
Karma so apropos, 
Balancing over time... 

Then with great pride I will be able to say, 
That I once met a poet untamed,

A free verse poet like you who has belched, 
With nonconforming musings, true and heartfelt, 

Oh what great cost the poets price is, 
Always watching yet always alone, 
All to capture truth sublime, 

Again well said, my poetically challenged friend!

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De Andy Lee

De Andy Lee (part one)

Talks about the little Lady Lee and me,
It all started at the first flight
Our adventure had an origin---
From Off-ego was where we met
So dazzling was her beauty that
Caught my eyes at first sight
And unresisting, my passion wooed along 
Believe me, my eyes contended and my heart clamored
Though my lips stuttered
Deep down inside me was stamina within
Whispering “You can do it, yes, you can”

As I opened my eyes, unknowingly, I’d reached for Lee’s hands
“Hi pretty damsel… as anyone ever told… you…‘re charming”
Perhaps this was a poor pick up line
But she smiled anyway and then freed herself away 
Like a butterfly hovered from my hands.

Not so long, Terry, a neighbor from Long-town
Knocked at my door, walked himself in as I consented
And handed me a postal, “thank you Terry”, I said
While I thought through who might mail me this 
Piece on my palm which I was about to cut exposed
Alas a nightmare-like knocks from the dark 
I (already) left my door ajar
 “You help yourself in please” I utter’d as expected
“Good day sir, I’m Dandy. There is a lady waiting for you outside
She said are name is Lee De Lee”
Agape! “It must have been that lady from Off-ego,
Yes she’d seized my throat already. I think, my previous 
Chat with her there was not bad after all”
Walked myself out with one of my finest attires
Dandy took me to that spot she picked him for me and left
Me, only me wandering and wallowing nervously in the chilly clouds

“Hail Mary, hope I guess right… and where is little Lee De Lee?”
I soliloquized… and as Heaven helped me, 
She appeared and approached
“My apology for keeping you waiting Mr Handsome,
May be you did wow me like you did other ladies or not
But my question is this… Will you love me like
You never have loved any other lady in this city?”
 Though puzzled me but “I must top this chat” I assured
“Not only love will I give, but all for our short courtship
And the thereafter long and everlasting wedlock”
 I could see from her face, expressions said to say
‘Another clever words from your sweet mouth’ 
But lo she opted for most sensitive part of me,
Which could be very vulnerable sometimes
“What did you say that your sweet name is… Handsome?”
There I unveiled my name, which is Agape-
“A-G-A-P-E, yes, pronounced Aa-gaa-pey from On-town” I said….


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I wish it happened on Xmas

              In this cold wave I walked coldly in cold sweat.
          Taking a brisk walk like we shared in the old times.
                 Where I was headed for, I couldn’t envisage.
       But I was just walking hoping to catch a glimpse of something that could be a muse.

          I came across a bridge; what seemed like a labyrinth for lost and found souls.
              It was calm but very cold. It was still; the stillness seemed like a still alarm.
          The sun was not out-of-town. It gleamed and its sheens were much appealing.
              The tides were noticeable. They were out-of-the-way and seemed outpaced.

      Though the tides were astronomical, the sea lochs on the far side of the waterway
      were impressive in what seemed like an assemblage of oak fern, chinquapin oak and
      deciduous trees and displayed a mirror image of the trees with a thin misty
      atmospheric effect up-swinging as the warmth descend on the wintry water.

          Though I walked in cold sweat, I wished for a cold pack 
          to sooth my icily feelings created by your absence. 
             Then my wishes began to pop up. 
      I wish you were there with me. I thought about what you could do with such sights.
              I wish you were fleshly present in my heart. 
      I wish I could share with you this swift serenity encompassed in a deeply impressive 
     dignified quality with our hands clamped as we briskly walk on Christmas day.
              I wish it happened on Christmas.

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SHIPWRECK OF THE FISHING FLEET                                 11/24/2012

He was lost in white surprise
Of drugs and doctors quips
His mind was filled with flapping sails
Of white that guide the ships
To dance among the white capped rocks
In North white nights of June
Bring in the catch to catch the maid
Who’d be his wife so soon.

Wild hair so white it shamed the sheet
That soft caressed the grass
The grass-plagued daisies held her there
As clouds triumphant passed
In columns white the bossy clouds
Marched brisk across the sky
But none of them could match the spark
Of whiteness in her eye.

Fishing was the fruit of life
their land bore little green
the joy and danger that it brought
left little in between
and men who braved those waters
better be prepared to die
for reaping nets and filling holds
bows to a fickle sky

And then his shocked brain shifted
Jigged timed across his life
How many white nights had escaped?
The maid now was his wife!
Saw breasts so white that milk they gave
Seemed paltry in contrast--
To feed the babe that snuggled there--
The fruit of love surpassed.

Then shipwreck banged into his head
The white-flashed lightning zing--
He tested feet and moved his legs
Seemed he’d  survived this fling
Of nature’s whims again he’d live
To tell the lusty tale
      of how north winds had jumped from waves
      to grab their ship's main sail.
Before the White-Christ
Had emerged from his Semitic genes
The sailors would have cried for Thor 
To ease his hammerings.

Sailors lost were prices paid
To live in Arctic shores.
And, lost at sea was ever feared
By them, and wives adored.

He’d play a trick, they’d think him dead--
Would make a crafty tale!
By his hearth and in his bed
would sound a mourning wail.
His house would be a feast of black
Mad weeping would impress--
Then his imagination called her tears
He vowed each tear to bless

He smirked to think of their surprise
When he stalked through the door--

       An unsuccessful leap from bed—
                       He’d rest a little more.

And being man-- he pondered sex
And pleasures it would bring
There was no sizzling passion like                            
His lover’s offering.

a putrid glass forced through his teeth-
Morphia drew him in
To dream the dreams of healing arms
       prickles kissed his skin
       He found her face beyond his pain, smile that could disarm--
       In dreams , with wife, in languid bliss
       he caught a fish of charm

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my poetry

in my poetry
my skys are either blue or grey
though i never mintion it
i picture them that way
and love is always conservitive
i like the shakespereian style
romantic and superblative
always for my readers
i like to tell the truth
reviel the hidden treasures
in the way my words are used
for example:
i am not opposed to sword fights,
fist fights, threaghts, or duels.
lovers should defend their territory
with every God given tool.
love is love and yes there's jealousy
for what is love without it
if there is no real blood involved
there's a chance someone will doubt it.
like i said, conservative.
i say love is words and deeds
not seeing how much you get if you plead
but showing how much you love
when you bleed

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From Rotgut To Hell

Bart Coleman is my name.
Five Card Stud is my game.
I had ridden into Rotgut two days before.
It is a small dusty rundown nowhere town.
I spent most of my time there in Salty Sam’s Saloon.
I had taken the local yokels for a tidy little sum.
Then, to my shock and chagrin,
Zack Waverly walked into Salty Sam’s.
I had taken most of his dough down in Abilene
three months or so before I wandered into Rotgut.
Zack spotted me, called me a dirty rat,
drew his fancy Colt pistol and shot me in my chest.
I didn’t even have time to draw a breath
and I was stone cold dead before my body
hit the the creaky wooden saloon floor.
The sheriff had a couple of drunken prisoners
bury my body in a shallow grave up on Boothill.
In a flim flam flash my eternal soul was in the pit of Hell.
I would have cried, but a soul cannot shed tears,
when I was informed by that old serpent Beelzebub himself
that there is absolutely no gambling allowed in Hades.
Now I truly understand why the netherworld is called Hell.

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Gena The Geep

My name is Gena and I am an awesome geep.
Papa is Handsome Hank the tough old billy goat.
Mama is Curvy CeCe the lovely ewe sheep.
If I say so myself, I am a very gorgeous geep.
Every young billy goat bleats and every young ram sheep baas
their desire to top my firm rounded behind time after time.
All of the farm boys in the county fight over who will next milk
my gianormous voluptuous teets. Humans, they are so easy.
I draw the line at Dominic Donkey though, he is a real jackass.
I do love to tease Max Mule, the sterile old fool can’t even get it up.
I will only be young once and I intend to enjoy every minute of it.
Lust is my middle name. Love is my claim to fame. I am the queen.

For Animals Alive Contest  07/15/2014

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Desperate Measures (Complete Version)

"No!!!"-- that was the first thought that popped to mind-
I was in complete denial. 
I honestly thought I would be safe!
I did everything that I possibly could,
I laughed bitterly. But here it was...
Funny how your life can turn around in just a day--
My own personal demon was now mocking me to my face
 and slowly killing me. 

Inexperience made me struggle. Should I go for the kill or not?
 Either option would ultimately result to death by mortification. 
The former to a lesser degree though. 
So I decided to go for it, stepping inside a place where
desolation would meet impending horror.

I was now in familiar territory but my fingers still trembled. 
Touching on porcelain smooth surface, 
goosebumps~ as I saw that red, angry, stranger, giving me the evil eye.
 I was still contemplating on what I was about to do. 
Pain was inevitable but I was willing to sacrifice my comfort.
 Desperate people did this all the time, 
all without a care--why was I so nervous? 
It was now or never...

It didn't belong in this world, and absolutely not in my personal space.
Slowly, I closed in on it and tried to put a hole through its heart--
I started to pump the life out of that repulsive alien.
It was surprising though how silent everything was,
I did meet with some resistance, and it just didn't want to give in to me easily.
It was still mocking me in its own, evil way. But I was determined--
I was mentally willing it to die and my heart raced in a fiery flutter.
I was clenching my teeth, my fingers were turning white,
 and I was silently screaming in pain.
I didn't know I would get hurt this bad. 
I kept the pressure on until finally, it exploded-

Its life juices just splattered everywhere. 

I felt something sticky and warm on my cheek-
so I touched it and looked at my fingers. 
There was blood on it. Oozing blood and pus.

When I was finally able to breathe freely, 
I cleaned myself up and checked the damage. 

There was hardly a nick on my face after all. 
That wasn't too bad...
nothing a little foundation and concealer couldn't fix.  
The important thing was, my pimple was Dead~
and the Drama Queen was going to survive Prom after all.

**1005/June 2009---posted an incomplete version of this for the 
"Leave me Hanging Contest" here's the entire write :)
though did some editing today ;) --submitting this for
Paula's Bedevil contest :)

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The Perverted Ghost

There was a ghost in my house so I killed him.
Well, he wasn’t really a ghost then, but he is now
because I shot him and killed him deader than a hammer.
I had left my back door unlocked and this fellow snuck right on in,
unseen by me at all until I caught him pissing in the kitchen sink.
Come to find out he was old Jamie “Perv” Perkins
from around the corner down yonder.
Seems he was sneaking around trying to catch my niece
when she was naked. Only problem was, she wasn’t here.
She only comes and visits me during the holidays
and even then she doesn’t spend any nights here.
She’s my brother’s only child, besides I don’t know why old “Perv”
would want to see Emily Amelia naked, she ain’t really all that pretty,
she takes after my brother Abner and he’s downright ugly.
Now, if she had taken after me she would have been born pretty,
but she couldn’t have taken after me because I never had sex with her mama.
I would have if I could have, but she ran off with that truck driver fellow
before I even thought about doing the nasty with her.
When she left she broke Abner’s heart, but he got over it and became a drunk.
Now there is a sure enough ghost in the neighborhood,
I should dang well know because I was the one who made him a ghost
with my old over and under shotgun, it’s a classic beauty.
I’ve had it for going on eleven years now. Old “Perv” doesn’t haunt my house though,
he moved in with Abigail Bailey who lives two houses down from me.
Abigail ain’t all that pretty either, but she’s got big boobs and a right good sized butt.

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Lewd Octopi

While scuba diving I spotted a couple of octopi.
They were right in the midst of doing the nasty.
I immediately got the hell out of the water.
A guy was sitting there on the beach.
I told him about the two octopuses.
The old fart was a very learned professor.
He smugly informed me rather sternly
that the correct terminology was octopods.
I threw the well educated smartass into the water,
to my surprise he couldn’t swim and almost drown.
A quick thinking lifeguard jumped in and saved his sorry butt.
Some nosy busybody called the local constabulary
and I ended up spending a week in the local hoosegow.
That, good people, is my roundabout way of telling you
that my long time in coming vacation really sucked.

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Turning home with her hold half full,
Wind picks up  - raging,  all the more
Fierce in its intent to smash her hull
And plunge her deep to the seafloor.

Murderous mountains of watery salt
Filled with cold hatred inside
In their drenching ice-bound assault
Make  kamikaze charges along our side.

Snapping rime-heavy shrouds
Tumbling  the boat in the chill peril;
Overflowing scuppers foaming in anger loud,
As, engine screaming,  she regains her keel.

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~The Healer, I lay…Meditating, The Shaman’s path is inward and up, up, from the bed up, up, my astral body rises. Silence, surrounds … Looking down I see myself in a pit of covers my astral self slips from the window viewing home and hearth from outside and high above… No earth born sounds, awaken me from my flight. NO earthly forest, lush or deep entraps the Shaman she. NO bird calls fills the Predawn light… NO dewdrops distract~ Astral I recedes in time… a Dreaming Back, back, back without knowledge of time, or space like a fallen leaf~ twirling and swirling, letting the current take me, where it will through lifetimes to the womb and beyond . . . ~The Healer, I.. ghosts in space… my home but a speck lit with Chi. Silence, surrounds… Fair astral form of gossamer light, I…thread space on umbilical silk, the healer...reaches, reaches for the light, the He and She……God and Goddess. The Healer, I... reaches the World Tree, Yggdrasil, white crystal roots tendril into the primordial sea of space time, branching upward cradling Heaven. There below the tree in the soft grass an ancient one, a familiar soul, waits. ~Oh I am held by She, ancient Grandmother, and garner the wisdom of ages.~ But, the bodies time is now, and calls and as the clay rests, it calls down, down, down… I go ~Past the jumble-tumble between lifetimes, within the cycling universe of all, The Healer, I, reforms, snaps to the umbilicus of prone body, within the tumbled nest of sheets, in the now plane of existence. ~Arms reach out brushing cheeks, eyes gleam, and sparkle with the joy of sharing, kindred spirits having touched the ancient wisdon of the Light! Silence surrounds.

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INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THE POEM: It is a well known fact that we all shall die eventually, for it is inevitable. God, our creator and the owner of the world created us for a purpose. This purpose He wants us to achieve, so He sent us to the world to do so. The world is a difficult yet an easy place to stay. Back to Him we shall go. To Him we are responsible to. Heaven is our home, the earth isn’t.

On a journey I embarked
Through a dark tunnel
To an unknown world
A world of pains and
A world of joy and
Who am I to challenge him?
Into a foreign land He sent me
A nine month journey I embarked
To the great land.

Into the land I arrived
After a stead fast nine month journey
A weeping arrival I had
Down on my cheeks rolled tears
As I cried bitterly
Who knows?
It might be painful to 
Leave home
Home sweet home.

Into the land I arrived
After a steady fast nine month journey
A joyful arrival I had
Happiness I brought into 
My foreign home
So little I was
Every man joyfully welcomed me
A sweet sad moment.

The hard way I grew
On a rough road I walked
In a difficult world I walked
In a difficult world I lived
To make ends meet
My master is with me though

A foreigner I am
Back to my home, I’ll return
One day
Having no say
My master is there to decide
My day of return He decides
Back to my home
In the bosom of my master
In the bosom of my father
That day I long for
For this life is a journey
A traveler must surely
Return home
Home sweet home.

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My Last Week

If I had only a week yet to live in this mortal world,
I would first gather my family together and say my last goodbyes.
Then I would travel to Washington D. C.
and visit the Vietnam Memorial Wall,
to shed the tears I have never cried.
While there I would go to Arlington Cemetery,
to give a final salute to the boys who died so young.
I’d hail a cab to take me to the airport to catch a plane
and fly to California and piss on Nixon’s grave,
for him stabbing those of us in the back who served in harm’s way
while we were under his command.
He has to have been one of the sorriest creatures
to have ever walked upright on two limbs.
After bailing myself out of jail, I would board a train to San Francisco
and hope and pray that the whole damn city and all of its inhabitants
would fall into the deep blue sea for the way they treated the boys and me
when we traveled through there on our way to Vietnam
and then again when we came back home.
I would take a rental car and drive to the Grand Canyon,
to view the awesome splendor of God’s magnificent handiwork
He has wrought upon this old spinning sphere we call earth.
Then I would be off to the nearest airport to hop a plane,
and jet off to Rome where I would light an industrial strength candle
in Mother Teresa’s honor to thank her for all of the souls she saved.
Then I would gladly return home to die the death
I should have died when I was young.
Afterwards, my soul would slip off into the pit of hell,
and I would kick the devil’s sorry ass;
because I’m still regular army even after all of these years,
meaner than hell, tougher than nails.
Life’s an uphill battle and then you die,
but it’s a wild, wild ride. It’s one hell of a ride!

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Full Moon's End

Sick of the monsters
that track my steps,

given the chance I'd
lay them to rest.
Following my
they trail my every
Gotta lose 'em
before the moon
Grab my carving set
and begin to think
Grabbing their
attention- I get the
upper hand.
Stabbing through
their frail skin, 
I find the image of
blood in and on my
Cross-eyed and close
to the cliffs edge.
The moonlight sheds
time on the
monster's young
and i drop my knife.
For they are me, I
was them, and soon
we will be together
Looking back it was
a full moon's end.

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A missive from the damned to whoever have a little time to spend with this nonsense - Page 1

And so, I have made up my mind, once more.
I have decided to depart, to bid this husk farewell.
In order to do that, I must save coins if I desire to save myself.
For with it, I will be able to buy my ticket out here to a more blessed realm or the eternal void. Either way, I will be winning.
I mustn't, any longer, feel the starvation of affection and no more I shall be fed by the crumbs of fleeting joy they toss at me.

Thoughts of finishing are always in my mind, flooding it, making hard to go day by day, making hard to sleep, to have hope.
I fail to see where the hope is, I like to think that it can be find inside of one's heart.
But even so, I think I am mistaken, and when I glance at myself in the mirror, I quickly lose any spark of what could-be hope.

With the aid of the metallic sling, I shall leave this husf behind, heavy with its sins and sorrows, to no more nourish hatred.
For it does only to hinder my advance towards elevation.
With my metallic sling, I shall pierce, first, my heart, where lies the sorrow, then, my mind, where resides the sins.
Whilst the life in me start to wane, regrets I will not have, when my consciousness fade, my spirit will be no longer be trapped inside this imperfect cage of flesh.
Being free, my spirit shall roam far and beyond to, before, unseen places by men, to  untouched places by men.

Another day,someone inquired me "Are you happy now?" and for that I just said "Yes". How else could I have responded if not with a lie?
How could I tell them that I yearn for a premature closure in order to stop thinking and feeling but I also yearn for love.
"I am not absolutely happy, as per say, but I do suffer less when I am asleep" I could never say that to anyone...

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The Emotions of One Life

How can one easily express the emotions intact within?
Every day we are tackled by various emotions
I imagine just how strong they would be
If the entire world's emotions were all squished together into one
Surely it would be more powerful than any nuclear bomb...
Oh, when our emotions are expelled from being bottled up within for so long...
My, how strong they can be? 
I don't believe my volcano of emotions has erupted yet but, man,
Something has definitely been cooking from within... 

As for one individual, Laura Elizabeth Breidenthal, ("Breanderthong" for others...)
I have been juggled about by new emotions lately
Some really nice emotions, and others downright, miserably...
Indubitably,(had to use the word)...impeccably... horrible
But, you know, I can't possibly have the worst
I know others out there that seem to have it so bad...

I won't go into what I've been feeling lately
Because that would take longer than a sermon at church
And who really wants to hear a ranting preacher? 
—Or read work by a ranting preacher for that matter... 

But really, imagine having to calculate every emotion you have felt in your life
Imagine one person doing that
...would it leave an impact? 
Imagine everyone calculating their emotions
How similar would we be to one another?
How different?
I've wondered this often...
It just intrigues me how intricately tuned we are...

Hm... not sure how I veered off like this, but I just want to say...
Appreciate this opportunity
Appreciate the fact that we HAVE emotion
And through art…through poetry, we can show our true sentiments
...our amazing imaginations....our true, beautiful emotions
Even the negative ones, when we express them through art,
You can see the true beauty of having the freedom—
...the GIFT,
to FEEL. 

The emotions of one life can affect the entire world...
But most importantly they can affect YOU
And they have; whether through indifference,
Or inspirational happiness,
We are a fortunate race

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pooh with the only tools of honey and smarts;
mickey with his best friend Donald,
oh! what a party to start.
the three wanted to celebrate the clubhouse opening;
so they started to cheer,
giggled merrily,
and started the music.
oh! what a good time they had!
everybody was glad;
but pooh became sad,
maybe, because it was the end.
but, later we found out,
he just ran out of honey.
so mickey said,"be happy don't pout."

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They Just Choke On Their Artichokes

Just about to launch a new career Or maybe I should call it a hobby Dani Spies has certainly caught my attention With her mouth watering recipes And easy step-by-step videos to help us along I'm drooling all over the keyboard as I type I'm always game to try something new And of course the payoff at the end is the ultimate reward Now I hear some of you saying... "Are you nutso!!! Aren't you kinda old To be firing off in a new direction?" My answer to that is this, "I ain't dead am I? I'm always ready for a new challenge!" And man, what a rewarding hobby... yum, yum!!! I'll keep you posted as to how much weight I gain (ie. one of the annoying side effects!) Wish me luck all you nice people! Next thing you know, I'll have my own show on PBS Entitled "Old Chefs Never Die They Just Choke On Their Artichokes" © Jack Ellison 2014

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El tren hacia el olvido part 3

"hola" (nino pasajero del tren)
Hola donde estan tus padres chiquillo
"No le hables ha ese tipos de persona mi hijo" le dijo la madre al nino "ellos no son como
nosotros criatura, ellos son una maldicion del mundo"
Me preocupa la ignorancia de las personas sobre clase sociales
Dios las comprenda
Ya que a mi, se me hace imposible reconocer tal ignorancia de tan magnitud
pero bueno sigamos con mi regreso a Nueva York
regresando a mi ciudad lo primero que hice fue correr a la casa de sus padres
LLegando a esa casa 
color casi mostaza con ventanas blancas 
me sorprendi mucho al ver que nada habia cambiado
Demaciadas memorias se me venian a la cabeza
Como cuando eramos ninos y hasta el primer beso que nos dimos
Finalmente, me arme de valor y toque la puerta
El mayordomo contesto la purta y me dijo "Muchacho(George)""Que desea? A aqui no empliamos
a personas como usted"
Y yo le conteste-No, no busco empleo yo busco a Sandy
Y el me contesto "Sandy" "La senorita Sandy se esta casando hoy mismo en la Iglesia de San
No podia entender lo que estaba pasando
Sentia un dolor tan grande
Como si me huvieran enterrado un punal en el corazon
Y las lagrimas se me salian de los ojos enevitablemente
Pues sentia un savor bien amargo en toda la boca
Asi sali corriendo hasta la iglesia 
Ya que estaba lloviendo no se si corria mas rapido por la lluvia o por la deseperacion de
ver a verla 
Aun que fuera por ultima ves
LLegando a la iglesia havia un rotulo que decia "NO NEGROS ALLOW""NO PERSONA DE COLOR ES
Mas yo entre a fuersa y asi luchando con los guardespaldas llegue hasta en medio de la iglesia
y la gente conmovida y sorprendida decian "Que hace este mulato en la iglesia"
Y alli estaba ella luciendo como una reina
Mas me fue suficiente con verla una ves mas y asi sali de ese lugar
Sin mirar atras ni a los lados
Nada mas pensaba desaparecer y no volver nunca mas
Asi fui hasia la estacion del tren y compre un voleto con destino hasta la ultima parada
crusando el pais entero
LLegando ala estacion, una mujer de vestido blanco color perla y de sombrero igual me toco
el hombro y me di vuelta
Voltiandome ella se quito el sombrero y sus ojos brillaban como el mar brilla al resplandor
del sol.
Ella me pregunto si necitaba compania
Me abrazo y me dio un beso y asi partimos juntos en el TREN HACIA EL OLVIDO
Sin importar la clase social y lo mas importante
de que color era nuestra piel.........


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Relaxing sea ride with skies of blue.
Gentle waves rock our bodies like a porch swing.
Family laughing and soaking up the sunshine.

Further along waters start to get choppy
Waves grow bigger than a garden wall
Green emerald waters broke our bow
This nearly ended a land lubbin crew
Straight to the bottom the pontoons did dive
I heard a shrill scream of terror escape
When my ankles submerged to a watery doom
I ran to the stern to get more height
Drowning was not the goal nor our plight
The pontoons began to arise like a bubble but
Our motor stalled from the severe incline.
I know now fuel don't run straight up at a ninety degree turn
We had to be at the mercy of the sea while our engine
Decided whether to trust us or not
After several harrowing moments the engine reved
We made our escape from natures deathly fury.

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God IS Real Miracles Happen

God Is Real/Miracles Happen
By Nate Spears

God is real, and miracles happen
Despite of his struggles 
The middle class poet kept on writing his chapters 
Times were tough 
But he didn’t give up
Unpaid rent 
Eviction notes 
His bills were overdue  
No water, no power 
He used GOD as his source; and  
kept on writing his chapters
Then came a knock 
He opened his door, but no one was there 
There was a note left behind, along with a white feather on his mat 
A rent paid receipt 
Plus full payment of his utilities
He closed the door quickly, and went back in the house to his desk
The pages in his book was flipped 
to a ending page he couldn’t miss
A inspirational piece was left behind that he didn’t write
It read this: 

For your time and effort given 
to lead and inspire, this is the final chapter in your book that I so desire.

I restored your power, to give you energy to write.

I gave you water again, for the tears shed on your writes.

I provided funding for your rent, for the priceless messages your poems present. 

Those sheets of paper have inspired many lives in need to vent.

I read the final chapter, and started to cry
I glanced out the window at a river of joy nearby
A rainbow appeared in the sky
Under covering my darkness  
There lies a ray of light 
No matter how deep life pounds
No matter how hard things get 
If you believe you can overcome
Just keep up the fight 
The battle is already won
Just believe.

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The Lone Ranger came to visit me last night. 
He was perfect, his shiny six-guns hanging 
on his hip, and the mask (to protect his real identity!)  
"Howdy!" I said;  "Hiya, pardner!" he replied, 
and I motioned for him to take a seat. "No thanks," 
he groaned, "I think I'll stand, been in the saddle 
now for going on three days!" 

There were so many questions on my mind. 
How come he always got the bad guy, and rode 
off into the sunset with a flourish and a smile, 
and how come you never saw the blood? 
"Things were less complicated then," he mused, 
not like now where everything's so realistic, 
so there's nothing left for people to imagine;"
then he disappeared without a trace... 

         He's still my hero. 

These days everyone's part good part bad, 
so that the line is hard to find. 
It was easier when men wore white and rode 
high up in the saddle. The good guy always 
grabbed the glory, then disappeared 
in a cloud of dust with a hearty 

         "Hi Ho Silver, away!!"

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Spoiled by Carson Eelman- 7th grader

A tribute to Ray Bradbury's The Veldt

by Carson Eelman

The nursery is a curious place
a place where dreams came true
inside lied an African Veldt.
In there the leaves would sway,
as the grass danced in the wind,
the lions roar, the sun beats hot,
it seems so real but know it's not.

In a world where thoughts come true,
what evil acts young minds will do;
I don't think we are alone,
in this place where lions roam.

The power of imagination,
can be a wonderful thing,
full of magic, fun, and wonder;
but it can turn to darkness as well.
The nursery became corrupted,
with thoughts of death,
becoming real to Mom and Dad.

In a world where thoughts come true,
what evil acts young minds will do;
I don't think we are alone,
in this place where lions roam.

The called a man
to see what's wrong
but honestly he wasn't sure.
He said they should take a break,
and so the father said,
"Shut down the house,
     we are ready to go," 
         but the kids said "Please No!"

In a world where thoughts come true,
what evil acts young minds will do;
I don't think we are alone,
in this place where lions roam.

They couldn't let it happen,
so they locked both inside.
The parents screamed and banged,
but to no reply.
The lions came and they were gone.
Peter and Wendy flashed a wicked grin,
then settled down and ate a meal.

In a world where thoughts come true,
what evil acts young minds will do;
I don't think we are alone,
in this place where lions roam.

In a world where thoughts come true,
what evil acts young minds will do;
I don't think we are alone,
in this place where lions roam.

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Soccer Crazy

Soccer was the thing for all young men to play.
And my little love wanted to join desperately in the game.
So he got to be the goalie… to wear that special crown.
He was so excited as he was sent in front of that net.
And we were so very proud of what this honor surely meant.
I told every one he was my son and we couldn’t be prouder of him, than that.
But it didn’t take long for him to feel lost as his friends went running in the game.
So alone, he started kicking at dirt clods and looking for bugs with which to play.
Then he spun in circles and showed off for some girls in every way…
So the girls were sent to help keep his eye on the ball… as best they could.
For he had been paying attention to them, as the first goal went sailing through…
At this point I said oops and boys will be boys… as I smiled, though in doubt…
But it got better as he suddenly started exploring the net, and I heard a shout…
He’d decided to play spider man as he ran and threw himself at the net.
He tried to cling up higher with every jump he brilliantly took.
As I was waving my hands back and forth while trying to tell him to cut it out…
I was getting really frantic, trying to tell him that the ball was coming close…
But he was half way up the net as the next goal came sailing past to score.
Now my head was in my hands for the team kids were looking kinda sore....
For now they had to run their hearts out… to try to win the game and score.
I began to wonder if the team would ever forgive him if they lost?
The coach made two more visits to try to get his attention at any cost…
He really was quite kind as he said in no uncertain terms to leave the net alone…
And so, my son paid attention for another moment or more, you know…
But while everyone was running and scoring at the other end…
I turned to see him hanging upside down, his foot caught in the net, up in the air.
Everyone ran out to save him with me… or was it to save the net?
When we got back to sit down the coach was looking a little strained.
And I was contemplating hiding under the bleachers as the other team scored, again.
At half time, my little goalie seemed happy relegated to the bench with all his friends.
But I was worried he might be… kicked off the team… I was in terror, my friend…
At this point, several turned to assure me every thing would be all right...
After all, last year it had been their kid’s turn for… hanging upside down...

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El tren hacia el olvido part 2

Donde estaba? O si, en aquella noche tan magica
Por fin pude responderle a ella y lo primero que le dije cancaneando fue,
Que tu..tu eres
y ella me contesto "perdon"
no nada le dije, mi nombre cual era mi nombre por dos segundos le dije)
es Andy y ella me contesto con una sonrisa tan bella "mucho gusto Andy mi nombre es Sandy"
y los dos nos agradadamos y la pasamos muy bien esa noche
Y asi seguimos por un buen tiempo
compartiendo bellos momentos
Y cada dia que pasaba yo me enamoraba mas y mas de ella 
Sabiendo que nuestro amor era prohibido 
Y que nunca hiba ha ser aseptado por ninguna sircunstancia
Mas no hice caso y me jugue la suerte como en el casino
Pues yo sabia que ella sentia lo mismo por mi 
Asi yo siendo una persona diferente y de clase no aceptable
Finalmente, despues de cuatro anos empesamos a salir como novios
Pues teniamos que salir de la ciudad para por lo menos poder agarrarnos de la mano y poder
abrasarnor publicamente
Ya que la familia de ella era muy reconocida por toda la ciudad de Manhattan
Pues su familia era de muy buena y alta sociedad social 
Y yo siendo diferente pues no entraba en ese tipo de clase social
Una de todas las noches le declare mi amor y le hice una promesa de irme a otra ciudad
Con el proposito de recojer dinero para volver por ella y casarnos en matrimonio
Comprar una casa y tener muchos hijos
Pues ese era mi idea, mi sueno y mis ilusiones para con ella
Y asi parti hacia Chicago, IL el verano de 1871
llegando a tan enorme ciudad industrial lo primero que hice fue escribirle a ella
Cuanto la estranaba 
No tengo ni palabras para explicarlo
Pues ella era la mujer y el amor de mi vida
pasaron dos anos y asi segui trabajando por un sueno que no hiba a dilatar
Pues Sandy dejo de contestar mis cartas
Por que no me escribe? esa era mi pregunta
cansado del tormento y de la desolusion me devolvi para Manhattan 
Ya que la ultima carta que recibi de ella, me decia que no creia poder esperar mas por mi 
y yo le suplique que me diera un ano mas 
que nuetro tiempo ya estaba serca
te quiero, tu eres mi vida
Haci le dije

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Sailing relentless sea

T'was the month of July 
should've been sailing upon calm sea, 
brightest sunshine 
blue sky so clear.
For days and days, it rained and rained 
As if the sky's afallin' away, 
Bounced wildly about on wall like waves
T'was death we came to face.
Tied ourselves with ropes around our waist
To not to sea be blown and swallowed away 
The only thing for us all to do, was pray
Then mates and the capt'n their voices did raise.

Began singing aloud sailor's songs of old
Drowning out their dread in the sea's assault 
Sudden shower of sunbeams began to pour right out 
Of the opening heavens by gushes of wind, parting clouds. 

Hope returned about the crew
They knew the sea would be subdued
Looking through his spyglass out to sea
The capt'n saw our destination appear.

By CarolineCécile
Copyright © 05.16.11


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Suffering Silently - Strivers Part II

Wondering if they every
asked who made me

The promise of yesterday's tomorrow has faded into the past
Corrupted it has been, which is so easy to see
The hope for tomorrow's future is that the die not yet be cast
Standing upon mountain high with hope to be free
I desire blessed me not their striver be
This land, do see not their striver be
Know who made me

Manipulation of the blind is still often turned in kind
Hearing the lies being told, all for attaining that which 
they believe is gold
Knowing  that at it's finally end
it his heartache and pain that is found
Wish I do for this not to be, yet this I foresee
Though, the history of man is not hard to forsee
Suffer I do for something that will be

Soon that day will come when a choice must be made
Last chance to choose not their striver I be
Until hat sunrise silently I suffer which is wise
Each day and the next their striver I be
Silently I suffer, other strivers see
Long, I do for them to be free

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I've Got You Covered

We'd scarcely begun our journey
to the sunny south when the sky's roof
descended and hung a shelf overhead.
"God is now joining us," she said.

On the long bridge over the ocean
toward Madeira Beach, an ear-splitting
screech interrupted speech. Brakes 
screamed as an auto coming forward 

crossed the median into our lane.
She immediately jerked the wheel
to the right. He missed us by inches.
We moved on in stunned silence.

Clearly, we had looked death
in the face, and won. Mere seconds
measured the difference.

Driving home in heavy fog, she fretted.
Zero visibility brought anxiety.
"I've got you covered," she heard. 
"Haven't I had you covered,
from the beginning?"

cfa © 1/31/11

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Dream of Birds

Wakes up. Surrounded by no one. Cars are empty. Houses are empty. Bird(bat) poop plopped in the street. Don't know what's going on. Walk around. 2:10 
Find food. Store it. 3:15
Walk around some more. 3:46
Look at a house. Curtains close fast. Someone's there. Go to the house. Knock on the 
door. No answer. Hello? 4:52
Leave,a voice says. But I have nowhere to go. I don't care. Leave. 
Can you please let me in. 4:56
But ma'am I don't know what's going on. Can you tell me?
Get out of here!4:58
Looks down. Looks up. Ma'am please. 
Little girl I'm not gonna tell you one more time.Cocks rifle. 
Sighs.Turns around. 4:59 
transitions 5:00
Hears birds(bats) screech...

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The Black Cat's Hat

We went to the market today.  
Twas an extraordinary stay – 
Children begged in their same old way.  
Grandma, please, buy this, that! 
Money was tight; dreams flew astray.  
Oh, how they wanted that fat hat! 

Grandma, please, P-L-E-A-S-E, buy us that hat!
The top was tall; it was not flat.
Red-white stripes like the black cat's hat.
“We want one oh so bad.”
We’ll both be good; please buy us that!
I purchased one per lad.

Imagination found its stay.
Faces aglow in glad array.
Each wore his hat without delay.
Soon, amusement began.
In hyperactive glad array,
They spread their arms and ran.

They passed Suzanne; watch out, stock-man!
Down each aisle, two boys ran, ran…ran!
They ran right past the tall doorman.
Down the street to the right,
Faster than an airborne toucan,
To the candy store, they took flight.

Racing behind, “Come back!” I yelled.
Upon deaf ears, my words propelled.
Steadfastly with purpose upheld.
“Give me those hats right now.”
Before long, their excitement quelled.
Hats hidden, until now!

© July 9, 2011
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen

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Coffee Shop v2

You're sitting alone at the bar of the coffee shop and you've got the usual.
black decaf latte, today's newspaper, and that pen that smears blue ink.
It’s the same every night, that's why you come back. Monotony is relief.
The only move you've made in what seems like hours was to refill your drink.

Coffee Shop:

You stare at the latte like you’re about to open a gift.
Lifting the cup high, your lips sip the heavy cream.
Tired eyes watch the frosted window and the drift
that carries the uninvited snow effortlessly past you.

The room behind you is burning loud with conversation;
The same arguments, theories, solutions
It's a sickness stuck in the same old rotation.
Like hopeless addicts, they fiend for absolution

There’s talk of Plato’s cave that shrouds enlightenment.
Others discuss Gandhi’s hidden path to the same effect.
They repeat wise men’s words in circles they invent,
leaving what’s more than a hint of ignorance to detect

The sun sets and you're blinded by a glare as you look to the skyline,
the light glows as it sits atop the trees; you look down with a sigh.
Through the window you catch the eyes of a battered man, the look of isolation and despair intertwined.
The man’s face, streaming with tears, tells a story of one too many goodbyes.

What difference does this man make, which he is or what he needs?
You’ve seen it all before; a different movie, the same old theme.
Plus, the tilt of his head and pain in his eyes speak for him of his own misdeeds
Your stare stays locked as you say out loud, “things are always what they seem.”

You have a heavy feeling bring a question that stays planted in your mind
You wonder now if you walk the very path that hollowed this man's eyes.
The thought turns into voices, the words they say are all entwined.
Getting louder now, the more you try to block them out, the more they intensify.

-Jackson Kilgrow

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Ever since I was a young lad
When I had this close encounter
With the wildflower, Celadine…
I’ll never forget the first time
I laid eyes on that pretty thing;
I guess it was its bright yellow
Tiny petals that caught my eye;
But the lasting impact on me
Was when I plucked this dainty thing
From its home-it began to bleed!
I thought, gee! It bleeds just like me
That’s when the orange blood stained my hand
Leaving its indelible mark
On my adolescent psyche.

Oh, Swallow Wort!
Fear not injury again
By these aged hands.

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There Stands The Man

There stands the man, as tall as the Everest Mountain.
When I had four legs, you would throw me so high and
I’d come down with a broad smile because I felt safe in
your warm outstretched arms. I never got to know how you
do your coin trick.
The few times you hugged me felt like a journey to the
end of the world on an elephant.
You never completed the story about the creatures who
descended from the stars every night to bring food to
everyone awake.

Anytime my friends said nice things about their fathers
in my presence, I would be silent because I thought I had
nothing to write home about when it had to do with my father.
Legends are right when they say ‘you don’t know what you
have until you lose it’.
I don’t ever want to repeat this on my death bed
regretfully someday so I listed all the good things about
you, that I may proclaim it boastfully on your birthday
instead of waiting till a tribute.

I’m learning to count my blessings one by one.Yes! , I
may not be in the royal family of England nor amongst the Rockefeller family but, this one thing I can proudly boast of,
'I have the happiest family in the world'. I don't care
anymore what the world thinks about you.They didn’t carry
me on their shoulders to watch the most prestigious
festival neither did they hold my hand on my 1st day at
school, the world did not buy me my favorite toy as well,
you did.
There stands the man, of course he stands tall in my heart.

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A Dragon's Tale

Kicking up dust with my Mary Jane shoes
too many years ago now to be counted
in the darkening shadows of one bronze summer day
I was holding his hand, with assurance and trust
filled with concoctions of sugared excitement

I remember our feet crossing the plank
My Dad, (for the fourth time, with a smile on his face)
giving me a chance to back out with grace
giving me a chance to change my mind
"There's no disgrace,"....he said once again

But I was determined, insistent and firm!
How many times, had they taken a turn...
my brother and Dad....while I had to watch and yearn
standing below, in the infantile shame of the nowhere zone?

Dad finally relented, to my mother's chagrin
then took my hand,.......and with bravado...I had won!...

Sticky was the heat, and so were my hands, while we waited
that with a fidgety impatience, leading to the front of the line

We boarded the Dragon, a faceless contraption, 
that seemed quite familiar...and oddly resembled
the creation my brother had made on our living room floor 
with his 'million and one piece' erector set

A strange looking man with a sunburned face
and a head that seemed too small for his burly, puffed up size
escorted us to a red metal bucket, and strapped us in

Before the sound of train wheels began to grind
I buried my face in the arm of my Dad....
Blinded by fear,  too scared to see, too scared was me!

I know we had the ride of my life....
The Dragon, I'm sure was fierce as could be
But I was not harmed
But for the life of me....
I only remember my shaky knees, 
and walking the plank back into mother's waiting arms


Inspired by Lisa's Contest: "Unamed County Fair "

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Because of the missing sword
A soldier falls,
And another,
And another,
And another…

When was their birth?
What hastens their death?
Christ paid the debt
He fought with that sword
Till all forces bow…

But for this missing sword
A soldier crumbles,
And another,
And another,
And another…

They are well dressed:
In military attire
But are armed with brass weapons:
With spears and rifles!
Where is the amour, the shield,
the breastplate, the helmet and the sword?

Yet, for the want of that sword
A soldier falters,
And another,
And another,
And another…

On mountain tops,
Hills and valleys:
Day and night;
Toiling, preparing and waiting
To combat the enemy,
But never search for the missing weapon.

Still, for the want of that sword
A soldier dies,
And another,
And another,
And another…

Their camp is ravaged
Each soldier for his dear life;
The night of horror came
The dawn of victory followed
Each soldier remembers the missing weapon
From their hidey-hole, loudly they scream,
“The sword! The sword!! The sword!!!”

Will the sword ever be found?
No army is declared the Champion
Without going through a battle;
No victory is secured
With the parade of cheap weapons;

Then a soldier returns
And another,
And another,
And another...

And... the SWORD was found
Removed from its sheath; and sharpened
To fight the good fight
And take their rightful place

Then a soldier fights,
And another,
And another,
And another…

Now... the SWORD was found
The army of God has risen
With bleeding skin
And broken bones.
Like the dried bones, they are awake:
Covered with the sinews of faith,
And filled with the breath of fire
To thresh mountains
And dominate their enemies.

Then a soldier lives,
And another,
And another,
And another...

The camp is restored
The enemy is destroyed
An exceeding great army has risen
To root out and to pull down
To destroy and to throw down
To build and to plant…

Then a soldier rejoices,
And another,
And another,
And another...

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The Wizard Party

To the common folk the life of a merchant may seem to be a dull and boring one.
But I declare it is not, it is a life full of many wondrous adventures.
For a young elf like me quick and light on the feet and easy to hide it is the perfect life.
It is also a life that gives many stories to tell and today I will tell you one.
I was far outside of my realm, in a new dangerous place I had never been before.
A land full of monsters and many other mysterious dangers lurking around every corner.
Traveling through the forests running as fast as I could, trying to reach my destination and hoping not to be discovered.
I ran out of a world of trees to be greeted by wondrous and peaceful new road full of green fields as far as my eyes could see.
Built in the hillsides was a lovely quaint with a large oval stone door surrounded by bushes with low windows on both sides showing in.
On the door transcribed in a glowing green bright light, the etching stated.

"This is a wizard door
if you are not a wizard 
you cannot open it."

A great curiosity took over my body and I reached out to turn the knob of the large stone door.
I did not open, It was not as if this door was locked, my hand simply phased through the door as if it was a phantom.
I stepped into the bushes and peered through the window and what I saw before me I could not believe.
Five full grown wizards dressed in their mage outfits with large pointy hats, with large untidy monstrous beards and they appeared to be as tall as the tallest trees.
They sat around a large table enjoying tea and cake, playing board games, sharing tales of many grand adventures and using their wands to practice spells with one another.

One of the wizards came stomping up the stairs, I leaped quickly hiding in the bushes.
He came out of the door and stood raising his hands, stretching and yawing.
A real wizard stood near me an ordinary elf but, he did not stay long as soon as he came out he rushed back into the door to continue with his party affairs.
I rushed out of the bushes and continued running down the road in order to make my delivery, as I ran only one thing was on my mind.
The great stories I could tell my grandchildren, such as the time an ordinary young elf like me witnessed a great wizard party.

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I had a dream where nothing 
was what it seemed.
It was dark and then too bright 
and all my words left my mind.
I saw a bright beam where 
everything was what I’d 
The darkness fell over the 
shadows and swallowed 
everything that was kind.
The light fled and tomorrow 
was a treasure I just knew I 
had to find.

Yesterday was lost and 
everyone stood with a great 
amount in cost.
It was sad and it was glad, but 
everyone threw it up for a toss.
Passing through time with 
glimmering bright lights,
Where were the dark lonely 

Flash-backs timing the tracks 
as most folks fell through tiny 
little cracks,
Each one flashed back on top 
of crumpling down broken old 
Then it was cold and then it got 
Today was here and being 
blotted out like a tiny black 
Flash-backs and flash-backs 
sending millions tracks of light 
to never forget me not.

®Registered: 2003 Ann Rich

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Fire Pit by Swift Creek

Light dims except in the flames of the ring of fire.
Stars shine brighter still
Hopes seem possible
Ease takes over and washes away the cares of the past week.
Swiftly down the current to the sea
Fire pit by swift creek warm our hearts, bond our family tightly tonight
Forever, eternally bound.

Silhouttes appear against the moonbeams
Herring, mallard pair, chimney swift
Splash....Splash!! Who? what??
Homeward bound leave the night creatures to their domain.

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Lost in Translation ,a real story

 Awaken by a sudden desire 
I decided to call my sweet american boyfriend 
with a conflicting grammar 
and an incorrigible accent
 I started the  long distance conversation . 
He enquired if I was 'UPSET ' 
I told me that I was not in the 'TOILET 
''Sweetheart I am driving a car 
'I interpreted that he was waging a WAR 
I felt ashamed of my hearing disorder 
'Can I text you in the morning ' 
As he wanted to know 
His TEXT got messed With SE* in my mind 
Can you hear me ? Can you hear me ? 
We wanted to enquire 
We struggled with each other 
Twisting our tongue and combing our ears 
The line was disturbed as we continued the conversation 
Till we realised that everything was lost in

I tried to make laugh I hope . . .

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Summer Fun

Mermaids and watermelon

Summer time I became an aquatic creature
My best friend and I cooled ourselves floating 
Around and round the pool or rocking on an innertube
Waves as high as a couple of girls could splash.
Giggles and sunshine my summer fun times.
Mom would cut a watermelon after it was cold
The juice washed off in the pool and no one noticed
Summer time I grew fins and gills
That went perfectly well with little girl thrills.
Mom didn't know I would jump off the top of the slide
Right into the deep water....double dare you to try it!

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Stage Fright or Stage Might

Sitting on stage
The glare of the audience immobilizes my every move
Is there a way this paralysis will soothe?
The lights suddenly blare
Like a deer bathed in headlights
How can I escape from this radiant bear?

The conductor baton rises into the soundless air
Sweating, stammering, shivering
Will this be my final prayer?

The sound of an A fires from a clarinet
Bow on string, I imitate the shrill
This magical note seems to be my fever pill

A-D, D-G, A-E
Instrument seems in tune
But will this miniscule fact solve my problem soon?

As the chief baton swings side to side
Flickering images in my mind crash like a tsunami tide
Joy, Love, Hardship, and Harmony
Music conducted the opening to my passion ceremony

Fire ignites my being
Like bungee-jumping off a bridge
The words “Anything is possible!” now beaming

Like poetry, music is an art
Raw emotion strangles uniformity
Expression bears no limit
Creativity beats as our vital body part

*This poem is dedicated to a cure for stage fright (bless those poor souls)

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Dragonslaying 101 for Carol Brown's "Story Time" Contest

Why are you here? To learn, of course!
This is THE ultimate resource!
This is the Dragonslaying class.
You must work hard or you won't pass.

Dragon's are quite hard to slay
They're challenging in every way.
Not all your armour shining bright
will save you in a Dragon fight.

To slay a Dragon takes finesse
so as not to leave a bloody mess.
Forget your sword it's not much use
there's better weapons you can choose!

Yes, the weapons that you choose
will make the difference win or lose.
I see by all your puzzled looks
you missed this fact in all your books.

The fairy tales all have it wrong
it's not brute strength that makes you strong.
It's not the size of sword or spear.
it's all in how you persevere.

Forget those bloody fairy tales
where the hero never fails.
The last exam is very hard
you must be wise or you'll be charred.

Class, please stand and please be steady
for just outside the Dragon's ready.
His flames are real, they'll scorch and sear
Remember you must persevere.

The class then gathered all together
some armed in steel and some in leather.
With knocking knees most were afraid;
most were regretting this crusade.

But there was one who stood aside
outside the group , off to one side.
He calmly watched them for awhile
then spoke out softly with a smile.

'Dragon, I am honoured to
have had this chance of meeting you.'
He flourished his hat with courtly grace
then bowed to hide his grinning face.

(This student was a poet's son
and somehow sensed what should be done.
He somehow knew just what to do
to best a Dragon through and through.)

Now, such honour can't be refused;
this left the Dragon quite confused.
For he was so engrossed in doubt,
in thought so deep, his flame went out.

The Dragon spoke in a gravelled voice
'I am but left with one real choice.
I must admit defeat , it's true
I must admit defeat by you.'

Though I still live and I still breathe
it's truly for my flames, I grieve.
Though I have life and I have breath
Life without my flames is death.'

'Sir,' I spoke to this poet's son,
'you've surely passed for you have won.
Without a lance or spear or sword
you can now claim your just reward.'

I believe that you're now ready to
take Dragonslaying 102.
Now, as for the rest of this class
this just won't do and none will pass.

A new Dragon must be procured,
till then just study every word
that you've heard this hero say
for his example sets the way.

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The Adventure of My Boy and Mumbo Jumbo

.....Mommy walks and Jamie toddles inside the BIGGEST plane. 
Jamie thought he was inside its belly. The storm roars outside. 
The thunder is loud inside the metal beastie. They sit. Lightening flashes. 
Jamie screams “No!” The plane swallows them like Pinocchio in the whale! 
Jamie thought of his toy plane at home.
    The REAL Mumbo Jumbo jet roars, speeding down the runway. “Good morning everyone.” 
A voice says “This is your Captain for the flight from Bangor to New York. Once we’re above 
the clouds the weather should clear. Remain in your seats.” Jamie wasn’t going anywhere. 
“How’d Mumbo Jumbo get so big?” Jamie thinks. He looks out the port hole at the lights. 
Jamie begins talking to the plane. Mumbo Jumbo roars and whooshes, as if to reply. “Is that 
you little one?” The planes vents ask. “How’d you get so small?” “Mommy and Daddy made 
me!” He chatters to the drone of the engines. “Mommy and Daddy are makers? Oh that it 
explains it. That’s How you new my name.” Mumbo hisses. “Makers know everything. What’s 
your name, Tiny?”
    “Mommy calls me My Boy.”
    “You will be My Boy too!.” Says Mumbo. “For this ride I will take care of you and mommy.”
    “But, but YOU ATE US!” Jamie whimpers. “Why’d you do that?” 
    “Ate you? I didn’t eat you My Boy. I’m keeping you safe inside me, just like Mommy did 
before you were born.” BOOM went the thunder. Crackle ZAP went the lightening.
    Jamie screams. Mumbo Jumbo rises up, up above the storm and into the sunlight. A round 
circle of lemony yellow falls into Jamie’s lap. It was so warm. He stops crying. The clouds 
look like cotton balls out the window just like the fields in Peter Rabbit story!
    Mommy let Jamie down and he runs up the aisles. He chases the lady with the orange 
juice! He peeks in a tiny room with a potty! Suddenly, his ears hurt and he runs to Mom. 
She’s brought his old bottle and sucking it makes his ears pop! After a lunch of fruit, Mom 
gives him cookies on the small table. Soon a voice comes through the air “We will be landing 
at the airport in five minutes. Return to your seats! Buckle –up! “Daddy?” Jamie says. “No, 
the pilot!” Mom smiles. “Ready to land My Boy?”
    Jamie was bouncing with excitement. The plane bounces and jiggles across the 
runway. “Thank you!” Jamie says to both “Mum’s”
“You’re welcome.” Mumbo Jumbo and Mommy say.
    Off they go to Grandpa’s arms, and with a bye wave of wing the plane leaves.
    “Good bye My Boy.” Mumbo Jumbo roars! “See ya next time!”


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Shogun (collaboration with Richard Pickett's Samauri/Shogun story on his site)

     The NYC. Detective strolled into his little office that once had been a janitors supply 
closet in an elementary school . It was converted into a police station after the school had 
found a more suitable spot to try and teach those unteachable little darlings from this 
neighborhood. The cops were cruising around here most of the time anyway. It just made 
sense to the higher ups to operate from here, and besides, it fit into the limited budget. There was talk that next year we might even get a janitor. Till then we would hoe out our 
own cubicles. The name plate on  the painted peeling door read  Detective Sgt. Bill Lipton. 
     Looking around he could see it was much the way he left it before heading out for a 
much needed two week vacation. The tarnished coffee perculator was against the back 
white washed wall on a bench where he dreamed there’d be a window some day. Ahh.. It 
didn’t matter, he didn’t spend much time in here anyway. All… or at least most of the crimes 
were happening outside these walls and he spent most of his time in the middle of that.
     One picture of his partner decorated the wall; a police Warm Blood horse he named “Red Neck”. Bill toured a Central Park beat on Red Neck . Actually it was relaxing to work the beat on his trained horse as a mounted police officer...most of the time.

Continued as a part in unison with Richard Picketts Shogun/Samauri Stories on his site by his 
permission. -to be continued-

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If I Could Fly

If I could fly, where in the world would I possibly go?
Up and away my wings would carry me,
My destination not known!
If I could fly, I’d capture all of the Sun’s rays.
Up and away!
What a sight to see with such a grand milestone!
If I could fly, 
I would always look below.
Down and deep!
My eyes focused only on you.
My journey’s still unknown.
If I could fly, I’d stay on top with memories buried to keep.
Down and deep!
What an experience just to fly through!
Such a waste without you!

If I could fly, I would soar with my best perfection.
Soaring with pride!
My life achieved.
My destination excluding restrictions!
If I could fly, I’d forever remember this glide.
Soaring with pride!
What a thought to preconceive.
Such bright reflections!
If I could fly where in the world would I possibly go?
Up and away I would go only with you.
My destination remaining incognito!
If I could fly, I’d want to stay up and away!
What an incredible zone just to pass through!
Such a magnificent plateau!
If I could fly, I’d fly only for you!

®Registered: 1997 ANN RICH

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Strivers- Part I

Upon each and every sun rise, I face the day with brand new eyes
Yet my bones are stiff and they ache, arise I must before dawn breaks
Long before two thousand and two they were watching both me and you
Daily designation driven blessed me, striver I be
Greedy gluttonous gruesome gross liars they be
Slave or free whom do I choose to be

I tether each and every home like the silk to a spiders throne
These are the chains I place on thee understand you are no longer free
Secretly I have wished you free trapped you are to a degree
Wish granted, gift given to thee, the ability to foresee
Contend I do bending at knee for humanity to foresee
All should become their own emcee

Knowing that all have their on choice we all still must speak with one voice
This thought alone does fill my heart with the utmost stupendous glee
No longer dare I be silent, fear I feel yet I made my choice
No longer do I desire blessed me not their striver be
Born free into this land do see not their striver be
Slave to master light made me

The tell you, you need it to strive then you realize its to survive
My intent, believe me this is no jive, but in hopes that you will revive
Liberty long lived left lasting, throughout the world it enacting
This a world I wish to be, blessed me free I strive to be
Your world to this could one day be, feel free you should to strive to be
Decision you; who made me

Each I meet American true, each doing what they have to do
Consuming this consuming that not knowing the programming spree
Do my job connect to the web, soon the time will come to rebel
setting free the moth caught  you see souls have their own story to tell
Soon to cut each and every string, a day that i long to foresee
My death be called for by decree, this is what others will foresee

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A saturday Wit Lobsters

I think of friends, ones I hold dear,
They live in my heart and always are near.
They provide light on days that are dark,
I search for a place to make my mark.

The sun sets, it’s been a long day,
Not enough time seems to get in my way.
I see what is done with much more to do,
I search for truth, but what is true?

Darkness surrounds yet stars guide me home,
When I think of my friends I don’t feel so alone.
I watch as some of the pieces join together. 
The sky is clear, no change in the weather.

I look up at the sky and begin to dream,
Was today really part of the scheme?
Some things change though many are the same,
I wonder if I’m getting any better at this game.

I watch headlights come and then they go,
The red of tail lights is all that does show.
It reminds me of time as it all disappears
With all that has passed I shed a couple tears.

I wonder what’s up above all the clouds.
Is the gateway to heaven what they shroud?
I think of a place much grander than this,
Where beauty is everywhere surrounded by bliss.

I drift back to earth much like a feather.
I try to keep all my thoughts together.
Inside I feel this calmness just grow,
Then it’s revealed all that I know.

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Legend Of The Black Dove - Part 7

                          Legend Of The Black Dove  
                             (Part 7)   "Civil Unrest"

As the ship's mast starts to fall Norrington with his amazing speed
leaps at the pirate captain knocking him to the ground and out of
harm's way of the falling mast as it hits the deck. By this time the 
American sailors had secured the ship, and her captain takes the 
pirates onto their ship, leaving a skeleton crew to run the 'Raven'.
Norrington and Jenkins acquire passage on the American ship
'Golden Eagle' continuing  there journey to California.  Two days 
later, the ship reaches the Californian coastal town of Madre, 
were Norrington, Jenkins and Captain Jose Lamont are ready to 
leave for trouble torn Monterey, the rest of the crew stays in town 
on a shore leave. Norrington, Jenkins and Lamont saddle their horses 
and ride to Monterey. After travelling for half a day they reach the 
outskirts of the town. Lamont escorts Norrington and Jenkins to his 
hacienda (ranch), were they are greeted by other property owners and 
farmers in the area. They are all ready for outright civil war.  
Lamont is told by the leaders of the landowners that 
Commandante Garcia will not listen to reason and agree to  the landowners' 
plea, and had threatened to attack them and burn down their 
haciendas anytime within the next two days. Although nothing has 
happened as yet It will be only a matter of time. In the distance 
gunshots can be heard as the Mexican army comes closer to the 
rebel landowners, as barricades had been erected while the men 
arranged themselves in position for full scale war. The leader of the 
army Commandante Garcia tells the landowners to surrender to his 
terms or they will be taken by force by his large regiment of highly 
trained soldiers. Lamont tells Garcia that his land taxes are unfair 
and what they want is nothing short of robbery. He also says that 
every man was willing to fight for what he stood for. Garcia and his 
men bring in two large cannons, training them on the large 
barricade. They open fire, heavily damaging the landowners' 
defences. Reload and fire again. The impact is devastating, dead 
bodies lie all about the place explosions occurred. Lamont 
and his men seemed badly outnumbered as the soldiers burst through 
the barricades, shooting and killing indiscriminately.....
Will anyone survive this massacre ?
Where is the Black Dove ?
All will be revealed in Part 8...."The Masked Avenger"

Written : 7th July 2013

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The Turkey's Revenge

“Oh my, the weather out is real nice!” Said the Papa Turkey.
“Hey Mrs. Gobbler get the kids. Lets go for a nice Fall stroll.”
“Line up now. Listen to your Ma.”
The rafter of little poults wobbles by like Russian stacking dolls.
The gaggle gobble around the apple orchard,
pecking at fallen bruised apples and protruding worms.

Smoke comes from the farmhouse. A woman is hanging clothes on the line.
The farmer emerges from the woodshed carrying an ax.

“Hey Papa," said Mrs. Gobbler "look at the ole coot all bare-chested."
You have a better pair of breasts than he does!” 

The Farmer's pace quickens, as he nears Mrs. Gobbler.
She flies laughing onto a branch an apple tree
which overhangs the duck pond. The kids scatter. 
Papa does a running take off from the dirt path landing on the Farmer’s bare chest,
pushing him and his ax into the pond. Mrs. bombs the Farmer with dangling apples.
The kids pick up acorns and pelt the farmer in the head with them. There he sits surrounded 
by bobbing apples and flaoting acorns, spewing water and wiping the hair from his eyes.
“My, my, my” says Papa Turkey.
“Sure does look like a tasty Farmer stew! Too bad we don’t have acorn biscuits.”

The woman drops her laundry basket and falls on the ground laughing.
“You Ole fool!” She says. 
“You better try the chickens! This year the turkeys have your number!”
“But watch out for flying eggs! No yolking!”

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Innocent Are They Still

I saw this little girl at the very first time 
playing innocently with her playmates so fine 
she doesn't care even her undy is too lousy
she goes on and play around recklessly
as innocently and nosy! 

Hearing a striptease rap 
she quickly dance in snap
with it's beat, she seem no shame 
wiggling her body in it's beat, release
following the steps on the video, she tease.

One day, she joined a game with this 10 year old boy 
doctor-nurse game, they have fun doing it, oh, boy
'till they found out this foul play
doing like adults' foreplay 
why, they have thought this way? 

They were caught doing the "deed"
innocent minds suddenly disappeared 
lust seen on their face, are erased, 
when someone saw them at this sinful deed
so alarming indeed! 

Are these kids innocent still? 
kids that are roaming on streets and to neighbor's place? 
Are they the one to be blame by these acts? 
Who would be blamed for these uncommon sight and misconducts? 

(This case is reported to me yesterday by one of my neighbor.) 

Inner Whispers

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Willow's Bluff

An eerie little poem for your enjoyment. 

It's fiction but inspired by a little cave I found this weekend on my woodsy walk ;)
(minus the ghostly whispers!  "OooooOOOO!" heheh) Also a bit of a message in this one. 

Willow's Bluff  (Part 1)
    by Amy Swanson   2.9.2009

The other day I found myself
restless and ill at ease, 
so I thought I'd take a walk
forget my cares in spring's warm breeze.

The forest was so beautiful
and trees, once dead, were turning green
I couldn't help but marvel
at life's mysteries I had seen.

I started on the well worn path
and thought I heard a sound;
it made me jump, I turned to look,
but no one was around.

The sunlight streamed so gloriously
upon my tear stained face
my heart felt light, forgotten cares
just being in this place.

And then it happened once again
I know I heard a noise!
I stopped now, to investigate
This hidden, quiet voice.

I wandered off the walker's trail
into the woods much deeper
I chanced upon a darkened cave
... and the cave's gatekeeper.

A mystical sight to behold
unearthly glowing light
it rose a bit up from the ground
then faded from my sight.

I made my way into the cave
mysteriously dark
and there it was... that voice again...
slowly I embarked

My flashlight shining at full force
was still not bright enough
to counter with this deepening dark
I'd found near Willow's Bluff. 

I heard the eerie whispers now
quite clearly, in my ear
first one, then two, now several more
and though my pioneer

spirit got me into this,
I felt that it was time to flee!
I turned and ran the opposite way
the voices though, were still with me!

I thought I knew the way back out
I tripped my way along
my flashlight flickered one last light
... I found that I was wrong...

somehow my turns had led me
down a path I did not know;
I turned to walk the other way -
but there was no place left to go.

*continue to Part 2*

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Iron Horses

I would be so excited, standing there on the railroad platform, holding my mothers hand.  I had waited for this day.  A chance to ride the train to Boston.  Impatiently, from time to time, I would lean forward to peer down the track, as if willing the train to arrive.

I heard it before I saw it.  First the dinging as the crossing gates lowered, signaling it's approach.  Then the scream of the steam whistle and the vibration in the rails.  Finally, the choo-chooing as the black behemoth slowed, and the engineer rung the bell, signaling their arrival.  Often he would wave and I would wave back.  Finally, with steam hissing from the brakes, they would stop, and the smell of coal smoke would fill the air.  

We would wait for the conductor in his black suit and hat to step down and place a stool at the foot of the stairs to the passenger car.  Even then, it was a big step and he would usually lift me under my arms and place me on the landing, then turn to assist my mothers assent.  Once aboard, I would choose our seat.  If possible, I always chose one with an unoccupied seat next to it.  By so doing, I was able to switch the seat back so that I could ride facing my mother, but more importantly, backward.  For some reason, that was part of the thrill of the trip.

Soon, we would hear the “All aboard” called out by the conductor and feel the initial jolt as the train began to move, the chugging growing faster.  I would listen to the measured click of the wheels as they moved over the breaks in the rails.  Once up to speed, that sound, like the cadence of a metronome, was almost mesmerizing, as the car swayed gently as if keeping time.

That was a magic time.  An adventure to be savored.  However, sometime in the ensuing years, those times disappeared and assumed the role of memories.  Today, I see mothers, holding their child’s hands as they wait to board the Amtrak.   Perhaps there is still an excitement there, but it is not the same. And I suspect the engineer doesn't wave anymore.

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Back in the Saddle

When I was a child
I liked to go on horse rides
It felt grant to sit
On top of this beast so gigantic
And learn to have it follow
Commands, finding control.

There upon Marquis, the horse
That I dearly loved
I could find a bond.
Of each other we were so fond
An invisible give and take
With nature, there was no mistake.

One afternoon I rode
With my uncle upon a road
Freshly asphalted, lacking still a border
Riding too close to it, Marquis faltered
Losing momentarily his balance
Which made me loose my balance.

Instinctively I hung on
To Marquis's neck and didn't fall down
Though my body dropped on his right side.
With my arms still around his neck tight
I pulled myself back in the saddle safe and sound
As I knew I would be on his mount.

Remembering this episode today
Renews my determination to keep faith
While going through great struggles
Hanging on to life, seeing the gifts in its bundle
That help me pull myself back in the saddle
And climb the steps to reach grounds more stable.

By CarolineCécile
Copyright  © 08.15.10

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My Journal

My Journal ~ September 04 / September 06 ~ 2010

A Trip To Belize 


I travel the winding roads of euphony upon the hummingbird highway 
the ancient forests stand proud pulling every dream from with in my mind
a voyage of serendipity as each wondrous epiphany followed another
flowers entangle the mighty scape spilling delightful rainbows across the hill top 
Orchids, Poinsettias, and fragrant yellow Oleanders brought a dreamy sense of 

3:16 P.M. Friday


as I wandered a magnificent  trek
I found myself in the Central Lowlands
a certain energy became present with in my being,
it consumed me in a spiritual inkling of a majestic past......
"El Cara col" the ancient Mayan site
What a divine wonder!!
a flourishing menagerie of a distant civilization so mysterious and pure
I Marveled at the simplistic yet intricate architecture   
A piece of my heart longed to entwine with the spirits of souls past...
If I ever in this life felt complete, I was at that very second......

12:30 P.M. Saturday


On the third day I traveled to the Platinum Coast line  
It was breath taking......
a crystal clear royal blue utopia  
The coastline dotted with gentle palms swaying so slight......
a Caribbean tropical oasis with white sands and a comforting warm breeze  
in the the distant one of the seven wonders of the world "The Great Barrier Reef"
O' how I longed to submerge myself in the purity of this vast nature bath......
a cleansing rebirth......
just to sit and brood in silence was all I needed.......

11:08 A.M. Sunday

A wonderful experience......a life changing moment in time......


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Locked Away

This is a sad tale of Amanda Knox,
still but a child in bobby socks
who enrolled in an Italian school,
far away from her parents' rule.

Her folks say she was a gentle child.
Perhaps  she went a little wild
when by lover she was beguiled.
By a heinous crime she was defiled.

Sloppy police work, ambitious attorney,
poor Amanda had started on a journey
that would find her convicted of a murder.
She declared her innocence.  No one heard her.

Her folks have gone to immense expense
to hire lawyers for her defense.
Despite their efforts for two long years
she's been locked away beyond their tears.

Amanda has grown so thin and gaunt,
locked up with criminals who taunt
and seem to think it their sacred duty
to make life grim for this young beauty.

For Miranda's "Behind Bars Blues" contest  won 6th

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Lost Paradise

I took a trip in my mind today,
Astonished by what I found,
You only weighed a pound,
All of you were at play.
I wanted to stay,
But I was bound,
Standing on my ground!
I tumbled where you lay.
The grass was jade green,
And the sky was baby blue,
A vision I’d never seen,
I stood there looking at you.
Smiles and laughter filled the air,
It was a lost paradise where all was fair.
© Copyright: Ann Rich   2006

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Willow's Bluff, part 2

** continued from part 1, please read that one first **

Willow's Bluff  (Part 2)
   by Amy Swanson     2.9.2009

The whispers getting louder now,
my screams rose silently
trying to escape my lips,
my arms now  beating violently!

"Let me go! What do you want!?"
my mind's voice now demanded
of the whispering captors
who somehow held me, stranded.

The pressure of the moment
held me paralyzed with fear.
Oh how I wish I'd stayed away
and never come in here!

Tightening around my chest
and whispers growing still...
my mind was racing frantically,
my body felt a chill.

And then... a human voice... a light...
the sun gentle and warm...
my eyelids fluttered... I awoke,
completely safe from harm.

My husband leaned down close to me
and said "Are you all right?
You took a spill and konked your head,
you gave us all a fright."

Confused, I nodded slowly
and my eyes turned toward the river
the path I'd taken in my dream was there...!
I felt a shiver.

"Yes, yes, of course, I'm doing fine,
don't worry about me.
I'll be right there, you go ahead,
but first, there's something I must see."

I saw the path, still beckoning
it looked as in my dream...
a little further down the way
...the same unsettling theme.

The cave stood eerily in sight,
but I did not venture in.
A million questions to my mind,
this journey from within.

What did it mean? and how
could I explain what I had seen?
I chose to bury it down deep
and call it ... just a dream.

They say that only fools rush in
where angels fear to tread
walking down an unknown path
can lead straight to the dead.

One thing for certain, deep inside
I know this was not fluff -
so if you find an unknown path...
beware of Willow's Bluff.

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Vail Colorado

I've ran the vail several times over 20yrs. But this night is different. This night,I would get 
the experience of my life. Some call me crazy. Well,I must be because I sure wasn't 
expecting what I got. I've ran it before with salt on road with little snow fallen. I've never 
had touch a chain out 20yrs but this night I choose not to also. Boy what a ride. I'm at the 
bottom now ofcorse cause I'm sitting here telling you this story. But there for awhile, even I 
had second thoughts as my hands grip tight. Couldn't even flunt an ash from my cig this 
night. The left hand gripping the wheel tight and the other on trailer back. There it was,an 8 
mile drop twice off this hill with flat in middle. My trailer skidding one way and the truck the 
other. The climb up wasn't that bad until I started spinning at the top. The ride down scarier 
then hell. My feet shuck light I was standing in ice. Because there it was no releasing that 
brake cause you knew you would fly as well as die unless you wasn't lucky to make it 
through this ride. My ass hole draw as if I need to drop a load. My mind thinks of my angel if 
it be the last time I get to speak at all. Cars flying by as I drop off at 20 mph. Some even 
sliding here and there as I pass one being cleaned up on my side. Done flip the car and 
camper,what a ride. It was the longest 2hrs I ever had other then the night I ran the devils 
highway with twin peak in New Mexico. That was a 3hr ride to worrying about not dropping 
off the cliff, where you could reach out and touch the top of the trees. It was my first 
experience this snow pack ride. Oh sure,I've drove snow before at 70 mph. But this moutain 
about beat the dog do out of me as I need to pee something bad. Because I knew when I 
drop off with no chains,it was my ass that was in for a drive. And even at the bottom the 
roads lay cover. But now I'm bumper 70 playing in the snow. God,I love this job. Because 
there's always new experience to come with this outlaw ride. As he defines all.That's why 
they call him the outlaw. Because that's one hell of a man to top when it comes to cops. That 
not even them can catch the man of the ride. Because really,I was suppose to have chains 
on this ride. To all a God Bless! And remember, someone's watching over you. So be careful 
out there but watch your backs. Cause the outlaw might be coming through a town near you.

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The Day the Boys Set Out to Fly

Larry was the oldest,  seemed every day he grew 
Bubbling with mischief,   like a cackling witches brew 
At the time just  10  or so,  but that’s a long way back 
Humorously independent,    the joker of his pack. 
And then came Jan,   smiling face of missing teeth
Radiating   freckles,  a  tomboy underneath  
Followed by little Davey,  and his demon  dog named  Stiff
Really good at misbehaving,  or some real mischief. 

There are potent spells a witch can cast, riding on her broom
Sorcerers tricks from ages past, weaving trickery  on her loom 
To ferment a brew with some illusion, and  a spell or two
With spirit salts and then confusion,  to make her schemes come true 

Johnny was the toddler,  did pretty much as told
Shook his rattle,  sucked his thumb, let his world unfold 
So that’s team, the whole groundcrew,  dynamic  young and bold   
With dreams and schemes of their machines, something to behold
 With sticks and gum  and elastic bands,  a runway made of tiles, 
Perched upon the old shed roof,  it could be seen for miles 
Gleaming in the evening sun ,  the plane was quite a feat
A firecracker in an  upturned pail, as an ejector seat
A barnyard roof may not seem high,  20 feet I’d guess, 
The main thing was to make dad proud, something to impress
But to the boys quite high enough,  for their first flight test
To  act like men by doing good,  and sticking to their quest.
The plane was much too hard to move, even with all  three trying  
They ignored the pilots grumblings,  leaving Johnny close to crying  
What it really needed was a magic wand, the ones that sorcerers use,
One with proper magic powers,    that could also light the fuse. 

One more shove is all we’ll need,  lets give it one more try 
I’m guessing theres  trick to  this,  to making this  thingfly.
Then Abracadabra  he had the thought,    that used a pole and levers.
Come on now,  You’ll all be proud, we’ll show them non-believers
See it’s already at the edge,  nothing can stop us now.
But as the plane started to tilt, sweat  on the pilot’s brow
Litltle Johnny  started to sob, and could not hold back his tears,
And within the nearby kitchen, the cry fell on someone’s ears, 

What wicked spells a witch can cast, as she rides apon her broom
Using evil tricks from ages past, and illusions weaved by loom 
But that’s no match for a prairie  mother, running with a scream 
With terror in her eyes,  to end an evil scheme. 

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Iris of Poetry

Introduction: We don't really think deep enough about "What A Poetry Actually Is", the
obvious question which we all know but don't think how to really elaborate on. We mostly
see the story, depth and the purpose it delivers. Well, here's one a little bit different
this time...

Poetry is the reflection of our lives like in the mirror,
It is something we can relate to and share.
It's our memories written in jumbled words,
It's like a song, with a meaning it holds.

A mere idea of our mystical lives,
Expressed in a way from deep inside
A way which only the heart can see,
A place where the eyes get cold-feet

The earnest truth and the sweetest lies,
It's all the irony that makes poetry so alive.

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The Girl Who Flew Away

The grass, a glossy emerald green
beneath an azure sky;
the breeze was blowing to and fro,
a noontime in July.

The birds were singing melodies
of flying in the wind;
they didn't want to go alone,
so they sought out a friend.

A little girl with flowing hair
was dancing 'round the tree;
her dress reflected rays of light
that shone among the leaves.

She clapped her hands; she clapped them twice;
she clapped her hands three times;
she then began to spin around
and jump just like the chimes.

And then two birds atop the tree
began to plummet down;
they swirled together as they traveled
toward the emerald ground.

The little girl had stopped her spin,
her arms were at her side,
until she stretched them out to let
the birds give up their glide.

They landed on her little hands,
their wings extended still;
the girl began to run to find
a place atop the hill.

As she ran up to the top,
a bird began to follow;
then all the birds soon did the same
and left their wooden hollow.

The girl, still running, birds in hand,
finally found her stop;
she slowed her feet and caught her breath
while on the mountain top.

The birds, still flying, followed suit
and tried to slow the flight,
but when they got to where she stopped,
they couldn't stop their plight.

So 'round and 'round and 'round they flew
around the little girl;
she felt a breeze begin to blow,
then she began to twirl.

She twirled and twirled and twirled until
her feet were off the ground;
she felt herself move toward the sky,
and then she looked around.

She saw the tree beneath her feet,
The oak, so far away;
she was flying with the birds,
what driving disarray!

Summer's eve is not yet here;
The time is now or none;
So fly as high as you can see,
Or else your summer's done.

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Light On the Devil's Chord - The Challenge

My hair bristled in the crisp breeze
Excitement spreading throughout my body
Even the sudden cold amused my fingertips,
Tingles spreading through my hands and up my arms
Soon I would be there too. . .
In the murky shadows of mysterious malice
To see the claws and talons of humanity’s greatest foe
The Prince of Darkness—the Saint of Woe

The great seal remained closed as I stood before it
Not a peep was heard from inside

“Knock, and it will be opened to you . . . “

Lightly, my fist clunked three times upon the great seal,
And a horrendous echo resounded like muffled shrieks of suffering
Black ooze leaked out of the seal as I lifted my fist
A great closed pot of tender meat and chow boiling over,
The spicy hot substance steaming the long grass surrounding the well-like prison

Then a voice, like Queen Bee birth resounded,
Stinging me fiercely, body and soul, having me sway…
To a familiar song
I had listened to long ago:

“Iiiii… ain’t got no-booooooody…. 
And no-body cares…foooor meeee…”

The song continued as the seal opened fully,
As I began descending into the restless night of his voice
Both lulled and perturbed
The sumptuous layers of shrieks, his background band
Gurgles of thundering bass,
And strums of laughter from throats long wailing… 

“Aaaaaaaand.. I’m sad and loooooooonely… 
Won’t some-body…come takah chance with meeee..

In what seemed like an eternal moment,
I had landed in the very bottom of the boiling ooze
The music ceased, and the great seal slipped over,
Blocking the view of the stars. . .
Yes, above. . .now only darkness
As if heaven, to Satan, was hell. . .

He turned to me slowly, knowingly
A smile creeping on his filthy face, from ear to ear
A charming set of teeth, freshly sung mouth
Arrogant brow rising in mock surprise. . .
A gruff laugh escaped his lips as my heart beat faster
And I thought to myself,

“What have I gotten myself into?”
. . .
The words popped out of my mouth before my mind could object,
And he exploded in a fit of charming guffaws
I heard a sea of laughter follow his own
Even Death, in the far corner of prison, winked. . .amused

“That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in years, 
Dearest Daughter of Eve. . .  I’m impressed . . . really, I am. . .”

“You are?”

His smile faded and his expression grew grim and cold
“Well . . . are you?”

I remained silent, and took a deep breath
What shall I say to the Devil himself?
Am I clever enough? Brave enough?

“Impressed, I mean. . .well?
Are you? 
I know you will not lie to me,
You wouldn’t dream of it. . .
You wouldn’t dream nasty dreams like times in your past days. . .
Or. . .would you. . .Daughter of Eve.
Would you dare. . .dream of me. . .”

I felt a claw hit me on the back of my neck
I remained still, my breathing cradled by the silence. . .
I moved closer to him, never blinking,
As his coal eyes burned deeply into mine

Suddenly, he was furious
“You dare give me silence, woman!?
After my years of devastating . . . tormenting my own, 
Just to see and hear them screech and tremble. . .
Of no aim but to crush this criminal quiet,
You…a woman of no power…or little to show, 
Come down to me, ME. . .whom you know hates you all. . .
You come down to me, The Almighty Devil of Hatred,
With your dull . . . infuriating . . . pathetic, disgusting. . .

I sighed. . .
“I. . .I don’t know why I am here. . .with you. . .perhaps it is a test. . .a lesson. . .
But I do know what I want. . .”

His claw dug deeper into my skin. . .
“Oh, that’s a new one. . .
But you. . .hm, hard to play with. . .? I doubt it. 
Easy to trick. . .surely. . .
If there was a point. . .”

Deeper the claw dug into my skin, but my flesh refused to break

I smiled at him softly, and this seemed to disturb him completely
He looked at me numbly, an impassive stare
 Devoid of feeling and emotion

And I said to him,
“I want you to sing and play us a song you have never sung before,
Prince of Darkness. . .”

His grimy skin rippled at the opportune challenge. . .
His eyes drew out all confidence and pride swirling in the shadows
His smile, big again, fresh, and repugnant
He smelled of all things dead, and all things putrid

“Plug in the bass, Death.
I am going to dissolve this fluttery woman right where she stands.”

I stopped him, possessed with an idea
I bit my lip and removed his claw from my neck
Taking his hand for a moment, and pushing it to him

“One more thing, Devil.”

He rolled his eyes. “Of course. . .what is it?”

“. . .I’m singing with you.”

The demons roared in hilarity, as Death, 
Silent as always kept his composure

Satan tilted his head at me as the laughter died
He no longer contained his surprise
“You. . .want to. . .make music. . .with me?”

“I’ve got 40 days and 40 nights. . .don’t you be a killjoy.”

He smiled at me, fury and lust in his eyes
“Angel charms will not work down here, babe. . .
I rarely play fair. . . .but I never turn down a challenge.”

My strange purpose had surfaced at last
“Quit your stalling then, and turn up the music.”


Song reference: “I Have Nobody” specifically sung by Leon Redbone
**Please tell me what you thing guys! If you haven’t read the other parts, it might explain things a bit. This is going to be a major work, and I’d loved all the advice I can get. I am aware that collaborating with The Devil is a tricky feat, and I’d really love some input. Thanks for reading. Lots of love! –Oh, and also, I am thinking of changing the title of the work as well. Not sure what yet!

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The Eagle Escapes from the Chicken Pen

A little bit before the usual time
My mind dawned in spite of the short time dozed
I didn’t even plan to have it as I have
But least known to my thoughts
Today was the day long destined by fate to be mine

A few minutes passed as current affairs sipped into my mind 
Then somehow a pen found its way to my hand and with it I jotted the recipes
That was a few minutes to four a.m.
Least known to me the journey had begun

By the time my mind had emptied the facts on paper
I saw clearly that I couldn’t be a moment late
Yesterday my horoscope warned me against Sagittarius’ cautious ways
Since today seemed to be the day
I decided to let my carelessness spirit me away

Events driven frantically by rampaging heartbeats
Moments devoured hastily by anticipating anxieties
Scenery changed as did the imagery
And as magic would have it, here I now am
In a reality hundreds of miles away from yesterday’s realities
Seated on a bed in a cheap yet comfy boarding room
Planning, plotting, anticipating the beauty and liberties of a new reality

Today I feel free
Today I thank my spirit for driving me to this bliss
Today I seize the opportunity to crystallize my dreams
I am in the wake of my destiny
And for that I indeed do believe divinity endows me 
Tomorrow I hope to be led to the nest where my dreams shall be hatched

Today the eagle brood over by a chicken
Has escaped the meagre chicken pen to the beauty of freedom
Today the eagle is soaring free in the sky where it belongs
The sky where the spirits of achievements are high

Today I feel the wind soothe the muscles beneath my wings 
Today I feel the strength of my feathers
I have hope! I believe even more in my dreams
Today has washed away all my past sorrows
Today I forever bar away yesterday’s pains
And only usher in the joys of tomorrow
Today and the many today’s that shall follow
I shall live as only I can

Finally, my time to live has come
And to live I shall, only in the greatest way I can
Finally, I am glad to be a part of the heavens I used to see above
Finally, I’m rid of the worries those contented to be on the dust have
Finally, I’ve risen to earn my rights 
Finally, I can honestly thank and say I’m glad

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The Smith Boys

At Sixty-One I write these stories not for fun or prosperity....
Or profit.....

You have to understand the times.....It was the Fifties....
The Smith boys..all three of us...
Greg, my brother Reggie and Me...
We had it all....and didn't know it.
Our Summers were spent
Running wild...In Ontario California....

Mom would tell us get out of the house
In the morning....So she and my sister
Could clean the house in peace....


My big brother Greg always had
An adventure for us....and Reg and I
Were always up for whatever he had planned....
Let us not forget that Greg was only Ten....
And I was a tender kid of Eight....

This adventure as I recount was
Greg's idea....

He told my Dad that his grades were good
And a trip to Holey Jim's Canyon was in order...
A place my Dad had taken us before....
Trout streams and shade trees....

He told my Dad that he'd make sure we
Would be okay....If  he would give him five dollars
for food for five days...  

Yep!  It was a done deal...
Against Mom's appeal...
We said good bye with fishing poles
And blankets In hand we watched them drive away....
No fear we shared as we were
The Smith Boy's.....

I remember Mom crying just before they drove away...
Her little boys away from home....and all alone...
But was an adventure....
Dad knew the value he was teaching us...
We swam and played and fished all day...
At night we built a fire....
Bathing was a thing we did
In the morning....after the fish stopped biting...

I remember going with my brothers to a 
Little store....they had an ice box machine there...
For five cents you could choose a soda pop...
My favorite was an Orange Crush....

Sitting on an old wood bench outside
This country store...I was in heaven....
We ate peanut and jelly sandwiches
For most of the five far as I can remember....
And slept under the stars...

I think it was the day before Mom and Dad
Were due....when playing and running...we found
To our dismay a hive our honey bees... told us....
I was just behind him....the bees were made as hell
As I ran.....poor Reggie last in line...

While I know we all got a sting or two...
Reggie got the worst....
His eyes were swollen almost shut
His face was just a mess....

But a true Smith he was and never did he complain
As Mom and Dad drove into camp and took us home
That day.....
What a great adventure we did have....The Smith boy's
Us three great traveler's unafraid.....

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El tren hacia el olvido part 1

Entrando en el tren numero 6920
Sin saber y sin querer pensar sobre ninguna consecuencia
Me pregunto, que sera de mi vida?
Siguiente parada: OLVIDO
todo enpeso una noche en el invierno de 1865
En la ciudad the Manhattan, NY  
Eramos apenas unos ninos
y ella era la cosa mas bella que mis ojos hubieran visto
Piel blanca, pelo rojiso, mejillas rosadas y unos ojos de color como al oceano
Su belleza no tiene comparacion 
Mas yo la comparo a un angel caido del cielo
Pues hiba sobre el lago del parque de la ciudad; pensando y distraido como un idiota
y de repente lo mas bello de mi vida me paso
y hemos tronpesado los dos, de una manera que casi senti rosar sus labios
Que pena me medio en ese momento, y a ella pues mas que a mi me imagino
Pues sus mejillas se volvian rojas y sus ojos brillaban con el resplandor de la luz de la luna
y en ese mismo instante me quede hipnotizado con la belleza de ella
Ella me hablaba pero yo no le respondis a ninguna palabra que salia de esos labios tan
Pues estaba hipnotizado de tan cual belleza
Era como que si habia visto a un angel descender del cielo
Y senti como si DIOS finalmente me habia respondido a mis oraciones
Me da cosquillas nada mas con recordar ese momento
"Pasajeros por favor no se olviden de recoger sus pertenencias antes de salir del tren,
estaremos en la estacion en cinco minutes. Gracias por su coperacion y tengan bue dia."
(chofer del tren hablando por los parlantes)
"Disculpe muchacho(George)usted tiene pasaje para el siguiente viaje?" dijo el
coleccionador de pasajes.
Si claro que si, mi pasaje es valido hasta al fin del recorrido 
"Disculpe la molestia joven(George)" dijo el trabajador social "saldremos de aqui
exactamente en dies minutos" "espero que disfrute el viaje"
Disfrutar, eso espero
Dies minutos han pasado y los siento como a un milenio
"todos abordo por favor" "el tren esta en movimiento" (Trabajador social)
chhhhuuuu chhhuuuuu.(suena el tren)

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Right place wrong time

On this particular night
it was very hot,dark
not even the moon or stars
were available to provide light.

There was absolutely no trace of a breeze
 to brush against the trees.
This made the air very thin,
and very tuff to breathe.

So then only sounds you would hear,
were your thoughts racing wildly 
through your head and the air 
that weighs heavy in your lungs.

As you try running faster and faster,
without tripping or even looking back,
sweat is now pouring down your face 
like molten lava with fear of whats behind you.

But as you get closer,
your sweat is now blinding you 
with such uncontrollable burning,
that you try to scream,
 but your screams have no sound.

Then from out of no where 
you hear the sounds of people laughing,
but the laughing is quickly muffled 
by your exhausted lungs.

Your then turn your head 
cautiously behind you
without looking too fast 
avoiding being notice.
But it's too late 
they're already see you.

You try to speak but your words
are quickly frozen in mid sentence
So you try to move
but to no avail because,
you're stuck in fear like quick sand.

Then without warning,
there was a very distant beeping sound.
And before you knew it, 
your eyes open very slowly 
that's when you realize 
your alarm was going off.

And the laughing you heard,
was the people on the TV that you left on all night.

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La Gala Grandeur

~La Gala Grandeur~

Revived from mine mortality,I adopt my rebirth
Through neonate eyes,the world now glows ethereal
As my resplendence arouses,death is relinquished dormant
Though newly formed,I step unteeteringly unafraid

Motlique auras,encompass my fellow scions
The firmament above,an wombous spectrum pletharic
Engrossed of adolescence,I become exhilarantly aware
My lineant precursors,swarm samely for my embracing

Free from fragility,I am no longer appraisal's prey
No less nor more than another,we abide incorruptable
Orchestras of saints and psalmists,exact an spectacled sonata
Devout and divinely,we dance dutifully for mercy's grace

This revel illimitable,is always available
Admittance thou art assured,whether or not of invitation
With none boundary of era,we know ye will attend
It is but a matter my friend,of just when... then

~Azaza~ June 19th,2010

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Hiking Trip

     The whhhhiind wound it’s wicked way through the snarl of  broken skeleton like branches. In what was left of the dredges of dusky light it tore past the ancient rotting knot holes  protruding from the bristling bark of Grandfather Oaks, creating a whistling, haunting sound that sent shivers up and down her spine. Old dead leaves lifting in sudden bursts of whirlwinds from the darkening forest carpet of  pepper brush and poison oak rustled and rushed past touching her face as if trying to direct her attention to the dark void of the forest into which those long dead leaves disappeared.
     She stopped. She must keep going but fear was paralyzing her.  A quote from JRR Tolkien buzzed in and out of her frightened mind…..“Still round the corner there may wait .. a new road or a secret gate…”  It reiterated itself over and over in her mind.  …..    Sounds.  There were sounds beside ..and inside the wind.. It was more than creaking branches.. more than rustling leaves and whistling wind tunneling through the mazes of old dead moss covered bony trees. It was more felt than heard but …it was heard …a practically palpable sound… but elusive. It … the sound… created itself when she walked… it came from above and behind her. It stopped when she stopped….except for …except for …the breathing.
She could feel it ..breathing. She thought to turn her collar up and cover her neck. Oh so scared ! Frozen scared! So alone! How do I get out of here!! It’s so cold! And then… she practically fainted as ..she …she felt it!  The unmistakable Ssslow hot ..breath ..rasping ..on the back of her neck! …

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The Duppy Man

The Duppy Man
On the island where I come from, where the golden beaches span. Lives a terrifying 
creature, known as the Duppy man.
Now the Duppy is quite picky, about whom he haunts at night. For it is only naughty kids, 
that the Duppy wants to fright. They seek out all the naughty ones to scare them at their 
leisure. For the screams of terrified children, is every Duppys pleasure.
What does the Duppy look like? , well let me tell you all.
But make sure you are sitting down, for the fear may make you fall.
His head is on the wrong way, and his left leg seems to drag. He knocks upon your window, 
screaming like some old hag. And over his right shoulder, he carries a big bag.
 And as he walks and drags his leg, he sings a little song, “All you naughty children, won’t be 
naughty very long.”
The bag is for the children who he knows will mis-behave, he takes them back to his lair 
where they become his slave.
But the Duppy won’t just grab a child, he must select the worst. So the evil Duppy calmly, 
will ask this question first.
“Is you a good child, or rotten to the core?” and he looks deep into their eyes, where he can 
see much more. 
For in the eyes he sees their souls, and the truth in what they said. And if you are a good 
child, the Duppy simply will say “bed”.
But if you are a bad child, and the Duppy says it’s so, he will offer you a choice, be a slave, 
or your big toe.
If you become the Duppys slave, he will put you in his sack, and after a night of haunting, 
with him you will go back.
He will take you to the underworld, where all the Duppy gather, never to see again your 
mother or your father.
But if it is the big toe, you decide instead. The Duppy takes it graciously and tells you what’s 
“Child I will haunt you now, forever and a day. Unless you prove to me child that you can 
change your way”.
Then he places your poor big toe on a necklace that he wears, and turns away and heads 
off, to find another child to scare.
So children, children everywhere, on the island that I live, please pay close attention, to this 
advice I give.
When you hear the whistling of the wind, and a dragging on the ground. Make sure it is not 
naughtiness, but goodness to be found.

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Under the African Skies

I stand gazing across the vast plains of Africa
Plains empty of man-made monsters, 
Filled only with God’s beauty and grace

The stillness of the beauty fulfills me
I inhale deeply filling my lungs with the pure air-The air is sweet and refreshing, 
The smell of life, brought only by the heavenly rain on our African soil
I watch the sun take its place, casting away the clouds
As the dark clouds tumble away, the sky is filled with the beautiful spectrum of light,
My eyes feast on the mesmorising colours of the rainbow-This is the symbol 
Of God’s promise to Africa
As I gaze at this colourful ghost of life I realize 
The true pot of gold of this rainbow is Africa.

I kneel on the soil, running it through my fingers, 
Each grain like a diamond and me the diamond digger
I close my eyes feeling the warm breeze blow through my hair
It carries the messages of all the creatures
Telling stories of the battles of the plains,
Those conquered, those lost and those still to come
It is the breeze of life, the life force that fills every living creature, connecting us all as one

As I shout out to the heavens the land is filled with my voice, 
Echoing like the deep thunder of the skies
I hear the calls of birds across the plains, a vast network of communication
I see a herd of antelope running and leaping through this maze of beauty

I start to run, sprinting until I no longer can
I stare into the face of the African sun as it bleeds to death, painting a red smile 
Across the glowing orange sky
Until, darkness
The night sky is illuminated with Africa’s sparkling jewels, 
The great kings of our past, watching over us and
Guarding our blessed lands

I lay back and close my eyes
The silence of the plains is a symphony to my ears,
Every individual blade of grass creating its own unique sound to the choir of Africa, Singing 
the songs of angels, 
Calling us home

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That was not a windmill, it was

a beautiful wings-cutting mechanism

with a vitreous red peacock inside

who puts a solar edged Venice afternoon in motion

in a gentle blue square

into which we stuck our wings

so that our heavier-than-air bodies could happily flutter

with one thousand and one flexibilities

on the ethereal geometry above the roofs

where pharaonic flags pompously glorify us

as large cosmic objects pushing comets towards the others

in a fireworks game of our honeymoon…

and, suddenly we found ourselves down:

no, it was definitely not a windmill!

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Flotsam and Jetsam

The sea was calm on that fateful day
The crew keen and eager to get on their way
The cargo was loaded, all men were on board
The captain at the helm was standing tall

They raised the anchor with a mighty cry
And bade farewell with a heartfelt sigh
Leaving their loved ones with a fond embrace
Not yet knowing the perils they faced

They raced through the waters with rapid speed
The sails billowing out as the captain took heed
Of the clouds building up looking heavy and mean
Would they make it to safety and land unseen

But the seas became heavier, their faces were ashen
When the captain gave the order with gusto and passion
“Toss the cargo to the sea, we need to make light
Or we’ll not make it through the long, dark night”

They threw the cargo over the side
With speed and haste and nowhere to hide
But still they were sinking with no hope in sight
Of land, or man, or a guiding light

And in the still of the morning when all was calm
While the waves rolled in under the coconut palm
All that was found on the distant shore
Was flotsam and jetsam from a ship no more

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                              THE FREEDOM OF SPEECH


NOT A CONFINED AND RESTRICTED "fill in the blank space provided"




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For Those Who Love The Game

We have been waiting ohhh, sooo long and now my fellows the time 
draws near 
The sweet smell of cut grass IN the cool fall air triggers the feeling we 
all know so well 
Clashing giants on a 100 yard field, a sound so dearly adored 
By ones that love the risk and fear, an excitement with fans in accord 
And a manicured field, suitably crafted through hands of meticulous 
Lines and numbers laid down upon grass, so green, so soft and supple 
Upon those fields, teams do play with men giving their all for the cause 
Sprinting so fast, hitting, slamming, driving all for ground that is gained 
or lost 
Bulldogs running with power and speed, rebellious ones defending their 
goal line with greed 
And the Gators ferociously trying to knock down the one that carries 
the treasure around 
All to the delight of a energetically, maddening, exuberant crowd 
The Tide rolls in and the tide rolls out, delivering a brutal offensive 
All to the tune of grunts and groans, with crackling of joints and the 
breaking of bones 
There are Commodores that fight to give the foe hell, with spirit and 
pride all fanatics will hail 
Wildcats clawing to reach the top, coming oh so close, only to be 
Volunteers that strike fear in the enemy’s souls and gamecocks fighting 
toward a day it can crow 
Bengal tigers that run and pass with a great roar, Hawgs that root for 10 
yards or more 
A contest of strength and quickness and speed, crafty decisions made 
by mentors that lead 
The pounding of hearts that beat with pride, outpouring emotions none 
can hide 
For it runs within their blood with steam, those fitted in brilliant 
uniforms of their teams 
With full speed ahead these men follow their dreams, for a future in a 
game fit their means 
Those fans, Oh those fans, their banners they wave, with mascots and 
colors for them to display 
The fans gather before the contest begins, an intoxicating affair 
among family and friends 
The smell of grand cookouts drift though the air, titillating the senses 
of everyone there 
Ribs and Burger, prepared with such care which those that are cooking 
will graciously share 
And they will in the drink and delectable food, then sit and converse on 
their confident mood 
The fans live in the pride of their alma-mater In hopes that their team 
will not falter 
And that one day the ultimate prize will be found, and their team will 
wear the SEC CROWN. 


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A New Door Opens

Written: June 13, 1989
Spun: February 12, 2012

Dedicated to my dear BFFL-Bud friend, Clint (Aubrey Clinton Dewitt) who will find many new doors to open in life…..Thanks for opening a new door for me!

A NEW DOOR OPENS Though your patience Has almost past And you’ve seen that New door at last Remember when the door Opens up for you Just stop and look DO NOT run through It must be taken Just very slow For it takes much time To get to know Especially if you Are one in love Your path must then Be shared instead of So that door May not be so good Just pass it on by But be sure you should Florence McMillian (Flo)

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The Anomalous of Love Phenomenon

For once, I would like to peek Heaven
What kind of excitement is implied therein?
This abject body is trying to break through the limits between Hell and Heaven
But nor too far, a big, sturdy gate fenced my sight

With half of courage I open the gate, 
I see an empty space with a golden door on the other way
A door with a shimmering grip
A door which led me to a decent trip

still in this abject body I walked
I stand on the floor without a base
The scope of this room somehow slightly forced me to take a breath even deeper
The further I go, the weaker I got to pass through the dimension of delusion

I'm already in the halfway to that door

Where this heart pounding hard, 
Where These thoughts fall apart
The black wings of mine are torn
I do not even remember when I got into this form

As far as I remember, It's because of the dream

I groan
I faint
I shut my eyes in pain

I wake
I puke
I realized, I'm nude

This body is no longer be steady
The next seconds It's torn completely
This pain is incredibly beyond your thoughts
This transformation beyond your call

I do not remember,
What encourage me to visit the Heaven
As I know, someone is waiting
Someone who carries a half part of me

I almost lost in my confusion

Yet somehow, it's too early to be ended

That door is not any longer too far
And i don't give a damn about what will I be
I just want to be there, I just want to reach the end

To the golden door, to the place where I found the scene
The scene which overcome my dream

Just in time I finally reach the end
I saw the beloved smile, beautiful like a paint
"I know you will come for me"
And that is the true heaven I see

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Shogun/Samauri stories(collab Richard Pickett) continued-

  (cont..) He removed his Stetson cowboy hat and placed it gently on the bowling ball he 
had mounted just for that purpose over the heater by the door. He probably didn’t take that 
good care of himself, ..but his white Stetson;  …that was another story. Scanning across 
the room he noticed a folder placed on his old wooden principal’s desk which was a carry 
over from the school days complete with carved in initials, misspelled cuss words and the 
like. Some day he would paint it….. Yeah, sure he would. He had had all he could do just to 
scrape the gum off of it. The folder had a few sheets of paper in it dated just after he had 
left for vacation. “Dam! That was a short vacation! ”, he mumbled to the folder as he 
opened the flimsy cover. 
Just then there was two sharp raps on the door and a uniformed policeman waltzed in sporting a big grin and hollered out, “hey there cowboy! Heard you were back. Ya just couldn’t bear to be away from the action anymore, could ya huh? “ 
     “Hey yeah Tom, I just missed you guys ugly pusses so bad I had to get away from all 
those swimsuit clad babes in Florida just to come back to see you! How’s everything been 
here Tom….and what action you talkin’ about? Same old sweet vice, theft and murder?” 
     “Yep and more. It’s all in that folder you’re knuckling onto. Hey I see you ain’;t got your 
coffee perking yet. What say I let you catch up on your reading and I’ll go grab us a cup a 
mud.Be right back soon as I take care of a little paper work of my own on a little hooker bust 
we’ve got goin.”  …er.. black right, Bill?
“Huh? ..yeah black. That’d be good…thanks.” Sgt Bill Lipton was already absorbed by the 
report staring at him in the folder. It was from the twenty third precinct. He knew a few old 
boys over there….He was so intent on what he was reading that he didn’t  notice Tom come 
in with two cups of hot coffee and a newspaper. 
     “You lost in that folder, Sarge ?”   

     “Huh?…ah no…I mean ya,. I guess” , Bill said while frowning at the contents of the folder. He slowly looked up and rubbing his unshaven chin he said… 
      “Tom,……What the hell is a …Shogun?!

(to be cont. in unison with Richard Pickett Shogun/Samauri Story) Taz says" hey all!"

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The Barman Legend

Another week ends and here I am once more. Friday evenings I sit, and my friend you pour. I drink to the gods who delegate my fate, a toast to a lover, a colleague or mate. You are "The Barman" a legend in your own right. You pour out the numbness, and soak up sins of the night. Stories are your rubix cube, a toy to pass the time. You listen with intent, a gate keeper in his prime. This week was different, there was a twinkle in your eye. You noticed, I noticed, and your smile was rye. A glance to your hands, and I see the crimson of blood. Your the legendary bartender, but are you evil or good? The tales you've absorbed, full of hatred and love. Which ones have you focused on, the flames or the dove? Suddenly I notice the bar is now empty. It's clear you are twisted, my one confession was plenty.......

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Legend Of The Black Dove - Part 9

                       Legend Of The Black Dove  

                  (Part 9)   "The Voyage To Where ?"


The weather is cold and the sea calm as the 'Columbia' goes out to sea. 

Norrington and Jenkins finally fall asleep in their cabin while on deck 

the captain fears something wrong with the ship, the weather picks up 

to a squall as the 'Columbia' gains tremendous speed and a strange 

mist engulfs the ship. She is travelling an amazing 2000knots and

then suddenly slows down. They are in a harbour once again, but 

where are they ? It is now daylight, it having being night just an hour 

before going to sea. The jolt from sudden stopping awaken Norrington 

and Jenkins and they head up on deck. From the captain,  Norrington 

finds out the ship has travelled to some unchartered  land, he 

orders for a boat to be lowered intending to go ashore on a 

scouting mission and asks for volunteers, Norrington and Jenkins go 

along with Captain Dennis Owens and his first officer Glenn Hill plus 

two crewmen.  As they approach Dover harbour (is Dover here an 

unchartered land?) the passengers and crew behold a very unusual 

sight: instead of sailing ships they notice ships of strange types moored 

in the harbour, along with the 'Enterprise'- the sister ship of the 

'Columbia' which must be brand new, but appears to be worn out and 

ready for scrapping. What are these strange ships, what had happened 

to their own ship ? The Captain decides he needed some answers 

(The Captain wishes to find out) so they all decide to board one of the 

strange vessels. When on board they go below deck  and find a propulsion 

system of strange design on the cellar deck. they are all amazed at what 

they see.  The captain discovers the bridge of the huge ship full of weird 

levers and instrumentation. Owens notices a placard on the ship's wheel 

mount on the 'Albatross' built at Newcastle in 1929, as well as a calendar 

dated 1930,and it all starts to make sense: the weird mist had transported 

them through a time portal from 1750 to the year 1930.....  

Is the crew of the 'Columbia' marooned forever in this particular time period ?

Is there any way back to their own time?

Make the discovery (Find out) in Part 10...."The Unknown World"

Posted the first day of each month.

Written 30th July 2013

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Magical Place

{might be a bit sensual...hope you enjoy}

Magical Place

Come with me my beautiful queen, indulge yourself
With romantic interludes of never-ending fantasies
Release your soul and body to me
They are trusted in the hands of pure sensual mastery
Your soul I will protect with mere life itself
Your lovely body I cleanse with warm oils of ecstasy
Feel the passion cultivating
With each caress slowly stroking the arch of your back
Emotions boiling from anticipation
Every touch outlines sentiments of love extracts
A soft gentle kiss, above the lower
Proximity of your alluring waist
My tongue slides slowly just slightly lower
In detailed search of that magical place
Fear not, my curious nature, the unknown
Delivers exotic essences to sensual taboos
Calm your anxieties with unyielding pleasures
Move with me slowly…slowly as we cruise
Sweet kisses for each lip, my tongue 
Slowly massaging your shhh…steady…are you pleased
Passion is climaxing immensely, lip to lip
Tongue to shhh…these lips never speak
Climatic pleasures race rapidly
Through your body leaving traces of an elegant trip
Your body lies resting peacefully and fatigued
Gracefully, I retreat and seductively kiss you quivering hip

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Strayed Arrow

There’s a Swahili adage that goes
‘Mshale ulioingia msituni haujapotea’
An arrow that has been cast (shot/strayed) into the forest is not lost
I guess this is one of those arrows
~~~   	~~~   	~~~
As usual, it’s yet another crow of the neighbour’s cock
Gotta wake up, the dawn will soon be gone... and another day too will be gone 
But today, I really don’t feel up to it all
And to pretend that I do will be a pointless struggle
The same thing every day
All day long
Today I think from this routine I should fall
Perhaps I may pay a visit to my friendly monkeys down in the valley
Perhaps I’ll go to that spot by the river
And watch the crocodiles basking in the sun
Or I could go further up and say hi to the hippos and crown birds
Or I should just go to the forest
I might say hi to a gazelle, a giraffe or a zebra
I’m sure I’ll be inspired to strum a beautiful piece on my guitar
Even the trees need to hear my music
Or I could go and climb that hill over there
It’ll give me a chance to refresh my mind
Also seeing my territory down below might remind me why I’m Wiseton Prins
When my thoughts have been distilled 
I might go take a swim down in the lake
And on my favourite stone I’ll sit in the sun to dry
All the while hoping my favourite mermaid would dare light of day
And come up to say hi
It’s been quite a while since she and I conversed
And to think I dreamt of her the night before last
Sometimes I wish she could really come to life
Then she’d be perfect to be my wife
Oh, this mortal love has a tendency to scratch deep in my heart
Makes me bleed most of the time
Nowadays I’m suspicious of every sugar laced smile cast my way by a beautiful girl
For if I say yes to her delight
Today in my life she’ll be the sun, moon and the star
Tomorrow she’d be the vampire who defies the dark
Sucking all happiness out of my life, turning the peaceful movie of my life into horror
Why can’t I ever find true love that lasts through time
I’m tired of all these sugar-coated love with nothing but hot pepper inside
Good thing is, today I’m gonna take a pause
Break away from the flow
Good thing is my arrows have been shot into the jungle of dreams
And a good hunter or gather is bound to find its kill or its keep 
And the finesse of its make is bound in some degree to impress

Damn, what the heck have I been talking about
Uh, I’ll go over it tomorrow
Where’s my guitar... don’t forget the pad and pen

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Message to GOD

Forgive me father for i have sinned, bless me for i have repented.
Now i truly know the power of the lord upon this blessed land
I have seen this worlds true colours. For these people there is hope.

The gardens of earth watered with the blood of tyrants.
Leveled out by the sweat of heroes.

I hear your name whisperd through the wind.
like chinese whispers, it gets mislead and twisted.

I see your image perfectly crafted upon each of us.

You give us a spirit, you guide it. but like a feather in the wind it blows off course
We are brought into the world, being told lie after lie, subliminal messges are the truth.
We stumble across the truth by mistake but we ignore it, asif it were not there.

We live in a time of need, we need our gaurdian angel to continue to guide us.
To guide us through the dark world of decietfulness,
To keep us warm from the cold hatred thrown upon us,
To shelter us from the hailstorm of lies.

People are losing hope, they no longer believe,
but i have not given up.

We need you to return to help bring the world back to order,
I'll travel to the far ends of the world to discover the truth,
I'll sail the bluest of sea's to find peace,
I'll fly through the clearest of skys, fluffiest of clouds to find out what awaits me in heaven

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Look at the stormy wind coming,
Can you see the strong hands/
Can you see it mouth so wide and deep 
The mighty wind it came with scattering all manners of things desperately?
Things which people gathered for years 
Rendering them useless and leaving the naked in public.
some are left homeless but not hopeless.
How did she came here, through the door or window?
She came like a thief without invitation.
Is it my weakness or selfishness that invited her
Or my Inability to take good decision and steps?

With pains, i struggled to get rid of her
But it refused to let go perhaps she loves my home.
She would never be here in my home, no.
She had thrown my home into confusion ,
Took away my humble wife leaving 
Sorrow and agony within my heart.
You only heard the song of the dead in my throat
She is so strong like the mountainous rock.

My Mother foretold me of her,
as old as man you are.
As ugly as the chimpanzee. 
You killed my father and took him beyond weeping.
And now my mother and sisters, in sickness.
You can't take me like others.
Igbokwe household is gone in tears,
Our forefathers had abandoned us.
Some dared point at us 
They slapped and spat on us us because of her.
I must get rid of her in my home.

 You kill silently more than death,
Death is better than you because 
It takes one away where he never remember his past nor his sorrow
But you keep us here with pains.
The smiles in my face you took away 
and left me stranded 
My sorrow had grown wings whilst the battle field is in order.

Now i will rejoice like the birds of the air,
And dance like the priest behind the shrine.
Because i have conquer you.
I will be telling my generations, how i over came poverty.
Will i write the story down or tell them orally?
Writing it will be better for them to read 
and learn the art of fight against poverty.

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My Homeland Coast Of Africa

It was no more than eighteen months ago,
I left my homeland coast of Africa.

We moved to a place called New York City,
A place I always wanted to visit.

In my homeland men were fighting there,
Day and night gun sounds were in the air.

Those men with guns were so very cruel,
They destroyed, then burned down our school.

We arrived here in late Summer,
Though it felt like it was Winter.

The weather was a shock to me,
I thought that I would nearly freeze.

On my homeland coast its warm and nice,
It never snow or freeze to ice.

There, I often dreamed that it would snow,
But, of course, then little did I know.

For, it's no longer a treat for me to see,
Now, I want to see green grass and trees.

I'm told, Spring here feels much better,
It's almost like my homeland's weather.

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Sneaking in, sneaking out
as clever as a mouse.

Running here, running there 
clearly gone without a care.

Sniffs up to the stars
shining light, shining bright.
Charming little creatures
till it comes to the night.

Savages, beasts, under their pearly white coats.
Black little buttons to match 
their black little totes.

Dimpled little grin
Swallowing--swallowing your breath.
Never trust these little killers,
they always lead to death.

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' Knock - Knock Jokes ... ( Quirky, Yes )

Aahhhh, The Quirky/Idiosyncrasies of MoonBee

Knock, Knock …
Who’s There ?
     Icky …
Icky Who ?
… Never Mind, I’ll Come Back Later …

Knock, Knock …
Who’s There ?
    Juan …
Juan Who ?
I Don’t Know, What Do You Have In Mind ?

Knock, Knock …
Who’s There ?
    Hula …
Hula Who ?
Yes, When I Was Young …

Knock, Knock …
Who’s There ?
   Toodle …
Toodle Who ?
  … Ok

Knock, Knock …
Who’s There ?
   Bye-Bye …
Bye-Bye Who ?
Look Lucy, We Found Ricky !

Knock, Knock …
Who’s There ?
      Nu …
Nu Who ?
Well, If You Know Who, Why You Ask ?

Knock, Knock …
Who’s There ?
     Woo …
Woo Who ?
… Ok, Who’s In Trouble ?

(The Obvious-Obvious, One)

Knock, Knock …
Who’s There ?
     Who …
Who Who ?
Late Night, Huh ?

Knock, Knock …
Who’s There ?
    Yu …
Not Me !
Yeah … Yu !

Knock, Knock …
Who’s There ?
    Yu ! …
You Who ?!
… Hi …

Knock, Knock …
Who’s There ?
     Yu !
Naaaaa, Naaaaa Interested !

Knock, Knock …
Who’s There ?
    Boo …
Boo Who ?
Wait, I’m Not A Bill Collector !

                               Knock, Knock …
                      Who… who oo ‘s  There ?
                                  Sue …
                           Su suu sue, Who ?
            (but then Door Opens, With A Crash
               Double-Barrel, Points Out, Blasts
     The Knocker Runs Fast, as Voice Shouts Out Rash
“ … Sue That ! and Don’t Come Back Talking ‘bout Whiplash”
          And The Man Sits Back Down, To Finish His Glass

                                 - - - - - - - - - - - -

              Oh, Darn, I’m Out Of Egg-Nog and Jack D
               Now, How Can I Make My Moonlight-Tea
             Well, It’s Back To The Market, For MoonBee
                                       He He He ! …

                            Have A Great Day, Y’all …


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Dream Catcher

When the light of the sun begins to fall Echoes of thoughts begin to ball Drifting into a sleepless state Possibilities grow, at a relentless rate I open my mind, in a wonderland of no validity Emphasized by a walk, through a mirror of fluidity Children's laughter in a sadistic tone This dream is a nightmare, far from home The path I am walking........leads to a house Beyond the door, I wish for my friend, my lover and spouse As the door creaks open a figure is revealed I brace myself, my numbness is my shield A wrinkled hand reaches out from the black It grabs my wrist, leaving no time to fight back As I'm dragged into the darkness, the figure becomes clear The face of my victim, my deepest fear

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The Masked Man's Quest

Through the glistening sunshine, he rode, the masked man,
His face dissembled, but held high in pride.
No one would dare ask what his name or history was,
Neither did someone know what beneath the mask, lied.
For what they knew he was the greatest warrior of the king,
Presumed humility and kindness to the people,
A true fighter in defending the truth,
Instances to prove his courage were inestimable.

He got down aside a patch of plenteous roses to pluck one,
The one which appeared special, with a fragrance to invigorate,
As he was on a quest, to find his soul mate.
This town he was going to was the last in the kingdom, Rubek. 
Though the maidens in the kingdom were beautiful, no doubt.
His search in the previous towns had went in vein.
Though he was honored and renowned,
Scared of how his face might be they did refrain.

While he was on his way, Rubek had got the news 
Maidens gathered-“What if he looks like a devil’s son.”
“His face would’ve been burnt, scraped during war.”
“I can’t marry him”, they cried in unison.
The masked man arrived, stopped right in front of them,
But when he asked for marriage they all had their heads bent low.
He discerned their answer for silence prolonged,
Sadness concealed under his mask, he rose to go.

Then one of them came forth from the crowd,
Observing her beauty and grace for a second he froze,
She said-“I’d consider myself fortunate to have a companion like you.”
Within no time he knelt, gave her the rose, 
And then he threw up his mask for all to see.
Some maidens fainted, others cried in distress,
The masked man turned out to be the charming prince
Who took her hand and declared, “She will be my princess.”

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O' how weary, the branches of the weeping willow tree,
would seem...
tears fall from the leaves,
and leaves such the scene;

...before the eyes.

Yet remembering the deepth,
to which the root of a thing goes,
leaves the expression
of just how strong
a weary looking thing can be.

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Legend Of The Black Dove - Part 5

                         Legend Of The Black Dove 
             (Part 5) "Adventures On The High Seas"

The quicksand has claimed one victim, the fleeing horse and the real 

Black Dove is trapped underneath the quicksand. He manages to grab the 

horses tail and climb on the side of the horse and with brute strength

jumps clear of the sand  onto firm ground, he also manages to rescue 

the  imposter from the sand, he was unconscious but still alive. Moments 

later the kings guards arrive. They decide to unmask the Black Dove, 

but to their surprise, they find Jack Wild behind the mask. Norrington 

can hardly believe what he sees, as Jack Wild had died  in the mine 

having being impaled on a pinnacle, Wild tells him he was 

his twin brother Luke, and pledges to kill the Black Dove the moment he 

finds him. The soldiers cart him off with the other prisoners, and

Norrington is taken back to Norrington Manor.  When he arrives he

is greeted by his friend and butler Bill Jenkins, who said he has booked a 

passage for them both on a ship heading for South America. He was asked 

for assistance in a landowner's dispute in Monteray (California). They board

the ship and moments later she leaves for California. The ship is seaborne for

two days when they are attacked by a pirate ship. Norrington and Jenkins 

are in their cabin when the ship is boarded by pirates. The pirates  capture 

all  crew members and  approached the cabin were Norringtoan and Jenkins 

are standing.  Moments later as they entered the cabin, they see one man 

standing there with a sword in one hand and a gun in the other. It is the 

Black Dove. The pirates attack him as he shoots one pirate and starts fighting 

with the other. He escapes the cabin and tries to find a hiding place but is 

seized by three more pirates and taken on deck. The Captain of the pirates 

decides to make him walk the plank. His hands are bound and he is been 

weighted down with heavy chains, then forced to walk the plank, He is 

pushed into the ocean and as he goes down quickly to the bottom, the 

pirates laugh at his ill fortune.......Has the Black Dove drowned in the sea? 

What will become of Bill Jenkins trapped alone on the ship ?

Don't miss "Peril At Sea" Part 6 next time.

Written 3rd May 2013

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The Duchess I Once Knew

She's pouring from a pot of tea
    as we relax on the quiet porch
Honeysuckle vines encircle the posts,
   and webs of daddy long-legs
      glisten in the afternoon light.
She nonchalantly chatters, telling me her stories...
                                as if they were ordinary tales
                                 which, of course, ..they are not.
Sailing across an ocean during dangerous wartime,
Living in exotic, but threatened tropics
A life of adventure, of hardship, of fear
Yet none of that revealed on her weathered face
 She smiles, cheeks rouged and eyes sparkling.

Inside the house, the counter is cluttered with dirty dishes
The floor is sticky, and dog hair floats in prisms of light
The old hound sleeps in the middle of the kitchen rug.
An older black lab is lapping up water from a brown dish
           dripping water from his sloppy face across the checkered floor.
Throughout the house, a lingering musky smell of well loved pets,
       and a stale, smokey odor of burnt toast from her attempt at breakfast.
Servants, cooks, gardeners, are now part of a long ago past.
The house is filled with dust covered, treasured belongings from yesterday.
  Piles of clutter everywhere.
       Junk mail, newspapers, dog treats,
                           documents and clippings
                                 prized antiques and artifacts

On shelves, and on the walls, are sepia-hued photographs
People of fame, others of family and friends...
I see my own family among them.

A handsome young man, and she, his bride.
He would become a General.
She would follow him to the ends of the earth.
Their life like a story that one would read in a novel.
I sit here now,...with this woman of many lives.
Sitting on her porch, she wears a tattered, splattered dress.
Today, she is a homespun, country widow.
An extraordinary woman, this grand Duchess,
          yet now who bears traits of Ma Kettle
She brought class, dignity, and a wealth of knowledge
           to our small country neighborhood,....... to my life.
Here we are, together, so far from the world she once knew.
We sit in the shade of her covered porch
A long haired, grey cat jumps into her lap.
Under the veil of a summer day
I pour her another cup of tea, and a little more for myself.
                                       Tea is served....I have much more to drink savor.

In memory of dear friends, most amazing people, who lived down our road ...      Aviation Pioneer

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My Prince Fighting Dragons

Dragons of ancient times
were always in the way breathing
 fire and flapping there wings…

I wish that my prince were to slew
 one for it would prove that he 
truly loved me…

No need to be a damsel in distress 
with my guardian prince around…

Having my prince rescue me, 
from those fire breathing dragons…

With my prince by my side riding 
off into the sunset, on his white steed 
over the hill where we will live happily 
ever after, with my prince by my side…

By Sandra Lea Hoban

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My Love

To see your smile
There in my mind
It is a wonderful thing 
To hear your voice

Is like heaven opening
It is everyday that I am blessed
For every dream you be there in wait

When I close my eyes is my kiss to you
In morning sun your love is my everyday
Just having you here proves there is a heaven
Cause everyday my love grows strong
And our hearts beat as one

Forever will I love you deep in soul
That eternity you are
You are my everyday

And now I know why he put me here
For your love and goodness
You give my heart its freedom

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A Glance Within -two of two-

I asked the shards, whose were on the walls of this narrow corridor.
What is this self? What are this one to do with this life?
Pass through here and we shall write on your husk the answer.

And so this one did, went forth.
Each slice revealed another, once dormant, memoir.
There, at dawn all had to leave their shelter to do what they did not like, for beings they could not care less about.
Every day, from dawn to dusk inside the metal worm accompanied from the faceless shadows.

Turning around, that pain, he was quite familiar with.

This one does not fathom the meaning, told to the shards, all you did was to open this flesh and gifted this one with scars.

No, we wrote on thy husk the emptiness of the meaningless that is to keep going. 
Thee went trough us, though them, without desire, got scars, got pain, suffered, struggled. And yet, you need a reason, is not the pain and scars a lesson enough? At the end, you are more empty than before. Why is that?

I do not know. Why?

Forwhy there's no meaning, no higher purpose, no nothing, life itself is a disease, and you know, the other husks as well, how to get rid of it. Keep struggling, if so you wish. But take heed of us, there are nothing worth beyond.

At this point, this one decided to stop looking, he felt empty.
You told me to look, they told me to look, and less than that was not done.
Yet nothing was found, but what this one already knew, but denied.
To breath brings nothing but painfulness episodes to that what you told me to be worth the conflict.

I often get lost within myself.

But she help me find my way out. Cold. Sharp. True to its nature.
One. Two. Three, still cannot feel and you cannot understand, but I am back.
She brought me here.
As it goes dripping down, small portions of me, making small pools of crimson mirros
The very same spot where I can spy all the faces that once hated, where I can hear the laughter, the mockery, once more and feel the eyes judging and the fingers condemning.

I ask the table next to me:
What am I to do with what I've found?
Fill the void in thysellf, she told me.
I knew what she meant. I have to use the needle, the white dust and the stones.
To fly higher than this realm, fly away from myself.
Perchance, to find the end. And after it, may find a purpose...

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Breeding the Cull

"Hear me." that’s how it always starts. Some loud mouthed tyrant stepping on the backs of his followers, to throne the salted vigor of his speech.
"Hear me!" 
"Follow me into this place, unknown maybe, but full of gifts to those willing to take it from the mouth of destiny, I assure you. The FATE that you…Yes YOU have earned with your blood, your sweat, your SACRIFICE! For you have left the bed of your woman, to fight for your country, for your KING! Do you not deserve the respite of hunger, of shelter? Have WE not earned that?”
And the crowd’s hungry stomachs tremble beneath the throe of desperate and determined screams both invoked and festered by the name they call KING; who seeks only to grip a longer whip, to reach further than the crown before him. 
"Hear me!" "So I may show you the way, to freedom!”
The lash of a tongue, is sometimes much stronger than that of a whip..
for it is much more deceiving.
 -James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.

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Strip Mall Surprise

We began to see 
the first sign of Strip Malls
toward the end of World War Two.

In fact I remember
something of a barbed wire
fence I used to peer through.

North Carolina 1945.
Just a theater, grocery and truck stop.

But behind those walls
of new laid brick and mortar
was a dare of dares, no one can top.

A barb wire fence
built to keep someone in.
GERMANS !  (I was to sworn to secrecy)

Billy Fenster caught me
peeping around the corner
to get a look at what I was not supposed to see.

Look at Mr. Scaredy he said,
and with a snide look on his face,
“I d-double dare you to go to the fence painted red.”

Siddling along the brick
like a crab doing the moon walk
I stayed in the shadow feeling light in my head.

Kommen zie hier, I heard. 
Seeing enough Don Winslow movies, I knew 
what he meant.  I walked but nothing did I utter.

Through the metal 
he handed me a baseball.
In large letters he had scrawled “Gruber”

I saluted and he returning
smiled and needed no speaking.
I returned to Billy with my chest in elation.

And the baseball is still in my possession.

© Jun 12  2010 Charles Henderson

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Traveling Through the Fog

From time to time We all run into A fog of some kind Yes, even you do Your path becomes A big thick haze And then for some The mind reaches a daze Uncertainty can get you When it is so unclear Obscuring the view All around so near A type of trap maybe Inside a clouded mass Blinding the vision we see As if the fog will not pass I travel through just fine For me that’s when it seems To be my most favorite time To dream the impossible dreams When times are the toughest Where the darkest moments are Mountains are climbed highest And I reach for the brightest star Not one thing will stop me From dreaming of tomorrow My hopes go as high as can be Tossing away thoughts of sorrow We all pass through A bit of fog sometime Just remember it is true The sun will again shine Florence McMillian (Flo)

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A Glance within -one of two-

Today, I reminisced about you.
You, as the others masks, told this one to look at the inside. That there, would be found himself, would be found purpose... And so this oneself went, looked, in a reverie to the depths of his mind.

Amidst the mazes, this one asked the thorns that paved the ground on his front, the very same which desired to go deeper and deeper into his sole.
Even they have a purpose, why is that this one doesn't?

What is this self? Why have this one born? What is the true purpose behind this all?
To suffer the pain I can ensue unto thee, told the thorns to this one.
And what is your purpose, to inflict this one with pain?
Aye and to teach, through pain you shall learn, it said.
With not much effort, the thorns went in, deeper and deeper of this flesh, till it turned to be impossible to be taken out.
Words of insult and lies, of suposed love, sealed the injury and the thorns within to forever inflict pain and to not let forget, and so, to teach to not trust.
With it, the memoirs surfaced, memoirs of an old time, the yore of an infant. Many thorns, many lies, many masks...

And so, this one kept looking within himself, you told me there is where lies the answer. This one believes you to be not the same as they are, and because of that, the search must go on.

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I Came Upon a Wall

One day I came upon a wall
Stretched as far as I could see.
I could hear nothing at all,
What were they keeping from me.

I began to look for a door,
Or a way to slip inside,
For this I could not ignore,
Had to see the other side.

After walking for hours,
I discovered a little crack.
Through it I could see flowers,
Never seen beauty like that.

With exertion and some might,
I was able to get through.
Was such a beautiful sight,
Grass of green and sky so blue.

Like nothing I’ve seen before,
A butterfly leaving her cocoon,
I landed on a peaceful shore,
And hummed a soft tune.

Felt the breeze through my hair.
It was such a delight.
I wondered do I dare,
Stay here the entire night.

Just as I started to lay back,
I heard a strange rustling sound,
Then a loud “crack!”
And there was netting all around.

Suddenly I was swept in the air,
And put in some kind of truck.
I began to scream “It’s not fair.”
I heard back. “Tough luck.”

With the roar of the engine, 
And the bumps in the road.
I realize I’m being taken
Back by the busload.

The next thing I remember,
As I awoke in the morning dew,
And it’s still such a blur,
Was being put back inside the Zoo.

By Greg Stanley
January 3, 2012
Entry into the “Tell Me a Story” Contest
Sponsored by Debbie Guzzi

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All Is Well


Logan squirms in his seat starting home for the day
he cannot ride like the other small kids.
One leg is shorter, but all is well.

He begs from the back of his big brother's bike -
please, just one more time, Lucas don't quit now
one more lap 'tween the lake and the trees;
this is better than candy.

Turning back, bro is brief -
you know I'm getting too old for this
but all is well, just one more round,
better hang on tight, Lo.                  

Go faster, Bubba, they're calling us names
straight ahead, we can pass up those guys -
and prove we're not wimps.
All is fading fast.

Rounding the next bend one tyke takes a tumble. 
Shrewdly, big brother, Luke, pretends to fall too;
No real harm done, all is well.

More fun than winning - ending in hullabaloo
with ev'ryone on the ground.
Without a word,  we all head for the lake -
past time for a break and time to cool off.

Then as they arrive home, mom overhears...
One thing about you, Luke, you know when to fake.
And, Logan, you know there are more ways to win
than just beating someone.
All is well.

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...this is so intimate of time, as a first kiss of time close of soul, so near, so dear of heart beat, so precious a rhyme that flows so intimately,
deep of time, down by the Crystal Seas...
...this is so intimate of dreams,
dreaming reality,
as the Crystal Sea so reveals of destinies galore,
destined as the night light of the moon-glows of starry eyes,
upon the waters,
...seeing tranquility upon the waves...
watching to the depth of a dream,
and a sun-rise
being so true...
for underneath and within this a moon-lit poem of starry night eyes, down by the Crystal Seas, a vessel sets sail upon the deep...into a kiss of dawn...
Sea to shinning Sea.

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Frozen in time,
captivated by this enormous being,
the size of a small car.

his every move.
The way he used his hands;
so child-like.
With all the consciousness of the world, 
and graceless coordination.

of the visitors,
as they briefly called out for his attention.
Only for a moment,
then they were gone.

in an orderly sham. 
He sat there,
in his dark cave.
As if he was waiting for the light to find him.

on a boulder, 
squatting, and primitive.
Drawing in the dirt with one hand. 
Swatting a fly with the other.

His nature,
as he rushed to consume his food.
The females hovered behind him,
watching intently, 
like me.
His movement mechanic.
His presence powerful.
He was the king of his domain.

his magnificence, I watched.
How smart was he?
Could he feel my presence? 
Engulfed in the very essence of all that was him, 
I watched. 

how he felt, I watched.
Did he think he was still in the womb of Mother Nature?
Or, did he know the iron bars which embrace him now?

it happened;
our eyes met.
He noticed my presence.
His gaze intimidated me, 
But I did not look away.
He approached me.
I felt his eyes inspecting my soul.
A chill ran down my back,
I turned behind me,
only to find no other presence there.
When I turned back, 
we were face to face.
Separated by the sham,
And a two inch piece of glass.
Just me and him,
the two of us,
and the females hovering behind him.

His old eyes spoke to me,
They said 
“I am like you. 
I love, I feel, I hurt.
I am, like you.”

I put my hand on the glass
and with all the 
consciousness of the world,
he did the same.
With tears in my eyes,
I smiled.

Then, he pooped in his other hand
and wiped it on the glass.
This was a sign of endearment.
I laughed out loud.
And I swear,
He smiled back.

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"Come take a ride with me"
 That’s what he said
 The conservative side of me
 Almost jumped out and said;

"huh uh, I don't do roller-coasters"
 but the look on his face
 prompted me to change my mind
as if to say
you don't know what you're missing,

he has thrown down the gauntlet,
and don't I love a challenge! 
I didn't need a second invitation
as soon as I was strapped in,

it started to move slowly,
thinking to myself
"I can handle this; it’s a piece of cake, 
not scary at all"
What the hell? 
Who was I kidding?

midway through the first lap,
it started to bounce up
and just as quickly 
it skid down again

I grabbed the bars 
to stable myself in the seat
leaving marks on my hands
as I dug my fingernails deeper,
into my own flesh.

Glancing across I can see 
my fellow revelers’ mouths moving,
but I can’t hear a word they're saying
it looks like one of those silent movies

all I can feel is my heart beating faster
and with every movement
praying for my safekeeping,

at the same time cursing  
this guy next to me
with a solemn promise
that if I live to tell the tale,

I will never allow myself 
to be talked into something 
this crazy again, 
even if the guy is as sexy 
as the one sitting next to me…

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What a game

The stance of the batter
the pitcher like a hungry hawk eying it's prey
keenly with roving eyes checking those on base
the sun beats down,smells and sounds fill the air
the pitcher begins to prepare
he doesn't seem to notice
the sizable lead off the player on first has taken
some root for the coming instance
some try to warn of the impending danger
the wind up begins 
the player on first has already said his farewell 
the moment seems to pause
so many eyes focused
the pitcher turns to react 
the player slides
we all anticipate different scenarios 
my friend,my friend
what a game

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impudent children in streets

They left sweet home as little children, never to return home!
In their choice they joined a bandwagon of street kids:
And lived a life of abuse,begging,drugs,crime and violence__
Yet ,their devoted parents never forgot to love them and continue
 to pray for their return.

chipepo lwele

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Ever Jumped A Train - Part 10 - Robert and Ernie Adventures

Well, I had promised Ernie and Snowy I'd walk them downtown,
It was cold so I tucked them warmly inside my jacket pocket.
Sneaking out of that rail yard in daylight was quite tricky,
I guess by now I don't have to tell you about being caught.

After walking awhile we came across a sign that said Walnut,
I told Ernie and Snowy that this seems to be Walnut street.
Ernie said he ate some walnuts he found in a box car once,
He said they were pretty tasty but he got sick eating them. 

I said, Ernie, where do you come up with stuff like that?
Ernie said, Robert, I already told you, in the box car.
Never mind Ernie, hey, I said, look at that big sign there,
It says that it is Independence National Historic Park.

Snowy said, oh fun, my owner used to take me to a park.
I think this is a bit different park than that I told Snowy.
Ernie chimed in saying, its got a bunch of trees and grass,
Isn't that what you humans refer to as a park Robert?

Well, he had me on that one, but still I decided to explain,
Ernie and Snowy, I said, this is a national historical park,
It holds much of the beginnings of our country within it.
Ernie said with a grin, you mean it was this small once?

Not quite Ernie, but you do have the right idea I said.
Look at that sign Ernie said, it says Independence Square.
Robert look, there's a statue of you right over there, 
Ernie it's not a statue of me, where did you get that idea?

Well, he said, it has your name printed on the bottom of it.
Ernie, it's a statue of Robert Morris, a very great patriot,
Anyway, my name is Robert Gruhn, didn't I teach you to read?
Yes Robert, he said, but you never told me your last name.

Okay wise guy, let's go over there to Independence Hall,
I want to take a look at the our famous Liberty Bell.
When that little hobo mouse saw the bell he screeched,
Robert, he said, that's the biggest bell I've ever seen.

Then he said quietly, why does it have a long crack in it?
I don't know Ernie, maybe it's because they rang it a lot.
Well he said I guess it takes a lot of ringing for freedom.
Snowy just giggle squeaked, she thought we were both silly. 

Okay you guys I said, enough with the tour, let's go eat.
Ernie said, do they have good food here in Philadelphia?
I heard they have something called a Philly Cheese Steak.
That sounds like something us mice would love Ernie said.

(to be continued)

Copyright © 2014 Robert William Gruhn A.R.R.

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Make The Road

Ten unemployed men
sat in a pub talking
saving together 
we could start our own business

Setting a target 
of ten dollars per week each
they started saving
the first week they had

one hundred dollars 
buying plastic 
buckets and cloths
they put up a sign

car wash
working to get off the dole
after six weeks they had
six hundred dollars

enoungh to buy
an industrial vacuum cleaner
applying for cleaning jobs
they started to get off the dole

after a year they had
five thousand dollars 
enough to buy a van
and start a courier service

working together slowly 
using one idear after another 
they slowly got back onto thier feet
no more bludging they felt proud

granted this story is fictional
but perhaps out there are people
that can turn it into reality
dream your dreams

put up a picture 
of what you want in life
create the plan
and make the road

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The Eighth Wonder Of The World. ( Motion Pictures.)

" Scream, Ann, scream! Scream like you've never screamed before!"
     I saw their eyes, wide like turkey eggs
     for his bombast had provided us sneers.
     Just what is it he expects her to see
     that would leave her shaking, in tears?

 " Have any of you ever heard of..Kong?"

    There it is! This is it! The man's a fool!
    He's off for a film so they'll be thrilled!
    This ship is a tramp, not proper or trim.
    He'll wind up getting all of us killed.
   " All hands on Deck! All Hands on Deck!"

     She's gone! Oh my God! She's gone!
     Now what do we do? Hand out the guns!
     Is there enough bullets for them all?
     I still wonder: are we the only ones?

   " Come on! Who's going with me?!!"

     I can't believe the size of it! The size!!
     It's a mirage! It must be a nightmare!
     It's carried her off out in that jungle!
     My hands feel cold. We'd better beware.
     I might be lucky. I'm staying behind.
     I  shot it. I know I did!

   " I tell you, skipper, this Kong is as big as a house!"
     I slip up by Denhams' side to hear about
     Kong and these dragons and there's more!
     I thought those things were dead and gone
     Suppose one of them comes to this door?

   " Kong's Coming! Kong! Kong!"

     I heard the gong! Oh my God! It's Kong!
     He followed Driscoll and Ann right here.
     We've taken up arms! We've bolted the door!
     I wish I could be somewhere and not here.     

     He's In! He's Loose! Run! Run!
     EXPLOSION! I turn
     Kong stops. He staggers.
     He's down.
     I hear Denham shout:

   " Come On. I Got Him!
     We'll teach him fear! We're millionaires, boys!

     I never slept all those weeks back.
     Gunshots and whips from the hold
     It's a mistake to bring this thing back.
     Denham is foolish and brazen and bold.

     I shipped out right after we docked.
     I pour another shot, look out to the sea.
     The mate just told me the news
     over the wireless:
     Kong is loose in New York.
     I wonder where Denham is...

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Road to Redemption

Introduction: Tribute to brothers in the fray and families for them pray...

Life in these rough times, We barely even feel the daytime Every second counts greatly, As there’s no going back in time Sometimes we lose to win, try not to fail again, But mostly we end up back to where we all began Every single day, we wake up in one piece, Where brothers in the fray, they hardly get to cease Our tears drop all over the floor, They keep on till their blood stains from their core Every second till the end, We pray for them to knock on our doors Sadly at times, things go the other way for the best cause, All we can do really, is not breakdown and pause Prayer’s the only strand through the last breath, When they depart with a peaceful end Emptiness and happiness, constantly flowing along, The memories, they always live right within our souls When days seem cloudy and life gets lonely Debts grow high and smiles fade into sigh At that instant, that very moment, Just pray, pray to get healed, Heal from this insanity, pray to be free, Free from this misery It all comes down to the crying in the end, The stillness stares up towards the sky As we do bid farewell to dear friends But at some point through all the pain and sour grin, recovery does begin The ones we love and care, Though some are not so near Scattered through this bittersweet world, Waiting for us to share; This life is like the weather, It changes altogether It may get bad and may get sad, But know it’s not forever, Better days will come eventually, The morning sun will shine brightly Through our endeavors and our prayers, we shall recover From things we’ve lost so dearly So just hold on to the light and believe in salvation, And the rays of truth shall lead the road to redemption…

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The Door in the Closet pt.1

In a sleepy old hamlet in Northeastern Maine
on old Knob Hill Road, there is a house,
a very old house,Victorian I think with
with what looks like old bell towers on either end

But they aren't really bell towers at all, I guess
you could say they look like spooky old watch
towers, or if your imagination were to run away 
old dungeon towers, none the less spooky.

It's been said that strange things have happened 
in that old house over many years, many, many years
Sightings of ghosts and apparitions, paranormal things
that of owners past perhaps, screams in the night

There are those who say, they saw lights on 
over those many years, but really that would mean man made
There has been no electricity there in two decades
or has it? No one can really say for sure, alive that is!

All these sightings have only been seen from the front gate
and some from the back gate as well, no-one has ever entered 
there has been no-one alive past the front gates in a long time
Not in the house on old Knob Hill Road.

So, when I arrived in that sleepy little hamlet my first
stop was the Police station, well they call it constables office
I didn't know any of those still existed anymore, I guess it
shows that old practices still do exist, I guess!

I wanted permission to enter that old house, on Old Knob Hill Road
I was really looking for the owner and figured this was a start
what I was met with was bewilderment and laughter
all of which was at my expense, They all thought I was nuts I guess

I met up with Constable Danforth, Chief Constable, actually the only 
one. He said in his quaint New England accent, Thar hasn't been a
soul on that property in nearly eighty yaars now. The town owns the 
property and the house, we wanted to tear it down, but couldn't.

I asked why of course, Well no-one will go near the old place
say it's haunted and evil, things like that. Well I said that is
exactly what I am here to find out, that's what I do.
Search for hauntings  and evil places to prove reality or fiction.

Please don't mind the mis-spellings they are for accent purposes only, such as
yaars is actually years...Maine style..Continued in Pt. 2

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Letter to Jennifer

All the days has passed,
All the nights are the same,
All the moments valuable to me are far from me.
Each day my mind is opened and the thought of you are crystal and frequent
And the memories we had shared are vivid and magnificent.

After all this while when you were gone,
I have patiently waited to hear your voice every day,
I have strongly prayed to see you in my dreams every night.
Very long time has passed,
As I have almost forgot the beauty of your face.

But last night, you came!
Like our spirit were connected, 
Like you witness my frustration,
And when you came, you came with a light and a peace,
And the trees bow to the breeze of your beauty,

The beast became friendly like a compassionate polar bear named after me.
I had long for you, and last night I felt your touch and kissed your lips...
You were amazing, as you are the most beautiful thing I had ever seen...

I cannot wait to see you again in my dreams,
And hope not to wake up from it,
Until your arrival 

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Ever Jumped A Train - Part 3 - Robert and Ernie Adventures

One morning Ernie and I awoke to a noisy train yard,
It was that place many hitchers feared known as Chicago.
Since Ernie had traveled there before he warned me,
In that little voice he said don't open the door.

Praise our Creator my English lessons had actually taken,
He had spoken to me and I mean in no uncertain words.
I'd heard of animals whispering to humans in the past,
Yet this little hobo mouse had talked loud and clear.

We sat that day huddled together behind his wood crate,
Then in the afternoon someone shoved open that steel door.
He climbed inside and began tapping hard on the wood crates,
Feeling like forever he climbed back out and shut the door.

I whispered to Ernie and asked who was that invader?
He told me it was a dangerous bull not to confront.
Confused I asked him what he meant by that comment,
He said it was a mean human called a train policeman. 

That day I almost learned a lesson in home invasion,
Ernie said he would have killed us both if he'd spotted us.
I said not even an animal would be so ruthless as that,
Ernie said animals only attack when cornered or starving.

The next morning our almost coffin pulled from that yard, 
Our temporary home on wheels now had became our savior.
Such is the irony of what it is to be a mortal creature,
Both of us embracing in celebration of our lives saved.

We traveled the rest of that day never closer than before,
Each and every mile of our U.S.A. journey appreciated.
So very grateful for this wonderful land given to us,
Given by so many who gave their lives so we may live free.

I'll never forget the day we rolled into Washington D.C.,
Ernie said it was so poignant it was my first time there.
How ironic that a mere mouse had been there before me,
I told him that a monument should be built there for him.

He blinked up at me with that stare that always captured me,
Robert my human friend why would you say such a thing?
I said because you are that smallest giant friend,
One that has helped me so truly to love my country.

In the beginning I had tried to teach you to understand,
And now Ernie you have opened my mind to my being's center.
If only most humans could be touched by your friendship,
Maybe enough might bow to the reality of changing our world.

(to be continued)

Copyright © 2014 Robert William Gruhn A.R.R.

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Light On the Devil's Chord -part 3-

In a deep sleep, I fell upon the fields, tired, rejuvenated, and blessed
Wandering in many a dream

A warm sun creeping from the heavy cream clouds woke me up
And I felt His presence once again
Sitting up, I rubbed my weary eyes and smiled sadly,
"He...He spoke to me, and He granted me love, with dreams of hills,
Prairies filled with sunflowers, hares dashing about in joy,
The soft rains from supple clouds tickled my frowns to smiles,
And a turkey from afar winked at me with knowing assurance."

Christ lifted me up and kissed my forehead gently,
"My silly, lovely sister, good morning,
Come with me. . .
We shall talk for a little while,
And then you will be away for a time."

His expression grew grim...

"Yes, my sister, lessons will be learned,
Keep your faith, and your heart will guide you,
Do not give in to the lies of the ancient serpent,
Whom you will see in a very short while
Talk with him, be with him,
But if his claws wrap around your innocent throat,
I am told to not intervene, for this is the test God has given you"

I looked at Christ lovingly and embraced him
"Thanks be to God, for this gift of opportunity,
Tell me how long with the serpent shall I stay?"

He held me tightly for a moment, 
Then looked at me with tears in his eyes

"The Lord God Almighty had visited me last night,
Telling Me to take you to the pit,
Where Satan and his demons thrash,
And for 40 days and 40 nights you shall remain there,
Then you shall see how his mind decays in his ways
That his pride and his servitude of lies and murder slashes all thought of change
That repentance to him, is failure, weakness, and far below him..
You shall soon see if it is possible to save one that does not wish to be saved"

I took Christ's hands
"Do not be afraid for me, my brother,
I am ready for this test
I am ready to face him and give my say,
Though my purpose is risky,
My heart is filled with Your grace, 
And I know even in darkness, God is there
Perhaps I mean not to save him,
But to understand him
I only hope You see the strength in me to fulfill such a thing"

Smiling, He lifted me in the air and twirled me
"Oh precious, magnificent sister!
I never doubt your strength,
For your glory reflects off the face of your Almighty Father
Your questions have filled His heart with gladness and warmth,
Your innocence is precious and fills Him with joy
Testing you, He has no doubt-
Though know mistakes can be made, and will be no less dire
Therefore, be wary in the dark,
For in it you will face illusion, sadness, desire, anger, and all evil shrouding,
No good advice will be given along the way,
It is merely you and Satan, eye to eye 
And the terrible shrieks of the demons at his feet still shall tempt"

Departing from Christ with few last words,
He lead me to the bottomless pit, which is sealed and impenetrable
Advising me to wait, He disappeared from view,
The last of the light I would witness, fading into the mysterious eve

I stared at the mighty seal in awe
Rough rock and black soot surrounding the dread inside...

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The Seaweed (1)

Sunsets; sky's colored; red, orange, and yellow
I walked by the frozen voices of the birds' songs

A lake accompanied my journey towards a "destination unknown"
The fish had to text their goodbyes, for darkness approached their royal stone

Signals were sent across the sky
To every passing by

Signals were lit by the red, orange, and yellow
Yet the beautiful and deep voices of the mellow...
                                                                           were gone...

There were still lights in the sky
But, nature's habitants would no longer strive

It was a quarter to seven when...
The birds  quickly flew to the tress' den

It was a quarter to seven when...
All nature's sounds came to an end...

It was so quite; a falling pen could have been heard
It was so quite; the lake's flow and company were no longer shared

It was so weird; I looked back to the lake to call it back, but...
A seaweed was thrown to me instead; a track?

I bent to pick it up when... clouds began to rush;
The sky became a black mush...

Quickly, I took the seaweed and ran to a tree's shadow
Hoping to hide from an unpleasant fellow...

Could it be a fellow? A phase of the evening's show?
Or a fiend; a foe?

Suddenly, I felt the seaweed quiver in my hands...
Slowly, I untied its wet strands...

           A letter;
                                                     The sun has set....
                                           Red, orange, and yellow are its pets
                                         Darkness is what you shall see beyond
                                       the delightful and pleasant painting's wand
                                         Go forth, if you wish, but....but...BEWARE....
                                          For darkness shall use its cards to scare
                                               Those who dare to approach.....
                                                 its evil and disastrous coach..
                                                  Never let fear defeat you
                                                   Gather all your courage
                                                           and GO....

And so...

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The day begins with a tiny speaker screaming at me I jolt from a disturbing dream (thankful) Trying to distinguish reality from fiction I collide with objects strategically placed throughout the house First flip of a switch brings blindness to my brain I am disoriented, but things come into focus Why am I in the clothes room? oh...I need to shower Onward I slumber through the house The shock from the water pelting my body begins to unerve me I start to relax, entering a familiar tranquil state Again JOLTING my body upright, preventing me nodding off in my new found solidarity I wait until the last drop of warm water is spent Apprehensively I throw open the shower curtain, lunging for a towel Crap! no towel No wonder I found myself in the clothes room

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Ever Jumped A Train - Part 7 - Robert and Ernie Adventures

There Ernie and I were standing, at the edge of dark steps,
They descended into a concrete tunnel to somewhere below.
Robert, do you think she could have gone down there he said,
I don't know Ernie, but we're sure going to find out pal.

That's the type of place I would have run to, Ernie said,
Our eyesight isn't so good, but it's better in the darkness.
Robert, you'd probably break your neck running down there,
I can run down there easier than you can see it in daylight.

Okay Ernie, go down and see if you can possibly find Snowy,
But if I hear one screech from you I'm coming downstairs.
Okay Robert, stopping, he turned and said to me, I love you,
I said knock off the sentimental stuff and find your damsel.

He bared those teeth in his own form of that mouse smile,
Then I watched a hobo mouse friend disappear into darkness.
As I sat waiting I thought of how brave that little guy was,
Realizing that courage can't be measured according to size.

Crouching under that first flight of stairs I heard voices,
It was the train police trying to track me and Ernie down.
That bull I'd knocked over said he would crush us on sight,
It was the first time I was ashamed of another human being.

At that moment I understood I'd traveled from boy to man,
All in the span of less than two weeks of train transport.
Then, suddenly, there were the bull's boots on the stair,
I reached through and quickly tied his shoe laces together.

Then I yelled to him, you're an idiot wrapped up in a moron,
Bull turned on his heels and tumbled down those stairs.
That fall made the one earlier look like a walk in the park,
I think I really had put that train cop out of commission.

Heard him moaning and groaning down on the next landing,
Being a true humanitarian, I crept slowly down those stairs.
There he was looking so very pathetic in a crumpled heap,
Right at that moment I truly felt sorry for our enemy.

Suddenly, Ernie appeared with Snowy so proud at his side,
When he saw Bull he went berserk and ran up his face.
He said something in his ear and Bull went literally pale,
I mean, it was as if a ghost had whispered into his skull.

Ernie, I said, let's get out of here before it's too late,
I put him and Snowy in my jacket pocket and went upstairs.
By the way Ernie I said, what did you say in the bull's ear?
Robert, I just spoke in the King's English as you taught me.

(to be continued)

Copyright © 2014 Robert William Gruhn A.R.R.

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Do Si Do Your Partner

I hold three magic rocks, in My hand.
Rolling them over and over and over
leaving this reality far behind.

Amber, golden, polished, yet flawed and fecund,
a dollop of honeyed sunshine, light and pulse, 
surrounds the remnants of wing and limb.

Opalescent egg of rainbow and pearl, chill and slippery;
the second shape crosses the surface 
of the amber sun, warily and with grace.

Turquoise mottled and marbled 
with veins of ocean blue and pastoral green
the third rock spins around and between
the globes of white and gold.

Life writhes.

My eyes pierce the depth of ocean and 
atoms of hydrogen cling to singular atoms of oxygen 
positive and negative charges mirror 
the Earthly psyche of Yin and yang.

Within the amber ball hydrogen dances with helium.
Electron clouds orbit proton cores, 
just as the three globes spin round in the palm of the Universe,
Do Si Do ing with the uncharged, seemly barren, third opalescent egg
which mirrors the neutron in a molecular night.

Far below on the turquoise marble,
man looks skyward into the MY All Seeing Eye of God.
Then into his own palm where the dance continues.

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Turtle Race

Let us all go to the turtle race. 
It is in such a quiet, serene little place 
No one says go, and no one says stop 
The turtles just run when the sun gets hot. 
The starting line is an old dead log, 
Poking out of the water, in a cozy cove. 
The finish line is the water's edge 
By an old oak tree and a cypress hedge. 
So hop in the boat and we'll take a ride. 
It's just across the lake on the other side 
Where the redbird sings and the eagle glides. 
And all nature looks grand through happy eyes. 
The sun will be bright and feel so warm 
Just watch the clouds as they float by 
We can take the day and be lazy ones 
And soak in sun rays while the turtles run. 

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Catie Lindsey Contest Name obe's Back to the Astral, I met a lady Carmel who got me into the psychic side and healing. She suggested i try astral. So laying on my bed I imagined I was floating up to the ceiling, saw myself go out the window, down the bitumen road to Carmel’s house. There I saw the round cut off pieces of tree slabs for steps in her front yard. I went through her front door, turned left and walked into her room. I came too close to her, she was sitting up reading a book in the bed, the clock said 10pm.Then a stern male voice said “do not invade her privacy.” So I was back in my bed instantly :) i called her next morning she had been sitting up in bed reading at 10 pm. I have gone in my mind to other places and times, even to my old home, which is really gone now, but in my mind i can return to it. In my case due to the would be healer type i am, I see ghosts, My Nemesis who died, later came to thank me in a dream. Cousin Wayne’s girls were looking for their secretive father. Who ran off with my wife Christine, after 22 years a trying to get her:) Poor bugger died in 07 of prostate cancer, Wayne that is, he couldn't help his wife stealing ways:) , did it often enough. I gave the girls my wife's sister’s number and they soon got the bad news:( I had 20 people in my bedroom at night, the om om om motor noise of a kerosene fridge opened the door in my head, took me a few years to close the door at about 5 years old.

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Wilted and Willed

I'm lost, so lost,
Can't find my way
And the women there
Just point and wave.
Won't so much as
To try and help
This small, frightened person
Face the right path.

But I'm so lost,
Wanting to be found,
Hoping to find myself.
Just need a hint...
Anything is good enough!
Something has to give,
And I won't cave.
No matter the cost.

A leaf floats by
There is nothing else.
No complaints here, it
Will have to do.
Into haunted memories and
Down sinful thoughts, now
Starting to feel affections,
Feelings. Not just emptiness.

Almost there, keep going...
Just a bit further!
But no, the leaf
Is caught in water.
A wondrous, rushing river
Happens to hold it.
My dear leafy friend.
Still, I must continue.

Walking through scary feelings,
Violent emotions, vivid thoughts.
Walking is not possible.
Soon, dashing is all
That can keep me
Safe from all of
Those awful things inside.
Is this really me?

That is not what
Is wanted of myself!
Please, change these horrors!
Someone, tell me now,
Tell me to stop!
No forgiveness is expected
But please, help me...
Save me from myself!

Warmth, a certain type
Spreads all around me.
It swallows me entirely.
Holding my broken being
Together as if it
Were made of mega-magnets.
Then I hear it...
“That is all, now...”

Nothing comes to me.
Now I realize that
It never will come.
But I have to
Go to it, so
Sitting in one place
Will get me nothing.
Have to keep going.

The walk through emotions
Soon becomes a fight
For my self control.
Then the feelings rise
And I knock them
Down. Thoughts that were
Snakes, venomous and threatening,
Were felled by me.

I was completely lost
And not a single
Person would help me.
Found myself, and pulled
Through all of the
Sinful desires around me.
Now finally, I am
Just a calm entity.

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Whispers of Lace

Whispers of Lace

Arms folded; He sits.  A grandfather clock ticks it's way to a song,  in a lonely 

It had taken ten years and thirty-five days to get to this place.  He was here 
now,  for better or worse. 

"For better or worse. " She had said those words to him a lifetime ago. 

He woke early one morning,  to the song of a finch, the harsh cry of a crow.  
She never heard;  she was already gone. She lay in her floral gown, ashen 
and cold. 

A traveling salesman by trade,  a botanist by dream.  Forgotten interstates 
and dirt roads, had been his companion.  Flowers were his inner passion; his 
vocation took him to many. 

She always greeted him at the front door.  He could still feel the wetness of 
her lips on his cheek; and  the soft whispers in his ear. "I miss you."

"I miss you too. "  the words tumble silently from his tongue.  A lonely tear 
falls, floating on the polished table.  The grandfather clock sings.  It is time. 

Men and women enter the room.  They look at the old man, skeptics every 
last one.   They sit on their chairs,  a fragrance bottle in front of each judge.   
Corporate critics, responsible for  seducing the world with scent. 

Grabbing their appointed bottles;He bows his head.  Fragrance fills the room.  
Enchanting images of the old man flood their minds.  What witches ' spell is 

Cherry blossoms in Savannah,  cactus flowers from the desert,  the elusive 
ghost orchid of the everglades. His image dances around  petals.  Some 
smile , some weep, others dream. 

Eyes closed,  chin on chest,  he thinks of her.  Her maple coffin, casket open. 
Her formal gown, black,  ebony lace collar.   

Fragrance in the air,  and tears, bring her to life.  “Tell us sir,  what do you call 
this? " 

Raising his head,  their faces all look with wonder.  He can see the tears,   He 
can see  smiles on their lips.  He can see her. 

Standing,  he starts to leave,  with a turn of his head,  he utters. " Whispers of 
Lace "

Kenneth Kerry. 

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Tis All About the Journey

I’m so thankful for the given path That began when I was just a seed The glorious plan that our God hath Tis all about the journey, indeed Each step in life I take with grace Filled with peace and tranquility Always keeping at a gentle pace I know the best is waiting for me You can’t reach the full bloom Without the growth of the stem Clear the space and make room For the journey provided by Him You gotta step through gritty sand To reach God’s calm sea of ecstasy Slow down and enjoy the given land As it says in that song, Feelin’ Groovy It’s good to be scheduled, almost mostly But some moments are meant to be still Which, always brings to stand a memory Of a moment in time, yes, a really big deal Where ever you are, as you go on your way And it doesn’t even matter where you start Take time often, to be with others and play But be sure you always carry a joyful heart Cherish the yester-moments and live for today Keep dreaming of what the tomorrows might be I may not know for sure, but that’s just what I say And I’ll keep believing, tis all about the journey Florence McMillian (Flo)

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The Roy moves out
its an hour past mid nite
moves into the street

Phantom moving through the near empty streets
not much going on at this late empty nite hour
not a word uttered to the motor cyclist

the motor transport cyclist are strategically placed
waiting for their late night customer from i don know...
Phantom slides past them and moves up the street

purposefully as if on an assignment of great importance
sights patrol car which slows down on seeing phantom
the armed officers make a u turn mid street and go back

go back to where coppers emerge daily from
phantom movers further up the empty streets
another cyclist gang strategically positioned

gang disturbs his night peace.. where to bro..
phantom shaking his head not a word uttered
phantom entering an unlit street.. not a look back

phantom eying an approaching saloon car
which has just one right eye light...
saloon slows down driver saying something...

saloon driver reversing going back to wherever
saloon drivers come from in the hour past mid-nite
phantom proceeding further into a randomly...

randomly lit street.. its obvious hes now circumnavigating
the entire residential estate.... the phantom takes out
a camera phone and take a photo of his shadow...

which appears from the lighting by the overhead random
lighting.. phantom accessing a social network application
he uploads the photo under his real profile name on the site

he names it night of the silver sentinel
phantom moves back home and closes
his door behind him escapade over..

Its finally over.. such was the nite
of the Roy became the silver sentinel..
The wierd phantom ROY.. Strange Roy

Lewis k Nyaga

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For hours
her whole world was 
hunting for rocks at the
banks of the shallow
narrow river that runs 
through the canyon behind
the house.

On her knees,
wrist deep in the
icy current, she
sifts through piles of 
polished stones, 
searching for the 
perfect little pebble.

She slips the pebble 
safely in that pointed place
in the pocket of her jeans.

Down the path, 
she's conscious of the
precious cargo, 
digging her hand down
now and then.

At home,
she reaches in
with her fingers, to
pluck the pebble
from her pocket
and she places it
on a shelf
with the others.

That evening,
stretched under the covers,
tucked and tight, and drifting,
she dreams of 
skipping stones.

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A Town Made Of Happy


When you’re feeling low and don’t know where to go.
   I know a place where love just grows and grows and grows.
A place called Sappy Mountain in the town of Get And Go.
    Troubles there just melt away like the morning snow.
Smiling faces greet you with the morning light.
    Happy songs are all they play morning noon and night.
They have a sign outside their town.
     This town they say was built by clowns.
There are funny looking cars of every size and shape.
    Houses painted candy colors make up this great escape.
It truly takes your breath away, it’s such an awesome place.
    A smile is all you ever see it’s painted on their face.
Of all the cities in the world this one takes the cake.
    It’s full of love and happiness and none of it is fake.
So if you’re ever down our way won’t you come on in.
    I’m sure you’ll love the stay at our Magic Inn.
Only happy people reside there, come but leave your care.
    No money here will be found only love that people share.
Two hugs and a handshake is the price you pay here for a meal.
    And with the tip it still adds up to quite an awesome deal. 
Come on down and bring a friend.
    For Happy is the way of life it’s not some passing trend.

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Return of the Kanukechmi

She scurried throughout the kitchen
    With her echoing meow
Right into the bedroom....
    Couldn't imagine what Samii was up to?

She started to poke in and around
    A mound of folded clothes
Strategically positioned
    On the left hand side 
Of the bed.

She kept poking, and poking further
    But the pile of clothes 
Collapsed on top of her,
    Only to find her poking deeper
And deeper inside.

I could only see
    That from her hips
Back to the tip of her tail
    With such intensity
That her hips
    Did sway, sway, and SWAY
With such force 
    Until she finally got 
Her catch of the day!

She glanced aside at me 
    As if to say:
"I will do what you tell me:  To obey!"
    So without hesitation
She leaped off my bed 
    And with pride in fulfilling her duty
Managed to corner her opponent 
    In the bedroom
Beneath the window
    Towards the bay.

Running along the baseboard,
    From one end to the other end
This cat and mouse game
    Lasted for five minutes or so,
As if they were friends at play,
    But after all that she did
The mouse had apparently 
    Outwit her match
And must have sneaked
    Into an unnoticed hole
And did finally get away!

However, only twenty four hours later,
    The mouse that got away
Was eventually Samii's catch of the day!

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Red Eyes and Sinister Looks

Chains, hay forks, knives, and a hollow whisper,
become more true and sinister.
Halt in the middle of the moon light, 
and a waver image soon is no delight.
Voices run a muck in the head, 
so not calming you wish you were dead.
Gushing blood through the eye
not an image that you would rely.
Nails stuck on your neck with such pain
so your paralyze just little life sustain.
Hoodlums terrorizing people running a muck
did not really know they are in luck.
More dangerous beings are out their
to commit such act and with sinister stare.
Laughing with haunting echo's through
is an aspect of fear can imbue.
The wind changes direction to smother
the echoing sound of laughter.
The panicking state that you are in
soon drives a knife within.
Blood rushing out of your vain
a crucial part of your life dropping like rain.
Running without a destination
you will never reach anyone of your relation.
Sliding your body on a wall
keeping your fall in a stall.
Red eyes you can see it at night
is soon devouring you with little bite.
Changing your belief with tonics of relief
and it is to late to turn a new leaf.
Ears start to deceive the animals sound
eating limbs are chewing around.
Slowly your red eyes steadily getting heavy
is starting to take your life with a levy.
Dropping down with no attitude
and your life force slowly loses altitude.
Breathing comes not so easy
smelling flesh seems so beastly.
The change comes a desire
with frightening red eyes of fire.
Comes more lethal than the hoodlums 
your heart beating like drums.
Your hand becomes all fury
claws come out and your howl with furry.
Trance your in with no one to blame
a rage thats hundreds of centuries of flame.
Rising from a slumber of long lust
a animal instinct that you can trust.
Tearing things apart with no meaning
is a trait that is so deceiving.
Red eyes at night you see in a window
like a poisonous black widow.
Keeps you in attack mode of insanity
that takes all your vanity.
Ferocious emotions eating away
the soul that you had once betray.
The echoing sounds of loud thunder
breaks away the armor with sunder.
You fall once again to torturous agony
the feeling of one self is so lonely.
Shaking in the corner you are found
with blood soaked skin you drowned.
The night becomes day cruel in some way
your memories go in disarray.
The hunters with torches and sinister look
had parted way their hands shook.

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Canada Dry

Apon are arrival once at times seemed questionable
We were greated by none.
Hawaii had spoiled us to all other airport experiences
Were else could a half hunover  yet slighty buzzed  madman
stumble from a plane to encounter a beautiful woman in a grass skirt
and cocunut bra once even now made me thirst for for a pina collada.

But in in canada there was nothing  to greet us there but cold 
As we stumbbled around dressed like soon to be doomed criminals awaitting trial.

Cananda its slogan should have been.
Welcome to Cannada  it's really dam cold.
But we knew where to find warmth in this enviroment.
Or for that matter any enviroment.
For we were drunks or as i liked to think of it consistant drinkers 

And on are journey into this land of freezing weather maple syrup
and ice hockey.
We had one true goal.
we had come to drink Cannada dry.

No bar would go untouched No bottle would not know are name.
we would hit on many women.
Score with a few and say we had slept with many.

I was a religeous man and i needed to get in touch with with the spirts
The spirts of Canadian mist  Jim beam  And my old stand by spirt Gin 

It was a bold mission for which we had set forth.
Are livers were alredy beaten to almost a pulp but 
we still somehow  walked and functioned in disquise of 
semi normal human beings  but nothing was further from the truth

we were writters once ment we were professional crazy people
On a mission to depleet this icey land of its alcohol
an drink canada dry

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Making Santa's Naughty List

Woke at five and heard the rain sprinkle, 
so I crawled back in for a good morning sleeper. 
All that stIrred was the fan beside the bed as
I turned it off and curled to stir some heat. 
My eyes went close and the world went black, 
I went back sleep in hopes of St. Nick.
Not a dream lingers, not even a sound made. 
That fat little" son of a monkey's az just 
flew over my house again. 
I flew from my bed with my shotgun in my hand, 
I get you this time my friend and all your precious jewels. 
Third round came and I let off a shot, Dang he's 
quick as I hit Rudolph in the sack.
He rared and kicked as he shot straight to the sky.
As Santa cried, I get you next year as he 
flew out of sight.

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All That Glitters

Each traveler's face shines with lights from windows
of shops which line the cheery esplanade.
The pinks of spring bloom on their pale night skin
and all like babes reflect love, limb from limb.
San Francisco’s night life warms like brandy.

The street light glows a soft, warm, gold at night,
as syrupy, and sweet as butterscotch.
The well pruned trees are laced with colored bulbs
and between each bough, they twinkle gaily,
reminding every weary soul of joy.

Even sidewalks twinkle in the alleys,
their seeded sections laced with bits of glass.
And, stop lights spirit little walkers rush
to a tune which tell them when to go,
while yellow caution lights blink in between.

Ah, the Bay how it’s staged for the merry,
as on occasion, fireworks flowery show,
high above the Golden Gate to Oakland,
the red, white, and blue of nation repeat
San Francisco, a sparkling jewel at night.




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Walking to Redemption

Stuck in a place with negativity bound within it's Walls. I need to get out of here, before the phone rings with insanity's calls. I burst out of the door into the streets owned by the night. Shadows staring back dodging the lamps light. I begin to walk down the urban corridor of uncertainty. The workers of soul catchers carry out their shady activity. I find myself in the empire of danger invoking pure photo-phobia It's a small price to pay for escaping the mecca of claustrophobia. As I reach the climax of the spiraling vortex tunnel. I walk on tenterhooks as my problems funnel. Facing me at the end of this path, is a door laced with remorse around it's edges. The entrance to unknown stands out with a line of devoted pledges. Those waiting and queuing are the damned and the lost. As I drift towards them, I wonder how much my sin will cost. For I felt the weight of the pressure and stress, forcing me into the light of shame? For I was the puppet master, who poured onto me the petrol and drew the flame. My moment of selfishness was a cardinal sin to myself and others. lacking consideration, deprived of thought for my sisters and brothers. That self indulgent cowardliness, has lead me to this final act. A door beaten with the hands of the damned, regardless it's still intact. As the number descends down to it's final member. I stand there understanding my sin, bound to surrender. Reaching out I grasp the golden handle, and turn it to the right. As I push forward on the door and out bursts a green neon light. My chance of escape has come to a halt, it's time for me to face the jury's end. I stand by my plea of weakness and insanity, as into the court I descend. A skeleton of the peril court rises with a verdict and answer. The jury has decided I was overtaken by a vicious cancer. The disease wasn't voluntary but they agree my cure wasn't correct. My punishment is to fade into the man that never was, with immediate effect.

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The Melody of Hope

There I lay upon the curb, my heart still beating An Icy breeze cutting through, my souls was fleeting Looking up into the skies, I saw a flash of hope The clouds divided into blue, and dangled down a helping rope Rising up I start again, I'm fighting stronger The music plays inside my head, this I remember I use the melody to build my strength, I'm shining brighter I lace deceit with the flammable truth, I drop the lighter The phoenix rises from the flames, I see it's eyes Exploded candles ignite the way, I hear it's cries The path I walk leads to my home, a second chance At the end one final trial, it's the devils dance There it lay upon the curb, It's heart still beating Reaching out I take my sword, It's life depleting One final strike and a broken heart, death becomes her The sun comes out and begins to beam, hope forever

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The Sea Blue Eyes I

Once in a while I meet a person whose eyes tell their story
The story is like the sky reflection on the seas of glory
The eyes are all the wonder of the world
It sees the future, past, and present
The eyes give us knowledge of the world and reflection
The reflection of sadness and weakness of each creature
The wonder of each individual being has a present
To the world who has lots of false images
To arise the moment of that one glance
To follow the heart in romance
Just the reflection that gather in your eyes of blue
What a man and a woman should view
Life is such a pain without stopping to see each eyes
Its like roses you have to enjoy each passion in side
When that moment collides with mind and heart
Nothing in your soul can keep your love apart
Join in the fun look in every eyes of a person beside
With passion and romance I bet you, you would cry
The luster of all the things to come
A bounty of life long needs to be given by just the wonders of the eyes
The blue seas reflects the different depths of our feelings
And it should become revealing
Come to your senses with ravaging hormones of lust
The sea can take you and even the reflection in the eyes of the person
The beauty is not held by one it is held by everyone
Such looks with fear for no relief
Is almost a dreadful part in our human nature
Beware of what can happen when emotions are held
Held to the core of an individual
No such thing is kindness when you find yourself in the Sea Blue Eyes
Calling in your soul by just looking
With ignorance you play around with such futile emotion
Gush away the fear and do not go insane with life so dear
The grasp of the titans comes to reveal
The evil within your heart is so obscenely noticed
You want the sea and you want those eyes to look at you with wishes
The rage in the heart are waves that cannot stop 
It pushes and pushes with no regret
The heart falters and there is only one thing in your mind
The idea of one soul to be with is the ocean 
The rifts that is trying to break to end the wants of desire
Cannot be trusted in a human lier
The beauty of man is destruction 
The beauty of women are commands
The eyes of each does not matter in the sea
Because all emotion and desire is given to those who are true
Command of a person is just one thing 
The desire to destroy is another
The Sea Blue Eyes will see no bother cause it bares it all
Even the utmost desire
To be continue.

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Rainbow People Let the Gods Fight Their Own War

(To My Proud Daughters of a Man-made World)
We shift shapes and shades all day long
Happy or sad we cleanse our souls with a song. 
Together we sat giving company, counting crows,
The rhythm of our lives echoed in the shore.
We are the rainbow people known to all;
We answered the world to its beck and call.
Then came the fateful day, mighty and dark
We set out on a mission - a journey to embark.
We dreamt of a butterfly dream, soulful and bright
But the passage to heaven was out of sight.
Our glorious land was ravaged by the gods,
We lost our sight and calculated the odds.
Hunger and stupor became our hosts
We were defeated, but all is not lost.
The wind fails to favor our sail, our spirits encumber
In the land of lost we were outnumbered. 
The soul shifts in the endless tyranny of life
Wicked wisdom cuts us through like a knife. 
The golden gate was rusty, the eyes wander for shade 
We marked the silver lining with our rotten blade.
So long my sweet angels I bid thee well
We spread to prosper but I cannot tell.
We are the sisters of a mother’s womb
Until the day we rest on a solitary tomb.
We burned the sacred books to get rid of the cold,
To the world that is yet to come – We are the mold.

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pleasant atmosphere all around,
sitting on the floor
thinking....what to explore?
suddenly ..i got a DROP...
fallen on my hand
shinning from the top
and that was nothing
but a glorious raindrop..
that was so beautiful
and i got an idea..
what to explore..
i wonder what would happen?
if i could be able to see
its core...
if the outer side is so stunning
what could be there inside the shinning drop?
dreaming to see the pleasure
i slowly touched the drop
forgetting the calm
and got sad because i got nothing
but water all over my palm...

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Ellis Dee

Faces seem so familiar
Names slip the mind
Euphoric waves roll through the veins
Reality is left behind

So complicated
Sentences are to create
Yet so simplistic it seems
Contemplating fate

Ideas seem to differ
Shifting beliefs from before
Envisioning new perceptions
Now destined to explore

Pink Floyd plays Comfortably Numb
 With the colorful flashing lights
As the mental climax seems so near
My soul rises in flight

Nothing else can compare
To this powerful little sheet
Unknown to society
It is rare the two meet

Shadows cloak clarity of thought
Easing the ache of the spine
Ecstatic sensations of wellbeing
Exemplifies life in the refine

Explosions of pleasure
Roll in like the tide
Speechless from the magnitude
Of this exotic godly ride

Only understood
By an experienced mind
Yet even thee
Remains unable to define

Speaking has become difficult
Signs of peak drawing near
Gazing into the colorful lights
Exploring this cerebral frontier

The summit of this trip, has now finally arrived
Lasting seemingly for years
The most enjoyable feeling in life
By so many it is revered

Unable to move
Unable to speak
Now having found
That which I seek

Only comprehendible
By those who have been freed
Rides such as these
Considered personal creeds

Regaining mental capacity
As the brain slowly clears
Through the door a woman
Seductively appears

This day couldn’t possibly
Get any better than this
Beginning and ending
In absolute bliss

She widely written about
In literature, and various songs
So rarely ever considered
In society to belong

Held in total reverence
For the most outstanding memories
Only made available
By the lovely Ellis Dee

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Night of the Ghost Knight...

Tender Rose! watch tonight
I reach thee there, in a wondrous flight
Sighs, storms not any more
as wanton winds soften the roar.
Tearing apart the paths I 'll be
trotting triumph through the untamed sea
hold unto thy dreams for a while
as riding I come charging the vile.
Queen of hearts, my charming bride!
shining I near over the tide
Danger, Death my old delight
truest promise tonight, must see the light.
Dogs, savages of the dark
Come an' they shall be ripped apart
Guides me truly...heavenly a spark
never let Fear rule thy heart.
The moment I kiss this castle enchanted
my silver armor in crimson painted
four or forty heads...I need not know
though fiery monsters shall be lying low
Moonlit sword shall drink the sun
the fire of my breast shall make them burn
Fear not faerie queen then, my faerie dove!
witnesses every move...the angel of love.
Softly like rain...fall into my arms
O' Heavens! Thy countless ethereal charms!
I shall fly thee...through kind the flashes of the moonbeams
away from mid summer's night's dreams.!
Unpin the braid...we'll sail in the wind
hoofs won't touch the hard roads blind
into the sea of love...where no chains can bind
as mortal fear, mundane terrains...we leave behind...

Note-As the sailors enter the Thorde sea...they can hear a faint voice singing. As they 
move further deep into the waters...the wind all of a sudden hums low an' the voice grows 
distinct. A clear ringing voice...pain or ecstasy, they cannot make out. It sings of a deathly 
night...of a Knight an' his beloved...the rescue an' an almost successful escape. That the two approach the sea...the knight finds his ship...set ablaze by some 
treacherous spirit...gone unbeaten. At this moment of great fix...ten arrows strike the knight 
from the back...poison tipped. The beloved princess is speechless in' she 
knows nothing of this immediate dreadful strike. As a knight ...never falls or fails...he looks 
above, at the gleaming heaven in earnest' with his beloved holding him close; he 
storms into the sea with the horse. The waves this moonlit night...remind you the tale once in above...

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Ever Jumped A Train - Part 9 - Robert and Ernie Adventures

Well, here we were, me, Ernie, and Snowy on this new train,
Both of them were still inside my jacket and sound asleep.
I knew now that mice snored, could feel a strange vibration,
It came and went with a little wheezing sound under my ribs.

I sat there quietly and wondered now about our direction,
Figured it was most likely either west, south, or southwest.
Traveling any further east we would be heading for Europe,
I grinned as I imagined, that would be Captain Nemo style.

At 15 I could hold my breath for two swimming pool lengths,
Knew I'd need a submarine though for that big Atlantic pond.
Then I saw a sign along the highway that read, Mount Vernon,
We were passing near George Washington's home I thought.

I was in awe at that moment of the father of our country,
Would have stopped in respect but had no brake controls.
At least I knew now that we were rolling southward bound,
Later, saw some kids playing near the tracks at Jersey City.

Ernie and Snowy didn't wake up until we hit Philadelphia,
I told Ernie we were entering the city of brotherly love.
Ernie yawned and said, you mean the bulls there like us?
Well, not exactly Ernie I said, they're not our brothers.

Robert, you told me everyone are our brothers and sisters.
Yeah Ernie I said, but sometimes big brothers beat you up.
Robert, think we might meet some brothers here who love us?
I doubt it Ernie, not unless we go downtown into the city.

As we pulled into that Phillie train yard Ernie gave a sigh,
Robert, can't we sneak into the city tonight for a while?
Then Snowy chimed in and said Ernie, I'm afraid to do that,
Don't worry Snowy he said, brother Robert will protect us.

Will you Snowy said to me with those deep pink eyes of hers.
Now wait a minute you two, I said, I haven't said okay yet.
Oh please Robert, Ernie said, I want to go find a brother,
I know there have to be more like you who love us out there.

Ernie, people don't just love you simply because you exist,
You have to go out among them and show you deserve it.
They both sat there blinking up at me with curious eyes,
Okay okay we'll go downtown but don't say I didn't warn you.

(to be continued)

© Copyright 2014 Robert William Gruhn - All Rights Reserved

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Ever Jumped A Train - Part 8 - Robert and Ernie Adventures

As we reached the top of those stairs the sun was blazing,
Ernie peeked his head out of my pocket and screeched,
Robert, he said, I think I've gone blind, I can't see,
Just let your eyes adjust I said, you'll be alright friend.

Here I was, fifteen years old with two mice in my pocket,
One was Ernie, the smallest hobo who ever jumped a train.
Then there was Snowy, his new love cuddled next to him,
A cage being the only thing she'd known until that day.

She was free now but felt the danger her escape brought her,
Ernie was her hero and he knew he had big shoes to fill.
He ran up my arm and stood on my jacket collar under my ear,
Robert, he whispered, what the heck should I do now buddy?

Ernie, I said, have you given her a kiss and a hug yet?
Robert, he said, us mice don't kiss and we don't embrace.
I said, what do you guys do to express your true affections?
Well he said, we certainly don't pass around germs like you.

Come on Ernie, I said, haven't you ever heard of the plague?
No, he said, but I'm sure your quite prepared to tell me.
I said, it was the Bubonic plague and it killed millions.
Oh he said smartly, you mean that stuff rats carried around?

Robert, unless you haven't noticed lately, I'm not a rat.
Ernie, you're a member of the same rodent family you know.
Robert, I can promise you, I have no rat aunts or uncles,
But even if I did it was human uncleanliness that killed.

Keep in mind that rodents are actually very clean creatures,
Until humans came along this was quite a pristine world.
Suddenly Snowy appeared and told Ernie to stop talking,
Ernie I said, you mean you've already taught her to speak?

What can I say he said, I learned from the best didn't I?
Ernie, I said, you've also learned how to stop an argument.
Now listen I said, there's another train leaving the yard,
You and Snowy can get off now, because I'm going to jump it.

No way Robert, he said, so have you forgotten who I am? 
I'm that littlest hobo you will ever know, and best friend,
Do you actually think I'd let you go on alone without me?
I smiled a broad grin and said I hoped you'd say that Ernie.

He said, Robert, it was you that gifted me with a name,
You have even blessed me with a beautiful one for Snowy.
You've saved my life more than one time my dear brother,
And you have mine brother I said, so let's jump that train.

(to be continued)

© Copyright 2014 Robert William Gruhn - All Rights Reserved

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A World Unknown

Roaming through the woods
Looking around the trees

Stopping for one second
I realize I am free

As I begin to walk again
I hear a faint call

Following the voice
That leads me through the forest

The call gets louder and louder
A shadow gets closer and closer

I reach the shadow which is a girl
Come with me and we will explore the world...

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I wandered around for years
in odds and ends
not knowing what to do with myself
unchartered territory just waiting for me
to discover
undecided in which way to go
open road to freedom
impulsive escape driven 
by extremes in nature
erratic in behavior
in the spur of the moment running away
from the mundane routine of existence.

A change of pace from everyday rat race
always in a hurry to get ahead
on the highway of life
searching for a new scenic route
through small towns and quaint little shops
worth exploring along side streets
with windows rolled down
music blasting out loud
enjoying the view of the countryside
a smile on my face feeling free
from the city lights of shades drawn in boredom.

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wonders in history 2

Great Pyramids Of Giza
 Colosseum Of Rome
The Great Wall Of China
 Hagia Sophia
Stone Henge
 Taj Mahal
Empire State Building
 Golden Gate Bridge
Victoria Falls
 CN Towers
Chiche Itza
Old City Of Jerusalem
 Aurora Borealis
Grand Canyon
 The Great Barrier Reef
London Sewerage System

Author;Free Software Foundation
Compiled;chipepo lwele

PS; The Reminder of The New Wonders
     of The World.But, now the number
      exceeds the original 7. 

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If all the things I have right now were taken away and I had nothing left I would fantasize about nature and how beautiful it is. I would imagine that I was swinging on an old tire swing in front of a river. In the river were little ducks and I would go feed them. In my life right now I don’t think of nature that way. I think if my freedom was taken away I wouldn’t take it for granted the way I do and I would know how much it actually means to me. I would also imagine my family getting together for my family reunion. We would usually have them in September. My aunt would make her fancy white cake topped with chocolate drizzle. My grandma always made her jello cake; I still don’t know exactly how she makes it. The others would bring KFC, at least three boxes full of chicken and fries. All the kids would sit together and play games and laugh as we threw food at one another. We would have a game where the kids lined up from age 1 to age 13 and you would get to pick a prize appropriate for your age. I would always get stuck with bath soap and tooth brushes.I take a lot of ordinary things for granted and I think a lot of people do but they won’t admit it. Sometimes I even take life and my freedom for granted. I think that if maybe we wouldn’t take things for granted like the trees or our freedom that maybe our lives would be a lot better and things wouldn’t happen the way they do. I have lived long enough to know that it won’t happen, nothing happens the way you want it to. Just a few months ago I lost my grandma and I couldn’t do anything to help her. I took all of the things she did for granted and now that she’s gone I miss her. She used to make this tuna casserole, it was just amazing but I never told her just how much she meant to me. I think if I would have told her that more then I wouldn’t feel so guilty or depressed that she is gone. I never told her what I needed to. If people could use the words of John Lennon “Imagine Peace” and actually think about it then maybe the world wouldn’t have to end because there wouldn’t be any enemies, murders, drugs, none of the bad things would have happened. If we could have just accepted everyone around us for who they are and known that one day we all have to die, we could have stepped back from it all and said I had a good life and I don’t regret any of it. I think it’s no good to step back from something and tell yourself that you could have done something to prevent it.

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Ever Jumped A Train - Part 5 - Robert and Ernie Adventures

 I woke up that next morning after arriving in New York,
Oh boy was my stomach sore from laughing so hard last night.
Could tell Ernie was dreaming as his eyes were in REM mode,
Noticed his tiny heart would always beat faster too. 

I was only fifteen years old then and Ernie about one,
Little did I know he would only live about two more.
When you're a kid you think you will probably live forever,
So go the lives of a dreaming boy and a mouse best friend.

As I looked at him sleeping I realized how much I loved him,
Ernie had become that little brother I never would have had.
So how many boys growing up could put brother in hip pocket?
You definitely couldn't get much closer than that, right?

We two young adventurers literally connected at the hip,
Tied together in a brotherhood that would last forever.
Who ever would have thought of such an awesome relationship?
With one so small while the other would grow so much larger.

All of a sudden Ernie woke up as fast as he fell asleep,
I always was amazed at that ability he had for that.
What I mean is he didn't have red eyes before or after,
Now that was really something for a teen age boy to ponder.

Ernie blinked up at me and said what are you looking at?
You were snoring Ernie and you told me that mice never do.
I think this was the first time I saw that little guy mad,
Robert, he said, that one really takes the cheese cake.

Ernie, I said, don't get me laughing again like last night,
I don't think my tummy can take another hilarious beating.
So, you think you're the only one with a sore gut he said,
Robert, you forget how silly I found out you humans are.

Okay Ernie I said, so let's drop it, we're at Grand Central,
Everything's big to me he said, so don't try to impress me.
It was at that very moment that Ernie saw a pet white mouse,
She must have escaped from her owner at the main station.

I knew it was love at first sight for my little brother,
I grabbed his tail as he tried to scamper out the box car.
Robert, he squealed, let go of my tail if you care about me,
Ernie, I do, but didn't you see that big dark shadow there?

Pal, don't you see that fine wire tied around her tiny neck?
Ernie reminded me that rodents don't have good eyesight.
Then he asked me to free her from that bull holding her,
I whispered to him, brother, I will try, I will truly try.

(to be cont)

Note: For those not aware of the term, a "bull", was a brutal train policeman. 

Copyright © 2014 Robert William Gruhn A.R.R. 

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The Tale of Old Man Withers Gold part one

Three little boys
Went out on a adventure quest
To find the treasure of old man withers
At his place of final rest

In the forest of many lost souls
Is where the three boys would go
A dark and gloomy place
Especially to find some gold

Full of monsters and goblins’ 
Unknown I am told
That eats your body and even your bones
Right down to your soul alone, I am told

Knowing all of the risk
The three boys would still go
Cutting each of there hands
And sealing the deal in stone

The gear that they had got
Wasn’t considered a lot
Just three turkey ham sandwiches
Cajun style and that's Hot!!!

Eight bottles of water
And one rinky dink rope
The boys thought they were prepared
At least the boys they hoped

So they began walking to the forest
The forest of many lost souls
Down an old dirt road they went
One with many rocks and stones

On this dirt road
The oldest boy foretold
The stories of the forest
The forest of many lost souls

To prepare the other boys
Of what was expected to come
You could tell the look in there eyes
That they both were ready to run

But they both stayed
Because there was no way!!!
That a goblin who eats souls
Would get in the way of these boys gold

As they reached the forest
The Forest of many lost souls
There fingers began to chill
Warm blood turned to cold

They looked into the forest
The forest of many lost souls
Not noticing a single shadow
And especially no lost souls

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The Tale of Old Man Withers Gold part three, Conclusion

As the boys walked and walked
Through the forest of many lost souls
The boys began to feel they were lost
And would never find old man withers gold

But as the boys, were about to give up
The oldest had another feeling
And decided to look up
There he saw, what looked to be a cave
He told the other two, and they all shouted YaYYYY!!!!!

But this cave that he saw
In the forest of many lost souls
Didn’t seem to even contain
Any of Old man withers gold
Instead of precious gold
There lay a big pile of bones
Bones of little lost children
Children from there town back home

As the three boys noticed
That this was no treasure chest
The oldest boy realized
Head home would probably be best

But as they turned to head back home
The oldest boy heard
 A scary and vicious groan

So he looked into the darkness
To see what he could see
A big blackish wompass cat
With big ole shiny teeth

The three little boys 
That set out on a quest
Found themselves alone
Almost frightened to death

This wompass cat they saw
In forest of many lost souls
Was very big and very tall
I guess he ate all the souls

But these boys couldn't give up
As they didn’t do before
But they couldn't just outman this beast
For there strength was way to poor

As time was running out
For all the little boys
The oldest boy picked up
A stone that was on the floor
As he threw the stone
With all he had in store
To keep this wild and mangy beast
From getting all three boys souls

With this throw of the stone
Draw a quick blow to the head
There this mangy beast cat lay 
This wompass cat was dead 

As the boys started to leave
Towards there home they would head
The oldest boy noticed a light
Behind the cat that lay dead
This light was pretty gorgeous
A beauty often unseen
The boys took a closer look
The oldest said Cha Ching!!!!!

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The Letter to The Lost

You were the gift that gave me eyes, and grateful I’ll forever be. The poetic beauty inside our loss is within the dark we see. So here I write my letter to you, the following week since you passed. You burst into my life like a firework, burning twice as bright but twice as fast. Unlike a rocket you’ll fail to fade, and your love will never be surpassed. As I pen the ink my words begin to smudge, with tears that start to fall. I feel your presence is close to me, and memories flood back to recall. So here begins my letter dear love, you were a gift and a loss to us all. Like a New York snow fall, on a starry December’s eve. Like an enchanted walk in central park, beneath the flowing trees. I took your hand and felt your pulse, as together we were free. Like a shore walk in paradise, along the edge of a summer’s breeze. Like a boat ride across the crystal blue, a magic sail upon the seas. You make me smile with one quick glance, and you rule my memories. The love for you cannot be described, and the loss can never be healed. I placed the flowers upon your stone, and ached with every petal that pealed. Now I know I’ll see you again someday, as we walk into the golden field. I leave you with a kiss and a hug, and pray you are safe and strong. I’ll count the days till I see you again; I hope that it's not too long.

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Jack The Knight...

Jack the cat is ready to kill for his king. 
He has his mesh on with his green 
Eyes looking mean. 

He is hanging back with claws of steel. 
He can take down three armor men 
In on seconds appeal. 

Jack just hangs around the castle.
Waiting on a another intrusion hassle.

So Jack the Cat will never let someone 
Enter his home with out death to Pay.

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Ever Jumped A Train - Part 6 - Robert and Ernie Adventures

Here Ernie and I were in this loud New York train yard,
I had just promised him I'd try to save his new found love.
She was a fair haired mouse, in fact her fur was so white,
That sun glaring off her could almost blind someone.

Wait, that was it, I think I figured out how to free her,
That bull was wearing some very dark tinted sun glasses.
Did that mean that his eyes were very sensitive to light?
Ernie, I said, I think I have a plan to free your damsel.

Robert, he said, she's a mouse, what the heck's a damsel?
Becoming very impatient I said she's your lady in distress.
Robert, he said, she's a rodent, she's not a human woman.
Ernie, I said, I'm not going to argue semantics with you.

What the heck's semantics Ernie said with a beady glare,
This is no time to give you a lesson in semantics I said.
Okay, Ernie said smartly, let's just get back to business, 
You know, to saving that beautiful white mouse out there.

Okay I said, so are you ready to listen to my plan or what?
Please don't answer that question Ernie, just say yes or no.
Yes, he said, but I do want to continue our dialog later.
Ernie, why I ever taught you how to talk I'll never know.

What's the plan Robert, he said, we better move quickly,
There's no time to waste and we need to save my damsel.
I just placed Ernie up on my shoulder and said, be quiet,
That bull is coming back and will soon pass by our box car.

Ernie, I said, I'm going to jump out and knock him down,
You need to crawl off my back and pull off his shades.
Shades?, Ernie said, I thought we wanted his glasses,
They are his glasses Ernie, just do what I tell you to do.

Okay Robert, he said, we'll do things your way this time,
But next time I want to have some say in our master plan.
Just then, the bull was passing by our box car with Snowy,
It was the code name I gave her for this dangerous mission.

I leaped out of the car and broadsided that mean train cop,
He was bigger than me but my hundred & twenty pounds worked.
Ernie scrambled off my back and yanked off his sun glasses,
Run Snowy, run, I heard Ernie scream to his new found love. 

I grabbed Ernie and ran for our lives across that rail yard,
That bull began blowing his whistle and yelling for help.
I just kept running until there were no more steel tracks,
Ernie began to cry, we had saved his love, but she was gone.

(to be continued)

Copyright © 2014 Robert William Gruhn - All Rights Reserved

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Face The Mirror

Here I stand facing liquid glass,
the flowing of the faces are haunting out my past.
Stepping through the mirror to face my pulsing fears,
I pass the corridor of the damned, and collect the angels tears.

The price of pain I caused is peeling away my face,
the features that catalyst the sorrow, are crumbling with pace.
My bright blue eyes become grey stone, and wrinkles invade the smooth.
The sands of time begin to rush, as the angels cries are soothed.

The scales of justice begin to balance, as retribution hangs.
I see the writing on the wall, and written red across my hands.
I find myself truly redemptive and understand my wrong.
The angels recognise my growth, and begin their final song.

Suddenly the corridor falls, baring an empty room.
It's the attic of the house I live in, my face is back in bloom.
The mirror holds a sheet of the future, a warning in advance.
I take my errors and correct them, and start my second chance.

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Forgotten Fate

Introduction: For those who’re wandering confused within the lost and found - seeking silence…

Truth be never futile Stay and see awhile, Call back your forgotten dreams And feel that frozen smile, Linger of Love be worth eternal wait; When the time is right – That verity we do still hate And later we wind up too late, There forth we get lost in fate We get bemused with our innate That we can’t still relate, Don’t take on yourself as bate As never you trust an inmate, Our hopes and thoughts they fade away And we just see closed gates, So slay the lies, dig up the truth Someday you shall find, your forgotten fate…

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Final Fantasy

Follow me and I will follow you only to sacrifice and pledge my soul.
Now known only as one!
Soaring in the winds with rapid inspirations exploding one by one,
It is your final fantasy to live again!
Victim of suicide revealed by fate and conquered by the depths of love,
Life of life has just begun!
The warmest touch begs respect for the quality found deep within.
It is your final fantasy to finally begin!
Encouraged by beliefs to uphold the strength of one’s destiny,
Yet, embraced with one final and endless thought!
A kiss of pleasure obscures the kiss goodbye,
Accompanied with its warmth to pleasure your need!
It is your final fantasy to bow down for these borrows and trade.
Subtle with perfection you are as pure as a white dove.
Your desire is to never ever get lost with what you’ve caught.
Insensitive delights begin to dwell from deep within,
You burn and ache for a place to finalize where it is that you belong.
It is your final fantasy to conquer these steps in which you alone have made.
Sacrifice those objectives captured and held in your time!
Acknowledge your very own self with the quality known only by the depths inside of you!
Fly away with me, but only for a moment.
Embrace only that which enlightens the moment seized!
It is your final fantasy to touch and feel everything that you never knew.
Life is our mystery, yet we uphold its true value with our righteous dignity.
Harvest your life moment by moment,
Make it your very own prey for the little ones who never knew.
Gather the sensations and absorb life as you breathe in your every breath of air.
It is your final fantasy to indulge with the intrigued and explore all of these parts inside of 
Release yourself from the depths of love and find what it is that you truly seek.
Life of life has finally just begun!
Looking up and looking down but never looking all of the way around,
The loss of control is the loss that you will gain!
It is your final fantasy to whisper in the dark and to cry in plain sight.
Open minds with open hearts capture the true essence, for they completely belong!
Spirits fly and soar through life with so much energy powered with intensity’s strength.
They find the treasures you’ve always sought but have never found.
Your final fantasy is to escape your darkness and to find yourself inside of this beaming ray of 

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Don't Go Near The River

Don’t go near the river a tree has fallen down
The flow is blocked and it caused a dam if you fall in you could drown
But to us children this an invitation was
A big happening in our lives we had to see the cause
Of course we would not climb down to the tree
From high upon the bank we would satisfy our curiosity

Down Milfort Avenue we all trouped 
The excitement mounting with-in our group
The boys were there first of course
Down at the roots torn from the ground with such force
You girls they shouted stay away it was their find
Just go home play with your dolls and leave our tree behind
Well did you ever hear such rot 
We will soon show that lot

Mother’s warning soon forgot down we went to the spot
Those roots from up high did not seem so tall
But now down beside them we were made to feel small
Like gaint arms they were all slimy and wet
But we girls would conquer this climb you bet 
I never was brave and from the start
My legs were shaking and in my heart
I knew I should back down and risk being the fool
But pride would not let me so I tried to act cool

The others had climbed over and to the far side had gone
Knowing I was frightened they egged me on
Up I went onto that tree trunk
Looking down to the river below my heart sunk
What would I do if I fell in I had never learned to swim
Well it happened and into water I fell for my sins
Plunged to the bottom then up I floated gasping for air 
Again the depths called the water my death would share
With bravery someone dived in to save me from my watery grave
Trailed to the bank and with the water pumped out my life was saved

A neighbor heard the commotion and running came
Then into her house to recover my legs some strength to gain
For the walk back home to face Mum my misbehavior to declare
I really was a sorry sight but I did not care
Jumper and tartan skirt soggy the red dye running down my thighs
Perhaps she would think it was blood I had better start to cry

Water filled the fur lined leather boots which slopped and weighed a ton
My dad had worked for hours to pay for them and look what had I done
So sorry I was for myself but punishment I had to accept 
My friends there with me for support they stayed and yet
When Mum’s face through that front door appeared
They drifted away the blame they feared
In I was hauled and asked to explain
Why I had ignored her orders given so plain

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No Matter What Happens

As I travel through this torn valley
I look around then I drop to my knees
Graping the blade that guides my me
I will always fight knowing that I can be happy
Cutting through the sorrow and torment
Until this moment I have wasted the time spent
Focusing on my future
Thinking of my past
As long as there is something worth fighting for
My bad memories leave me fast
I will never give up nor will I back away
Not at night, not at day
I will always have a purpose
No matter what happens...

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Living on the Edge

“Wow, life”! 

Always in the proper order organized and determined to stay intact.
Step by step rules with regulations and all judged with such strict order.
And all of this is what’s focused on me?
My, My! What a revelation in front of me a definite soul searching moment indeed.
Walking the plank I can see death before my eyes and visions with just way too many lacks.
I step further in to grasp this concept presented so directly in front of me.
Ha! A life with nothing but clearly lots of undistinguished metaphors!
My, my living on the edge, 
Risky it may be but it encourages the will in me to succeed!


Ruled by the throne of ethical, morals, and values,
Condensed all into one challenging the best of my integrity!
Step by step an opinion is drawn or the matter disregarded at hand, 
And all of this challenged by me!
My, My! What visions are in front of me a time to expect the unexpected my constant need! 
Playing Russian roulette with a loaded gun, firm and adamant I maintain all of my dignity.
Pushing further for results to stimulate an aura I capture a much higher demand!
My, my living on the edge, 
Risky it may be but it examines these laws that strive so hard to be!

“Wow, life”! 

Expectations meant for perfection encourage the best of me over and over again.
Step by step blueprints are calculated, analyzed and specified by the finest details.
And all of this is what’s focused on me?
My, My! What examples are set before me a moment to test my own integrity!
Sink or swim? A desperate moment I recognize and exemplify as purely sublime.
Getting closer and closer to the seed itself the core is mine to unravel and reveal!
My, my living on the edge, 
Risky it may be but it’s argumentative from all that I can see.


A yes or a no, but never a maybe and all before my time so it seems!
Step by step a path has been laid before me all engraved in gold or stone.
Most definitely a challenge for my authenticity!
My, my what a grip on me, a chance to acknowledge what it is that I believe?
Suffocated by these laws that be, I’m caught in the rapture of my finest dreams.
I step further in to grasp the concept presented so proudly before me,
A challenge I care to defy on the Royal Throne!
My, my living on the edge, 
Risky it may be but I know what I believe and I truly believe in what’s in the best of me,
And that my friend is strictly my authenticity!

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wonders in history 1

Great Pyramid Of Giza
 Hanging Gardens Of Babylon
Temple Of Artemis
 Statue Of Zeus At Olympia
Mausoleum At Halicanassus
 Colossus Of Rhodes
Lighthouse Of Alexandria

Author;Free Software Foundation
Compiled by;chipepo lwele

PS;The reminder of the 7 Wonders Of
     The Ancient World.

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North Of Normal Norman

Far beyond the realm of time, is a place neglected.
West of what’s expected, south of what’s accepted.
North of what’s normal, east of what’s formal. 
They say to paint my picture grey, but I decided floral.  
North of normal Norman was the light that guides the doorman.
Help you see what is opaque, you have to kick the door in. 

North of Norman lives a race so jolly and so free.
Breathing air, without a care, smelling roses by the sea. 
Saltlandia’s the name, but you can’t find it on the map.
You can arrive within seconds, quick as a finger snap.
It has no edges and no size, a boundless field to tap. 

North of normal Norman is a circus; vast, dizzying array.
A kaleidoscope of colors; breathing energy displayed.
An everlasting song that bellows out the notes of love.
A place with trumpets at the gate, descending like a dove. 

You can do it without doing it, just being; that’s enough. 
You can see it without looking, check; a diamond in the ruff. 
Saltlandia, the palace of dreams, can’t stay and can’t depart. 
Doors are there to be opened up; each exit, another start.  

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Ever Jumped A Train - Part 4 - Robert and Ernie Adventures

That train took us north after our Washington D.C. stop,
Suddenly there it was looming grand on the horizon.
I told Ernie I was so excited to see the Big Apple,
He blinked up at me with that hobo mouse look I loved.

He said I don't see any apples as he squeaked out a giggle,
I said no Ernie I'm talking about New York don't you know?
He really had a confused look on his face at that point,
This place has buildings shaped like cheese he smartly said.

Robert, why would a place like that be called the Big Apple?
Oh great I thought, I'm tramping a train with a wise guy. 
Ernie, didn't you know we humans name things they aren't?
He rolled over on his back letting out a loud squeaky laugh.

What's so funny Ernie, can't you see that I'm serious?
He said yes and that was the most humorous part of me.
That expression you get Robert is really truly hilarious, 
You humans have always cracked me up when you're mad.

Ernie, being serious is not the same thing as getting angry.
Well he said they look the same to me when I see them.
In fact they look more similar than apples and buildings,
So is this why you two legged creatures seem so confused?

We're not always confused I said to Ernie with a poker face,
He said last time he saw that expression was in a morgue.
Later on though the live guy put a smile on that dead guy,
Ernie began rolling around squealing and he put one on mine.

You know my tiny friend I said, I knew you were intelligent,
But this time you have proven your sense of humor to me.
I've always believed there's no greater humor that exists,
Than one which allows another to laugh at their self.

I was just speaking my mind with no sense of levity he said,
Ernie, you just don't know when to quit do you mouse I said.
He laughed and said he just wanted to see that look again,
So I lay down closed my eyes and gave him a poker face.

I even held my breath and didn't move for a couple minutes,
Ernie freaked out and began to run up and down on my face.
He sniffed at my nostrils for signs of any outgoing air,
I burst out laughing and almost blew him out of the box car.

I reached out and grabbed him as he tumbled across the car,
Placing him up on my chest I said, Ernie we have to talk.
He said he thought that's what we already had been doing,
Running down my leg he tickled my toes and made me laugh.

(to be continued)

Copyright © 2014 Robert William Gruhn A.R.R.

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My World

My world has always been a world of eternal dusk not so dark I could not see but not light enough to see more then a foot in front of me. There are other people in this world I can just barely see them. They are transparent just outlines of people when I watch them move it seems like the air around them is honey they move so slow. I have screamed at them them but they seem unable to hear or see me and I pass right through them If I reach for them. As the years have gone by I have grown to realize that they are not just outlines but I'm the one who is not fully here. This is how I have been living my life as an outline and as the years kept passing I found myself becoming less and less of what I was,slowly began to lose my mind. No longer trying to get people to see me or hear me I have been walking up and down the same road mumbling to myself for the past 10 years. But a week ago a light appeared just a dim light far off into the distance but a light none the less. I have been slowly drawn to this light ever since. It's still so far away but I have begone to hear a soft female voice calling to me. But I'm fading so fast I am trying with everything I have left to reach that light and find where the voice is coming from.

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Southern Lie or Quest

To the west, or is it south they see.
Nay not, the west is the journey forward.
Southern views, latent with melody,
Journey now to the south and onward,
Eyes of red described in fright by day.
Eyes of red seen by one, at dawns break.
One that muses about disheartened display.
Disguised by mind tricks upon a wake,
She looked into the eyes of red, no form.
Not awakened by any sound or storm,
Shall this entity develop from only mind?
Dragged unto the sweltering still gaze,
What dimensions will continue to unbind.
Shall the horror take hold as it plays?
My tale may be real or just a lie.
You will decide what you believe.
Southward she still gazes as to comply,
Or is it in hopes of a tempered reprieve.

Upon the next eve, another rendition appeared.
Movement this time gazing softly to see,
Closely watching, feeling nothing - nothing feared.
Darkness has not complied, yet to any degree.
Misty light lies solemnly, playing these lies.
Performing a destiny of beyond our despair,
She sits soberly, gazing without any cries.
I stand waiting, guarding the way; I stare.
What illusion glares, or is it becoming real.
To her and me out of complexity or faith,
What shall be the answer of this time surreal?
Shall it be that a prophecy has begun its wrath?
They say the Moth man brings about casualties.
Would we be seeing sudden future fatalities?

Our eyes and mind play tricks upon what we see.
You decide if what we saw was evil or just a guest.
That our minds so overtaken by mere history.
Or are we all to be set upon, by a mysterious quest.

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A Silver Fluidity, stronger than time Crystal shatters against me, in my prime I’m bulletproof, and echoes rebound Piercing ricochet’s, transmitting the sound I fell from Heaven, fast and strong Into a world, endangered by wrong I wasn’t a hero, just a moment of love A second chance for humanity, sent from above I’m a legend, a titan of Greek mythology The body of an Adonis, the dream of muscology I defend the greater good, and eliminate the hate My methods far from clean cut, they’re an ethical debate I was born Titanium, with a sword in hand I can manipulate thunder, with a wave of my hand I am Titanium, and the overlord is my enemy The creator of greed, money and the impecunious amenity

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Top of the roof

Daddy told us not too, while Mom sourly warned. Though they scolded, loud and clear, we devilishly disobeyed. Up on that roof top, at least 30 feet from ground, carelessly balancing on the shingles, one step, two we were so young, so adventurous, the nights lasted decades, while the stars evaporated fear, they smiled at our virgin eyes, and when a gust of wind would catch our balance, we'd lay under the ratty quilt grandma made. The night sky was so full of life, a serenity in a chaos of lights, forever rotating yet a fulfilling stillness, the kind that cannot be broken Until the day we got caught. Daddy yelled while we ran threw the window, preparing for the worst, hearing Mom's fear in curses, we both sat quietly, reminiscing on that freedom, that longing for serenity. After taking in the fear- we went up to our rooms, and after one tapping on the wall between us, we both met at the window once more.

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The Tale of Old Man Withers Gold part two

The oldest stepped forth first
Across into the misty cold
The oldest was strong and brave
Very smart and very bold

As the two other boys followed
Into The forest of many lost souls
The boys couldn’t help but think
About what they would do with all of that gold

Walking real fast and completely UN aware
Something stood watching
With a dark and creepy stare
This thing that was watching
Was definitely not human
But the boys didn’t notice
So they just kept on cruisin

The three boys kept walking
Looking at nature and what not
But the oldest had a scary feeling
That something was watching from the tree top

As he gazed and looked around
No evidence was to be found
So this feeling he put aside
And continued his long stride

The oldest leading the pack
The other two didn't look back
As a creature behind them
Was steadily watching there back

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The Waffle House Way!

Customers are like bouquets of flowers passing through our twenty-four hours.
Breakfast, lunch, or dinner all 365 calendar days guaranteed for a full twenty-four seven.
“Hello Sir”! Welcome to Waffle House America’s favorite place to eat!
Some say we are the closest thing next to God's Great Heaven!
We have a confusing language of our own, the blabbering towers of the real “April Showers”
Service with a smile that has walked the many hard-earned extra tenths of miles,
Nothing computerized with files, just organized by our own genuine unique styles.
Waitresses are serving with hard enduring time and each crosses over a mighty fine line,
Master grill operators optimize a divine talent marking your plates perfectly aligned.
Friday and Saturday nights the party train arrives blessed coffee to the many lips we’ll revive.
Regulars and irregulars you’re served just the same, pardon me did I really get your name?
Loud ones, quiet ones, and even the picky ones strive to come back to us,
Here we bring back the basics of being alive.
Scattered, smothered, covered, chunked, diced, peppered, capped, or topped? 
So do you want them “All the way or just partly aflame”!
Young, old, or different at being indifferent just being sane, 
Especially when the “Waffle House Way” is to say the first “HELLO”!
“Morning Mam”! Can I get you your usual or will you be having something different  “TO GO”?
Brief moments of insanity with the moods that walk through our doors, 
Thank God for every single one of those Jukeboxes!
The quality of service opening an eye to the sly foxes, 
We’d really be in trouble if we sold liquors!
Foreign, military, and even civilian are in and out, 
Our servers are like the gold stored at Fort Knox.
So what can we get you today that you haven’t already had before?
 “The Waffle House Way” America shouts!
 It’s like being home because that’s what we are all about.

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Strive not for strife
But confront conflict on all fronts
When it strides past your ride
Dispense with all disputes
Spare not your fangs
When fear rears its ugly head:
When it rains; have a free cold bath
If sun shines, dry your clothes
At the reign of darkness
Find the inner light 
That lights your path undimmed
If the flood flows
Swim afloat on lifebuoy
And if fire rages and smoke rises
Expect the afterglow
When horde of odds assail like bandits
Never retreat, nor surrender
Turn around, turn aside, 
Never ever turn in nor turn back
Enjoy the war.

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In June everything was festive and green,
a patch of deep blue couldn't  be seen...
the struggling sun was kept off, with dire,
by a dense foilage of emerald;
and the robins competed with the blue-jays
to harmonize a new song with notes
that even a great composer couldn't write...
Oh, how I loved that sweet sound!

Auburn trees in Fall showed a dull color
andulated by the softest wind,
which wasn't as perfumed as that of spring,
and its sadness was compensated by a beauty,
which inspired a poet and a composer
to write it with a tender melancholy;
and I jotted down the impressive images
of a peaceful Nature that revealed its loveliness!

The freight trains scurred through the defoliating forest,
I found a massive rock and laid my body to rest;
and finally those struggling sun-rays
broke through to warm my forehead quickly:
so glad to have seen, with awe and curiousity, 
the forest's beautiful and swift creatures
storing away food for those gloomy winter's days!...
Oh, how happy I felt to have been the wanderer of the forest! 

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On Watch

He stands behind a wheel thick as a mans wrist, ornately spoked and polished, its diameter 
half his height; which he fondly strokes as he gazes upon a horizon, red, as in anger, yet, 
knows this is not the case and smiles.

His beard, speckled with slivers of gray, hide a face strengthened by wind and sea weathered 
beyond his years, accenting eyes, dark, deep as an abyss, that bear witness to the years of 
hardship. His teeth clamp upon the stem of a pipe broken to perfection, one of his few 
pleasures in this life.

His clothes, unmistakable, upon his shoulder, two chevrons under an eagle, identify him, as a 
man of some esteem.

This late night he commands this ship upon the sea, as the deck below his feet creak softly 
responding to the pitch of gently lapping waves; reassuring men below all is well.

Gulls, screeching their displeasure, circle above the crows nest protesting the occupation of 
their intended perch, their appearance a welcome reminder, just out of sight lies a land 
young and rich in resource and history, a land he calls home.

Porpoise, leaping, play in the wake of the ships bow, as to guide this ship home, provide 
momentary amusement, while sharks aft of the ship maintain their silent watch, awaiting 
their next meal.

As he stands behind his wheel he takes in all of this, knows all is well and good, in the morn, 
they dock, once again on dry land, until then he maintains his vigilance, never faltering in his 
duty to protect and defend.

As he gently turns the wheel making minor course change, he removes his beret, reaches to 
scratch a head void of hair, adjusts his beret until it sets just right, for all who can see, to 
read, U.S. Navy.

With a draw on his pipe, America's guardian, remains on watch tonight.

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pilgrim poem

it starts out full of determination, 
crusading with vision and vigor
a strong staff, new boots, and a good hat.
a map with direction and no mud stains

walking with purpose in mid-afternoon
the clouds in the distance poignantly
seem to illustrate some medieval tome
with guilt edges to pages and sunrays

the poem feels good, and the thoughts
feel strong and direct, not tangential like
the scribbling’s from some past dreaming’s
and foot in front of foot, we cover ground

dust gently, almost imperceptibly, swirls
around the now broken-in boots, the stanzas
march to their own steady cadence until they
begin to slow, as the heat bares down more,
now thickening the tongue, with a newfound
thirst for words and water

the mind...the mind, and it's steps, falter
just a bit, as concentration is baked with
aimless uncertainty, the hat feels heavy
to the pilgrim, and the notion of continuing
seems pocketed, in favor of some poetic shade

poem's purpose muted, for just a line or two, 
no more, to rest beside the road of travelers
lines passing by, waving or nodding a word
in the pilgrim's direction as they pass

and the writing looks off in the distance
and down to short stanzas, covering tanned legs
leaned with the effort of the pilgrimage
mind circles as the hat is waved like a fan
to cool the thoughts into some coalescence

refreshing the whole body of work with purpose
strength begins to build again as breaths slow
with resolve and triumph appears as achievable
the pilgrim rises again, dusts off his derriere
and marches...hell, parades to a poetic end

© Goode Guy 2012-01-26

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Tristan & Isolde

From two seperate worlds,
Seperated by war-
Unaware to the fact
They're both looking for more

She is bound to be wed
And they're doomed from the start.
But, ironically, they kiss-
It's easy to see they'll be torn apart.

Only he could deserve
Such unsurpassed beauty-
She only hopes for a land
Where there is no duty.

They will never be apart again.
Though his wound is not mending,
They finally got their freedom and 
That's what I call a happy ending.

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Gunfight in a Frontier Town

Chic Waco was the marshal of our little town.
   Stood near six-two and usually sported a frown.
Never said a lot but what he said, was said mighty clear.
    Most likely if he was talking to you, it was something you wasn't wanting to hear.
Chic was a mighty good marshal and did his job the best he could,
    There were those that gave him problems and he'd let them know just where 
they stood.
This one good for nothing family were as ornery as could be.
    When they got to drinking they'd threaten anybody they would see.
That's when Waco usually always earned his keep.
    Most times them boys didn't want to go quietly, so Waco would just rap them 
on the head, and pile them in a heap.
Them Trusdale boys packed an awful fierce grudge and just wouldn't let it lie.
    When they got sobered up they said reckon that marshals just gonna have to 
Well they thought and they planned for about a month and a half.
    Then the youngest got caught stealing a Circle D calf.
He was brought to town and sentenced to hang.
    Word got out ain't no Trusdale, what would ever swing.
They said marshal if you try to hang our little brother Jack.
    You just painted a bulls eye on the middle of your back.
Well that didn't set well at all with Waco and he told em flat out don't be a 
threatening me.
   If your wantin gunplay just whip em on out, then we'll all get to see.
Chic said Trusdales I'm calling your bluff.
    He said you're backshootin, yellowbellys, and you ain't got the stuff.
Bout that time the oldest I think they called him Will.
    Reached for his iron with intent to kill.
Waco saw him reach and he shot him dead.
    Then he felt the bullet that was fired by Will's brother Red.
It didn't do much damage it was fired in haste.
 Then Waco pointed at Red and let him have a taste.
The only brother left was a shaking like a dog.
   Waco looked at him and said scat on out a here before I unleash this hog.
Little brother Jack they hung him out back.
    The one that ran somebody found dead , snakebit outside their old shack.
Reckon that the moral of this story is don't mess with Chic Waco
    Reckon them Trusdales hadn't heard in Chics younger days he was known as 
Kid Wacko!

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The Wanderer Returns by Ron Porter

Across the vastness of the silver sea of pain,
in a cave in the land of "I don't know",
a moonclad maiden waits and weeps,
embroidering her comely countenence
with copious corpulet crystalline tears
and, fears his ship won't make return

On the marble temple porch of devotion,
betwixt obsidian statues of dolphins at play,
a duo of disciples lean close in lovers' embrace,
and watch the lone ship run ahead of the storm.
On the waves of the bay, a full moon reflected
unspoken hopes that, in two breasts does burn

On the slopes of the mountain of nameless fear;
alone in the apex chamber of an alabaster spire.
He watches the waves from his window dark;
the Prince of Intentions marks the single sail-
a patch in the dark and, tries hard to intuit:
just how much did the wanderer learn?

Hard drives the wind now, rowers bend their backs;
they outpace the tempest but just barely so.
Blood-dark seas slowly grow furious and feral;
a lone  lean figure stans stiff at the prow.
So close now and again, yet so far from the shore, of
the hallowed home for which his heavy heart doth yearn.
Ror he said when he left he would come again;
nor be stayed by dire deed, death or disaster.
Now his resolve races with the storm's coming fury.
Only five more leagues but which will prove faster?

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Voices Rose Beyond the Sea

A song she carries in black locks,
Her treasure brings their ship to dock.
Transparent to the deafened mute,
To eloquent a note to loot.
Set to mesmerize the men,
Fixed upon this maiden gem.
So caught up in her melody,
Forgot a cast beyond the sea.

A drink to her!
Another round!
To satisfy,
A lustful hound.
So beautiful,
A girl so fair;
Like mermaids,
In a water’s lair.

Tonight they’ll empty Davy’s fears,
And bask in heaven’s light and tears.
To smell the lavender and blooms,
A rare treasure sure to lift the gloom.
To drink and sing their past regrets,
tomorrow’s day brings toil and sweat.
For death awaits in lines and sails,
Their true mistress - the sea-bound trails.

Another drink!
And fare thee well…
A tale of wonder,
Sure to tell.
About this night,
Her song will swell -
Above the open sky,
And dwell.

They sailed from Nova Scotia‘s Pier.
The jealous ocean soon brought fear,
As waves as tall as mighty oaks;
Did crash into their fishing boats.
The mast did crack and slam her deck,
The men all struggled soaking wet.
Then voices rose “Farewell to thee,
Our maiden…” then sunk into the sea.

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My Last Stand

This hill top is were I'll make my final stand. This hill is my home I wont let them take it without a fight.If I am to die I'll die protecting my home. When the sun rises at dawn they will charge all them hungering for my blood I'll stand here on my hill and fight until my last breath escapes my chest I'll fight until... I die! One way or another this will be my last stand.
The sun rises and I see the mass of humanity that is the army that I face alone. I am the last man standing in there way they have laid waste to everyone but me.I am but one man they are millions I can not win the war is already over. All I can do is drag as many of the heartless beasts as I can to hell with m...e. I can't abandon my home. This is my last stand "COME!"

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Many roads I travel end on one
Walking at night I can't stand the sun
The sound of shaking leaves
The crying of old trees
I enjoy the woods, it's my place of peace
I hear something different
So I stand still and freeze
Listening closely the noise is a cry
The power of the forest tells me to fly
Getting closer I begin to fall
I don't know whats ahead, but I risk it all
As I land all that I can see
Is a girl wanting to be with me
I pick her up and wipe her tears
Using my powers I destroy her fears
I kiss her lips as she kisses mine
I tell her things will be just fine
Stay with me forever and ever
We will be happy living together...

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The Poets Dance

Paint pots and magic at the stroke of a brush, it’s the power of a picture for the lovers in lust. The splashing of water and addition of choice, it’s a musician’s beat, and the poets to rejoice. Hungary caterpillars and the ladybugs dance, it’s nature’s festival and the Devil’s mischance. The warmth of summer’s night amongst a starry sky, it’s the sparkle of lanterns drifting up to Shanghai. The poets and the dreamers smear ink to the page, it’s lyrical fluidity entwining a white witch’s sage. The smells and the colours are a carnival of love, it’s the power of family, drawing joyous tears up above. Live in these moments and build memories to keep, it’s time for our picture before we lose it to sleep. So take my hand as we enter the tent to the light, it’s an entrance to happiness and it’s just to your right.

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Sam, I am

If I had a secret that I wanted to share with you Dare you open your mind and let my creativity ensue? I don’t build bridges with bricks, I hang them with rope I can generate your fantasies and incubate your hope Open the pages of my mind, reading the fiery words of my heart Enter Pandora’s Box, and the epic journey will start! Follow me down south, through the mirror of liquid glass You’ll feel the calmness take over and watch the fear pass What a wonderful feeling, letting your inhibitions go into the night Now step forward onto the phoenix, as you drift into the light This journey isn’t everlasting, you know that it comes with a price? What? Did you think it was free? wouldn't that have been nice Open your eyes from delusion, and friend you will piece things together My name is Sam, Satan or The devil, that’s how I'll been known as forever! OK, so I tricked you, with my words and devilish charm What were you expecting? I’m frigging Satan dude, my job is sadistic harm! You look at me with those puppy dog eyes, you realise you've lost all of your family ties My head tells me to give you a second chance, double or quits is where my desire lies Do you accept the new twist, on my board game that is your life? I’ll take that hesitant nod as a yes, and commence this game of strife Give me the name of a family member and they can take your place However I will warn you, if you can’t then I win this twisted race No! You scream, and that’s your final answer which I’ll have to take Now I own not only your soul, but your families when they next shall wake He took my hand and promised peace for my sisters and brothers Now I’ve gambled with the devil and he owns my beloved others The deal is now done and a fiery rain begins to fall Burning me down to ash, disintegrating my world and all

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army dependant

Mr and Mrs private first class stationed in Augsburg 15th battalion. second Calvary division  canteens and sea rashens were being distributed while we had four more court martials. lined outside of the jag office after a deferred payment plan failed again der banke of Munich we settled in the chaplains office to speak with der Bishop to discuss baq. barracks and housing quarters allowance why living on a no payment status allowance covered wodka Cognac and three kartens of cigarettes food and clothing not allowances while preparing the family to relocate again to Berlin havoc broke out chaos arose thee Iraqi embassy under attack der wand 
was stille covered in graffitii I retrieved three stones   as my chanook arrived it read apo. new York Kennedy our convoy flew over Kremlin and the eastern shores

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Dreams in slow motion,
Dancing in the lead;
Have you lost control...
Of the long planted seed?
Growing out of refuge...
The flowers in your mind;
Will you draw me a picture...
Of all that is undefined?

Draw them curtained;
Masked in the finest drape,
For reality needs not...
To find an escape;
But to see truth...
Behind these wall flowers;
Reveal to us...
The power of all powers...

For dreams bare nothing,
But hopes unknown;
While man seeks greatness,
To be written in stone.
In a day of souls for sale,
May you dream me perfection?
I have not a single hope,
Scaled in every direction...

Please rest young dreamer,
For we are all the same...
Tied to a faction,
Behind dreams that never came.
For your drawings mean nothing;
When we're all blind...
A sad proclamation...
But it's how we're designed.

This is but a moment,
In the poor dreamer's brain.
So don't forget the ending,
As we're inching down the drain.
Draw me a picture... 
Telling our future's tale;
And he threw me a dollar,
Screaming our future's for sale...

Before I knew it he’d left;
Running away screaming in his depart.
Who would’ve thought...
That a dreamer’s dreams could tear ‘em apart?
Beep... Beep... Beep...
And my eyes, I’ve just opened...
Shutting off the stupid alarm clock,
Realizing the dream that just happened...

The reality of it all...
Trying to put two and two together;
An idea by which to relate,
And changed my mind forever...
That we could all be dreamers,
Caught up in our own dream;
Subject to our curtains,
But never as we seem.

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Jack and Jill

Jack and Jill went up the hill

To fetch a pail of water.

Jack went right, Jill left,

In different directions to see

Who could reach the top first.

On his way up, Jack tripped on a

Rock and roughly tumbled all

The back down, blood

Spewing from his head.


Jill screamed, seeing this happen

But knew that she couldn’t do

Anything; she was afraid of heights

And as she sheepishly peered

The long ways down the hill

Her vision blurred slightly and she

Felt dizzy. She knew she wouldn’t

Be able to make it back down by herself

So, continued to run, she did, all

The way up to the hill, where

The pail of water sat, crying

The whole way.


She was almost there,

The pail of water was in sight

She smiled, silently screaming

    Her victory. Laughing, tears streamed

     Down her cheeks; Jack would’ve been happy

For her. But she celebrated, it seems,

Too early, for she slipped on the wet, wet

Grass and she tumbled down, down, down

The hill only to meet her death, her blood

Marking a trail behind her, her screams echoing

Through the trees.


Jack and Jill went up the hill,

to fetch a pail of water

Only to fall back down and get killed.



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Thursday on th Bloor line

It's hell trying to think,
the welds do distract.
As the train travels over the seams of it's track.

In my head Howard swears, that he'll never be back!
My eyes follow a vagrant,
seeking the change that he lacks.

Another desperate attempt,
at another desperate attempt.
To save another days worth of memories,
I'll never get back.

I'm not too sure if I want them.
But I'm scared to forget,
so I pressure my pen,
to avoid the regret.

Thursday on the Bloor line

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To the Faithful Player

To be the last, to finish, to only see ends without beginnings.
Xenocide could not claim you.
Ender did not name you.
Love’s the Card which framed you.
Orson Scott Card.
* For Brian's Literary Affairs Contest. Orson Scott Card author of books  Ender's Game 
(1985) and its sequel Speaker for the Dead (1986) both won Hugo and Nebula award winners.

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For over a century I have stood brave and free
and suffered many things even before my birth
yet I stood
I have felt the pain of pelting sand on my face
as it tried to strip away my very heart and soul
and I stayed
and heard the beating of drums across my land
and seen the trail of tears run deep into the earth
and I wept
Watched the buffalo roam wild on the vast plains
heard the thundering hoofs of wild horses run free
and I smiled
 Felt the rumble of black oil deep down in the earth
as it gushed forth from  beneath the solid ground
and I watched
I saw tall buildings go up from border to border
and great storms take them down in a moment
and I cried
People stood brave and strong and eager to build
Cities spring up from east to west north to south
and I was proud
I was born a hundred years ago  in middle of the USA
my people live in peace one with another I thank God

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Suspension of Disbelief

He tasted the forbidden fruit,
          And accepted the tempest into the bows-
                      Of his soul ~
          Submission under the violet sky ~
Amidst the shadows;
          Secret desires satisfied,
Ardently drinking of the deep, red wine,
          Arousing her with his words in-
A garden where logic carries-
                      No weight ~
          Submerged within the sweat beads of-
The hour;
          Malignant was her power ~
Lost in her seduction...higher...higher...
          Fearing the lines on her hand ~
He was reborn with her music ~
          Horse-drawn chariots of fire ~
Embraced by the fervor of the moment ~
          Willing to move Heaven and Earth-
                     Her absence offered no serenity,
For her fragrance lingered-
                       Until presence was regained,
Abiding inside her green woods ~
                                Thunder under passion's-
Sultry blanket...
                            Venomous ~

She stealthily slid her delicate hand...


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I Am Almost There

Each step I take, 
the closer I get,
higher, and higher,
almost out of breath.

Suddenly the wind,
starts blowing my hair,
harder, and harder,
I am almost there.

Damp is the air,
my lungs feel the burn,
I know I can make it,
my stomach churns.

Losing my grip,
the wind is to strong,
trying to hold tight,
my strength is gone.

Howling sounds,
as the wind picks up,
the blustering chill,
I have had enough.

Down I come,
as fast as I can,
if I fall,
may it be soft where I land.

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The Fantastic Voyage

Living on the edge was a suicide way before my time!
A soul spread wide open with a spirit that truly believes.
Walking on water and backwards with life that glares over the sunshine!
The fantastic voyage rides the high and almighty waves of the greatest seas.
A voyage to never-never land right where I know I will always want to be.
True uninhibited expression is my addiction all within myself.
A soul climaxing in the exhibition of capturing all of the free empty space!
Walking the planks with the thrill of excitement from what’s consumed as it’s felt,
The fantastic voyage is aimed straight for that perfect little happy place.
My voyage to never-never land is where I know I will always want to stay.
Unpredictable with such balance is my mystery out there all on its own.
My soul opens and wills me to explore the depths of all that is real or such.
Walking the tight rope and looking down with my talent so proudly shown.
The fantastic voyage is never enough but is always over by too much.
My voyage to never-never land is where I know I will always want to feel what I touch.
Deep within the depths of all the deepness is where my connection is found.
A vibrant soul with brilliance magnified by a common need that has just got to give!
Walking narrow ledges with confidence and truly the one that has got to be proud!
The fantastic voyage gained my moments in time that I can say were actually lived.
My voyage to never-never land is where I will surrender standing on top of my deadly ground!

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The Journey to Tomorrow

They said the sun would always, rise up when it has set yet, the shadows of the night just seem to grow. My footprints keep on writing, they tell the tale that’s passing, but the storyline just seems to flow. They said the journey was safe, I lace my way through danger, this was not the way it was meant to go. I worked my way through forests, climbing up the hills of Dante, and my inferno was the snow. Suddenly the snow was melting, spreading out to a horizon, the valley of the flowers began to glow. Behind I heard the screaming, in front I saw the colours, my final choice was which way to go.....

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In the Upper Floor of the Scottish Rite Cathedral - Part 2

The truth was, we very well could go back, But there was sudden authority and determination in his voice It was the first time I ever respected Benjamin The first time and only that I ever liked holding his dirty boy hands “Well let’s go, scaredey cat!” I giggled, ripping my hands away from him, Running up the stairs crazily, I heard his voice at the bottom but I didn’t care “LAURA…. WAIT! DON’T GO WITHOUT ME…” I reached the top and stopped, My chest heaving, my fear returning There was a double door here, and it was wide open What I thought was pure darkness coming up the last stairs, Was evidently not as pitch black as what lay beyond that double door… “Ben, get…” My voice disappeared… I felt strange, like I was in a trance… The hollow humming was deeper now It sounded like a well with lips whispering unknown truths… It sounded like…slow dripping…dripping too… And it echoed…fading….and returning…. I heard Ben behind me, and I knew he heard the dripping too Without a word, I slowly walked inside the pitch blackness… I walked inside, seeing silhouettes of strange objects, Some human-like, others oddly shaped…some pointy, others smoother I touched the blade of a sword-like object It was cold, heavy and nice on my fingertip… I heard Ben groan in fear “Laura let’s get out of here!” I continued walking, disregarding Ben’s panicky pleas Till I was glued to a very certain position, The dripping purer and clearer where I stood… “Laura….look…” His voice was trapped in complete horror My eyes, getting used to the darkness Fixed in reverential wonder and bewilderment I slowly looked up, And there she was… It was a statue of a woman, surrounded by the darkness… As I stared at it, her face became clearer and clearer She was sad, she was intelligent, her face showing no alarm As if she expected two stupid children to come and explore her strange abode She was a fountain…the dripping… those were her tears… Sliding down her perfect cheeks… Falling into the dark crimson waters below Why is she crying….. “Tears of blood…” Ben screamed and pointed beyond the statue A bright glow from afar suddenly surrounded us My heart pounded out of my chest… There, beyond between two blue and gold silken curtains Was a bright white cross… extremely clear and crisp…. Petrifying in size and stature I was frozen, as if I had become like the objects in the dark Benjamin grabbed my hand and dragged me out of the room Behind us I heard the wailing of the statue woman in pain… Beyond child labor…past many lives as I would ever know She sobbed in sorrows beyond our youthful imagination The last thing that I know was real was running down the staircase Ben screaming, “Did you see that!? Did you see that!?” I hushed him and said with strange maturity, “You broke your promise Ben…” He looked at me like I was a loony… “What the heck are you talking about?” “You said no one would see us Ben… But you were wrong…” We never spoke about what we saw up there… In fact, he never really spoke to me at all… Sometimes we choose to be traumatized, even scarred by our past I see even my strangest, most frightening experiences As enlightenment, self-discovery and sacrificing illumination Assurance that we are always being watched over, By entities large and small, Ancient architects of fate Even in the growing darkness they are there… Even through bleeding tears…they are there……

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We Can Climb Mountains

Dear Susan 

I wish that 
I could get through to you,
you are such a good looking girl,
yet the problems, I see in your future,

yelling at children 
being willing, to accept 
fools as boy friends, 
how I wished I could give

the wisdom of my years,
watching you take drugs,
struggling through life,
always, struggling to pay the bills

I shake my head, 
but still cant change the way you act,
life can be easy or hard,
a good career give's you,
twice the money to pay the bills, 
but drugs take away, 
your ability to learn,
I wish that I could give you my knowledge

so that you could overcome, 
the problems in your life,
so that you could have, 
the life you want.

Instead all I have is my friendship,
a love that will always care, 
an acceptance that I can't change, 
other people, they have to do that themselves,

life can be a dream,
where happiness rules the house,
we can climb mountains, 
we just have to buy the rope.

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I’ve heard this many times before
But this time, my ears struck twelve
Heartbeats of life pace more and more
In sync with all that scratch and quell
While counting ticks on outlawed tunes
A solo, but oh, so off key
The cords of life anchored in June
The metronome of time in me
With passing phases of the moon
Accustomed to a self taught fate
Sheltered in my private cocoon
More room to grow and hibernate
In meditating out of sight
A healthy way for me to explore
Before I step out into the light
Before I look down upon the unsure
Such is the soaring Phoenix way
A merger of the heart and sun
To rise with burning passion each day
And brighten it for that special someone

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I am lost
Trees are all around
I am laid here bare
Along with all these sounds

I hear them
The chirping in the trees
All the wolves that are howling
And crickets beneath the leaves

I stand up
And breathe my surroundings
Busy, like a town
When at its founding

I smell them
Exotic medical powers
Like the rain
Covering the forest’s flowers

I realize I am hungry
Lucky, there is eden all around
I grab a nearby fruit
Amazing tastes I have found

I taste them
Explosions of no-doubt healthy fruit
Running over me as water
Oh forest wonders I loot

While harvesting this eden
I touch a grand tree
I feel its grooves
Containing an ages memory

I feel them
Unearthed roots flowing through
Like waves of water
Except still, and true

I close my eyes
Realizing life is around me
Even though all is black
Never so well have I seen

I know them
Ancient laws flown
Life and death
All that’s ever known

Then at once!
I open my eyes
All life explodes
In the beauty of surprise

I see them
The amazing astral sky
The forest maintained with lights and mist
Beauty again waiting in circle to die
And live again

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' In Knighthood Realm ... ' (Medieval # 8)

I saw a Band of Royal Knights
upon their mighty Steeds
Coat of Arms,  A-gleaming
Herald Heroic Deeds...

One is Valor, One is Truth
Chivalry and Might
Another, Honor, Loyalty
Justice and Light

Charity and Chastity
and Faith, Their Golden Spurs
Those Bold, Polished Lords
Oh! Such Handsome Sirs!

Their Pennants were the Ladies
Once Damsels in Distress
Banners were the Orphans,
Now Kith and Kin to Crest

Their Swords and Shields on Battlefields
Unsheathed for Innocence
in Fealty to a Crown
Obey or be brought Down...

I saw a Band of Royal Knights
They rode upon their Quest,
that the Noble Creed of Men Henceforth...
be their Shining Armor Best

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Everybody knows him as Alessandro,
the handsome gigolo of Via Veneto,
and his lucky charms he sells to many a gorgeous lady,
he approaches them and says,
" Mademoiselle, parle vous Francais?"
as he struggles with words, she replies,"Oui"
And he continues with a perfect accent, "Je t'ame!"
shocked by the womaniser, the slender French young woman
looks at him and starts to laugh with an entertaining wit;
but the gigolo insists, " Tu es tres belle!"
And the petite mademoiselle exclaims," Merci!"
How can his sexiness win him this French woman?
"Vouz habite a' Paris?" and smiling she nods
 " Oui...a' Paris, a' Belleville..un quartier de Paris!"
and the gigolo continues, " Un bel androit!"
" Beau garcon,, est-ce que La Fontana di Trevi...
est loin dici? And Alessandro excitedly replied,"
" Ce ne'st pas loin!"... and with a sign laguage,
he pointed to his red Ferrari, ready to steal her away! 

Copyright 2010 by Andrew Crisci


Mademoiselle, parle vous Francais?"/ Young lady, do you speak French?

Tu es  tres belle/ You are beautiful

Vouz habite a' Paris?/ Do you live in Paris?

Qui...a' Paris, a' Belleville...un quartier de Paris!/ Paris, in Belleville...a quarter in Paris!/

Un bel androit!/ A beautiful place

Beau garcon, est-ce que La Fontana di Trevi...est loin dici?/
Pretty boy, where's the Trevi it far?

Ce ne'st pas loin/ not too far

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Mistaken Identity

As the line’s listless structure leapt into attentive control;
It’s purpose for existence instantly acknowledged.

The double-tapered weight-forward shooting line’s condensation,
Informed of its instant transformation,
Leaps to the water’s corresponding constitution,
Each droplet acting as spherical asteroids of deception on the current’s rippling surface.

Instantly, a silent connection has arisen.
One derived out of technology,
Entombed in the cosmology of the seasons,
Originating before explorations in genetics.

Taking solice in a meal of two moons,
How could one resist this temptuos delight?
Emerging with swarms of life; Analgous in size, shape, and color,
Cleaverly disguised in the guile of organic structure.

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Vayikra of Moses

It draws me to think about Moses’ humility 
with his experience of the burning bush in Sinai,
like a place of discovery, so extraordinary!
that it’s burning and yet not consuming.

Being a leader to his own people of Israel,
his charism and fidelity to God he worships well,
reminds me of those responsibilities he had with them;
a great challenge and mired with so much pains.

God’s reassurance to his own people of faith,
his sheltering presence through all those years;
continued to abound with prophecies beyond,
in the heights of crises and difficulties at hand.

The burning bush or zarza ardiente in Spanish
is where God’s divine presence knows no difference
even in a lowly bush or an untrodden place
his message conveys that saving love for his people.

It is God’s Word, his plan and purpose he made with Moses;
there’s a defining experience that brings to fruition,
a remarkable change and perception of God’s will
that whoever believes and follows him becomes a disciple.

Moses in his intimate encounter with God through those years
walked with his people with constant faith in his will;
amid his humility and love for those who are suffering
his identity epitomized the “most humble of all people.” 


Vayikra: It is written in Torah scrolls with a small letter Aleph.  If we would disregard the small Aleph, the word would read “vayikar” – a word associated with a “chance encounter” – i.e. a much lower level of intimacy.  It is a statement which proclaimed his previousness in G_d’s eyes.  Moses sought to downplay this in a way that did not compromise the meaning of the original text, yet made clear to others that he was still a man of lowly spirit.

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One Less Fight To Prove

Two little Wolf-Pups out to play,

Cause it felt so great that day.

One was brown and one was gray,

They stopped to fight along the way.

Proving their place in the family-pack,

They had to know it, before going back.

Suddenly, there came an un-expectant bite,

That brings a screeching end to their fight.

It sends Brown-Pup rolling, on his back,

Giving Gray-Pup his place in the-pack.

An injured Brown-Pup, just quietly sits,

Sadly, watching as Gray-Pup enjoys his hit.

He stands so tall with his tail in the air,

Earning his place, is what put it there.

Yes, Brown-Pup knows how it feel to loose,

Now, his battles he'll carefully choose.

For each fight will always prove something,

Yet, today, he'll not leave with nothing.

Cause now he has ONE LESS FIGHT TO PROVE,

Today, Gray-Pup earned his place to rule.

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Birthdays come but once a year
A day we celebrate, a day to cheer
We all know the day we're born and our age
For birthdays bring us joy or change of stage

The day I celebrated my fourty-ninth year
On the other side of the world fear
Horror for a young girl named Heather
Who was swimming in ocean waters from boat tethered

Swimming around the ocean deep 
Working up an appetitate for something to eat
Was a great white shark fourteen feet, whopper
Jaws powerful enough to bite through copper

At home I thought I had turned fifty
I figured this year would be very nifty
My father who was in his nineties
Reminded me that I was only fourty-ninty

In a land way down yonder
A girl named Heather was pulled under
Great white figured she was good meat
Nice and tender a very tasty treat

A girl named Heather was saved
That very day lived to be one to praise
People who worked to keep her alive
She praised God who lives in hearts and on high

Sara lived many years
Saw her grandsons through tears
She was the strength and glue
Who saw her family's problems through

Just in recent years in a land down under
A fourteen foot great white shark did blunder
Caught in a fisherman's net
He'll probably live this mistake regret

No, the fisherman cuts the lines
Frees his catch and shark from bind
Now the shark he named Cindy
Follows him around even when windy

Follows him everywhere he goes
Let's him pet her on her nose
Rub her belly and dorsal fin
She even grunts and tries to grin

Which of these do you think is the most grateful
Heather who is now disable
The shark who was spared his life
Or Sara the mother, grandmother, and wife

(The story about Heather is true. The shark circled and bit her right leg.  Then circled and 
grabbed her left leg.  The people on the boat were hitting the shark and try to pull her into 
the boat and the shark took her whole left leg off.  She was only attended by a nurse who 
was on the boat and radioed a doctor on shore as to what to do.  She was 20 hours away 
from the nearest doctor.  She was lifeflighted to a hospital in California where she had to 
have multiple surgeries and now has an artificial leg.     The story about the shark caught in 
a fisherman's net was really not true.  The grandmother here was a true story.)

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The Falling: Part II

Thats all she needs.
She desperatly wants his strong, protective arms to wrap around her and sheild her from this cruel world, this world that has broken her.
She desperatly needs him to whisper to her the words that would set her free.
That everything will be ok, and that he won't ever leave,
Like the many times before, where she would lie in his arms for hours
just listening to him breath in and out. His steady heartbeat playing its beautiful composition in her ear. The most signifigant sound in her world. 
She drops to her knees, pulling her drentched hair from its roots,
Screaming at the heavens.
The heavens respond with a loud bellow,
shaking the earth beneath her.
She knows the truth.

Yet she refuses to accept it.

The pouring rain continues to fall.
She continues to break.

He does not exist.
Not anymore.
He never did.

She wanted it too much.
She wanted to feel love.
She wanted to feel human.
She wanted to feel the unconditional need to be with another person,
and have that feeling returned with equal amounts of passion.

Was it too much to ask for?
Is it too much to ask for?

She can not move.
The rain starts to freeze mid air,
violently pelting her exposed body, leaving red marks as proof.
She does not care.
She can not feel.

The heavens cry out to her, begging her to get up, 
To get help.
She refuses.
All she needs is him.
Who ever He is...
Where ever He is...
She will wait.
Wait for all of eternity if need be.
She will wait for the unconditional love.
For that unruly passion that burns in both of their souls.
She waits for the man who was designed to love her,
to need her the same way she needs him.
She waits for the man who cannot live without her warmth,
her touch. 

And with that,
She slowly, unwillingly pushes herself off the muddy pavement,
permitting herself one final glance at the angry sky,
catching a glimpse at her diamond among coal
Her only friend in the wake of night.
The moon.
"Save me, my angel...Save me."
she whispers towards the sky, allowing a tiny smile to dance across her pale, desolate face
Before returning back to her throne in her cold, abandon dungon, her in lonly, abandon castle.

Feeling a new emotion she's never felt before.


Hope shoots across her sky like a metor.
Shinning so bright, filling her with warmth that blinds her.
The heavens cry out,
He will find her one day.
And she will be waiting. 

[.Because Falling in love, Is giving someone the power to break you.]

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In the deep of the sleep i was taken to the writers tavern
a place warm and cozy where they took beer in metallic mugs
a place where a mortal who has shared a story never before
heard or seen in mortal eyes is honored.. i took my cup of tea
and was driven back home.. the writers tavern a warm place
where immortals and mortals mingle enjoying accomplishment

lewis k nyaga

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The feel of Love

It is there I sat here all alone.
As I think of a woman not here in my arms.
There my love lingers in blues.
As I fill the emptiness of my soul down deep.
It's there my heart longs for love.
As I miss a woman’s love.
It is years that has past since I have felt pure love.
But even more I have never had a first love.
But there I long to be near one to hold.
As I feel I have became a nun with no one to love.
As it is that I am getting none makes me feel alone.
Not having one to touch and show my true heart.
It is there my soul cries for someone to love.
As I think of my pain of not having you here.
It is there it drives me crazy out my mind.
Just thinking of the moments we could share.
As I think of your curves and beauty you portray.
It's there I would love you for hours in the day.
As you would have the best of even foreplay. 
That when the time came, you would be wet with excite.
Not just your juices from inside but the sweat that would fall.
As I would taste each flavor all the way to your inner wall.
As the both of us would find a passion of love from inside.
But most of all, we would love of the heart and soul.
As you would know the way you make me feel.
Just by my action and the words I say.
You would know you are love by a true man.
Only to show the same in return.
But there you would feel like never before.
Because I would love you all the way to the floor.
But you would have tingles you could not explain.
Just because it's me there next to you loving in many ways.
It's there I give you my heart forever in life.
If ever that day comes and I make you my wife.
I promise to always fill you with the love and joy in life.
And never forsaking the one I would like to be with for life.
But knowing it is your beauty that I strive each day.
As my heart beats for only you, I dream of the day. 

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Avenge Me In Death

Go and fight on without me, 
search high & low.
Don't let fear or your emotions show. 
Take them by surprise, 
make sure you see their eyes
before you open fire on their lives.
Remember what I say, with my last breath
avenge me in death!

I won't being going home.
with you, tell my wife I tried, 
but I guess I was due.
Destiny played a tricked me,
now I'll die out here alone.
In my final moments, 
My life's last test.
avenge me in death!

Let them all know I died brave
but it was time for me today,  I've gone
to Heaven,  my soul; has been laid
to rest in a battle grave.
I give to you,  my last
request on my dying bed.

Avenge me in death!

David J. Caldera

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In the Upper Floor of the Scottish Rite Cathedral - Part 1

The name of my sidekick was Benjamin, a fellow church member An ornery, brown haired boy who had nothing in common with me Save for his sudden sense of adventure and exploration He asked me, “Laura? Have you ever been up there?” I said, my voice soft, innocent, and practical, “No. My dad says we are not allowed up there…” “I’ve gone halfway up already,” Benjamin said proudly. “What do you think is up there?” I looked at him in surprise. “You know you shouldn’t go near there Ben!” “I know, but what do you think is up there?” “I don’t know, Ben. I don’t know…” This was the first time I had ever entered the Scottish Rite Cathedral Where our congregation was to meet for the Passover Holy Day I was the snarky seven year old, and Benjamin was the terrible ten His eyes glistened in real wonder I remember my soul shuttered, as I stood there with him Just looking above at the staircase before me… My mind drifted, as it still does even now… The temple was grand, spacious, cream white I remember feeling very safe beside its lovely walls Upon entering, I marveled at the two Sphinx guardians, Watching over the temple in their strange stone supremacy I was recalling such things when Benjamin poked me “Hey Freckles! Quit your dreaming will you? We need to go see what’s up there! I mean look!” And my eyes were forced to look up those magnificent, Yet eerily dark stairs… He whispered, “I know they’re hiding something up there! I just know it!” The thought of me going up these stairs was terrifying, Yet…oddly, I felt suddenly drawn to it… I needed to know what was up that stairway, And I didn’t like needing anything at all He started tugging me, already standing on the first stair “Come on Laura. Come on! I don’t want to go alone! It will only be for just a few seconds. We’ll take a quick peak, and then we can go. No one will see us, I promise!” I felt a sacred and crawling feeling that someone was watching Like someone already knew our plans… I looked around warily, my eyes drifting back upwards toward the stairway Stop it, eyes…stop it… “Ben. No. What if we get lost?” He took my hand earnestly and forcefully “We won’t Breidenthal!” “Don’t call me Breidenthal, Ben…” I looked at him long and hard, Seeing him as both a bully and a blessing I wanted to go, don’t get me wrong, But I did not like needing to go up there, And I definitely did not like him holding my hand… His eyes were pleading me to come along It was clear he wasn’t going to have his adventure without me “Okay, okay…let’s go….” He smiled wide. “Yes! Don’t worry! I won’t let go of your hand!” A dully comforting promise… From then on, I cannot decipher dream from reality… As we ascended the stairway, I started hearing the air heavier than before Going up, the stairway was not as dark as I thought Though as we climbed higher, Ben picked up his speed And the darkness became heavier We passed the large glassed window of little light, Reaching the top of the first set of stairs On the left, I cringed There was complete darkness up the next set Ben looked at me and stared back up the stairs He was scared…really scared “This is how far I got last time,” He said quickly, His voice was strange to me, shaky and squeaky “Are we going all the way up?” I asked faintly, The sound of the air now sounded like a hollow hum “Yes, Laura. There’s no going back…”

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The Falling: part I


Loud noise.

but it was not just noise, no, not to her.
It was the wild cries from the heavens, calling out to her, reassuring her that everything will be ok, that there is somebody out there who understands, who is just like her.
She emerges from her throne, in her cold, abandon dungon, in her lonly, abandon castle where she is kept prisoner. Kept prisoner from her dreams, her temptations, herself.


The scent stunns her.
Memories from her former life proceed to play like a movie in her memory...
a movie that she can not pause, can not forget.
She stumbles, -afraid to move for the thought that this magical moment may dissapear if she becomes too hasty- to her only escape.
Destroying the barriers that stand in her path.

Ice cold.
The tiny rain drops fall from the sky,
releasing her temporarily from her own personal hell.
From judgment.
From criticism.
From the abandonment that overpowers her.

Lifting her pale, desolate face to the sky
she lets the rain wash away...
Wash away the hate
Wash away the pain
Wash away the lonliness
Wash away the end.

She cries.
No one would notice, the rain unselfishly disguises her pain so any on lookers would assume that the moisture is just from the malicious storm.
The wind.
So rude, so loud, whips past her.
Attempting to knock the fragile being to the ground.
But she is strong, stronger than she thinks.
She is not phased by it's attempt.
Mother nature is kind.
The heavens cry out again,
begging the young girl to remember, to be happy.
But she cannot.
She can't breath.
She can't think.
Her heart stopped beating a long time ago.
Stopped dead in her lonly, broken chest,
and the heavens cannot understand why

No one can.
But no ones ever tried.
Suddenly, the vicious winds attack her once more,
this time getting a reaction.
A violent tremmor shakes her body
raising goosebumbps on her skin.
She barely notices.
Her imagination runs free, 
unleashing all her memories, all her former happiness.
They all consist of Him.....

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The Valley

Oh how I missed this place,
once more I walk this valley.

However lush and beautiful it is,
I know I can't stay here.

If I do, 
I would not leave.

I burned this place to the ground 
last time.

I regretted that choice,
the consumption.

The rage and inferno 
igniting the sanctuary.

I will not allow that to happen again,
I would control it.

I should still leave,
since it is only I who remain.

This valley is my safe place, but
I cannot find what I seek here.

It would be wise to allow 
my sanctuary to grow.

To thrive without me.

For I too must move on,
and leave this valley for my return.

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Fountain of youth.

People has been looking for the fountain, 
Of youth since the beginning of time. 

With all the clues and guessing answers.
Just puddles of waters and a waste of many lives. 

It was written in a riddle That no one cared to find. 
Then the old riddle was framed for many years unfound.

The riddle said it was in a cave two miles down. 
Once they found the spot the cave was covered with rock.
But in the riddle the cave only opens at 3:00  

We waited till three then the cave open remarkably 
It was pitch dark black we lit lanterns to see where we were at. 

Finely they can see water and see light the mushrooms and flowers 
Were all great delights.

The old man wizard ask how old she was. 
42 se said. Take off your cloths and walked through the falls. 
To he surprised her answered and love has jus been called. 

She called down to her husband To walk through the falls.
He refused to Walk through he rather be old after all.
She did this all for him now she realize.
He blew his life for another woman.

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One Day

One day

One day you are born as an infant 
As you cry others were in celebration
That a new child is born unto your family
Innocently sucking your mother’s breast
As you felt a haven in the warmth of your mother’s body
Being cuddled as she caress you with admiration in her eyes
Just one day

And one day your mental awareness will be awaken
As a boy with new physical appearance
Desiring a sense of belongingness
As a girl with developed breast and hips
With curved figure and feminine features
You’ll be the toast of the town and of all other girls 

One day you and your friends will talk about the female
Since opposite sex attracts
As the female talks and gossips about the boys
And as female you will share what interests you about the boys
And as male you will talk about what attracts you to girls

One day you’ll be so conscious of the way you look because of them
You would do every thing you can do for them to notice you
You will desire intimacy with others and others would, with you
You will desire to express your feelings and others would, with you
You will desire to tell a special person how you feel about them
And you would have a special person who always thinks of you

But one day all these'll change and
One day you'll think of how to create your world in your head
And structure your world with your hands
And feel your world with your heart
Its either you learn a trade
Or learn to trade with your talent and acquired skills

One day you will make a choice to either
Earn a-paid-employed job or Become Self-employed
You create what people want or you want what people create
You sell what people buy or you buy what people sell
One day you'll earn income with your acquired skills as services 
As you think of how to make money in business

Just in one day…you start being conscious of life this way
And become awaken to why you are here
And make choices to why you must be there
As you realize the place you where
You adhere to your dream as you are going somewhere
Knowing that going somewhere is better than nowhere

So one day you’ll be aware that life is your choice
As you decide to give birth to babies or/and dreams
And just one day the celebration will end
And the next day the mourning will begin
That we have gone back 6 feet down to "Rest In Peace"
From this uncertain world with its uncertainties
And those who celebrated with us from our birth
Are mourning and crying with them for our death
Just one day all these will take place in life

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They were named the Dolomites,
the Pale Mountains of Belluno,
for their limestone, jagged peaks 
and shaped splintered spires;
and they're more breathtaking even without snow!
In this region, spring is so colorful and lovely
with its lilium parvum and misurina wildflowers
waving in those grassy meadows
so frequented by busy butterflies.
In the winter season, skiers, 
bundle up in their warm sport's attire,
challenging their strength and curiosity;
while below, in wooden brown huts,
coffee is sipped in hot cups,
and steaming polenta is eaten with delight.
Alaska has bears and penguins;
in this region of Belluno,
the paradise of the Alps,
only cows are seen grazing,
and unbridled horses galloping 
through grasslands looked above
by sleek Churches' steeples.
Climbers and trekkers follow their trials
and indulge in peace and solitude,
hoping to reach their highest peak and contemplate altitude;
that's plenty of endurance and patience to see their ego glow!

Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

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Whats My Name?

I'm falling down a rabbit hole,

Down, down, down.

No...I'm not Alice...

This isn't just a dream,

This is our reality.


I've never fallen faster,

Never been so careless.

Love at first sight,

You make me fearless.

Light catches seize of the shadows,

In a white light washed night.


Racing, speeding, down the way,

Twist, twirl, curve, dip, in, out, in between,

Up, down, inside out, night to day.

The clocks hands fly,

Each minute, second, passing faster by.

You take my hand,

It all just melts away.

I'm lost in your arms,

That kiss, I'm breathless.

What's my name?

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Spaceman of Life

Young men in virile stride
    Pass to see the prize that awaits.

Competitive glares that will push the envelope
   Who will stand to accept the honor?

"You will never win the Spaceman of the Year Award!!"

    "I will SO!"

Into the chamber for another test
  Mistakes made here cause no harm, but for another try.

Out on the pad the candle waits
   . . . 3, 2, 1, and the earth trembles.

In weightless triumph, a linking to the station
   Tasks completed, only to find the Scytheman lurks aboard.

Decisions made must be obeyed
    Life, in a momentary test of wills.

A Commander must make the choice
   "You haven't the love of humanity for it !!!"

Love, Humanity, Home he will never see again
   Heavy his heart as his choice is in the mirrored image he sees.

"Get OFF my spaceship!"

A struggling crew depart
    Cramped quarters aboard the station to await eventual rescue.

Commander alone
    His "Good-byes"  over the static.

Up at the zenith
    The pockmarked Statesman glows.

A wry smile cosses his countenance as he hears the words
   "Commander, you are the Spaceman of Life!!"  

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The Cliffs(revised)

The Cliffs

High tide brings death to those trapped on the rocky beach.
The steep and sharp cliff harbors beauty and certain destruction,
A history of demise for ship and soul has been told through the legends
Of folk lore, it is said that the waves lull a man into hypnotic serenity.
Peace and safety sweep over a mind and then the cliffs have their game.
The lonesome call of the dolphin and shore birds beckon me...
Return to the cliffs, find your true passion of life; you are safe here.
Come you weary, find your rest and contentment...
The waves spray a fine sea mist into the air; the air seems cleaner and fresher
Than any other place on earth. Sea creatures roam freely, across the sand unafraid of 
my human presence in their domain. Waiting for the chance of a decomposing meal 
offered by the cliffs violent beating on my person. The cliff is the mother of the 
shoreline, protecting her creatures and providing the meals.
The brave play games, tempting the cliffs with their very lives. I will walk away 
today, choosing to respect the cliffs power and the legends lore.

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Brackish night, a stench for breeze,
Enough to bring good men unease.
A yell, a shout, a woman’s’ scream
Satan’s smirk rips through the seams
 In the alley, begging for her life,
While cocaine nostrils flare to life
 Hold her down he sharply barks,
Hold her face, I’ll make my mark.
Another victim, does no one care?
Indifferent, frightened, no one dares.
I’m ready now, I stand straight, erect
My somber scowl is sharp, direct.
I move the can so they will turn
Their obscene bellies start to churn.
One shows a gun, his eyes bulge out
One grabs a knife, one starts to shout.
The girls’ wild eyes are saucers, too
What do they see when they see you?
A ferocious fight that lasts too long,
I must say one or two were strong.
For a single moment, I’d almost lost,
Redeemed by a left hook, a judo toss
Now they lie to roll and groan,
One deep breath, my eyes are stone.
I hear the rustle, the sirens sound
 The law has finally come around.
“Who are you”: a tiny voice of fear.
“An angel from the dark, my dear.”
I smile faintly through this sturdy mask
I must stay composed in this harsh task
The shouts and footsteps pounding near.
You fool, move quick and disappear.
Head home to nurse and heal my bruises
Now on, such pain becomes my Muses.
Lock the mask and costume safe away.
For they might soon see another day.


My life will never be the same.
For now, true justice has…a name.

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Saturday in Spencer

I went to see a friend I had not seen in a while
As the day began I was greeted with smiles
The sun was so bright, the sky so blue
It seemed like a dream but really was true.

We decided to put the boat in the lake
I think of it now it was such a mistake
As we backed the boat down it flew off the trailer
The result was the launch was a total failure.

I was standing behind it and just escaped harm
As it slid towards me I envisioned buying the farm
I saw my life just flash before my eyes
I had to save myself but time just flies.

We spent hours trying to fix all that was broken
It was like being in a dream and being suddenly awoken
Nothing was damaged except maybe our pride
Maybe tomorrow we shall go for that ride?

As we towed the boat back it took all that we had
But when it was all over I kind of felt glad
I’m lucky to be here to write this down
So we decide to get something to eat in town.

We went to this place and the food was great
We talked and we ate but it was getting late
We all saw how we escaped from fate
So we gave thanks and wiped clean the slate.

On the way home the sun started to set
The colors streaked the sky where the horizon met
The stars and the moon came out to shine
I’m lucky to be here and I felt just fine.

We had a couple beers and thought how lucky we were
You never can know what’s coming that’s for sure
I just know managed to walk away again
Today I survived with some help from my friend.

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Escaping The Circle

Splendor in spin cycle...
No one escapes the circle;
For an odd man out... 
Rarely finds a way back in;
Life seems as though a blur,
When the circle’s in spin...

Render to the line...
That few have crossed;
A step ahead,
Leaves you left behind;
For we are all free here,
Found in what we find.

Sender with no return:
I sit abandoned;
The circle moves on...
As we lose touch...
Its lines have faded,
And with them our crutch.

Surrender to solitude,
There’s no turning back...
For we’ve found ourselves here,
In the front from behind.
There’s freedom in the rearview...
And thus an open mind.

For you see abandoned is found;
Where the circle is formed...
A world of one,
Taking until it drapes;
Soon a victim to your own borders...
Caught up in a circle, which no one escapes.

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I'm Just What Your Looking For

since the year of 1952 the city of st paul Minnesota holds
their annual treasure hunt the king and queen of snows
goes out to a city park and hides a medallion worth
10,000 dollars if you are the winner and your carnaville
button is register with the st paul pioneer press
which gives out 12 cryptic clues and this little medallion
could be wrapped in just about anything from diapers to cookies 
and the frigid weather here just may make you want to just
stay by the fireplace and sip on hot coco with family and friends
even lucky finder gets to ride along with the king and queen of snow
in the closing ceremony of it's torchlight parade
also watch out for the vulcans krewe for they like to dethrone the king
and leave you with a black smudges across your sweet cheeks

Tribute To The Winter Carnaville

Carnaville runs
Jan 21-31 

Also Entry For
Carolyn Devonshire's
Christmas In Your Town Contest

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Today I spent the day with my Mom, Dad, son and nephew at a Wild animal park;
I am covered in slobber and mud.
At least the animals were clean.

The most interesting animal I saw was a Guar which is a large
I mean the largest breed of bovine in the world!
Three to four thousand pounds of cow.
He stood taller than a minivan.
Guar comes from India and Asia; His large horns are fear invoking.
All I am saying is, don't let the Guar lean on your car!!

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Michel-Grabriel Paccard and Jacques Balmat
ascended the dangerous ridges of Mont Blanc...
without ice axes and their firm determination,
to achieve the impossible, nurtured their immense ambition.

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Sylvan Summer Part II

The sun barbequed the skin, raising a tenderized pink glow 
to the cheeks of the children in the ramshackle red barn.
The three story hay loft partly empty was bristling with tikes.
Pincushioned with straw, sharp as needles,
in their hair, tee-shirts and socks 
an “itch-o-rama” of gross magnitude. 

Hoarse screams of “Geronimo!”
propel a girl child out ward, over the abyss;
letting go directly over the haystack on the first floor.
Barn boards groan under the weight of her flailing form.
Sweet, so sticky sweet, was the air with sweat, hayseed, and manure.
Red welts form on errant scratches rising up on the her skinny arms.

The boy plops from the thick dangling rope inches from her.
“Hi-Ho Silver!” he hollers; kissing her cheek with a big wet raspberry,
running deer-like from the barn doors toward the pastures awaiting bossy.
Up the stone tossed rock wall he clambers at ankle breaking pace.
Leaping from stone wall to the cow’s back;
“Come on, chicken!” he yells.

The girl follows more timidly watching out for 
the broken, blue-bottle, glass shards 
that poke out from between the fieldstones.
Reaching cow side, she blows brown hair from her face.
Hands on her tiny hips, she eyes the cow and rider.
The cow's evil eye stares at her from one side of its huge head.

He slaps the cow's rump. Sneakers wail into cowhide 
and with an indignant bellow of disgust rider and cow are off, girless,
toward the saltlick, leaving the kiss 
and the red barn, but a memory. 

*PS I am the girl LOL, I had a kissin' Cousin!

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Flame of Udun

A dark power rises 
    from the bowels of the earth
Breathing fire and
A battle which takes place
   deep in the earth
Results in a magical
There are numerous trials
   which take place in Middle Earth
The world of men, dwarves, hobbits 
    and elves
Must be protected 
One of the Istari 
    must overcome
The treachery of the head 
    of the order
Gain the title of White Wizard 
    for himself
The Flame of Udun - A balrog 
   is the supreme test
Borne away by eagles 
   Gandalf the Grey 
becomes Gandalf the White
   Durin's Bane defeated
clearing a path for the
   greater challenge
The conquest of a 
   lidless Red Eye 
Evil Incarnate     

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Along for the ride

As I sit down to write my thoughts scatter.
What was important today doesn’t matter.
I spend all this time trying to find the right thing,
Outside my window I hear the birds sing.

I think of my purpose and where I shall go.
I planted some seeds in hope they will grow.
The sun hits the horizon and puts on a show.
Outside my window there’s much I don’t know.

I get up and get myself dressed.
Sometimes life is a constant test.
All I can do is to give it my best.
Things I can’t change I put to rest.

I write back to some friends their words make me smile.
Their words have beauty and grace and teach me of style.
I feel quite fortunate to have all of them around.
My heads in the clouds my feet on the ground.

I go outside to see what’s going on
The world looks the same though some pieces are gone.
I jump into my car and drive into the sun
My eyes shall see all that is to become.

I know that it’s early but no one’s around.
I listen but I seem to make the only sound.
Where once I was lost I seem to be found.
I haven’t a clue to where I am bound.

Life flies by and appears as a blur.
I take it all in even though I’m not sure.
It doesn’t really matter with hope at my side,
I just sit back and go along for the ride…

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They said she sails forever the seas off Cape Horn:
See her and wish to God you never was born. 
Laugh if you wish but  there’s  countless bones  
And hulls been sent to the locker of  Davy Jones.

‘Twas a fair wind and the seas were at rest; 
Then a sudden heave and press of the water crest
Off Magellan Strait, and the storm’s fury grew, 
Plunging down our craft and our crew.

As we bore away hard to the west, our ketch
Near to tatters, our topsails astretch,
Another ship massively built 
Came out of the storm right at us full tilt.

No warning from the masthead or in the shroud
Just blue sparks of St Elmo’s fire as she ploughed          
Towards us, with rope’s creak and flag’s snap over her deck’s teak.   
No voice from deck soundless, no bosun’s pipe to speak.
Bell rings in her roll but for whom does it toll?
Cabin doors bang and slew, moonbeams slant through the hole. 
The rigging sings an eerie song and waves slap her prow,
Trying to wake this sleeping scow.    

But her bowsprit pierced our maindeck, 
Then her mizzen cut across our quarter deck,
While her mainmast sliced through our foresail 
And her rigging overwhelmed our fo’c’sle. 

Water in scuppers bubbles and foams
Light in her cabins blazes for men with no homes,
Tiller fixed, wheel motionless, thru the grey haze’s dullness  - 
A craft crewless, homeless, hull-less.

Our ketch seemed to shudder and lose her rudder -
I thought that the spectre had wrecked her:
Storm died down immediately she slipped thru thus
And there was no sound and no damage to any of us.

In pathless depths that abound in the sound, (‘tis my belief),
On a rock or reef where you’d come to grief,
In shoals and shallows where souls  become hallows, 
Such an unfathomed phantom has no fellows.
.     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .
Entered in Debbie Guzzi’s  Contest  Tell Me a Story

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Nobody  shouts  aloud  
Facing  the  clouds  of
No  sounds,
Nobody  fights  for  time  
To  the  class  of  only
Nobody  sings  for  praise
Like  he  created  every
Nobody  deceives  variety
Of  faiths
And  dream  it  would
All  be  save,
Nobody  prays  for  age
Like  only  merriment
Without  grave,
Nobody  quarries  the  air
As  all  the  zombies  are  equipped
With  diamond  glory.
Welcome  to  my  story
Echoes  Of  Nobody,
Nothingness  keeps  the
Shell  golden
All  efforts  are  diligent
In  meaningless  dividend,
For  the  whole  day
I  stand  on  the  same  page,
No  face  to  migrate,
Nobody  isn’t  an  ingrate
These  situation  never  fluctuate.
Everyday  has  the  same  teast
Now  it  irritates  my  nails,
When  he  crosses  to  the  upper
Stage  penetrate,
As  dust  can’t  make  you  sneeze,
Nobody’s  the  key
Open  the  link  of  no  dream
Like  all  we  see  are  mere  tricks,
Either  by  sleep  this  evening
Nobody  will remain  a  living.
                                                                                                               AKEWUSOLA  HABIB.

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Forrest Dump (2005)

I took everything for granted like taking a dump
I tried so hard to push but not even a lump
Its not natural I said but I knew this way it was
Scared that someone might see and I heard a buzz
A bee is all I need 
My life style is not of need
I got used my luxuries my every day taken for granted
I kicked up a fuss in the forest and raved and ranted. 

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Birth II

Sultry San Francisco September
     enveloped hours of labor.
Hot, searing waves of pain
     moved around and down
My mound of naked flesh
      pushing as a tide with no ebb.

Into the dank, dark North Beach hotel room
     came two men dressed in white,
Blurred in their motions of haste
     by my sweat-filled eyes.
My nakedness was covered by a cool white sheet
     floating down with a caress.

Three flights of stairs met us
     as they carried the stretcher down
Out into the concrete furnace of Indian summer.
     Tourists standing staring watched
My mouth open in a triumphant scream:
     "The Baby ... the baby is coming!"

Moments later, siren sounds filled my mind
     as his body brought the crowning.

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She was a Spaaacetripper

I took a trip out to the stars
one Astral leap, I landed on Mars
all those people living under glass jars
and driving clean biological cars.
Then Jupiter came a callin'
it did attempt fusion, but just kept stallin'
with an altered mass, I'm quickly fallin'.
Next I slungshot off to Titan
suspended when Jupiter's gravity did tighten
to pull away it tried a fightin'.
With another giant leap I arrived on Pluto
which as a planet is now a no go
it's been left out in the cold
with the solar systems debris of old
from Uranium to Ice and Gold
the Kuyper belt, with no trousers to hold.
Next up was Andromeda
lit up like Brighton Komedia
whizzing all about, near or far.
Epic jaunts through timeless space
meetin' and greetin' all kinds of race
from toes for tongues and hands for face
every feature had a different place
some were hideous, others truly shone grace
Velvet skin, with hair made of Lace
that really was a soft cushioned embrace.

The places I've been and the sights I've seen
like living a lifetime in one forever dream
the edge of infinity I touched it's seam
And saw the Universe cascade like a conscious stream!

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Invasion Of The Mice

Went to sleep early to prepare for a bright new day....

I was shocked to hear my cat scrambling towards my bed.
   But I didn't realize that as I turned on the light
She was rampantly chasing  a mouse through the hallway onto my bed!

I screamed as I flung my bedspread in the air to get rid of the mouse.
   But to my dismay,  as I put on my slippers, only a few inches away,
I awoke to see that a mouse was staring at me!  Two-thirty in the morning!

I just screamed and hurriedly grabbed a few tissues
  In my attempts to remove this hideous tormenting invasion.

It landed in the hallway right next to my oriental rug
  Only to be clawed by my hero Samii !

A thought came to mind:  "Oh, no! I forgot to remove that dead mouse
   That was on the sticky trap in my kitchen  drawer, that's way behind."
I took a peek but only to find not one, but two small mice!

"Oh, God! Three mice within twenty-four hours!
  How could I understand....under what circumstances?  Why me?

Hoping I could get back to sleep, I don't know how,
   How I managed to get up before my 5:30 alarm clock went off.

I woke up suddenly, shivered and shrieked,
   That I Could Have Slept Beside That Darn Mouse!

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Forgotten Stretch

Subtleties seem apparent,
On the road to humility...
A pound of trust and a pinch of truth,
So profound within this reality. 
A car disappearing in the distance...
Leaves our hearts on edge;
For it’s just you and me now,
Exploring this forgotten stretch.

Abandoned among the wreckage,
For this is the home of exile;
Right next door... 
To what’s fading out of style.
Lost hopes and dreams...
Wander in the street,
Forgotten by us all...
And we never missed a beat.

Grant the change...
And give it a chance;
Dress to impress,
And prepare to dance.
Such a twisted cycle...
It chews you up and spits you out;
Along this forgotten stretch,
Before returning in route...

In a time destined for downfall,
We are all that’s sound...
Beyond a future commenced in falling,
We lie; resting on the ground.
The point of no return...
All of the abandoned beliefs and the far fetched;
Collect dust with you and I...
Along this forgotten stretch.

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My Life's Song

The lights are fading,
as the shoreline disappears,
where another horizon,
awaits my tears.
How can one know,
or do I dare,
does he even care.
Hearts stale with remorse,
from rejection, and pain,
without hesitation,
I'm between here, and insane.
Salt in my eyes,
the taste on my lips,
many a trip.
Still that desire,
an ember so dim,
faintly creeps,
a sillouette of him.
Darkness has fallen,
my mind rambles on,
I will find my life song.

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I walk and walk the many miles for you.
I give and give until I have nothing more.
I go on and on until I drop or fall,
But I’m searching deep because I search for it all.
Everyday I die more inside. 
Eaten alive by myself inside of my core,
Because I’m left alive with life that only I can sort through!
I just want to see the Sun rising up so full and so high.
I want to see the Sun set so huge with shadowing bits that glow.
So I’ll just believe in this strength that comes through you to me.
I search for you but why should I be the one who has to be one that believes?
Everyday I’m alone and it’s nowhere that I go,
Even when it’s my thoughts that I clearly identify!
I just want to see the Moon so round and so high beaming me into the glow of light.
I want to see the Moon peering through the lighter of my brightest day.
I keep seeing all of these cushioned visions of just you and me.
Searching for you gives me the sight of all that I am to see.
Everyday I beg and beg until I hurt that you will stay.
But I’m left alone with reality in sight.
I just want so much for you and me.
I even want the same air that you breathe.
I keep holding onto this strength that I am I feel I believe.
Searching for you I’m with all that I can ever be!
Everyday I’m straightened by what my eyes can see,
But now I’m alone with what’s left alive and what didn’t flee.
So I’ll just keep searching for you while I search for what will be the all of me.

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Day Two

Wow! What a day it has been 
Right, left, centre
Ain?t nowhere that I haven?t been 
On a matatu, on a bus, and so much on my foot
Ain?t none I ain?t seen
And at the end of it all it?s my trouser that split
Right in the middle for all to see
Damn, what had me wearing a red pant today?

So, there it was
Day two of my life gone by in so much effort
Still I ain?t found what I am looking for
But I have a hunch I?m closer to the front
For here I am sitting at the corner near the door
The bed was so much nicer, unlike the breakfast
In the reflection of the mirror I see them looking at me
Well, that means I am a little bit different
And so I intend to be
Writing away my life like this
Till time and fate will send me a fat cheque in the envelope of fame

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A Flickering Flame

Ah, a flickering flame with shadows on the wall,
With glimmering lights rolling all around!
I will remember them all!
A flame so high,
But a flame so low,
A burn out in time!
A linger much too slow,
A flickering flame,
A moment that I claim!

Ah, a flickering flame where light covers dark and dark covers light.
With glimmering lights bouncing all over the walls!
A vision of true sight!
A flame so unpredictable,
But a flame so respectable!
A flame hard to know,
And one that can’t be controlled!
A flickering flame,
A moment that I gain!

Ah, a flickering flame showing dim light within its own domain.
With shimmering lights reflecting a glare of golden visions burning too bright!
How very well maintained!
A flame so harmless,
But a flame much too careless!
A flame too passive,
And one that’s way too captive!
Ah, a flickering flame,
A moment that I’m holding with no shame!

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' The Four Horsemen ... '

On A Pure-White Horse, Sits ‘The Champion’
He will Ride on to Victory, ‘til the War is Won
On A Fire-Red Horse, Sits The Warrior
He Rides Forth into Battle, Blood, Rage & Armor

On A Bold-Black Horse, Sits A Dark Guest
His Name is Famine, Poverty, Gloom & Unrest
Scales Balance His Weapon & Weigh Out Threat
…. And On A Pale-Horse… Sits Death…

And The Horsemen Must Ride…
The Horsemen Must Ride…
On an Ever-Rushing Tide
… The Horsemen Must Ride…

On Gathered Clouds Above, I can See Them ‘Cause
This is What The Poets & Our Prayers Speak Of
They’re Racing On The Wind To Glory and To Send…
They Must Keep On Riding, ‘til The Very End

There… See Them On The Horizon…
Blocking Sight Of The Moon and Sun
Holy-Vision, Shows… Here They Come…
… Death, Dark-Guest, The Warrior & The Champion

And The Horsemen Must Ride…
Yes, The Horsemen Must Ride
Following-Each, Side by Side
Ever-Rushing Tide… The Horsemen Must Ride…

The Prince of Peace…
Is The Royal – Heaven Sent Champion
The Rage-Warrior…
Stands for All Wars, ‘til There Are None

The Dark-Guest,
Equals, Eye-for-Eye, ‘til Due is Done…
And Death…
… is Always Coming for Someone

That’s Why The Horsemen Must Ride
The Horsemen Must Ride…
Following – Side by Side, Ever-Rushing Tide
Ranging Far and Wide

The Horsemen Must Ride…

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Secret Land, An Epic Poem Part 2

This is posted in 3 parts because it was too long to be posted as one.
My name is Kayla Thomas and this poem is for the contest Three Gems, in the contest section.
This was written on 7/29/11.

I glance back at the castle being set ablaze by dragons
I see villagers up ahead, they are all fleeing on wagons
What once was a world I could control, has suddenly gone bad
Seeing all this gloom and destruction to my nation makes me sad
I hear the cry of dragon’s and watch them overhead as they fly
I know that I can’t stay in this desolate land, if I do I will surely die
I say goodbye to my prince as a tear slips down my cheek
I prepare to leave the land that was once filled with beauty, but is now bleak
The people look at me like I’m their savior, like I’m some sort of knight
So before I leave I promise to return soon and set everything right
But I’m no warrior, no soldier, no master on the strategies of war
‘How am I to save these people?’ I ponder as I stride through the door
I know I must go back and save these people that I’ve created
But that also means I will have to face all the monsters I created
I take some time to plan an attack and gather up my courage
Then I prepare to return to the land that I had once deserted

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Vacation Dreams

Sittin around wonderin what to do,
Seems like there's only so little to chew,
Watchin the airplanes fly away
Makes you just wanna 
Just wanna wanna wanna

Sittin around qonderin what  to do,
Seems like everyones gone,
Somewhere someplace somewhere gone
jUST gone gone gone away
Makes ya just wannajust wana just wanna 

fly...fllllyyyyy..just go
just run someplace somewhere 
some town
nowhere known just wanna wanna wanna wanna..go go go away
just to relax

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Watching the Moon Grow

Night after night I sit to see the Moon shining over me.
Watching its shield unveil a bright night I can just sit to be.
For each night gone by a star shines so bright,
The more and more I sit here this night.
Deeper and deeper I think tonight, 
“What if” I had no sight?
Watching its gleam covering more than a lot,
I just sit to see it shine its big light.
For each hour gone by the moments are sought.
So more and more I sit here deeper in my thought.
My mind farther than my further with what this glow has brought,
“What if” the man in the Moon was never sought?
Watching its shadows lurk in the glow,
I sit to see if he will finally be caught.
For each moment gone by clear nights I’ll now know.
So more and more I sit here watching the Moon grow.
There’s just so much to see because it covers over me.
I sit here night after night because it’s just such a true sight.
I give it quite a bit of thought because “what if” all of this was not?
For the more that it comes to glow the more and more I can watch it grow.
There’s just so much to know because it covers me with its tremendous glow.
I sit her with thought after thought because I have more than your lot.
I sit here night after night because “what if” there was no true sight?
For the more I can just come to see the more and more I can just sit to be.

®Registered: 1998   Ann Rich

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My Side of the Universe

I take a star and throw it at the sky.
It makes a hole, the hole it a door.
I go through the door and I see a night sky.
This night sky is a deep purple, 
But it is still the night just the same.
There I meet a man,
He is a blade of grass, just as tall and just as thin.
He tells me the objective is not to win but to try,
To try to learn.
I tell him I learn much in school, 
He tells me that soon I will understand.

I take a blade of grass and throw it at the ground,
The dirt conforms into a hole, a door into another world,
So through the door I go,
I look down to see a tree in which I am standing.
The tree starts to move and the branches to wave.
The tree starts to speak:
“Listen to your heart, it will tell you what to do.”
I tell the tree that my parents make the rules, 
And he assures me that I will soon understand.

I take a leaf from the tree and throw it at my hand.
My hand becomes a hole, a door.
Through the door I go.
I look up to see that there is nothing here yet.
The color is not black or white, not green or blue.
This place is colorless.
I look up and see that this one it a world to be.
So I draw the pictures of this world,
I sky of navy and clouds of gray, I sit atop them.
Stars shinning like little pieces of the sun.
This is the new world,
This new world is mine,
This new world is me.

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beginnings and endings

i go in the morning, 
as i normally do, and 
warm my cup of coffee,
robust awakenings to today,
sit down and begin to arouse and 
contemplate the day before me

after a bit, i move about and 
down the last of the cup,
then i swish the final in 
and i realize immediately 
and run to the kitchen sink 
a few steps away
...and spit out.

i look down and see
a dark form in the sink
unmoving, i mindfully think,
a fly, as dead

with revulsion i feel
the solidness still
within my mouth bouncing 
across my tongue,
and glance again
to the bottom of the sink
and spy the second fly!

two dead flies i surmise
were stroking in my cup
in the romance of the night,
buzzing vaguely French soundings
between them, ripples expanding
in their caffeinated pool

"aaah, my dear you make me
feel so alive! so energized!"

"oooh, i too feel alive my love
in this cool dark water
with you...drowning beside me"

and i wonder if these
anthropomorphic house flies
really loved each other...really,
and would prefer to...go down,
together rather than fly alone
past one more night of 
speeding blissful intercourse

touching, still, it leaves a
peculiar taste in my mouth

© Goode Guy 2011-10-04

a guy, alas, a true story.



four days later, i wake and 
find my cup in the kitchen.
a bit more savvy now
i dump the inch or so
left in the cup, in the sink

a dark form, forlorn, lies still
the winged jilted lover, 
i think, how  bittersweet,
that the third too, wished
to commit caffeinated suicide

now that the pot is hot and
a new day is possible

© Goode Guy 2011-10-08

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The Witch Doctor

Face for fading music
Disappearing in the distant
Those that stood still
Were called forth by the mystic
To answer a question
To answer the inquisition
For this was not the path
That they had been thinking

The witch doctor stood fast
His crazy eye twitching
He spoke slow...
"Your path... You will be switching!"
Batting his lashes
His vibes bellowed long
Their initial reactions:
Over looked and over drawn

With a wave of his hand
His visions showed real
Finally their eyes opened
Now looking to deal
The shaman then laughed
And threw up his arms
The skies began spinning
Bringing down the stars

The chosen few looked all around
And before long at each other
Awe lost in disbelief
One right after another
While the mystic's laughs grew hysterical
The rest fell to their knees
For no one knew the awful truth
Behind what the witch doctor sees

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The Rise and Fall of an Empire

By the morning sun
The rain 
Of the night before
Becomes undone

In a steaming haze
As we make our way
To the place
Where the land
Is mostly sand
And meets the road
The ocean breezes blow

In a silver glow
We kneel below 
The banks
Where the earth
Is wet and dank
From the wind
As the buoy bells ring
And the sea grasses sing
Notes of promise
Of what this day
Will bring

From sacks upon our backs
We find the moulds
Of glass and earthen bowls
And chipped and old

We fill them 
To the top
With grains of sand
Place them
Upside down
With loving hands
As we wander through
 The visions in our mind

As the magic
 Of our dreams

We work for hours
Lost in time
Carving roads
 That twist and wind
To the very end of day
Where we stand 
 At the empire
We have made

In the morning
With eyes aglow
We return
 To the banks below
And watch
In disbelief
As our empire
Is blown away
By a north wind
Filled with

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Butterflies, with their superb colors,
are the most amazing 
in the insects's kingdom:
our recompense for boredom!
One can ever wonder
how they vitalize
the ungleaming air,
and without them 
spring or summer
wouldn't be that thrilling!

Bees are the other laborious kind, 
not quite beautiful and docile...
and they don't divagate a single mile, 
bringing whatever food they can find
to their deep-dug hive by a shady oak,
not too distant from the hyssop!
They enter and exit
with incomparabe ability:  protecting
their hard-earned harvest...
from others with an insidious intent!

Watching them swirling over
the dandelions' and clover's filelds,
which they befriend with their finesse;
while the sparrows seem clement,
letting them have a minimal share,
but the solicitious ravens
attack them and exile them
from that unwelcomed territory...
so unsympathetically 
and unpardonably!
Be an observer of the laborious insects:
they don't work for wages or worry about money,
but they gather seeds to feed the unborn ones
and pollen to make sweet honey;
their existence is brief and full of usefulness!
Being small is not a deterrent to achieving less,
even the glowing fireflies have a purpose
in exuding bravado and mystery...
trasforming a darkenig sky above flowers and trees,
as light flees from  the shadowy orchards!

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Ripples in the Sea

When I see this Moon and gaze deep into the stars,
My mind wanders as I search for where you are.
Looking up, looking down, this enormous Sea is where I can now be found.
Standing alone at the Ocean’s edge and hearing its roar,
My heart pounds and aches for so much more.
Gazing deeper and deeper out into this vast blue Sea,
I can gather myself with this soul that was given to me.
Ripples in the Sea are all that my eyes can see.
One by one they collide with force to touch what was given to me.
Infinity with the depths of this Sea, 
This is what the Moonlit Ocean conveys to the truth inside of me.
Standing alone and afar from the depths of this Sea,
Ripple by ripple captures the every breath that I have inside of me.
Oh how they carry every single thought away from the insides of me!
Reflections of our Moon spread across this glimmering Sea.
Endless and endless ripples!
This vision I know I will forever see!
I hold my breath and carry a true smile, 
Searching for that last ripple to reach its hundredth mile.
Alone I stand at the edge of this Sea, 
The depth of this Ocean covers over me.
I wonder and wonder can I truly hold what was given to me?
So if ever in search for that which you know you believe,
Please remember that I left me standing with the ripples in the Sea.
One by one they collide crashing directly into me.
I stand with a force that was given just for this person that lives inside of me.
Come to me! Please touch what is on the inside of me!
Feel what has been given just for the love of me!
So if ever in doubt for that which you truly know you believe,
Look deeper and deeper out into this incredible huge Sea.
The ripples one by one know you will believe.
They touch, they feel, they hear what is left standing out by the Sea,
And that my friend is the life that God had already chosen for the soul that lives inside of me.

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The book of life

Like the Chinese says…
‘ one generation plants a tree,
another gets the shade’.
If watered verily, the tree blossom.
The tree expands in branches,
and bears seeds for another plant.

This is the story of life.

life is living, live it.
Life is a seed, sow it.
Life is purpose, fulfill it. 
Life is an issue, attend to it.
Life is matter, fill it. 
Life is matter of life and death. 
Life is a mind-blowing experience.

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Locked behind a field of stars,
Hidden behind battle scars,
Living only to contend,
What is righteous without end.

Stare profusely at the time
When dreams had matter more sublime
Than existence in a shallow climb

Where hopes are shattered
Made a joke
And empty promises are choked
Beyond the point of no return
And those who dare they wind up spurned.

Yet somewhere in this blinding vision,
The spirit of a knight once christened
Emerges from behind the stars 
Waging battle from afar
To those who trample on the weak
And those who cower under meek
Obscenities meant to deny
Aspirations to a tie.

Amidst the field of shattered glass
Betwixt the blades of blood-stained grass
Knights of valor lie in wait
For the oncoming barrage of hate

Fitted armor and a sword
Weapons only of a sort
That principles of virtue cry
Impediments towards those who strive
To hinder what is right and true
And places evil into view.

Where chaos discontented reigns
And knowledge serves of only pain
Emerges steady into lieu
Creatures aimed to misconstrue.

Armed with weapons of a sport
Meant to maim and to contort
Complacency…create in a word
A kingdom of their own accord.

Filled with displeasure… discontent
Rejecting faith as it was meant
To conquer nothing above all
Just eliminate this squall
Between men of different creed
Which only one there shall succeed.

Now the two opposing sides
Growing nearer in their strides
Each one bellowing his cries
Of righteousness and chide
Both caught up amongst their lies
That either side is to subside
Till their very last is tried
And only silence coincides.

Amongst the carcasses struck down
On the field lay all around
Remnants of the dead are found
And only silence is the sound

Of a battle that was waged
Since the origin of age.

Yet…from atop the tattered skies
On the field there does arise
One survivor from each side

Each too tired to discern
The longing to return
Where the lost once knew as home
And honor those who’ve lost and mourn

Going each one his own course
Till they gather enough force
And their paths become traversed
When the next battle is posed.

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Uninvited Picnic Guest

Uninvited Picnic Guest
     By Dane Smith-Johnsen

One sunny day, perfect for a picnic,
Across the street from shaded woodland trails,
Mom, two friends, and we kids had a picnic.
All were enjoying fun beside the lake.
We girls were sharing our deepest secrets.
Whispering, giggling eleven year olds.
Our brothers had been running around.
Trying to get in on the snickering.
We shooed them away to find their own fun!
Girl-talk was strictly that back in those days.
The boys ran over to the waters edge.
Skipping rocks to see who was number one!
Both boys were skilled rock skippers.  Oh, what fun!
We decided to give it a try, too.
It was fun, but the boys liked it better.
We joined Mom around the barbecue grill.
It wasn't long before rock skipping stopped.
The boys tried to see who had the best aim.
So, they threw rocks at a log in the lake.
They were both pretty good shots.
Suddenly, Mom screamed, “Run! Go climb a tree!”
We didn't know why, but four children ran!
Brave Mom stood, squared off staring at the log. 
Looking back, we could see the “logs'” two eyes.
Mom and the gator, motionless, glaring,
It was a duel of stares we kids watched.
Our hearts were thumping, seeing her there.
Mom eaten by a gator was my fear.
Time seemed endless as she retained her ground.
Up on his legs to take a better look.
Dead silent children felt the air of fright.
Would we go home with our mom tonight?
Then the alligator began to move.
Step by step he at the edge of the lake.
Slowly, deciding, he made his first move.
One step back and he sunk beneath the tarn.
Hallelujahs, Mom won.  And we went home!

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This Journey We Call Life

Happiness begins in the depths of ones heart,
a place of complete joy,
where all good things start.
A smile is a rainbow,
delivered in peace,
worn on ones face,
showing a soul so sweet.
Sorrow is a part,
of this thing we call life,
it will fade into a memory,
making us appreciate,
when days are bright.
Darkness will deliver,
troubles of some kind,
always keep your eyes open,
all of the time.
Never allow,
temptation to enter your home,
don't answer your door,
until you are sure,
it is gone.
Time brings us wisdom,
if we are open to truth,
don't take life for granted,
you will be sorry,
if you do.

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The River

Cracks of corral emerged between the Earth’s proud crown of evergreen
Gleaming down on grateful Father whose arms in bloom embraced his Daughter
Moon upon Moon in prayer he spent that God would grant his heart’s content
Now all his dreams no longer dreams but infant in his arms serene
They traveled on til trails converged and River’s roar ahead was heard 
Then there upon the shore was laid, a bless’ed barge of birchbark made.

From the River’s roots they rowed, embarking on a fate unknown
Wide-eyed Child soothed by Father’s song amidst echoes of the Wild’s call
Sweetly metered by sweeping oar he told her tales of life before
The great divide of Earth and Sky, of Land and Sea, of Day and Night 
How God by grace named each creature each fish and fowl each fir and fur
Then in His hands mixed clay and sand, the gift of life breathed into Man.

Between each bend dear Daughter grew and saw the world from worn canoe
Floating onward until the day she traded hums and howls to say
Father, Father, I understand! With lamb and wolf we share this land!
How scattered seed grew into tree and tree we carved for pole to feed
Father you’ve grown and given me your faith and love so I might be
Someday just like you a Giver on the road of life, the River! 

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Wolf- Man, the middle

Day crackles clean and warm like burning coal
A new passion swam his veins, they bonded him
For that pheromone was strong in him, and abrim 
The pack bayed towards the sunlight burning gold
And welcomed a brave brother wolf into the fold
For he who before the bear stood calm, his noble
Suit displayed, found his totem in a moment bold
And transmigrated his soul to the new realm possible.

He could not make destiny again, but destiny chose
For him, the wolf man everywhere was known. He 
Was the hero wanted, yet scorned with circles closed
Like doors against him, for all his deeds of mercy.
But the dog gene made him a man's best friend still
And howling he brings the pack always to his will
Neither did they sit while any child or innocent ached
With fear or pain, and from the malice of evil intent.
The wolf man knew but little thought how each act
Propelled him to a higher level and another death sent
For seeds all die that spring to trees, and the same fact
Was true for him every new level he was to attain
While propelled upwards greater animals to become
He knew the bear level awaited him next in the chain
Of cycles. But for service alone his heart still hummed.

Nor did he know hes was hunted too, for one man firm
In his conviction to repay, the thing that from forest came
The thing massive in muscles, humble in every term
That dared the forking tongue of a livid flame
To retrieve a child, the only child the mother left behind
The child that was enblem and memory of that love
Whose death would perish his flesh and torment his mind
The wolf-like thing, the man beast on wings, dove
In from above, and came out with life between his jaws
Hair fried, and limping as if with injured paws
And the throng of them that rush upon the scene then
Making a barrier between it and curious but cruel men
And how it seemed in thin air he vanished without reward
And cause a grateful father to follow the trail full and hard.

Did he have the hours to find him still, to meet the kind
That make us wretched because our hearts are blind
Did he with ego melted, and with a different disposition
Qualify to know and taste the foreign truth of transmigration
To destinies on the brink of fate, and death at the gate
Gasping and gulping, still in the grasp of time we wait.

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Through The Door

The First One Through The Door
Is The Last To Fall Behind
Our Eyes Locked Forward
Bound By The Undefined
Perceptions Fade Quiet
And Dreams Fall Before
Our Hearts Broke Open
As We’re Passing Through The Door

An Age Of Conformation
Desensitized And Surreal
A Loss Of The Lack Of Emotion
Tell Me How It Feels
Everyday Is Just Another Day
Caught Up In The Whipping Post
While The First One Through The Door
Is Left A Lonely Host

So Step Right Up
And Pass On Through
Things Will Never Be The Same
But You Won’t Have A Clue
The Door Is Always Open
And Never In Disguise
Through The Door Of Perception
We’ll Open Up Your Eyes

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Drilling For Oil

I have been busy today,
digging in the yard,
looking for oil, I say.
Deeper, and deeper,
one mile, and counting,
wow, my head is ponding.
Everyone must do their part,
so here I am,
getting an early start.
I wonder how far,
this driller can go,
fifty bucks an hour,
I wish this thing
would blow.
My neighbors are looking,
oh, here they come,
nosey, nosey,
did you say, I'm dumb?

I feel silly tonight....

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     by Amy Swanson   11/2008

A little something to make you laugh ;)

Alarm clock didn't ring this morning;
Overslept - and now I'm late!
(but I would have stayed in bed,
had I known what lay in wait!)

Weatherman said "sunny skies"
I headed out the door;
no sooner had I stepped outside,
when it began to pour.

Water dripping off my nose
I got into my car,
turned the key, to my dismay - 
I found it would not start.

So I did the next best thing,
and called the cab in our small town
He said that he was covered up;
eventually, though, he'd be on down.

While I waited by the curb
I counted up my cash...
when suddenly, I heard a noise - 
a terribly loud crash!

The taxi driver was just fine
... but his cab fared not so well...
The front of it was caved and crashed
and he began to yell... and yell.

Thinking I could take the bus
(in my haste I broke a heel)
Bus just left as I arrived 
today requires nerves of STEEL!

Getting later by the minute
shift at work about to start;
thinking fast, my eyes beheld
an old abandoned shopping cart!

Oh what luck, oh happy day!
I hopped on it with glee,
and shucking off the other shoe
I rode it down the street.

I was doing pretty well...
until I saw some lights of blue.
The officer walked up to me and said,
"I'll have to ticket you."

"Please, kind sir, just let me tell you
what all I've been through today,"
as I related my sad story...

he shrugged, and fined me anyway.

Stranded now, without my cart, 
and wondering what to do...
idea! I saw a skateboarder
whom I quickly hobbled to, 

my hair was falling in my face
and makeup smeared my eyes...
"I'll pay you 20 bucks," I said, 
"if you'll lend me your ride!"

He thought it over, gave a shrug,
and happily took my money.
Overjoyed, away I went,
who cares if I looked funny?

Breathlessly, I finally rolled
into the parking lot
I tucked the board under my arm...
by now I was distraught

for my boss came out to meet me
and his face had turned quite red.
I tried promptly to explain
he only stood, shaking his head,

and pointed at the company clock
that sat above the office door
I turned and looked - to my appal,
I saw that it was half-past four.

Long story short, I came back home
and nevermore will be returning.
My ex-boss had made it clear,
a new job I would now be learning.

So here I sit, with pen in hand,
and classifieds upon the table;

next time a day begins like that,
I'll just stay home and watch my cable! :P

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The Great White Shield

Held prisoner under His Stars, 
I have fallen under the shadows of THE “Great White Shield”.
At a distance, those shimmering lights covered over me.
Built on THE highest plains, I stand parallel even when His rains come down.
My wall stands tall as my fate is promised and sealed.
I see my passage through time as I hold sturdy to my only God given ground.
I am all that I know I can ever be.
Confined by a little world where all that there is has been lost or found,
My bleeding wall holds my “ ALMIGHTY’S Great Armored White Shield“.
Balanced with time even when His rains are pouring down!
It stands to serve and to protect the best of the living me.
Layer by layer it builds with the strength it has lost or found.
For, I am all that is genuinely real.
Conditioned by my endurance, His Stars my eyes still can see.
Ruling the way that I move, His existence is wrapped tightly and I abound.
Parallel on His plains, a sturdy wall I did gradually help Him build.
My wall protects the only person inside of me.
I secure my only ground as I hold onto His “Great White Shield”.
I am all that I have ever truly found.
When the rains pour down on me, 
I stand atop of all His battled ground.
When I am all with my realest deal,
I am all that can or will be found.
When I am all that I know I can ever be,
I carry a strength that alone I can build.
I am the carrier of my Almighty’s Great White Shield”.

®Registered: 1998  Ann Rich

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The Tower (part 1)

...a prose poem

Standing at the edge of the canyon, 
its crest wreathed in swirling clouds of fog 
the tower looms on the plain, 
incongruous, like blood on a bridal gown.

Zedar has come to investigate. 
As Grand Sovereign of the New Republic 
he takes his responsibilities seriously, 
and besides, he wants to take charge of this 
mission personally, to remove all doubt 
concerning his effectiveness as a leader. 

Not much is known about the tower.
It is an architectural curiosity, constructed 
from sheets of metal and wood with ornamental
granite buttresses. Built in the Seventh Epoch
it was thought by some to have religious significance,
but Zedar thought it might be used for munitions storage 
for the Deviants to mount attacks against Moqaffa.            

The monolith intrigues him. 
It sucks him in and swallows him whole. 
Feeling his way he finds a staircase 
spiraling upward, disappearing into darkness. 

He begins to climb.   
One, two, three, four...

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The Visions Blend

Sitting all alone in deep thought, I am a world away.
No Sun, no Stars, and no wind!
My mouth can not speak the words there are to say.
The visions blend carries me to where it never ends.
My God I am here and I demand to stay!
I am here, but gone to where I begin.
Nights and days have come and gone and are now decades away.
No life, no air, and no death!
My God I am alive and dead on this very day.
I am gone, but here with my journey’s quest.
The gift of life is mine as I catch my last breath.
My heart can not hold the words there are to say.
Looking deep into this world where I have come to stay,
No love, no hate, and no sin!
The visions blend carries me to where it all ends.
I am here, but gone to where I begin.
My eyes can see the words there are to say.
My God I am gone and I demand to stay.
Time and time my thoughts have traveled my days,
No time, no light, and no pretend!
The gift of life is mine all over once again.
My God I am dead but alive on this very day.
My ears can not hear the words there are to say.
I am gone, but here absorbing the visions blend.

®Registered: Ann Rich 1997

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Ol' Bear & Sarah

This was to be their first, grand journey.
Who would dare believe?
Sarah Maple, and Ol’ Bear
Her special, robot teddy! 

Both, strapped inside Securely;
Await a lifetime ride;
Her heart is jumping, as  
Her nine-ish, choc’ late eyes grow wide.

Fear mixes with Excitement;
Humility with pride;
When she realizes she’s
Histories first starfolk child. 
Soon, they would be riding, 
Fiery, rolling, thunder, cloud
above the humid dawn. Destination:
International Space Station.

Then, tucking one loose lock of 
Coal-black hair behind her ear; 
Glances sideward to Ol’ Bear…and gulps.
He gives one soothing wink to Sar.  She smiles.

Then, hanging on 
For all they’re worth,
They soon are floating 
High, above the earth. 

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vignette-WE SEEK IT HERE

Outside an inn ..tap,tap,tap
In hobbled Bind Pugh with his map
A story of intrigue did then ensue
On a remote island which comes into view-
A classic novel,still reads good as new

Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson

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Oil Field Trash

 What is oil field trash is the question most people ask.
   They’re a different breed of people, who take on dangerous tasks.
Very few old roughnecks still have all their fingers or their toes.
   It’s not uncommon for a broken bone or banged up nose.
I started young I worked real hard.
   This old worn out body is my final reward.
Money was great to say the least.
   We could dine like kings at a noble feast.
You had to have lived it, worked the patch.
   And hear that old driller holler, boy you better make em latch.
There was a brotherhood between the crews.
   The more experienced hands reaped the better dues.
The newest hand they call the worm.
   Some of their lingo, just an oil field term.
Once you become a certified member to this exclusive club.
     Everybody will know you at the local pub.
Those old drilling rigs come in all sizes and shapes.
   Once you get it in your blood, there is just no escape.
I don’t know if it’s an adrenaline rush that gets you all fired up.
   But it got me hooked when I was just a pup.
Right now all that is left or just memories and this hidden thought.
   Of a life gone by, and the lessons it taught.
I’m proud to have been one of the oil fields many elite.
   And I think being oil field trash is just pretty unique.
From the ground to the crown, from the rake to the brake.
   Getting old is possibly my worst mistake.

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Mansions in the Sky

The Stars lit up the skies and nothing could I see,
Except these huge Mansions that fly in the sky.
Swirling winds picked me up and carried me high.
Making trails in the clouds it was just me.
It was breathtaking just to be,
Afloat the top of mansions that fly.
The Moon was bright and the Sun a bit dry.
They were huge and magnificent to oversea.
 Mansions in the sky that fly above it all.
Mesmerized I went in and found no end.
None were too small.
None occupied, not even by a friend!
Mansions that fly fill a brilliant sky,
All emptied but not by I!
© Copyright: Ann Rich  2006

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Alexandre, the young alpinist from a southern France,
attaches crampons to his tough climber's booths,
to ascend the dangerous ridges of Mount Rose,
and with the same ice axe, he climbed Mount Everett!

Copyright 2010 by Andrew Crisci

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For the past three days,a torrid summer 
scorched the windy bay
with an intense heat that
discolored the lustrous,wild grass;  
even my light skin is turning dark,
resembling a blood-hungry gladiator
who fights for one reason only:
to earn freedom or die
in the arena where
people recite no prayer...  

A feeble father and a robust son
pull out of the flowing and glimmering water
the fishing canes wriggling in hazy air; 
this narrow beach adjacent  to a lovely town,
is the safest haven for birds fearing captivity 
and some traveled quite a distance
to find it without resistence or compromise;
my birds aren't found in a confined cage,
because they have never been subjected to rage...
they fly between sky and sea!  

Ruddy,bare-chested men
standing on a roaring yacht,
as the parching heat
from the middle-sky's sun, 
makes sweat flow from their skin's pores;
they ignore the inabriated teens
dancing to a heavy-metal beat 
while they throw pices of meat
to a barking canine 
that has seen nothing
but skeletons of shell-fish,
realizing his desperate wish!   

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The Big Fish

The acrylic line pulled taught as he bit down.
The lake was so still as to mimic a black oil slick -
She suddenly breaks away and churns like an overcooked pot -
Ripples glide along the boats surface
As he grabs the rod.

Closure burns hot in his mind as his weathered hands grip the reel.
The tug of the monster that lurks beneath the boat  -
makes his cameo appearance in the murky underbelly - 
Thudding against the bottom of the old boat
As the crickets sing.

His mind randomly jumps back to a memory.
He remembered his father’s old tackle box -
Remembering the pity he had on the writhing worm - 
And the sickening feeling as dad hooked him
And cast his line.

His wife knew he was out here and disapproved.
Even though she didn’t even say a word but turned over -
She avoided saying a word while he pulled the rubber waders
Over his plaid pyjama bottoms 
And quietly closed the door.

This was surely the biggest Bass on this cursed lake.
Confidence oozed from his knarled fingers as the catch came closer -
Finally he’d prove the old bat wrong and defy his lodge buddies -
No more mocking and no more duelling with the woman
He sighs with relief.

The rod bent under the heavy weight of the bass’s fight.
But he was determined to prove his wife wrong -
The lake was alive with excitement as if the trees themselves
Were watching every second leading up to the arrival
When the line broke.

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I Hold No Fear

Tomorrow comes and oh God how it goes!
Do I care, why should I lend all of my spares? 
I’ll never know what tomorrow holds!
“Oh my”, how could I, what is it that I need to do?
Blessed by God, sure he loves me but what about you?
Why today and why tonight I really don’t care! 
I know that I love me no matter what my eyes can see!
Take it all but hold the very last thought that we share! 
My God, My God how I hope you all know what it is that you truly believe!
“Oh my”, capture and redeem my mind!
Complete my being that lives alive inside of me!
God you love me, these eyes have no doubt with that which they can see!
“God”, you know you have done all of this to me! 
Oh how you have loved these things that I can see!
Sheltered, protected, yet, condemned by that which I know you believe!
If I could, I think that I would, but oh God how I do stand here!
Come and get me with all of that, which I know you believe! 
Please God, just come take my all of me! 
I am still here my Lord and I hold no fear!
Tomorrow, hmm just another day for me to believe!
Oh well! Guess I’ll just have to see it through!
Ask me anything and I will tell you! 
I think we all know what it is that we should do!
Escaping the reality of what really should be, 
Oh God, I am so very here do you know what tomorrow will be? 
I’m still here my Lord and I am holding absolutely no fear!
Each morning the Sun rises to approach a brand new day. 
No doubt that I do love me!
Embraced with the thought that you have come just for me, 
I’m engulfed with this moment that I have finally achieved.
Oh my, I know that I could because I am coming to you. 
Where are you my Lord I just need to be so very near!
God you do love me! Oh how I knew that you always would! 
I’ve walked so many miles with you each and every single day, 
And I am still right here my Lord and I hold no fear!


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Stepping out into the Autumn night of Halloween
It is the Witches and the Warlocks turn to dance
Their air of mystery and mystic is all around
The zombies or the Undead cannot speak
but,their presence seems to be abound
Ghouls of the Men
Vampires within the Ladie's evil grin
It is out here on this Night
When old wives tale frighten us with delight
My footsteps carry me beyond the hill
A cemetery there which omits a deathly thrill
We(meaning a friendly spirit beside me)know the Cackle
Inside many tomb,ready to come out like a babe from its mother's womb
The moon is full and the Old Man paints his smile
Trick or treaters are out,,having fun for a little while
Tonight all Halo as strange yellow mist creeps from behind a boulder narrow
Dancing amidst the moaning dead,darkened shadows surround this timid Head
I feel like Ichabod Crane,strolling,with terror,upon the Midnight Domain
Maybe the old Headless Horseman
Perhaps,the wretched creature of a certain Frankenstein
Many of these apparitions could be just a figment or Reality having a smile
The Corridor of the dark as I wander through a deserted Schoolyard park
An evil happened there,just a few moons not  long ago
Halloween Night..1980 when I was ten
A grade schooler was being hazed upon
He was locked in a decrepit old trunk,tucked,not so sweetly away,in the attic of 
this old place..his peers left him for the night

They came back the next morning before the session began
after lifting a set of keys from the sleeping janitor,they went up to the attic to see
The trunk was open,HOW COULD HE HAVE GOTTEN OUT??
tip-toeing near the open trunk and peering down with trepidation..
only to find,a bloody handwritten note,written with EXTREME AGITATION


The school was beset by this horrible deed,and it was closed forevermore 
because the children confessed and the Pain would never recede
some say..the spirit of the little lad still haunts the old school
Laughter could be heard if many,who dare,decide to explore it and play it cool

Pardon me,my weary Halloween is TIME for me to head back before
I become no more,by an ominous Night Creeper(or the Ghost of The Attic Child!!)

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I love my country-I love this land,
Her mountains and deserts, aint' they grand,
Her oceans and prairies-the great skies of blue,
As a child I loved the trains, and oh! what a view.

This country has been good to me, and my family too,
We have never been hungry or had a reason to feel blue,
I have lived in seven states and travelled many more,
Yes, I guess you could say I'm American to the core.

I'll tell you about some of my favorite places,
Many of them have wide open spaces,
Niagra the Falls, the mountains of Colorado, the oceans blue,
When I think of how lucky I am, the tears fall down like dew.

I love the prairies of Texas and Kansas, too,
Wheat fields waving in the breezes make a great view,
Oklahoma is a light in my life--I love that state,
Yes, I'm American through and through, now isn't that GREAT!

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avid life

there is inspiration afoot!
come! see the photons splay
come! here the waves arc
inhaling smokin' oaken memory

walk the shoes of your life
brush hard into the wind
lean into it...and into me
before the mast's salt spray

crampons push to higher views
amass the scenes and scents
musty, the book's words billow
into your imaginative face

fill your trinketed pockets
with candies, screws, and cameos
handfuls cast to the crowds
giving the living

© Goode Guy 2011-12-25

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All My Friends

My many friends, 
this is for all of you,
please know in your heart,
you are so important to me,
in this soup we brew.
Although miles apart,
we are only a click away,
visiting each other,
I love you all,
and I wanted you to know,
for so many times,
we forget to show.
You bring me happiness,
I become a part of you,
reading your memories,
when you allow me to.
Sharing your heartache,
joining in a prayer,
each one so special,
please know I care.
When one day is over,
and another begins,
I can't wait to read,
the new words,
of all my friends.

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You can't undo what has been done. 
This bridge has burned. 
I crossed it weeks ago. 
The hour glass has turned over. 
Time has run out like a pen that has bled its last dot of ink. 
You can swim or sink. 
Sink into the whole you have created for yourself. 
It's irreversable. 
You can't go back now. 
No more looking into the rear view. 
Pick up your head or bury it. 
Your eyes have changed.
 I no longer see them shimmer with signs of hope. 
You are up against the ropes. 
You can't go back and rewrite the past. 
Quit looking back. 
I'll break the rear view just look ahead. 
Look alive or you're better off dead. 
What you've done is irreversable. 
Nothing can be changed. 
So pick yourself up and breathe in today. 
Don't look behind just keep walking straight. 
This path has been broken but only you can seal your fate. 
Pick up your head or just start digging your grave. 
Time is too precious to waste.
 The past can't be changed. 
Let it go.

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The Cat

The cat fell off it's high horse,
it's course of flight only pointed down.
Screeching a sound while it was dragged,
a body bag would be necessary.
But the cat was struck by lightning,
and a single yelp for help issued from it's mouth,
cat monthly front page.
But even though it died twice,
it still lived to tell the tale,
but lost it's tail.
The cat got rabies at the vet,
passed from some god forsaken rabbits,
and had to be put down.
But before it was buried and laid to rest,
it pried open it's eyes and ran for freedom,
leaving a baffled doctor behind to try and comprehend what aspired.
And in it's flight it ran a red light,
and became a rubber guard for a semi's tire.
And even though it died twice more,
it still lived to tell the tale,
and was without a tail.
The cat flailed to free itself from 8 sets of winter tires,
and landed in a desert,
where it ironically drowned in an oasis,
and more ironically was food for the fishes.
And though it died twice more yet again,
it lived to tell the tale,
but was still lacking a tail.
Waking up not yet ashore,
middle of the ocean the cat was bound,
unfound yet by all past owners,
alone it made a raft,
and like a grill,
the cat fried alive,
but before it could be claimed by the sea,
some deep sea fishers caught this cat-fish,
fried and ready for a dish,
but sympathy was on it's side,
and the fishers couldn't let it die,
so they nursed it back to health.
The owners took the cat home,
and spoiled it rotten,
even giving it a tail,
before it rotted in it's mind from a lack of adventure,
and hung itself with a cat toy over it's scratching post.
And although it died twice more,
and had a tail,
it forgot,
it also had one more life,
and awoke just in time to escape a box set for six feet deep,
to go retire it's last life in peace.

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Getting Next To Me Pt.1

I was on the other line
With a close homey of mine
About football and wrestling
Bin-Laden and Bush
After a half hour
I told him that I'll get back
Cause I had to wash
And cook
As soon as I
Was About to put the phone on the hook____---""'Bleepp!"""
Me:)I'm just getting off the phone because I got some thangs to do
Her):True. We all do
Me)So I'll get back with you later on
Her:)Will it be an hour or two before I can see you? I'll be home.
Me:)Look!! My lady is coming here for the night after her third shift
Her:) ... So,....Should I be on my way right now?!?
Me:) Can't you see I have someone coming over?
Her:) Yeah. I'll be there with your favorite.  Steak, sweet potatoes, rice and tomato 
gravy. A fifth of Hennessy and a Coca-Cola
Me:) You're not just somebody I just met!! What we had is in the past.  
Remember? Or is it that you rather not forget?
Her;) A week ago!! So! It's Like That!!
Me:) i...........I Guess so
Her:) With all that so call game...Huh, I bet you don't  even know the score]
Me:) What! I'm hanging up.
Her:) Fine with me,  but just one more thing baby. Look out your front door.
( She was right outside in my yard parking right next to me.)

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The Tower (part 2)

Compelled by his native curiosity he makes his way 
slowly, stumbling frequently. The walls are cold 
and slimy to his touch. A rat skitters by his feet, 
and he is conscious of a low murmuring sound 
that he cannot explain. Up and up he goes. 
The darkness takes away his sense of time and space, 
until he isn't sure how long he has been climbing. 
He doesn't like the feeling of confinement, the feeling 
that he is out of control, so he is relieved when 
at last he reaches the top.
He marks his ascent: 
three hundred twenty-two steps.

There is no means of egress, no relief
from his persistent feeling of claustrophobia. 
He rests for a while to regain his strength 
for the downward journey. More accustomed now 
to his environment his thoughts turn to his plans 
for the Deviants; the thought transference seminars
and the mind control experiments on Deviant children. 
They had come so far in establishing control that there 
was little resistance now, only a few guerrillas out here 
on the plain, making trouble with their war wagons 
and their insistence on insurgence.

His thoughts return to the the matter at hand 
as he feels himself nearing the ground. He has found 
nothing to concern him in the tower's bleak interior.
In his anxiety to be free of its constricting hold 
he has forgotten the upward step count.

It doesn't really matter anyway...

as if the Deviants could outmaneuver him...

he continues his descent,

three hundred twenty-three,
three hundred twenty-four,
three hundred twenty-five...

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Soldier of Fortune

Valencia, a return to the Spanish coast, 1966
Nineteen and running wild, searching
Conversation turns to idealism, liberty expiring
Port and starboard, hand shake, maybe again
Two nights, same bar, Listened to the stories
Eleven years since he’d seen home
Adventure sets a fire in a young man’s soul
A need to spread your wings
We’d meet by chance again in Barcelona
Sorry mate, need a diversion, see those two.
Texas bar, broken chairs, bottle thrown
Turmoil and the back door’s open
Saw him smile and wave goodbye
Yes sir, those two over there, don’t know why
Damn that’s funny
Never saw him again, unspoken friendship.
Just wonder sometimes.

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Ain't Love Grand ?


The night had just begun to fall.
     I never knew you felt this way at all.
The things you said I had never heard.
     How could it hurt they’re only words.
These words had teeth and a painful bite.
     And the way she used them was to her delight.
Spouting such painful and hurtful things.
     As I looked at her I envisioned fangs.
The words she used would make a sailor turn red.
      And why did she say I wish you were dead?
What caused this fight, this lovers spat.
      I know she’ll blame me she’s good at that.
Is this what all couples go through.
      If this is love it wreaks of pooh.
Just six more days and we’ll be married a week.
       One more like today and it may be divorce I seek.
I think maybe she’s calming down her face is not quite as blue.
       Now she says she loves me, what do I do?
Well she turned out the light and gave me a kiss.
       Is this what they mean by married bliss?
Goodnight all!

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Walking on Water

I turn my back and look the other way, 
My shadow is a bliss you hope and pray!
I’m walking on water at the stroke of midnight,
Searching for the hope of a breaking daylight!
Everything’s just so incredibly beyond bright!
Closing my eyes to a brand new day,
Shutting down inside and feeling everything just die.
My thoughts surely would make you an empty man inside!
I’m walking on water in the shadows of daybreak,
Searching for the hope of my lost and alone faith!
Everything’s just so outrageously beyond great!
I close my mind to the brand new light of day.
Closing my eyes and just walking away,
But my shadow you hope and pray will surely stay.
I’m walking on water at the peak of nightfall,
Looking for this huge magnificently clear waterfall!
Everything’s just so enormously beyond tall!
I close my eyes and I begin to pray.
My thoughts could surely give hope to all,
For I walk on water on each and every day!

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Ain't Life Grand

As the years go quickly by, 
   I wonder what and even why?
What’s the point to all of this?
    Age is not always a happiness.
It brings along a lot of pain.
    Caused by yesteryears bumps and other things.
The candy you take now are pills.
     You sell your house to pay your bills.
The clothes you wear are out of date.
     Everything you eat puts on more weight.
You can’t afford to drive your car.
     At least ways not for very far,
Gasoline is way too high,
     What has happened I wonder why?
I’m not the smartest man alive,
     But I know one and four are five.
Why do prices keep going up and up?
     I can’t afford the coffee that is in my cup.
Will there be a limit on what we spend?
     Or are prices just like a hole you can’t fill in?
 I think enough is past enough,
     We’re sick of all the lies and stuff.
Like a five thousand dollar rebate on a new car.
     That tells me we’ve gone too far.
Are we as stupid as we look?
     A page in somebody’s funny book?
I think I really need a break.
     Find a place that is give not take.
Well now I feel somewhat better.
     After writing this nasty letter.
Well what I have I give with love.
     If you’ll get behind my car and shove.
To the gas station just up the hill,
     Where I can spend my last one hundred dollar bill.

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Desperados run this town

Well I had just rode into town, got off my old horse and decided to walk around.
   I felt something behind me as I stepped quietly listening for the sound.
I slipped my revolver in my hand and spun the cylinder round.
   Right in front of the Long Fork Saloon and Grill lay this ole tick infested hound.
Bout that time I heard it again that noise was closing in.
   I seen that old cur growlin low and I knew the fun wuz fixin to begin.
The wind it started to howl and blow as I stood in front of the Long forks doors.
   The town it self wuz pretty small, rekon maybe six to seven stores.
Down the way I seen this ChineyMan dumpin some water in the street.
  As I stand here by the door with that ole dog sniffin out my feet.
Scat get on outta here and I placed my boot upside his rump.
    Well the ole ignorant thing just rolled over and layed there in a lump.
Reach mister you best be grabbin for some sky.
   Then he said it again reach I tell ya, less you be wantin to die.
Well I wuz pretty sure I knew that raspy voice.
   But I dropped my gun and did what he said, he left me little choice.
And as I felt his capgun stickin in my side.
   I knew this roody toot tooter carried my brand upon his hide.
And as I turned to look at him, he said I really got you daddy I really got you good.
   He said momma sent me to get ya, shes needin you to chop some wood.

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The huge sky overseeing the emerald and bluish earth...
wouldn't be the only sky in our incredibly diverse Universe,
if limited sight weren't the obstacle to the awesome images that surprise couldn't conceal;
but many more galaxies hiding their splendid suns and planets,,
are still unknown and Man, overtaken by such a magnificence, expresses 
himself in more atheistic ways not to compromise his own foolishness!
If we declare faith non-existent, cupidity can become our fetish... 
filling us with more rampant pride to enforce its hypocritical seal! 

More universes, like ours, lay dormant in their stillness,
" And will life be found on them? " is a question too inconclusive
that we can only answer by being so compellingly delusive;
more universes await the discoveries of the intelligent mind,
to lay out their awsomeness and beauty to discard the thought of finding life,
impelling us to preserve ours, not to destroy it by valiance or insanity!
Search history's events, are we capable of pursuing happiness...
without conquering and proclaiming our power with mighty armies?

In ancient days, they created unrealistic gods and goddesses...
not conceiving that the Supreme One wasn't a god in human form,
but rather the Invisible One, who often scolded them for their wickedness;
so in stone and marble they continued to sculpture divine faces
that the common people hailed and worshipped, and would they refuse
to obey their tyrant's wishes: their worthless lives would be taken...
and did Paul, the follower of Christ, go back to that cult so perverse?
We know, from the Holy Scriptures, he was converted and put down his sword...


More universes more magnificent than this one,
can be discovered and inhabited if they are livable;
and scientists are working hard along with astronauts to accomplish our dream,
and who isn't excited and show interest to take a voyage into the outer space?
Navigators ventured on perilous seas to attest that their concept was solid and real;
we, with more sophisticated computer science, are groped by the unthinkable!
Persuaded or not, discouraged or doubtful, researches must continue at our expense;
and what if we were successful, wouldn't everyone be taken by shock?   

Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

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Have You Been Saved ? I Was Saved By A Tree!

Sitting by the creek one day, watching as two little ducks swam by.
   They were in such a rush it seemed, to catch a floating dragon fly.
I started to erect myself, when I slipped and fell.
   I must have hurt my leg somehow, for it began to swell.
The current was mighty swift as it pulled me on my way.
   I knew I was getting in too deep and I began to pray.
It seems the only time we talk is when I’m in a bind.
   A feeling just came over me, what if He should pay me no mind.
He wouldn’t do that to me, I thought, that would be unfair.
   Maybe He’s trying to show to me, what it’s like when no one’s there.
 Lord I’m getting in too deep, and I’m getting mighty scared.
   I never learned to swim at all, this secret I’ve never shared. 
 All of a sudden a log came by, and I caught hold of a branch or two.
   I thought how, did this log happen by, was it a gift from you.
As the water began to shallow some, I made it to dry ground.
   My leg was really sore I guess, but it seemed to be quite sound.
He answers our prayers in many ways, often though we do not see.
   For me, my prayer was answered, by Him floating me a tree.

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Castle of Dreams

As I lay my head on my pillow, my eyes shut to the world, I
feel a "presence" of another world calling out to me. I open
my eyes and see myself dressed in purple velvet and
walking along a moat of wild flowers and tall grass. I hear
sounds of trumpets and see soldiers riding in on majestic
horses. I look up to find myself amongst a castle grounds,
with towers peeking out of the evening mist. Once again, I'm home...home at 
Raglan Castle.

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Those sweaty and uncomfotable days
seem to have lost their intensity,
and glancing far into infinity
can be done with more clarity;
storms are much rarer to stike
and fling their lightinings
to warn us or cause some fright,
when we wish to see a rainbow so bright....

Summer is ending quickly,
but the slowly-moving sail-boats 
aren't anchored in the quite harbor:
they're sailing safely
on calm waters,where no ship 
is ever brought down!
I'm reluctant to leave so suddenly,
and not contemplate the sea-bed 
as flourescent as light,
when I passionately write
another poignant poem
 which won't be lost to oblivion...

Some of us seek only leisure,
I seek a relation with creation...
not doubting who made it
and if controversy intervenes, 
I look deeper into persuasion:
there'll be no thought left
unobscured or unexpressed before intuition;
and you should be amazingly glad to hear...
uttered words that are not silenzed like secrets,
if attribution is not there!   

Summer is ending quickly through dismay...
as blazing days discern their shortness,
but the dazzled and flamboyant swams stare
and tranquilly float soutth-wards of the solemn bay;
what I enjoy now,can be retold or relived
through the poems of other poets,
mine are still waiting to be discovered...
to be claimed without much fanfare!

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The Fishin Trip

The old campfire was pleasant as we sat by its flame.
   Talking about how things have changed, hardly anything stays the same.
Talking about the price of gas, now that got a rise.
    How you used to could fill up a tank for a ten dollar bill, that brought tears to old 
Bobs eyes.
Bob said he’s about ready to buy him a horse and be done with it.
   I said Bob you wouldn’t even know which end of the horse to put the saddle on, 
let alone make it fit.
He said yeah like you would, reckon I wouldn’t but least I know where to poke the 
   That got him tickled and he said you’re probably right, can’t you just picture me?
Old Jake finally had to put his two cents in, he said Bob get you one of them 
hobby horses ride that to town.
    Well I could see old Bob getting a little agitated, he chunked some more wood 
on the fire and gave Old Jake a frown.
Bob said to heck with horses, gasoline and all that other bull, let’s talk about fish.
   Bob declared, bet I catch the biggest & probably the most, me and Jake pop off 
about the same time, don’t you wish.
I said you know what guys we’re going to sit here all night blabbering and ain’t 
none of us gonna feel like wettin a hook tomorrow.
   As we decide to turn in old Bob says, dang I forgot my piller either one of you 
got an extra I could borrow.
Goodnight guys, busy day tomorrow, get your rest.
   Come six o’clock tomorrow evening, we’ll see whose catch is the best.

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Another Ava Adventure

On a modern playground out by the Bayou
no see-saws, no merry-go-rounds to be seen-
Too dangerous, I'm guessing as we head to the swings
and I push her to the tops of the trees
I sing. And sing:
"Yellow Bird...
High Up In Banana Treeeeee"
( I never pretend to sing in key but belt it all the same)
She loves it, swings higher, asks me to sing again and again.
Then it's on to the jungle gym and slides, slides, slides.
Today, the structure is a hot air balloon 
and we run like mad bandits, pushing silver buttons
and letting air out.
"What's our altitude?" I yell
"400" she answers back in a panic
I push the silver screw on my right and let some air out
"We need 180!", I say, "Tell me when we reach 180!"
When we finally avert that disaster, she looks out of the spy glass
and low and behold, we are about to hit a tree.
A palm tree no less, and those things hurt!
We both quick steer to the right - in unison.
Then, unexpectedly, our battery runs out.
I didn't know hot air balloons ran on batteries,
but she assures me they do - and she happens to have another
in her back pocket.
We finally find smooth sailing
and have a chance to look out.
Pristine blue sky.  Sun taking every edge off the Bayou's breeze.
Apple green grass and trees with limbs bending every which way-
not trimmed, not sculpted, just allowed to grow wild and perfect for climbing.
It's with heavy hearts that we land our balloon to come back to reality.
For a while, she tells me that the whole contraption is out of our hands
and can't land back down on earth - We're heading North North North!
Cold country!
But, after the five extra minutes we spend in the air, she agrees to go.
"I love you", she says.
"I love you too", I answer, "Thanks for playing with me".
She smiles and we leave with plans to conquer the big climbing tree on our next adventure.

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Sing Him a Lullaby (part 1)

...the transcription of a dream.

A youngster, eight years old,
doesn't even have a name,
lives in the wild woods.
Cruel to animals, he kicks 
dogs and burns birds and insects.
Filthy with neglect he lives alone,
nobody can get near him.

His family are transients
with no reason for refinement,
violence in their nature and  
hatred in their eyes. They rape 
their sons and daughters and 
beat them senseless if they ever 
cry or answer back.

From this ugly, hateful mess 
he was kicked out just like a jackal 
     with an appetite 
for cruelty and destruction, consumed 
with fear and anger just dying to get out.
He was blamed for every beating,
broken windows, broken bones, 
so he never showed his face.
He didn't beat up on those kids, he 
just warned them to stay away. 

He had one passion, one glimmer 
of affection for a old pig name of Arnie.
Arnie made him feel a strange contentment, 
and his rage just disappeared. He could talk 
to the pig and the pig would listen.

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Old Becomes New

Hidden feelings now flourish within,
can one ever go back to claim them again,
into the past like a photograph in time,
foolish in thought with no rythem or rhyme.

Seems like yesterday as I walk in my past,
some things forgotten, but some will always

Regrets still linger, 
like a faint perfume,
as memories come forth,
in my silent room.

Where will this take me,
do I dare reveal,
as things start changing,
though I'm standing still.

New becomes old,
and old becomes new,
all this a mystery,
do you feel it to?

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Horror Comes To Town

Way back when,
Living with my father Harry,
One Halloween I had an idea spark,
Seemed to me it'd be a lark....

Thus the tale of When Harry's House Held
The Horrific Holloween Hex..from Hell

Early 70's, my favorite time did approach,
For scary Halloween tricks and pranks,
I intended to truely host...

So, I spent some time, with tools and wood,
Made a faux- coffin, looked pretty good!   
Placed a self made dummy inside,
His head a bar-room prop for "Old Grand Dad",
This was gona be fun for me to be had,
Dressed him up, looking better all the time,
Stuck a big knife in him...
Guess it had been a vicious crime,
Ketchup blood stains,
Covered all in clear plastic wrap,
Placed it in the living room,
Just inside our front door,
But I wasn't done, I planned much, much more...

Forgive me, if I've already told this tale,
I can't remember,....oh, what the hale...

Had my girlfriend dress up like Morticia,
Black dress and more,
Put on my ill fitting black suit,
Almost ready for the door...
Powdered our faces with white talc,
Held a candle holder for the day
Put on eerie organ funeral music,
Still got more to say....

Set up two chairs near the "coffin",
My parents became the grieving mourners,
Waited for our victims to arrive,
Knew they'd remember this Halloween,
As long as they were alive....

Didn't take long,
Till the first kids came....
I opened the door slowly,
They would never be the same.....

Each group of children who knocked,
Ran out in great fright....
Oh, my golly, this gona be some night!!
Some dropped their bags of candy...
Boy I was "cleaning up"
The only house around,
Whose candy quantities tripled
by the cup!!

Then some frightened children,
Returned with many a wary parent,
Didn't believe their stories,
Thinking "No Way! They simply daren't!!"

Well, I escaped jail,
really don't know how...
But it left me with this tale...
That I tell often, as now.

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Tough Love

Today my son broke my heart,
those hateful words, touched every part.

His life in turmoil, for his actions done,
I guess he just had to blame someone.

A son with only a mother, is very hard,
trying to guide him, I failed from the start.

A man in a way, and a child in the other,
I only know how to be his mother.

Regret I feel for asking him to leave,
but now it's time to worry about me.

Out all night, he never calls,
I stay up late, climbing the walls.

Dreading to hear, a knock at the door,
way past midnight, i'm walking the floor.

Tough love is something, I didn't want to do,
but the time has come, and this I had to do.

Good luck my son, now you must go,
this does not mean, I don't love you. 

You are a man, so stand on your on,
make a good life, make you a home.

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Sail Away

Come sail with me,
yard sale, yippieee.
Love um, love um,
all of um.
Can't get enough,
yard sale stuff.
Goodies galore,
that's for sure.
CeeCee loves um,
just like me.
I guess we are two,
yard sale hippies.
Before the sun,
we are ready to run.
We come home with a load,
things we gathered out on the road.
Sometimes we sell,
but mostly we buy,
we can't stop,
we already tried.
See you there.

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Drunk again

I went to a bar with Goose… 

I got drunk again

fell off my stool…

damn I got drunk again

I met this hott chick…

too bad I got drunk again

I kissed a fat girl…

I must be drunk again!

they kicked me out of the bar…

because I got drunk again

I threw up on myself…

I hate being drunk again

finally got home the next day…

doors locked and wife screaming

Sorry but I got drunk again!

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To Be A Poet

Joined together by words, and thought,
poets united, and an audience sought.

Revealing emotions, from deep inside,
some are published, while others try.

Friendships growing, with each passing day,
bonding through words, and what they say.

Call it a talent or maybe a special gift,
words written from the heart, to comfort, and lift.

Poets be proud, whoever you are,
mark your course on a bright new star.

For without them, a silence would fall on the land,
God's gift of a poet, to each woman, and man.

Write from your heart, and love what you do,
a lifetime of memories are waiting for you.

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I worked on drilling rigs for the better part of thirty years.
   I sweated buckets of sweat while my wife cried barrels of tears.
The work was seldom easy and to say it was safe would be a lie.
   The more dangerous the job the higher the high.
You either loved the job or you hated it.
    I know I’ve seen a million or more quit.
The money was good but it was more than that.
    It was the challenge to those men in their steel toes and hard hats.
I’ve seen men killed, crippled, and maimed.
    There is something that gets in your spirit that cannot be tamed.
Drilling holes in the ground to earn a days pay.
    Sounds pretty easy I’ve heard many men say.
Till you get them on location and the iron starts to rattle
   Seen a many tuck tail and run watched them skeedaddle.
There’s a pusher on every rig, dope comes in five gallon buckets, and they’ve got 
joints that are thirty foot long.
   It’s not what you are thinking so don’t get me wrong.
It’s kinda like the Marine Corp you be the best that you can be.
   That’s kinda the way it is to roughneck you try to shine so all can see.
It’s a place where rules are few and there is only one boss.
   You learn to follow those rules or you find people get hurt or you might even 
witness a tragic loss.
I sure miss those days but they are mostly for the young to do.
   It’s Hell getting old but it’s something we all must go through.

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He Rides The Death Horse

With his old hat cinched firmly on his head.
    He pulled his six gun and let loose its deadly lead.
Just one shot was usually all it ever took.
    As he holstered his six gun and gave his victim just one final look.
The reputation of a killer it follows everywhere.
    Most towns had rules that wouldn’t allow his kind to come there.
It wasn’t really a life he had chosen it just happened that way.
  He was forced to fight or die this new game he learned so well how to play.
Cherokee Bill was the first man that forced him to kill.
    Sixteen years old when Cherokee dared him at will.
Cherokee tossed him a rusty old six gun and said now here is the deal.
    He said I’m faster than lightning and it’s your life I’m after and aimin to steal.
He was my first and from there it’s been simply hell.
    Fighting and killing and those hard nights spent in those jails.
He said he wished he could stop it but he knows of only one way.
   And as long as I’m able or find a better life here I’ll stay.
He unhitched his old pony and rode off that cold wintery day.
    Rumor has it you can’t kill him cause he has no soul is what people say.
They say he’s akin to the devil and he rides the death horse.
    But I saw him kill and it was done and he did it all with no remorse.
His eyes were so cold like they could see and not feel.
    When he rides into your town there will be a new soul he’ll be looking to steal.

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Through These Eyes

Through this journey,
I call my life,
many a beauty,
has been seen,
through these eyes.
My course not chartered,
during my younger years,
which led me to heartache,
and many a tear.
Loved ones have passed,
but sweet memories remain,
through this sorrow,
much wisdom I gained.
Trying to recall,
all the paths I've been,
the ink would empty,
from my many pens.
All this, and more,
make me who I am,
and I am bleesed,
To  still be around.

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A bee sting caused her world to crash. 
It made her leap about in pain into the 
sideboard, tipping hot dogs, mustard, 
ketchup, smearing stains on mom's new 
carpet as dad slipped and fell down, 
suffering damage (to his pride!).

The cook-out turned into a train wreck. 
Words of anger from her brother 
and a spanking from her father bringing 
enforced isolation for at least two days, 
(it's just not fair!)

But when clearer heads prevailed, mom 
dressed the sting with ointment and dad 
produced the ice cream. They gave her back 
her TV privileges (after all she's only six!) 
and kissed her boo boo better!

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It's All About What We Plant

From the depths of ones soul
lies a story to be told
A book of triumphs, failures,
and truth.
One that manifest daily,
for this life will carry us to the end.
Promises of a better tomorrow
are spoken from silent lips,
our own thoughts unheard,
whispered upon the wind.
All is gathered inside this being
called mortal man,
and devoured in captivity, 
where negativity prevails.
Cleansing thoughts accompanied by an 
attitude, thriving on behavior of positivity.
Once planted deep, wrapped in fruitful roots,
comes new life of beauty, and worth.
From the depths of ones soul, 
lies a story to be told.

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Scuffling Along

I was standing outside
On a downtown street,
Listening to the sound
Of the people's feet.

A tap tap here,
And a clop clop there;
A tip-tap clip-clop

Then a scuffle through some leaves,
Feather-scuffling, full of ease,
And a smiling, bright-eyed face
High o'er the shoes.

Up into the sunny skies
She had set her laughing eyes
And she didn't seem to have
A single care.

And the clip-clops ceased to be,
Or at least, inside of me,
As I fixed on her a mighty
Spell-bound stare.

Then I found me in her wake,
It was surely no mistake,
For I followed that gay leaf-flag
In her hair.

It was just a week ago
That I stood a-listening, oh,
And what a glorious seven days
Have passed!

Now I scuffle in my ease
With my scuffler of the leaves,
Two gold rings around our fingers
Tightly cast!

Oh, you tap taps here,
And you clop clops there,
Oh, you tip-tap clip-clops

I do love you for your sound,
For the girl you brought around,
For the town and street and walking
You make fair!

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I found this man, swimming in my soup,
stepping on rakes, and playing for loot.

Every now and then, he will pop right up,
reading my poems, until he has had enough.

So swim all you want, cause I like it too,
your friend in Alabama, thanks you.

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I was not all Alone

Wind was blowing with a sound of the likes of the wolf's scream
Again it was midnight, where I was awake while others in a dream
I could see those big trees from the window
Moving with the wind but their motion was slow
It was like talking with the trees
If I say something for they will nod with the breeze
All alone I was, but it was all funny
For never I was without a company
I was feeling these lazy creatures still with me
No wonder, they were so involved with me.

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The season for hunting is near at hand,
look at this mess lying all around.
Camping supplies, the food bank full,
and all those blankets made from itchy wool.
New tires on the truck, and the four wheeler too,
I watch so helpless, what can I do?
Pitching the tent out in the yard,
checking for leaks, do you ever get tired?
Insulated underwear, about three different kinds,
cold, colder, freezing, you are spending every dime.
Now it's the coveralls, run back to the store,
hunting to me, is more like a chore.

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The Drive

As the fog thickens like soup,
    Driving down this old country highway in this old worn out old coupe.
Trying to make up lost time has got my old nerves tied up in a ball.
    When right in front of me stands this big old buck deer, I slam on my brakes, 
my tires start to squall.
The deer breaks and runs just barely in time,
    As I skid right on by just barely brush his behind.
Talk about luck he’s riding shotgun tonight and I just locked his door.
    Well I decide it’s time to push it just a little bit more.
The hour is quite late and I doubt any cops are about.
    So I decide to test this old engine to see if it is still stout.
The accelerator to the floor and I’m still wanting more.
    Well that’s all she’s got as I ease it off of the floor.
I don’t know what happened maybe an adrenaline rush as I regained control.
    Kind of a spooky night like something is after my soul.
Well I shake off that thought and then the fog starts to thicken again.
    When there in the road I swear it looks like the same old deer my friend.
Everything that happens is exactly as before. 
     I look at my clock, a quarter till four, what’s happening, I’m living this same 
nightmare once more.
What’s going on and I’m starting to freak.
     My heart is beating so fast I can’t seem to speak.
I decide to stop but this doesn’t look like a very good place.
    When there in the road a man is standing and he is missing his face.
 From out of the darkness more figures I see.
    When there right beside me I hear this noise it’s buzzing at me.
And something grabs hold of me and just won’t let go.
    It shakes and it shakes then I hear a voice you better get up time for the show.
I sure hate to admit it but I’m sure glad this was a dream.
    Cause I sure wouldn’t want that guy with no face on my team.

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Sing Him a Lullaby (part 2)

One day a child was hurt 
and of course he was to blame.
The kid would barely make it he 
was beat so bad. There was talk 
of vigilantes to scour the woods 
until they found that lousy no-name, 
that vicious little kid everybody wanted dead.

They cornered him so he didn't have 
a chance. They roped and tied him 
and beat him black and blue, though
he screamed he didn't do it. All his 
anger and his rage came spilling out; 
he was like a wounded animal waiting to be shot.

And then a stranger intervened,
a man with gentle eyes and sallow skin 
who spoke softly and didn't need a big 
stick. He was huge. His voice made 
everybody calm and quiet. He put 
his arms around the child and held 
him close until he stopped his sobbing, 

and then he said:

"Instead of beating him, show him 
some compassion. With mercy 
and forgiveness take this forsaken, 
frightened soul into your hearts 
and sing him a lullaby, a lullaby to 
bring him from the depths of his 
despair and make him whole." 

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The Magic's Blend

When looking at me what is it that you know you can see?
What does your self have to say to you about the soul that lives inside of me?
Can he see what it is that’s deep inside the back of my eyes?
Or is he the ultimate from behind the promise of my only surprise?
Maybe it’s not what it seems in the beam of this ray of light,
Or maybe he sees his visions glaring in this blend much too bright.
Yourself or you which is fool and which is wise?

Up and away we go riding all of the waves that our eyes can possibly see.
Coiling loosely and simply falling free.
My breath captured with my body soiled from the scent of the bliss inside of you.
Magic blends heating the layers of gloss that keep shining me all of the way through.
With my body hot my blood trembles beneath the feel of my bared and wet skin.
I’m all up inside of this glare feeling magical as it completely blends all of my needs safely in.

When looking at me what is it that you think you know?
What does your self have to say to you about the feel beneath the touch of my skin?
Does he see this glare of light with his visions sunk or just anchored by a strange hook?
Or is he the ultimate from behind the beams when they will only burn shining on dim?
Maybe it’s not what it seems when you’ve really, truly and even squarely looked?
Or maybe he sees these beams blending when his visions are adapted too his all time low.
Yourself or you, which is friend and which is foe?

Up and away we go calming the almighty of the highest seas.
Completely loose simply aiming for free.
My breath taken and my body covered with the scent of the blissful buried treasures in you.
Complete subliminal excellence in the magic that keeps shining me all the way through!
My body glossed and gleaming as my blood quivers in the light of this heavenly vision’s blend.
I’m up inside of myself soothed as the magic warms what is deep beneath my bared wet skin.

Yourself or You! 
Which has vision and which is dim per glares in the currents of “The Magic’s Blend”?

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Chasin Convicts

My old hound dog just caught the scent,
   Of that runaway convict and which way he went.
Down by the railroad tracks looks like he started to run.
   He must of caught site of that old Bull and his scattergun.
Well he changed directions, looking for a place to hide.
   That won’t never work cause my old hound dogs nose is bona-fide.
Now he took flight through them there swamps, well that old boys head sure ain’t 
on right.
   With all the snakes and gators and such I sure hope we get him before the 
Things in here make my neck hairs stand up.
    Well listen now, there goes my pup.
Sounds like he’s got something treed.
    Sure enough he does, for there he is buried up to his knees.
He found him a little quicksand hole.
   Awh, hold on there till I cut me a pole.
By the time I got him out he was up to his neck.
   Not one word of thanks, but what the heck.
Well I slapped on the irons and we headed back down.
    They’re sure gonna be surprised when we get to town.
Seems the old sheriff done gave him a key.
    Said he paid him a hundred dollar bill that’s how he got free.
Well they locked up that sheriff in the same little cell.
    Along with that convict here in Madeson County jail.

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This summer's evening still echoes
with the distinguishable city' noises:
the screams of adolescents,
the cranking of cars and motor-bikes
the loud rotating blades of helicopters,
and the blasting music
from luxurious convertibles
that unawarely tranfix...

We can get away
from this madness,
and find a silent,
infrequent place
where nothing has to be hushed;
where the firmament 
emanates a perfect peace
to submerge us by awe
as we coalesce
in a lascivious wish...

We can return to be innocent,
and lean over blue waters
to cover the still lake
with beautiful,velvety roses 
as the gondolier enthralls us 
with his poignant vocals...

The quite geese float 
in the aromatic lake of flowers,
inperplexed by our presence
as we lean over blue waters,
so intoxicated by the balsamy air,
to invoke and inflame
an incessant desire
and incur no regrettable fault... 

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High Experience

We sat in a room. 
A bedroom, a messy one. 
One with a mixture of clothes, garbage and drugs scattered everywhere. There 
was random writing on the walls, like grafitti, and the paint was chipping. We sat 
mostly in silence, we knew what was going to happen that night. When he arrived 
we got into the van and he introduced us to his stash. 
We got to the highschool commons. It was a giant building with tall ceilings, 
giant pillars, and big glass windows, and it had no supervision inside. Before 
going inside we smoked some hash outside. There had to be at least 400 
people there. The room had flashing lights, loud music, and teenage wreckage 
everywhere. The people were forming a kind of mosh; their arms flinging and 
they screamed to see if they could out-roar the music. 
The effect was deafening. Nearly all the stash-ridden tables were smashed to 
the floor, so we hurried to the only stnading one left. He dumped his stash on the 
The lights plus the music plus the emotion made you want to dig into the stash 
and join the mosh. That's what we did, but we didn't join the mosh right away. We 
sat around the table and watched the masacre, finding it overly amusing. We 
laughed at mearly everything as the acid took it's effect. I finally got up to mosh. 

Everything wanted your body in, and it had already stolen your voice, for you 
couldn't hear yourself scream. Before I could get my feet off the ground, I couldn't 
help but notice that there were people making out everywhere, as they moshed. I 
laughed at them, but was jelous. 
I started kissing someone, unsure of whether or not it was a guy or girl. We 
stripped off our clothes until we were nearly naked, but then he/she backed away. 
They rejoined the mosh. 
I stood still, and the mosh parted before me leading me to the glass wall. I 
walked, barefoot, to where it stood surprisingly clean. I took the object in my hand 
and smashed the gleaming wall, screaming with the music. The crowd cheered 
and roared until my ears were ringing and I was nearly deaf. I moshed into the 
middle of the mosh and everyone jumped to my rhythm. I felt hundreds of eyes 
watching me, so I closed my eyes and let my body go. He/she found me again, 
and kissed me again, and the masacre disappeared. Eventually so did whoever I 
was kissing.

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My Ship

I imagine my ship with sails full form,
drifting on each wave, away from any storm..

Quiet and serene under Heavens hues,
my ship is ready, but where is my crew?

I must be the Captain, for there is no one else,
I am in a dream all by myself.

How will I know , the course to take,
for this is the ocean, not a big lake.

With compass in hand,, I will do my best,
I think this may be, my biggest test.

Out on the ocean I am drifting along,
my ship is very capable, of getting me home.

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Troop 108


As I sit and throw sticks on the fire,
    And watch as the flames crackle and grow higher.
The fire illuminates the shadow of the trees,
    Giving them an eerie look especially when the limbs are moved by the breeze.
They take on a monstrous effect as they move to and fro.
    Which sets the stage for some scary tales and ghost stories don’t you know.
Well the kids were all excited, their eyes were big and bright,
    Hanging on to every word and anticipating the on coming fright.
We told of the headless horsemen and how legend had placed him here,
    And how he would ride right into camp and threaten everybody there.
And as he stood there amongst you the youngest would always disappear,
    And the only trace would be a pile of bloody bones which usually were found 
quite near.
One of the troop leaders had placed a roll of firecrackers inside a hollow piece of 
    It was tossed into the fire in hopes it would go off when it should.
It couldn’t have been more perfect the plan went without a flaw.
     The explosion caused the kids to holler and scream and cry out for their ma’s.
Now they’ve got stories they can tell to friends,
    About the night they were trapped and nearly met their ends.
Goodnight troop 108 as they scurried on into their tents,
     Ready to face tomorrow and face the main events.

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Let My People Go-part 1


Who was this man of long ago?
     Who told the Pharaoh to let his people go.
He called down ten plagues to prove his hand,
     To free them from bondage in this Egyptian land.
The Pharaoh was stubborn he would not budge,
      He refused this man he carried a grudge.
Till the last plague was released for all around,
      This one proved deadly as it came without a sound.
The firstborn male would die that very night,
      Proving to the Pharaoh Gods awesome might.
The Pharaohs son was stricken down,
       So he prayed to his phony gods in hopes to bring his son around.
He lost his son for the stubbornness he bore,
      So he released the people to be free once more.
As the people gathered and headed out,
     They were excited there was no doubt.
Then the Pharaoh had a change of heart,
      Decided he would bring them back which wasn’t too smart.
He had them trapped where they could not flee,
     Till Moses asked God to part the waters of the mighty Red Sea.
He raised his staff high above his head,
     And God parted the waters like Moses had said.
Moses and his people escaped safely to the other side.
     But this is where the Egyptian soldiers and the Pharaoh died.
They tried to cross but the waters came down
      Those in the water all would drown.
There is much more to this story that I tell,
      How Gods chosen people have a story that is written so well.

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Just Me And My Shadow

My shadow lays heavy on the ground.
   Silently laying there, never a sound.
Where I go it seems to follow, always nearby.
   Even when I lay, it lays, never to question why.
When I run it’s always there.
   It always follows no matter where.
When the sun is bright.
   Old shadow stands strongly in its light.
When its dark outside.
   You’ll find old shadow loves to hide.
Sometimes I follow shadow, and times he follows me.
   We’re always together, not often will old shadow flee.
We’ve gotten close but he still won’t speak.
   There are times he looks big and strong, other times small and weak.
Well goodnight old friend.
   I know you’ll be there till the end.

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one day

One day i'm gonna fly ,
fly far away from here.
From everything else i'll turn away,
and on my knees i'll stop to pray,
pray for the strength to carry on. 
Then with lifted wings i'll sore,
sore to a place where i'll be free,
free to just be...well me..

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On The Run

Toll Roads
Free Ways
way free ... Westward ho
coast-to-coast gargantuan feat
of asphalt and tar
america's holiday inn
your host ...

Dawn driving
hulking sleeping mound of?
apparitions ... its only a mountain
breathing deafening
the murky desert air ...
dawn pollution?

whose names escape me ...
purple - magenta - rust - gold - whatever
green comes with Reno.
Scratching eyes
yawning abyss of highway
night light blinding
dim ... dim ... dim,  ya jerk!

Sleep,  drive,
eat,  crap  ...
gas station constipation
antiseptic standard
sign of the bowl
machine grinds
miles flash
next time ...

I'll Walk.

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To Be A Dreamer

To be a dreamer is the greatest gift,
your path may change, on this splendid
Challenges will come, teaching you patience,
and love, not to be confused, with greed, and
To be a dreamer, will warm your cold, empty bed,
when loneliness surrounds the night,
holding only dread.
A fountain of youth, is within your grasp,
as the years fall in numbers,
reminding you of your past.
Music drifting softly, across the starlit sky,
awakening that arousal,
of dormant feelings gone by.
Dreams, and desires, walking hand in hand,
caressing emotions of life, only a dreamer
can understand.

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Across Vienna's old town
In a sewer underground,
They tracked down..Harry LIme,
A Third Man in a crime-
To music so sublime.

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The Things My Eyes Have Seen & My Ears Have Heard

When i was shot down and left for dead, I cried out ''Lord please spear my life''
I looked to my left and my right, and there was no one there

The things my eyes have seen and my ears have heard
I laid there wondering what to do
I said to myself am i going to live or die
Then i looked at the tips of my feet
I saw white and blue clouds
Heaven was in the clouds, along with three angels

At first i thought i was dreaming
I heard a voice call out, ''Lay still and you will live''
I know the lord was looking out for me
I couldn't understand what God was doing at that time
I cant doubt him because I know too much about him!

Thank you Lord for all you've done for me!

Maggie Roseborough