I'm sure this hill is where it stood.
Amazing shapes of stuccoed wood.
A glass-brick, neon stream-lined place.
As if it flew from outer space,
A swing band auditorium,
An Art Deco emporium,
When romance, innocent in pace,
From dancing to a teasing chase.
The town grew west in modern haste
And down it came, without a trace.
The war and culture's change in taste,
Predestined doom, the past erased.
The future sighs, with solemn face
The wrecking ball, the glittered waste
No plaque to read "Historic Sight".
The swirling dust, a dance goodnight.
Strange shadows on these coral walls
stay hidden from the setting sun,
yet creeping through the shafts of amber light
drag behind them to the high parapet
a cloak of utter darkness.
Fierce defended, now are none:
no frightened men to urge the heavy cannon round
no shrill alarm or battle cries;
the end of this, as every other day has sealed
a silence now complete.
Once we held here, on this foreign shore,
the fortress of our childhood dreams
and all the world’s assaults
seemed nothing then;
an ocean breeze would cool the hurt of falling
and bring sweet scents to pick us up again.
Across the bay the dhows set sail upon a rising tide
their canvass spread against the purple sky.
We watched their leaving long ago
but you are gone away now, gone to sleep
and no injured soul so left alone
can wait to watch them home again.
Yet I will stand, a little or a while,
and will not fear cold shadows rising
nor while breathing yield the fort to them;
in every breach I meet your laughing eyes
and feel the warming of remembered suns.
Swoosh, whoosh a salty sea soars,
splish-splash colossal waves a roar.
Drip-drop, a leaky faucet spent,
trickle, streaming tears repent.
Pounding heart sore, you adore,
beating, loving pumps no more.
Thump of regret, of love in debt,
thrashing together you forget.
Fluttering beats on retreat,
sloshing a scent so very sweet.
Shattering bond, broken beyond,
a bellowing future now so fond.
Grimacing glares, hatred a flares,
spawning an odium of stares.
Soured smiles, trekking every mile,
whispering woes all the while.
Crackling hearts, burned apart,
smoldering pain from the start.
Hissing highs, kissing goodbye,
a burning love affair denied.
*An Onomatopoeia Poem people, but no place to choose that category! Thanks for taking the time to view my work, my fellow poet and poetess friends!
generic minds listen to generic music
have generic thoughts that are unknowingly abusive
watch generic things talk about generic things
gee this generic *****is spreading like a disease
better get your flu shot
thats what they said to me
a suicidal vaccine
a subliminal killing spree
its contagious and the outrageous
thing about it is that the people are blind in an eye
that they didn't even know they had
it's sickening to watch these clueless civilians
inside the looking glass
with nightmares of being free
without a key to their mind
for it is trapped in the frequency
in the illusion of time
bathed in our universe
killing all that refuse to see
those that admit to hypocracy
or see the message in hip hop
how cant you see
the message in the lyrics that
bring adolescents to their knees
from bullet wounds conflicting their flesh
contradicting that they're the best
but the songs keep telling them that they dont need no rest
that they dont wanna go home
that they should ride alone
with the gat as their only companion
and so the only path they choose is the one that they're told
until they grow old and hope turns to a window pane
inside a window pane, until all they feel is pain
they realize that the music itself is ashamed
so whats to look up to
when you cant even speak when you cant even walk because you look so bleak
your eyes are sunken from the tv you're infested with the dee zees
now its too late to turn around and live for your conscious
so when youre screaming oh please
close your eyes and bring your mind to life
open your eyes for the first time
and never wonder why
since the answer this entire time
has been inside
and you better find it before you die
you dont want your soul to be in a pool with all the others
a buncha brothers missing their mothers
but only seeing strangers
only feeling the haters
wishing they would have used their minds when they had them
and now its too late,
now it's time for another new born fate to grab them
Elegy to Child Lost
Passion's love oft tempts despair
Casts a prideful cosmic dare--
Like Prizing Joy's most intimate caress
Babe snug beneath a mother's breast
Senses at this time are keen
There's no secret kept between
Loving mother, wriggling babe--
Wanted , dreamed of, much delayed
But entwined twin was also loved--
Some say Nature's method proves
That one twin may give all to mate---
But this fatal sacrifice must decimate.
Only mother's eyes would feel babe's smiles--
or sense those legs that wandered miles
And daring feet that danced in tunes while
Arms swam in gentle Celtic croons.
When babe vanished--not a sound.
Mother 's grief was not allowed.
Tempted so to trail behind
Escaping shattered troubled mind.
Squelching sorrow's hungry arms
She Tried erase babe's fluttering charms
Never spoke of-- never mourned.
By her husband she was warned
Was best forget a child so early lost--
Funerals, gravestones--such a cost--
But the years have called babe near,
Mother's journal writ in tears:
'Please forgive my selfish heart.
Repressed from all --this tragic part
I felt your sacrificial act--
You left your cherished twin intact'.
There is no law of random acts
Doctors examine data facts
It may be --that in the womb
When both spring flowers cannot bloom
One bold twin refrains to eat
Compels the other to complete
Hardy growth that life requires---
Sparks survival's crucial hours.
Not an accident 'tis sure--
Boldest spirits blossom pure.
Victoria Anderson-Throop ©
My Fetish. I adore you.
Baby Blue. Black.
Red. Pink are all so
beautiful. You make me
feel like a lady. Nikes.
Timberlands. A pair of
killer boots. Match with a
fedora or a fresh to death
leather coat. Uggs, Steven
DSW, oh my how I am grateful
for you. Loafers. Buckles. Straps.
Peek a boo toes. Strapbacks. ON SALE.
Played dress up with my mom's and the
love affair began. Leopard. Bows. Fashion.
Class. With leggings. Jeans. Skirts. Suits.
Bikini underwear with a special Boo. Bags
the same color, high heels assists with what
some say is my sex appeal. Pretty details draw
attention from all ages and genders. A little girl's
obssession grown into a woman. Closet packed sparkling
eyes, legs dancing, carrying me into the next life lesson.
I give you tribute and pay homage to you. I love you shoes.
My friend John Barnes is as special as can be.
When it comes to friends God sure blessed me.
There are some things we lose, while others we win.
Some games we play lead us into sin.
I’ve have been lucky enough without any doubt.
I have a friend who always helps me out.
He drove across the state to find me on the roam.
Said, “get into the car I’m taking you home.”
He never once asked for a thing or questioned me.
I reckon that’s how a good friend should be.
We worked together off and on, our entire life.
I’m on number eight, John’s with the same wife.
John and Lisa have most certainly had their fights.
In the end they always do what is right.
Work it out, stay together, never giving up.
Realizing they already have a full cup.
They have raised all their kids, which should include me.
I reckon that’s how a parent should be.
John’s not really my dad but he is my brother.
He’s a friend to the end like no other.
A perfect example of what a friend should be.
That’s what John Barnes has always been for me.
From the start of the game to the end of the show,
John’s been the friend who has never let go.
He has stood by my side through thick and thin.
I’m very proud to be a friend to him.
Through the love of my friend I was able to see.
This is exactly what a friend should be.
You guys know that twinkle that you see in a star.
When it comes to life that’s what good friends are.
John Barn's is my best friend. Him and I met in the Oilfields outside
of Bakersfield where he still resides. We worked together on many
different jobs together over the years operating heavy equipment. I
reckon I was about 20 years old when I first met John and Lisa, his
wife. I haven't had 8 wives but I have 3 had wives and 5 significant
others during the time we have all known each other. I'm very lucky,
as well as, very proud to have had them in my life. We may not be
blood but we are family. Several times in my life they have opened
their home and helped me. Never asking for a thing or questioning my
behavior. Of course, them I would never disrespect. Not even in my worst
days. In fact, I never was a disrespectful or rude person. I just had bad
habits. I wrote this in honor of them but it is how I feel about all of my
friends. You guys all shine in my eyes. God Bless, mj
Let’s praise the Lord!
All you people of the land!
Let’s praise him with every
Instrument we have on hand!
Let’s shout praises to his
A message of rejoicing,
we need to proclaim!
Let’s come before him,
with love from our hearts!
This is where a victorious
life really starts!
Let’s bring him our thanks
And sing of his tender mercy
and wondrous salvation!
Let’s bring him a heart filled
With hope and cheer!
The coming of the lord,
is so very near!
We bless the father, the spirit
Through the blood of Jesus,
we have overcome!
By Jim Pemberton
My main man Michael
Where you’re is where you’re, J
Keep shining like stars
© Joseph Spence, Sr., 6/28/09
© All Rights Reserved
Joseph S. Spence, Sr., is the author of "The Awakened One Poetics" (2009), which is
published in seven different languages. He invented the Epulaeryu poetry form, which
focuses on succulent cuisines and drinks. He is published in various forums, including the
World Haiku Association; Poetinis Druskininku, Milwaukee Area College, Phoenix Magazine;
Möbius Poetry, and Taj Mahal Review to name a few. Joseph is a Goodwill Ambassador for
the state of Arkansas, USA, a college faculty, and a military veteran.