I’m really not a jealous person. I am happy for those who are fortunate in life. If I see a lady who has a beautiful family that loves her, I am happy for her. When a guy pull up in a fully restored ’57 Chevy convertible, complete w/ vanity license plates reading “AHH YEAH”, I’m happy for him. I have met two people in my life who have won large lottery jackpots, and I was very happy for them. Even when I see a drop-dead gorgeous exotic looking young woman wearing Chanel and four and a half inch Jimmy Choos, I am delighted for her. Seriously, I’m just not an envious person by nature.
Yesterday, my tire blew out. While I was waiting for my husband, I went into a local pub. A nice girl, Jenna, started a conversation with me. She was missing all four of her front teeth! We somehow started talking about dieting, and she told me that it is impossible for her to gain weight. She mentioned she weighed 102 lbs. and that she would love to gain at least 5 pounds but just couldn’t. She complained about how her metabolism was just “too high.” I’m sitting there with that old country song playing in my head...“A metabolism too high…What’s that mean? It’s like too much money, no such thing.”
Ironically, it happened to be karaoke evening. Once the festivities started, I clinged to the hope that my DVR was working and recording American Idol so I could watch it when I got home. “Big Matt” was up first singing George Straits. He was actually good. We all clapped. Next, it was Jenna.
I watched Jenna sing. In a world where if most of us had the misfortune to lose even one of our teeth, we would not leave the house unless it was to be fitted with our Davinci Veneers, this gal was poised and confident. She sang beautifully.
I found myself actually envious of this young woman. Not, however, for the reason you think. I found myself envious of her confidence. Despite her appearance, she sang with passion, poise and enthusiasm. Even missing all four of those front teeth, she could get up in front of that crowd and dazzle us all with her nice voice and pleasant demeanor.
As my husband came to my rescue, I left smiling.
I left smiling knowing that there are people like Jenna in this world.
I left smiling knowing that I do give people the benefit of the doubt.
I left smiling knowing that I do always look for the best others.
I left smiling knowing it is possible for me to be jealous of a young woman who is missing her front teeth.
The pricking sun starts to hide
when the stars unfurl their cloaks
The darkness starts to creep this evening
Oh I can feel my spirit rising
I stayed at the corner
And concealed by the dim
As I waited for them
With a see through dress
it reveals my fresh taut breast
and flaunt my crescent hips
Prowling, peering, peeping
like the voyeur moon
Scanning these passerby men
with a filthy eye
Ops, I spotted one!
"Pssst, pssst, pssst"
is an enchanting invitation
from this lovely siren
And I receive a glance
With a wink of an eye
he give in to mine
In my bed I prepared
sheets of smooth linens,
rose spattered floors
like a shattered virgin,
Sets of burning candles
weep my husband's leave
but their lights celebrate
my burning desires
He perfumed me with his breath
He oiled my body with kisses
fluids dripping in my flesh
Giving and receiving
Warm bodies colliding
Flesh against flesh
as this fire we unleash
Riding to pleasure
till we reach hell's depth
I'm a flesh huntress
who craves for flesh
I sling sweet talk
and bait my body
I need not snare
for that is man's desire
Don't dare to escape
As I cast sin's net
This poem is inspired by proverb's immoral woman...I am not pointing to a woman in
general...this is just a particular woman whom I also know....the point of view here is
The old woman sews
Marking each stitch
The whirring of machines
Whirling and whirling
Round and round
Of another time
Of a night
When she was afraid
To speak to a boy
Sitting next to her.
As her busy fingers work
She remembers more
Of that summer night
A blue cotton dress
With tiny ribbons
Lace curtains gently
Pulled by a breeze
Drifted out through opaque windows
While musicians played a rhythm
Of their own
And shadows pranced
On empty walls.
Waiting that night
Why no one
Her to dance.
On silver sails
She knows that today is now.
And yesterday was yesterday
Finished with her work
She catches her breathe,
Straightens her hair,
And turns off the lights.
Pausing to look back
Into the darkened room
Shadows return her glance
With a gaping stare
Adjusting to the darkness
She begins to recognize
Familiar shapes taking form
Satisfied that all will be the same
When she returns
She closes the door.
She holds onto her purse
For a traffic light
That has already
A smile crosses her face
As she remembers
When the boy
Became her husband
Children were born.
And the years went by
In a brown bag
Neatly folded in two
Is a blue chiffon dress
Almost like the one
She wore years ago
Only this one
Is for her granddaughter
Impatient for no reason
To go nowhere
The crowd pushes forward
But the old woman lingers
On the corner
Savoring the moment
Glad of memories
As a busy world saunters by.
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.
I know a woman so brave and strong that married
her sweetheart and made a new home.
They were determined to make a good life,
so he joined the Marines and went off to fight.
They lived in countries so far away and had two
sons during their stay.
Then they came home and settled down,
somewhere in North Carolina, a military town.
One day the news came he had to leave for awhile,
although she was crying, he only saw a smile.
He called her as often, as he was allowed,she
sent him packages that drew a crowd.
Then the news came, he had been hit, a roadside
bomb, and it was real bad.
Her eyes welled up with tears of fear, hearing the
words she hoped never to hear.
Strong and determined to find out the facts,
her husband was severely injured in Iraq. She told
the men that had come bearing the news that eve,
this man my husband, who just happens to be
a Marine, is my whole world, and has always
She made certain his care was very good, and beside
his bed, this brave woman stood.
She left her sons in the care of her mom, and
told them both, soon you can come. I know now,
God gave her wings, but from us they are hid.
Up on a hill there was an old house and in it lived Abigail, a young lady without a spouse. One day her doorbell rang and she went to the door. There stood an old man, his head to the floor. He appeared scared and weak so she let him come in, for if she didn’t it’d be a sure sin. The old man smiled and gave his thanks, and she said, “Not to worry, there’s no need to thank.”
Abigail and the elder talked for quite a long time. Sharing story after story, and soon drinking wine. The two became very good friends and laughed, and laughed ‘til night came to end.
When the next day dawned, they went for a walk, down at the pond they decided to stop. It was frigid and misty, but they enjoyed the stroll because their friendship was warmer than the wind’s dreadful cold. As they stood in front of the calm, cool pond, Abigail asked, “Where do you come from?” The old man laughed a deep, dark laugh, “I come from the boneyard, the place of last breaths. I am the man, which many name Death.”
The creeping old man then pulled out a knife and slashed Abigail’s throat before she could fright. Her life left instantly, her body grew cold, and the elder’s smile sparkled like gold.
The pond was hungry and the old man knew that Abigail’s corpse would have to go soon. He tied a brick to both of her feet and tossed her away into the deep. As her body sunk into the watery blue, the elder stood there and felt renewed.
Back on the trail the aged man went. Not a worry in mind, no remorse ever meant. He did what had to be done, to the grave his soul belonged.
The elder approached another ol’ house. He rang the doorbell and waited, innocent as a mouse.
A Woman’s Worth
By Nate Spears
Her purpose in this world is hurting
She’s never been a designed of perfect
But she is a mom, so she’s super
Then roll up her sleeves ; and
Take care of the kids; and
Making it a home
For a beautiful family to roam
Building wonderful memories
Becoming a woman of worth
Keeping her faith through Christ
Keeping her pace through health
Keeping her sanity through managing
This is a woman’s worth
I’m giving you
Despite of all the stress
She receives her family with open arms
Through all the mess
She’s a fantastic mom
A wonderful woman
Deserving a round of applause
Plus a standing ovation
For always being an American sensation
That held this continent down since day one
Since the Plymouth Rock landed on us
Thank you for her giving
Thank you for her living
Thank you for her children
This is ,
A woman’s worth.
I can’t change/You can’t change/We are Two separate/ people with Two separate hearts when did this road shred apart/
I can’t force this love anymore/ I am lost in deep thought / Emotional pain hurts/ but when you Add mental games/ and a teaspoon of lies/ It’s just ugly as a newborn cries for help
This broken heart lingers woman/ I am tired/ Trying to piece this love hate relationship together/ it’s so torn in pieces I can’t pinpoint the location/ we are too far apart / Now longitude and latitude can’t place us together/broken hearts/ Frustrating tears/
Now it’s two separate lines/ two different directions/ do you see my reflection/ reflect off this glass mirror/ Now look at my torn face as sweats falls off my face/ Tears in my eyes a whale can swim/ It’s frustrating to find a answer/ At first I couldn’t sleep/ lonely night became very dark / but now start to feel like Morning’s are my best sunshine
By Nate Spears
Published 2013 in “Death OF A Rose” By Nate Spears
A lost woman the mirror reflects
Young; and it’s apparent
I can see it in her eyes
No focus and childbearing
Just ass, legs, and thighs in mind
If she knew better
Learned better; and
He would show her a better way of living
Instead of dealing with cowards
Seek a man with moral and merit
He’s stealing your joy
He’s bringing you pain
Removing your youth
He’s playing games
The truth at heart is
Reality should be your first thought
Loneliness is not your fault
It’s a part of life for most
Don’t let it destroy your values
You’ll find a true love to treasure you.
When Miss Lily Jane Bobbit arrived in that Alabama town,
jaws dropped; all eyes were riveted on her.
The ordinary street on which she lived would be no longer common,
for Lily Jane now graced it with her presence.
Not everybody liked this sassy lass.
The girls in town were jealous and some folks were bemused
by this lovely and precocious child with long, dark silken hair
who, fashionably attired and immaculately groomed,
walked and talked like some sophisticate!
Ever the lady and the epitome of southern charm,
Lily Jane was often mocked behind her back.
Due to her solemn demeanor and unusual directness,
she seemed starkly out of place in that small backwater town.
Yet not a soul who met her would remain unaffected in some way
by this woman who inhabited a young girl’s form.
Wise beyond her years and blessed with intuition,
she had a moral compass the bigots were unaccustomed to.
She would not back down to the bullies who would shrink
when reproached by Lily Jane for bad behavior.
Defender of the downtrodden, she shone with the righteousness
of one who sees no color; she was just!
And in her eyes, everyone was equal beneath the skin.
Both tenderness and mercy she extended to the meek.
After all of this, there was more. Miss Bobbit had a dream!
In the quiet hours of her afternoons, she’d go to her back yard,
where neighbor boys might spy on her from behind the fence.
In such moments, her dream unfolding could be observed
as Lily Jane lithely moved her slender body -
swaying, bending, and pirouetting across the grass.
She dreamed one day to go to Hollywood, but not just for dance.
Another talent glittered in that girl.
Lily Jane could sing, and she performed one night
before her townspeople in a talent show for the community.
When she started singing, everyone grew silent.
She sang of dreams and of never giving up on what you want.
With her beauty and her angel voice, she exuded iridescence.
Mesmerized, not one person could deny that if anyone could do it,
Lily Jane would reach her highest star.
I now conclude my summary of this woman child,
a character of fiction, Miss Lily Jane Bobbit,
who was brought to life by the marvelous imagination
of a master storyteller named Capote.
I’ve met many people in my lifetime,
some who exhibited one or more of Lily’s strong qualities.
Since truth, they say, is stranger than fiction, I like to think
there exist other people peculiar in their goodness,
lighting up our world as did Lily Jane, the iridescent.
*See "about poem"
Day in, day out… I’m here
softly walking down
the corridors of your mind
a seductress in search of the room
where you hide your heart
The train of my sheer gown trails behind me
my bare feet hardly making a sound
yet my scent…..
my scent alerts you to my presence
to reaches you in pulsating throbs
and you turn the lock...
leaning heavily against the door
of the secret room
which bears your heart
but I know...
you want me
I hear you
and move in your direction
standing outside the door
where you stand guard
protecting your dearest treasure
for you know
once I find it
you will be mine
I hear your heavy breathing
you sense my presence behind the door
you feel me
you shut your eyes
to block out the vision
that forms in your mind
clad in only wispy red lace
you smell the scent
exuding from the cleavage
where my perfume scented fingers have been
the place your face
longs to be
I read your thoughts
and I sense
victory in sight
alluring, calls out to you
“Let me in…
I only want to please you
Let me love you
Don't be afraid"...
You cover your ears
to drown out the dulcet chime
the rhythm and rhyme
of my words
making your body move
I use this time
to pick the lock
with keys I have stolen
from one of the other rooms
fantasies of me
in your arms
in your bed
my hair flowing
all over your body
as I bring delight
fantasies that need to see the light
each fantasy a key
Yes, the largest key works
I turn the lock
and the door slowly opens...
I step inside this forbidden room
where resides your heart of hearts
you have moved away from the door
in the middle of the room
you fall to your knees
in your hand, your heart
safe, protected, secure
“Please,” a ragged whisper
“Let me be”
Deliberately, I make my way to you
Swaying with each step
My hands on curvaceous hips
my hair cascades down
my eyes take you in
a wanton smile on cherry lips
using every womanly grace
you try not to look
you try to turn away
I never fail
I stand before you
fingers under your chin
I gently raise your face
your eyes plead
my hair flows down
along with my gown
there at my feet
the feminine scent of me
your eye traveling
where dreams have only been
I whisper in your ear
my breasts against your chest
my breath against your cheek...
I've come for you, you see...
To set your cravings free
Unleash your fantasy
Your seductress I’m meant to be
Ah...yes.....make sweetest ever
t *V* o
For Justin Border's Art of Seduction Contest
Hostile Times II
By Nate Spears
Busted love is my Crystal Ball's fortune
My heart hurts in a torturing way
Nothing ever works in my favor
I lower my head and pray
Confessing to God
All I have to give
A 16 year old rebellious daughter
A 13 year old son that’s dead
My father is in prison; so is the one of my two kids
Is this really a way of living?
I didn’t have a choice from the days beginning
Would have a given me a chance
Walls of barriers bearing on us
On this earth we stand
Refusing to let go of this curse
If no bill is signed by Congress
My unemployment runs out next Thursday
Now I contemplate what’s next?
Sex dollars or Creflo's Dollars?
Be an honest woman; or
Be a fool that’s starving?
When pushed to the limit
All governors are discarded.
Hostile Times rains upon us
Other nations joins the honors
The Elite makes me vomit
There’s plenty of resources among us
God have mercy and let it trickle down on us
Rather than become degrading
In this pew
I choose prayer
Becoming Sunday Mornings best
Washing away my pains that become abreast; with my chest
Bringing in a new day,
For a better way
In these hostile times we live in.
SHE WAS HIGH, AND SMELLING, RIPE OF SEX
WHEN SHE WALKED INTO THE CHURCH.
IT WAS EVENING SERVICE, BUT STILL, THE AIR WAS HOT.
HER BLOUSE WAS OPEN, HER JEANS WERE TIGHT,
BUT HER SPIRIT WAS SEARCHING FOR ANSWERS...
SHE NEEDED RELEASE FROM HER BONDAGE, OR HER SOUL WOULD ROT.
UNSURE OF THE SOURCE, OF THE POWER THAT LED HER...
THAT SPOKE TO SOME SUBCONSCIOUS NEED,
TO SALVAGE THAT PORTION OF LIFE, NOT YET WITHERED AWAY.
SHE REMEMBERED THE YEARS AS A CHILD, SHE WOULD LISTEN
TO PARENTS THAT READ FROM THE BIBLE.
THE PARENTS THAT TAUGHT HER TO TRUST GOD, AND TAUGHT HER TO
SHE NOTICED SOME CHURCH FOLK, WERE LOOKING HER WAY,
THEIR EYES FULL OF COLD CONDEMNATION.
EXPRESSIONS THAT THREATENED TO PAINT HER WITH FEATHERS AND
HER GRANDMOM ONCE TOLD HER THE PROBLEM WITH CHURCH
WAS CHURCH FOLK...THAT SURE LOVE TO JUDGE
WHO SOMEHOW FORGOT, THAT CHRIST SAID,"TO COME AS YOU ARE."
SO WITH THAT IN MIND, SHE MANAGED TO SMILE
THE SMILE OF A SINNER WITH PURPOSE...
THE SMILE OF A WOMAN ACCUSTOMED, TO TREATMENT LIKE DIRT.
HER SPIRIT WAS DRIVEN AND FUELED INTO FOCUS
BY PAIN AND BAD CHOICES SHE'S MADE
SHE WAS SEEKING FORGIVENESS IN CHRIST, SO THEIR LOOKS, DID NOT
THESE CHURCH FOLK WHO FELT THEMSELVES RIGHTEOUS AND HOLY
WHO FELT IT THEIR DUTY TO JUDGE HER...
WHO ALL KNEW THE WORD, BUT SOMEHOW FORGOTTEN ITS TRUTH.
COULD NOT STEAL THE JOY AND THE PEACE NOW UPON HER
A CALM SHE'D NOT FOUND, IN THE WORLD...
A REBIRTH OF SOMETHING SHE'S MISSED
SINCE THE DAYS OF HER YOUTH.
SHE WAS THERE TO PRAISE "GOD', NOT THE PEOPLE,
WHO WHISPERED AND POINTED HER WAY,
HIS DOORS REMAIN OPEN TO "ALL", WHO WOULD SEEK TO COME IN.
THEY'VE BECOME TOO RELIGIOUS, TO BE ABOUT GOD
THESE CHURCH FOLK, WHO CALL THEMSELVES SAINTS...
NOT RECOGNIZING THEIR JUDGMENT, THE MUCH GREATER SIN.
THIS WOMAN WAS TIRED OF LIVING HER LIFE, IN SINFUL DARK WAYS OF
AND CHURCH FOLK WOULD THINK, TO SHUT HER OUT, TURN HER AWAY.
WELL THIS ONE MADE IT IN, BUT HOW MANY WILL NOT
SHUT OUT...BY THE PERFECT, SELF RIGHTEOUS...
HOW MANY MORE OF OUR LOST SOULS, WILL CHURCH FOLK, BETRAY
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.
The old woman argued relentlessly, her case.
Resolute, she raved in her conviction;
two thousand and one reasons were there for her to be mad.
Eleven was given to questioning eyes.
It was September,
and Bernice brought home the bourgeois man,
and the two fell
from the pedestal
they held among friends in the big city,
(the city) a melting pot,
now a city in affliction.
Bernice’s brown eyes combed the neighborhood;
two boys, with open arms,
played aero planes;
Across the street,
the rug pilot laughed his ass off
as if mocking the bourgeois man,
and his woman hid her face in rags …,
in degradation –
but her sad eyes openly mourned her son’s suicide.
Grief of that magnitude brings offense,
and the bourgeois man was red with wrath,
and he abhors the old woman
with every inch of his being.
Racism was reversed.
He avowed by God to ruin the rug pilot,
and the people that loved him consented.
Hearts were left to wonder
what makes men so cruel.
The reasons for the old woman’s rant was explicable,
and of the grounds for the revenge
the negros conceded,
in only one instance.
Revenge was foreseeable,
and the spirit breeds more phobias.
I was alone
Travelling Interstate 80
Following the route of the early Western pioneers
2900 miles across the midsection of America
Stretching from the East Coast to California
In Utah home to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints
The land becomes flat and straight
Large signs on the edge of the road
Warn drivers about fatigue and drowsiness
Tired and hungry
I drove on
Watching shadows move in the sunlight
Day turning into night
On an empty highway
Finally I stopped at a place off the road.
An old woman showed me around
On a warm evening
Life is a delusion she said
There are terrible people out there
You ought to be careful
Cause you’re young you know.
The room was small
Fan cutting through the humid air
Telephone ringing in an empty room
In the shadows
She pointed to a spot
Where an old man died
We kept the shabby couch she said
Too expensive to throw out
We’re as practical
And frugal as the Mormons
So we kept it.
No sense in thinking about it any more
The more you think
The more mixed up you get
Besides it’s wide
A bed for two and very comfortable.
I tried paying for the room
She looked in my face
Searching for something
Then down at the crumpled bills in my hand
Wetting her fingers she counted the money
I don’t know if you kids have everything
Or you have nothing
Time and experience will tell
Then she handed some of the money back to me
I don’t need that much
Beside it’s only money Son
That’s all it is
Life is short
You hold on to it
You’ll need it later
I looked puzzled
We all have our secrets.
I was up early next morning
When the old woman appeared
I figured you’d be leaving soon she said
Yes I replied
Going to look for family out there?
No just myself
Lightly touching my arm she said
Don’t be afraid. You’re young. There’s always been magic in a young heart
The roads are clear this time of morning.
Ride straight and you’ll do fine.
The engine revved up
I was moving at 60, then 70, then 80
Windows wide open
Wind pouring in
Not another car on the road
I was alive
I was free
The morning belonged to me.
Betty was bonafide crazy. She had shot her husband after a night of drunken quarreling, and was in the state mental hospital instead of being in the slammer. She'd shot the louse in the stomach and he had lived, fortunately for her. I never tired of hearing about Betty's attempted escape and eluding of the police in the aftermath. Over the river and through the woods she ran, but not to grandmother's house, sadly; she didn't know where she was going; all she knew was that she HAD to get the hell outta there.
Down a steep embankment she had tumbled, right next to the highway. As she attempted to orient herself, a car slowed down, it's lights blinding her as she tried to pick off the brush, debris and twigs that clung like glue to her hair and muddy nightgown. The car stopped, two cops sprang forth and yelled, "FREEZE!". The jig being up, Betty did as instructed, was cuffed and read her Miranda rights. She never bothered to elaborate how she wound up in the loony bin instead of staying in the pokey, but I can only imagine it was due to her obvious derangement.
Betty was a hoot; funny as could be and an excellent card player. She had long, shaggy salt and pepper frizzy tresses that looked more like a Halloween wig than an actual coiffure. She was well into her fifties but seemed much older with her deep smoker's wrinkles and heavy, sunken eyes, like a soul that's known too much wear, tear, pain and heartache and aged prematurely. On more than one occasion I questioned her actual insanity, but on one night, when the moon was full and all the crazies were, admittedly, much more maniacal than normal, my doubts about Betty's "playing possum" dissolved. It's true, you know, what they say about a full moon and the impact it has over the mind; I've witnessed it first-hand too many times in different psych wards to discount it as "old-wives" folklore. Nurses never fail to mention when there is a full moon; they know it to be true as well.
I don't know what set her off. I was enjoying a game of rummy with Angela, a paranoid schizophrenic with a penchant for identifying supposed conspiracies within the hospital, when I heard Betty screaming furiously and cussing up a hurricane. Well, something didn't suit her, obviously, and she was having none of it. This is when I began to wonder if Betty was not part "Bionic Woman". Next thing I knew, she wailed like a banshee, took off sprinting down the hall at incredible, breakneck speed that defied her rather plump figure and stubby legs, and drop-kicked the heavy, locked steel door that barred the exit of ward "Grag". Nurses hit the panic button and made urgent phone calls which signaled the goons and heavy muscle to race toward our ward to subdue the unsubduable. Soon as Angela heard the nurses all in a frenzy, she yelled, "CONSPIRACY LEVEL UP! TOP FLOOR!" ("Top Floor" being the ward that housed the most violent or dangerous loons.) Paranoid schizophrenics are such a suspicious bunch!
As Betty raced by, Angela immediately stood up, cheering her along, chanting "GRAG STYLE, BABY; YEAH!". In total astonishment I watched this Wonder Woman drop-kick this barricade (which was most definitely designed to keep us confined) in total kung-fu, samurai, ninja style with such force that it burst wide open! Talk about jaw-dropped incredulous! By the time Betty the She-Hulk nearly drop-kicked her way to freedom, the goons (as the big orderlies were dubbed) descended upon her, but she fought with such ferocity that for just an instant I thought she might break free, given that she had picked up a nearby chair and was using it to fend them off with the skill of a lion-tamer (or so I mused). But poor Betty was helplessly and hopelessly outnumbered and the whole incident must have happened in the span of maybe two minutes, but time has a funny way of slowing down and stretching in instances such as these, when the eyes and mind are trying to comprehend the incomprehensible. She was tackled on all sides, but not before one of the stooges took a whack upside his empty head. Nurses rushed forth, syringes in hand, and gave Betty the usual knock-out serum of hefty doses of Haldol and Benadryl (don't ask me how I know this!). Then, as was the procedure in all such cases, Betty was strapped down on a gurney and wheeled away to the "Quiet Room" where she was to be closely monitored by some muscle.
As one of the orderlies passed, carting the drowsy Betty past us, Angela barked one of her customary insults of, "YOU SMELL LIKE ASS AND NACHOS!" which never failed to tickle me to no end. The excitement over, Angela and I went back to our game of rummy and she accused me of cheating when I won, flipped over the table, and stormed off (but she always did this whenever she lost.) Ah, Angela; what I'd give to play rummy with you again!
A few days later, after a two week stint, I was finally released and never saw or heard from Betty (or Angela) again. Whenever I see someone fly into a rage, I am often happily reminded of Betty, Super-Woman of ward "Grag". Why was I there? I'll never tell!
The Stranger and the Photographer
By: Inaam Al-Hashimi (Gold_N_Silk)
Sunshine in his eyes
A smile on his face
Dust on his hair
And on his eyebrows
Like a lone ranger
From outer space
Who crossed the desert
Riding the wind,
Not a horse!
And after his journey,
To rest his head,
He found a place.
Everyone was talking
Laughing and joking
And with their laughter
Filling the space
But alone he was sitting,
Drinking and eating,
In utter silence,
Minding noone else.
Like lightning and thunder,
On a hot summer day;
She suddenly comes,
To shatter his silence,
And cross his way,
"I'd like to take a picture,"
She said with a smile,
"Of you, If I may!"
Waited for no answer,
Took a picture,
"Thank you!" She said,
And went away.
Then turned around
And said with a sway:
Mind you stranger!
If destiny wants,
She'll have her way,
Your path and my path,
Will cross again,
Somehow, somewhere, someday!
What beauty is to me
It's the walk of a young woman in heels
The swing and sway of her hips
The uncertainty of her steps
The vulnerability in her eyes
As she feels all the staring eyes
Devouring her beauty
There is nothing more charming
Than the little girl look in her eyes
As she enjoys the attention
But at the same time is uncomfortable
In the role of a seductress
What beauty is to me?
The sweet woman smell as she approaches
Nothing in the whole world
Either natural or manufactured
Can even come close to equaling
This overwhelming potion that says love
In no uncertain terms, the message comes at you
Loud and clear without a word being spoken
As males of the species
We are uncontrollable under her spell
What beauty to me?
© Jack Ellison 2014
She is so typical
For most part difficult
I never really could grasp her in such way
She just wants me to some how stay
She comes to my man cave and makes me obey
Shy she was and now I am scared
In such way I almost cared
She thinks she can do everything for me I swear
She makes me guess everyday but I keep on believing
Because it is fun to give her a kiss, while she does not know when she is sleeping
She stresses out but I will tell her my love for her keeps deepening
So for the most part I just keep her close to make her smile and me
When I do things I do it for her it is always a key
Call me romantic or call me stupefied, but it makes her so, so, sooo, happy
Of all the kooky Coo-Coo's in the nest, Charlene by far was my favorite. Poor Charlene had virtually lost her mind after the sudden tragic death of her son, and because of that, and in addition to her hilarious antics, we were all quite fond of Charlene.
She was an African-American woman, somewhere in her sixties I supposed. Hoary, snow white hair, diminutive in stature, not lean but not heavy, and entirely unpredictable. A fellow smoker, she would always accompany the rest of us out onto the patio where we all grumbled about our mental problems, b!tched about the staff and exchanged war stories. This was always my favorite time to share with Charlene because, without warning, she would often suddenly break out singing gospel songs as if we were in church and not the loony bin. Charlene would sing her heart out, and though not the best singer in the world, I found this erratic behavior endearing, because she would often not only carol "negro spirituals" but also many songs I knew by heart since I also grew up in church. And this was not just singing; it was like she was in actual church, arms waving and dancing around, as if the spirit of the Lord had abruptly invaded her animated body. Stomping, stamping, wailing, flailing: singing her little heart out for us. It was an awesome spectacle to watch, to say the least.
I clearly and vividly recall the day my parents and best friend came to visit me. As I was showing them around the place, which was actually very resort-like for a mental hospital, and introducing them to my new crazy friends, out from nowhere came Charlene with a paper cup in hand. She was "vroom-vrooming" all over the place like she was driving and steering a car. She even made screeching brake noises as she rounded corners, frightening the more sensitive patients in her wake. My parents and best friend, and those of us on "the mend", could not restrain our laughter. While Charlene "vroomed" past us, I yelled at her over the car noises and said, "Hey, Charlene; whatcha doin'?" and, without skipping a beat, she yelled back, "Can't you see? I'm driving my new Porsche!". Needless to say, we were all doubled over with laughter.
In all my time spent in mental wards, this is by far my favorite and most cherished memory. It turned out that Charlene actually lived in the same town as me, and I would often see her in the grocery store where I worked (after I was "all better"). I always said Hi to her and called her by name, and she would just look at me in bafflement and hurry on with her buggy. One day she finally asked me how I knew her, and I whispered in her ear (as not to embarrass her), how we had met in the hospital, and she took me aside and whispered in a conspiratorial way, "Oh, honey; that was a baaaaaaad time!". I just gave her a friendly, reassuring pat on the back and smiled, to signify that for the time being, we both were better, and that's all that mattered. Al Fin.
uncomfortableness, and hesitation arose that you might reassess a possibility for friendship or.... whatever with me.
A disappointment set in place in the event that based on some facet of my being (inexplicable flaws within this corporeal human male), forecast that an about face (booked on charges inherent in this googly eyed, earth-linked, kool hotmail of a yahoo) would be un liked!
Juno what i mean?
In retrospect, no matter that this average boyish chap desires enjoyment, he admits that ordinary punctuating various stages of development difficulty coping found him msn (miss sin, missin, missing, et cetera) on ordinary interpersonal experiences!
No matter yours truly usually finds me each morning, noon or night conjuring up maximizing temporary residence on this planet earth versus bemoaning those futile and essentially counterproductive mind games sans could a, might a, should a, would a...
today = the moment to cherish, enjoy, help others, ponder the remaining years
since fruitless to expend tears
for suppressed emotional, financial, grammatical, hormonal, physical, and spiritual angst
that roiled mine inner sanctum - mainly from decades in the past
which unseen scars with humor this fellow (who by the way likes you) wears!
Notice the sly inclusion of my comment per -- affinity, desirability, rhapsody for you
although just but a mere inkling prevails about an ye taelje john thru
a rather contrived manner - albeit an online adult oriented website - amongst a slew
which yields to this bipedal hominid a scant few
initial responses - as if a ghost app paired in the recipient email - going boo
which unwittingly seems to turn the ivy blue!
So...no matter a constancy of follow-up electronic communiques occurs from ye
bringing tears of joy, that nobody can see
while simultaneously delivering digital glee
a reality check restrains proclivity and predilection to let thoughts run wild and free!
Immense and immeasurable mounts in moi little rock
inducing an electric arc for myself to kin neck embedded in all this schlock
for a sixth sense arises that this holme body strongly suspects yar self
to generate sunny watts as an s spy she lee Sherlock
but, reticence to gush with ebullience reins in a cascade
of utter delight washing o'er this less than satisfactory mwm
who as a boy and youth happened to b a frayed
of his own shadow - while walking along the boulevard of broken dreams
listening to the sounds of silence on a green-day.
Thus => the following from one
Cerebral being ™ in the am and pm
This ordinary human
Finds himself a mystery
Within the terrestrial
Firmament and frequently
Feels in a feverish pitch
At his existence
That seers the temple
Mounted upon this slender
Frame - wrought by the
Combination of genetics
In tandem with exercise
Which latter helps to
Sublimate the coiled
Tension wound tightly
Like an indestructible spring
Without a healthy medium at large
To channel emotions fraught within
Me might find demise
That would rent asunder literate fellow
And thus annihilate without a trace
One true valued father of two us special
Lovely lasses as just another statistic among
As the world turns (indiscriminately oblivious of the harrowing days per one simian), an agreeable, amiable, edible, immeasurable, likeable, pleasurable, sensible woman (such as yourself - predicated on a gut level intuition) goads more seriousness to share
Plaintive unheard heart strings o mine that wail
Displeased with this marriage fraught with travail
As if in a maelstrom whip-lashed vessel without a sail
Yet - averse to lambaste or rail
Against abby (whereby we pass like two ships in the night) who married this male
When each of us happened to seem more similar
And thought each ourselves to fail
At any endeavor, though now confidence
Buoys my heart while she doth ail
And exemplifies attitudes, beliefs, efforts,
Idiosyncrasies, pathos that life does rot
Ill suited to Matthew Scott,
Whose bon vivant manifesting faith in him
Perhaps from herself deferring many domestic
And child rearing tasks not
Of course being boasting - even when scissoring the umbilical cord
As a now beaming papa, whose daughters
Blithely ignore "mother" a lot
Thus necessitating this quest
For a counterpart to offer succor
To eden (age 16) and shana (14 on february 4th, 2013)
Yet accepts that i must dispel any dreamy fantasy even this ours - a mere jot
At this juncture knowing full well how unwise to set myself up for disappointment
By thinking and rushing like a fool,
Where angels fear to tread
Though "chutzpah" i got!
U r slowly filling my mindscape with joy
Thank you so much - for accepting without complaint how atypically words this writer wannabe
Named Matthew Scott Harris dozen ploy.
“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!”
Beautiful I am
© Content Copywritten
I remember thinking that I didn’t fit the image of what society deems beautiful
I remember I thought my beauty was not beautiful
I wanted to change my hair
I wanted to change my skin
I wanted change my nose
Above all, I wanted to change my neck, because I thought it was just too long
Fast forward to today and learning who I am, Zamir, a daughter of Zion
I know I am Beautiful and made to please my creator who formed and shaped me in the womb
Beautiful I am
Made to praise you
Beautiful I am
Made in your image
Beautiful I am
Wonderfully and Fearfully Made
Beautiful I am
Growing into the woman I am now
It took me some time to realize my beauty
Forgetting that outward beauty doesn’t make me who I am
Beauty is vain but a woman who fears The Most High shall be praised
Beautiful I am
Made to praise you
Beautiful I am
Made in your image
Beautiful I am
Wonderfully and Fearfully Made
Beautiful I am
Most High you created me just the way I was meant to be
You shaped me in the image of you wife: Ruwach Qadash
What’s done in heaven resembles what’s in earth
My beauty is inward and shines outward
My purpose is to please you
I desire to be a vessel used for your glory
Beautiful I am
Made to praise you
Beautiful I am
Made in your image
Beautiful I am
Wonderfully and Fearfully Made
Beautiful I am
All by myself again,
peering through my open window.
I watched a familiar solitary, silvery moth,
diving, flicking, rising, falling, haphazardly flying,
drawn to my hot naked luminescent porch bulb.
No longer threatened by his mere erotic presence,
I methodically snapped off the switch.
He slipped back into the darkness,
just as he had done last night and the night before.
Once more I regained control but will he return?
Will he bring others?
For "CHOPPED II" contest.
Behold, one day was a woman who was found in possession of many men. Good men, enamored by some other concubines and some married. And in the year 30 BC the law was harsh and severe. And the woman was taken to a prophet who was in the region to be tried and sentenced to stoning.
The wise heard all the witnesses, the men who were involved with this woman claimed they were attracted by its impurity and its spells, the wives of men who lay with Magdalene really wanted it to be stoned.
Then the sage asked: where is the adulteress? And all pointed to the ground, with stones in hand ready for stoning, toward the woman who was in tears. And again the sage asked where the adulteration? And all again pointed to the woman who was on the ground crying.
His tears fell at the feet of the thinker who stopped for a moment and said to the crowd:
"When each of you pledged to love each other as a sign of respect for the Creator at least stopped to reflect on the consequences that the adulteration of thought would lead to their own destruction teaching?
What did this woman beyond just love?
I see in their faces adulterated by the expression of a thought that leads to hatred and seeks the destruction of the next as to what gushes misunderstanding.
Who really had adulterated the divine purpose? One that gave the body a sign of love for others or those who changed their initial purpose in interacting with the creator?
Then so be pronounced the sentence. He who does not have it in your face adulterated the true purpose of love that judge this woman for the crimes that have been allocated to it, ... "
And one by one all left without even a stone was thrown.
Author: Max Diniz Cruzeiro
How would the master: "Love one another as I have loved you"; "Love God above all things and your neighbor as yourself"
I was once seen on one’s graveyard
Strumming an old guitar with a beer in one hand
I asked, “What was I wearing?”
“A clown’s”, the woman said, “and a cross lay flat on your chest.”
On a clowny day a white-clothed cried
“I think I saw you next to the baby’s’s crib.”
“What was I wearing?" went in my head.
“A priest’s,” she said, then a puppet clung in your neck.”
On a priesty day, “You were that man!”
Said she gasping while a run.
“You hung your head, Oh belfry man!”
Then bellowed she, “Oh belfry man!”
On a gaspy day, in a purring crowd I passed
A woman lay naked on a road’s side
Pieces that woman accused me of possessing
Cross, puppet, white long garments the dead's hand clasping!
© Glenn L. Sentes
Written for Matt Caliri's Contest DOPPELGANGER
July 5, 2011
This is my impression of Elvis Presley
I was vey lucky to be 16 in 1956 when Rock and roll came into existence the greatest music of all time and for all time, this is what it all met to me.
Elvis was the big bang to creating music like the big bang was to creating the universe
Before Elvis their was no rock and roll, no music, no dancing
His look was unique
His movements on stage were unique
His voice was the greatest like nothing ever heard before
His songs started the greatest music craze in the history of music rock and roll
He looked dangerous
He looked like he was having the best time of his life on stage
Elvis didn’t give a damm who wrote his songs black or white
He was the first entertainer who did it all before anyone else did anything
Both men and women loved him
Elvis was a mans man
Elvis was a ladies man
Elvis was a gentleman
Elvis was a Christian
Elvis was a momma’s boy
Elvis was respectful of his fans
Elvis was just one man who changed music forever in America in 1956
When Elvis sings you have to smile, to tap your feet, clap your hands, move your body, and come alive
It’s 2013, 35 years since Elvis died
He is still the major Icon of the music world
Elvis is still the most worshiped singer and entertainer in history
Thousands and thousands of fans visit his home each and every year
Elvis didn’t smoke or drink
Elvis became an actor but could have become an accomplished actor with the right people and advice around him
Coronel Parker was both good for Elvis and bad for Elvis
Liberace taught Elvis how to dress with flash
Elvis had his own way of moving on stage when he sang no one has ever duplicated his signature moves God know how many tried
Elvis served the country he loved when he was drafted into the army no complaining
Elvis asked fro no special treatment while in the army
Elvis loved the woman and the woman loved him back
Elvis was the greatest entertainer of all time
Elvis met his tragic and to soon end to his life he was only 42
Elvis was hooked on prescription pills and that’s what killed him
No one could tell Elvis what to do many tried all failed
The music died on the day Elvis died
It was so sad that Elvis felt so all alone so much of his life that is what fame does to you
Elvis was the King
No one else will ever occupy the Kings throne
Elvis loved to sing gospel songs no other entertainer of rock and roll ever did
No entertainers star shines brighter or ever will
You can ask any great entertainer and there are hundreds and will all agree Elvis was the greatest entertainer of all time
No entertainer in the history of music ever had a first year success like Elvis had
I saw Elvis in Las Vegas in 1972 when the music started and you knew that Elvis was soon to be coming on stage the excitement and the anticipation in the room was over whelming and beyond compare everyone in the room was mesmerized
This is my remembrance of Elvis Presley
March 15, 2013
A Two Woman Duo
By Missy Yourist
I am from the inside of a woman whom I have never met.
A birth mother who I do not know one ounce of who or what she is about.
A person who bearably carried me for nine months.
Gave birth to me, a 3 pound toe-head baby.
She had to have held me right after, but my baby eyes don't seem to remember.
Blurred by the brightness of the world,
I never saw who my birth mother was.
But after two months, I was passed onto the most beautiful creature
that my premature eyes had ever seen.
A woman who would ultimately become my real mother.
A wonderful being who would raise me with pride.
Teach me the ways in which she thought we right.
A mom who would love me with all of her heart and care for me
for the 14 years that she would be able to share with me.
I once thought that I knew what happiness was like, but I was mistaken. Forwhy I have found how it does feel to be really happy, truly happy, nothing fleeting, only last night.
In the night when she came to me, in my cave made of barred windows and closed curtains, locked doors and dimming light, where is always almost dark, light shone and life flowed into me when she smiled and blissful words were said by her. A night of wonders when I sought her arm across the bed and I held her hand as she held mine, the exchange of looks was the bonding of our souls.
The intertwining of our fingers, the strength of our grasp as if to never let go, made me realize that I was no longer alone, that I have found my place, a purpose, a home inside her heart to bath forever into her soul and warmth.
As my eyelids brought dark to my sight, I have seen ourselves in the Future, together. She and I. Now, to grow old by her side is my only wish from what is left of this life, to make this glimpse of the Future a truth is what I have to live for.
When they see us, they may see two people, yet, we will be just one for we are bond to the soul. She and I. I love you.
Shame must have burned her countenance,
along with fear that gripped her heart;
she’s a woman in the gospel brought into the open,
by those Pharisees and Sadducees in their attempt –
to entrap Jesus on the horns of a dilemma.
Known as legalistic in their respect for the Law of Moses,
they professed as guardians of moral principles;
they claimed as protectors of the Jewish traditions,
however, in truth, they had a wicked motive to ruin Jesus
to discredit him for all the things he’s doing for his own people.
His growing popularity especially to the Jewish men and women,
becomes a raison d’etre to ruin his good reputation;
oh, such a malady that continues to exist through generations,
the seed of original sin – its consequence to human behavior
reflected its aftermath, the evil tendency that is encrusted deep within.
Jesus’ statement, “let him who is without sin cast the first stone,”
made the religious leaders withdraw from the scene and,
starting from the elders they walked away and talked no more;
a sign of shame, an honest reaction to what is shadowed by guilt.
The entire incident focused on Jesus’ endless forgiveness,
his compassion for the woman being bogged down with disgrace;
like a moral stigma, a scarlet letter etched in the hearts of people,
with Jesus she had her past but she also has a future to look forward to.
Just as the prophet Ezekiel says, “I will give you a new heart –
and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone
and give you a heart of flesh . . .” its power and meaning can assure,
God’s love is everlasting; our salvation is his prime concern.
Let me tell you something jack
Now that my little sister has taken you back
I think you’ve been sleeping around
With all the loose women in this little town
If you think you can walk all over her;
A woman so sweet and pure
Then you better think again
I don’t care what you’ve done or where you’ve been
Just do not hurt my sister
How can you just one day kiss her,
Tell her how much she is your only girl
And then cheat on her with every other woman in this world
If you don’t want me to hurt you
Then you have to be true
This I want you to know:
You either love her or leave her
(York Assizes, 20th August 1612)
Judge Sir James Altham, Speyks,
Tha wi power t’ eeal
wi power t’ cumfort
logic an’ knowledge
ney i’ t’ nivver t’ be,
nobbut God grants ‘is
holy wesdom t’ select few.
T’ thee wi nooa gumption
livin’ i’ t’ rural backwatter
I’ t’ meant t’ be,
larned yan mun nivver
tarnish t’ simple i’ t’ mind.
Yit t’day ton tha ‘eead
afoora cursin’ starts
een t’ een mun nivver unite.
Lanky Geeate wi
dawters of Pendle,
condeem’d as durst ‘ere at Yoork.
wun Jennet Preston guilty
t’ b’ ung afoora sowl
t’ burn i’ t’ell,
tha wi oout regal Status
a threeat t’ man’s rule ‘ere on t’earth
God i’ t’ ‘is heaven.
“One here in this trial, at York sees one of the first ever
recorded aspects of man’s sheer fear of woman power,
not too much is made of witchcraft here,
only the street-wise education these women professed,
with the power to heal, also the enterprise and commerce
they created, their earnings in far excess of the average
man in the district, their fame soon to spread far and wide.
A total of twelve woman were tried, one here in York, eleven
at Lancaster Gate, where ten were found guilty and hung.”
I was working out on the elliptical machine in the gym, feeling good and watching
the "Calories Burnt" number climb higher and higher.
Then, I noticed a rather shapely and attractive woman step off of the machine two
rows in front of me. As she turns and faces me, I cannot help but notice that the
nipples on her rather large breasts are erect and pressing against her sweat
soaked, tight t-shirt.
When working out, and at other times as well, I suppose, I sometimes drift off and
just stare into space not really cognizant of what I am looking at while lost in
I must have been doing this as this young woman started walking towards me on
her way to the drinking fountain.
She stops abruptly in front of me and says, rather curtly, "Why don't you take a
Snapping out of my temporary coma, I respond, "I'm sorry - what?"
"You seem to be staring at my breasts," she rudely insinuates.
Now, at times like this, in a confrontational moment, I like to try to immediately get
on the attack and, sometimes, in my panic to do so, I can say the stupidest things.
In this case, I come back with, "Are your nipples pointing at me!?"
"Your nipples. They seem to be pointing at me!"
"I assure you, I cannot control what my nipples do."
"And I," I smugly reply, "Cannot control what my eyes do."
"You could look away," she challenges.
"And you could wear a thicker sports bra or sweatshirt", I respond.
At this she just glares at me with hate in her eyes and steam emitting from her ears.
I stare back with my smug grin, alternating my look between her eyes and her
So, of course, you know, we made wild passionate love in the equipment room at
the back of the gym.
And, just before we climaxed in a frenzied, naked and sweaty embrace, ...
... I woke up from my nap on the couch.
This is when I got up, changed into my sweatpants and went to the gym for a
AUTOPSY OF A FEMININE
Spoken from the lips of modesty
But wondrous to those that thrives on ego
Known bearer of a continuous sequel of generations
As some reflect, a borne to desire
And to most; you cannot do without
The vast calls them the specie of tenderness
Also an attractive life path to all serenity
A domain to conquer, to love and accept
Creatures of the heart!
INSPIRED FROM MY MALE POINT OF VEIW. 22ND SEP 07
The Plain Guy and the Beautiful Woman
“Now would you look at that” he said to his Pal at the bar as he nudged his shoulder. “Look
at that beautiful woman and who she's with”. His pal looked over his shoulder to see one of
the most elegant women he had ever seen, arm in arm with a man rather short, balding and
rather plain looking. “He's either got money or a big slong...who knows maybe both. How
does a guy as unattractive as he is get such a woman?” replied to his friend who nudged
him. “I don't know, I just don't know.”
Hey let's have some fun, come on, follow my lead.
Hi there, I'm Fred and this is my Pal Murray. We saw the two of you come in and well, we
just had ask you both a question.
The rather plain man spoke up. “Excuse me but we don't entertain strangers with answers
to questions we know nothing about. Your both rude and condescending. Now please
leave at once.”
Fred and Murray were not easily dismissed. Hey wait a minute pal. We have an important
question to ask the lady here.
The beautiful woman leaned to her husband and whispered into his ear....and smiled.
The rather plain man spoke up again. “I believe that I know what kind of question you are
going to ask. So let me guess and see if I am correct.”
Okay Pal...go right ahead.....the two men smiled at each other.
“Let's see, you see before you a beautiful woman, yes?”
“Yeah, we do.”
“And you wonder how a rather plain man like myself might attract and yes, even marry such
a stunning creature, Yes?”
“And you think I must be very wealthy in order for her to be with someone like me. Which is
insulting to both me and my wife. Or you think that I might possess a manly tool or both,
“Hey, we're asking the questions around here.”
“So let me come to a conclusion for you both”. Said the rather plain man.
“I am a well published author, I am an accomplished concert pianist and I have a genius IQ.
I enjoy fine art and find beauty in everything I see. I adore my wife with all the love and
respect that I can bestow upon her. And most of all I get her......and she gets me. Now
leave before I kick your asses up around your shoulders.”
“Oh boys,” The beautiful woman finally spoke. “And he can do it to! He's a very manly
Here I am. Alone here I sat.
My mind wrapped in many thoughts.
Those I care not to have.
The ones of my life, a woman near my heart.
The pain and pleasures are like doing uppers and downers.
Feeling your hearts going burst if it don't cease.
What does one do in this case I wonder?
It's not of my heart I want destroy but loving as the man I am.
There the differculties are with being human.
Not being able to control the thoughts as they run wild.
What is it really like to live alone?
I know its lonely but how does one cope with this?
Even when their thoughts are upon things that matter.
How does the mind think or is it really the heart feeling these thoughts?
I know that's where the pain exist because its not my head that hurts.
It is the thinking of having everything you ever wanted in life.
Including the woman you love so dearly.
It is of my sucess I have accomplish even after many have robbed me blind.
It is that will to survive that keeps my fight alive.
But that of my inner being telling me that life is a lie.
That it's only a joke to live.
But there I have struggle still standing tall even when I am knock down.
It is the eye of the tiger and the roar of a lion I cry.
That of my soul just feels like screaming to the top of my lungs and falling to my knees and
saying,lord take me.
Ease this pain I'm in.
But let not life kill me nor my thoughts I have.
But make me stronger in thy ways.
But end this day and not let me wake.
For I am dieing of these thoughts and feelings I have,Please!
Somebody help me before I go insane and lose my mind.
These thoughts are crazy but of a woman I love.
That I can not stand the thought of her in others arms.
But my thoughts is I must go on.
Because I am the man I am and there's nothing I can do about this.
Except stay strong and survive until the day of my life has come.
By then,I probably be old and grey,still wondering how I'm going to make the next day.
Here's another little story
Told around my land;
This one's of a little boy who
Loved to play with sand.
You could find him on the beach on
"Moisture in the air," he said, "will
Help me set the grains."
He'd construct these works of art that
Seem like they're too real;
Statues, castles, planets, ships,
Nothing's too surreal.
Fortunate was I too see his
Very last attempt;
"Now I'll try to carve out something
Free of world's contempt."
"Beauty is the source for this one.
Love, the motive right.
She'll be great! I know she will have
Starting with a mound of sand, he
Chucked the first bit off;
Then, as if he knew to fly, he
Whizzed around stuff.
What I saw before me was a
Tribute to success;
Sand that had no form at all was
Turning to noblesse.
Finally, he settled down and
Looked at what he made;
Standing there was but a goddess
Lying in the shade.
Beauty was the inspiration,
No doubt in my mind;
His creation was the best in
All of humankind.
"Something's just not right," he said while
Reaching for his pail;
"Can't just leave it like it is, so
Meek, so hard and pale."
After some reflective time, he
Ran to the lagoon;
Then he started humming out a
Soft and gentle tune.
When the water heard his song so
Lofty in the wind,
It responded with a light that
Spawned from its within.
Beaming out into the air, the
Light began to rise,
Like a worm that's coming up for
Water from the skies.
The worm of light began to make
Its way across the beach;
And when it came next to the art
It came to sudden breach.
The light began to swirl around
The woman made of sand.
It started at her chest and spread
Throughout her feet and hands.
And what my eyes beheld me next
Was nothing short of awe;
The woman made of sand began
To breathe and move her jaw.
I saw your pain compressed in
Tourniquets and plungers.
Memories condensed to tears.
Cooling your hand holding bottles.
Dripping in puddles that flowed,
With white wind down glass tubes.
When you pressed for it,
I asked you;
Why you wanted too
So badly –
Maybe you did not hear me.
Then I asked -
For the attention?
But you were done talking.
“The affection is still free”.
I should try not to waste sentences.
At the hour of mid morning,
I remembered when I first saw you.
Walking up the sidewalk,
And I thought to myself:
Yes, I would - So I did.
Smiling ghosts made perfect faces,
Dancing off cigarettes on my front porch..
Yours ran to catch you.
As I watched with mine,
You walking home.
I pass a year and you in a store,
I heard you don’t cry the same,
Not like you used to.
You looked happy - I guess,
Or maybe it was, I hope you are.
There once was a woman
that was a wife and a mother
who one day got sick
then called and cried to her brother
She was alone at the docters
when she found out about the cancer
she called her family right away
but nobody would answer
The woman was so scared
she was only 25
when she found out that she had
not much time to be alive
The woman wasnt happy
about living her last days
she did not know how to react
she just sat there in a gaze
as day by day went by
she was more then fun and flirty
till she died on Christmas Eve
at excatly 11:30
As the family cried and cried
the oldest son scremed "why
why did she have to leave us
without even saying bye"
as he cried himself to sleep that night
she talked to him through dreams
"son im very sorry that I had to go and leave"
she said she really loved him
and that she really cared
about how he went through life
without seeing his mother there
He said he loved her so
with his great big giant heart
and that nothing will ever keep
him and his mother apart
When he awoke the next morning
he told his dad about his dream
about seeing his mother happy
as happy as can be
The father said "thats good son
that you got rid of all this pain
in just one night of sleep
now look how much you've gained"
The son just flashed a smile
he new his dad did not understand
that he got his chance to say goodbye
and let go of his mothers hand
Hey guys, thank you for reading this. Ok it has come to my attention from poets who are my
genuine friends that some uncouth people on here are gossiping about me; saying
I'm "preying" on (soup women). You know who you are!! I don't have to call names!! R U guys serious?
Number one I am single, I flirt, Number two everyone knows there has been several,
relationships formed here on the soup and yet they say I can't flirt or find love, instead they
say I am "preying " on women.
So I offer a challenge my soup family; Any woman who feels I "preyed" on her...leave
a "comment" for this letter for all the soup to see. If I have asked any woman for money
etc. (that I did not know and who aren't in my friends circle) please leave comment.
It is time to pull the cat out of the bag. No need for any more gossiping. So you people
that accuse me of this, WHERE ARE ALL THESE WOMEN AT?
Let's ask some of my personal friends, Carolyn Devonshire, Laura McKenzie, Amy Green,
Audrey Carey. These women I consider friends, real friends, and all these women are
respected on the soup.
Because I'm an inmate, I can't find love? A good woman? I am a part of this site, I can't
get to know a woman on here? Collaborate on poetry w/ a woman? Remember family, I
collaborated with some of these people who are gossiping and we wrote some beautiful
poems. You people doing this know who you are and your lying is catching up to you...lol
I come home next year soup family. I've served my sentence for a crime I did not
commit. So I'm not entitled to friendship and love??? Let me know. Love you guys
Jimmy M. Anderson
Dat gal done gone an lef me? '?lone
went t'town wit huh red shoes on.
Hi' ole heels,dress on tight
Powda and paint,sum'in ain't right
They's som kine of problum I caint explain
I believes sum main done turnt her hed
stayin out late,alw ays rais'in sayin
gotta take uh baf, fo' she get in bed
So I follered huh one night to see
Lemme tell ya I seent real good
Dat woman spose'd to be lovin me,
Sportin ah nuthah main, in yonder wood
ME, I tries to be uh good main
work ever day; try t' serve da lord
My woman wanna ride in Cadillacs
Alls I own is uh beat down Ford
Ever night she cum home sweatin
ev'n tho the weather been steady cool
I'll make a flea uh wrestlin jacket
fo I let huh make me uh fool.
Bag packed, gwine to da railroad track
catch me uh train to eny'where good
If'n ya wanna fine dat woman I lef behine
Dig down deep, in yonder wood.
I knew CRAZY ran in my family from a young age,
I saw it written all over my future page,
I was blessed to have known my Great Grandma while I was still young,
She was a little old lady that always sung,
But when she got mad you stayed out of her way,
For a woman who did not speak any English she had much to say,
Straight out of Italy, off a little farm,
This lady was capable of doing a lot of harm,
I recall walking at the age of eight,
Down a long road we met our fate,
Late in the day a man ran up on her,
This memory is vivid, It has no blur,
He grabbed her purse and kept on running,
Little granny was extremely cunning,
At age eighty five she was still so alive
A woman with vigor, she had quit the drive,
She ran fast after him and boy did she win,
I'll never forget great granny's sick little grin,
She grabbed her purse and beat him down,
Thank God there were people all around,
They called the cops and grabbed that guy,
I stood in amazement, I didn’t cry,
She showed no fear that special day,
Who would have thought little granny could fight that way,
Now I know woman have a unique type of skill,
When you mess with them or their children, their instinct is to kill,
I’ll cherish that moment for as long as I live,
Cheers to you great grandma you always knew had to GIVE.
By: Sabina Nicole
Why can't you just believe
Deep down inside of me
This battered heart means you no harm
Only love and a soul mates charm
Resides within these four walls
A virtuous woman who hears the call
Confusion in here also resides
While she keeps watching you run and hide
Scared little ones will keep on wanting
All the woman has along with the loving
Open arms just like a mother
Would take them home and no more smother
The kindling fire that lies within
The contents of this lonely den
Wallow some then go away
Finding out she doesn't play
How can you understand so much
And not feel the burn of her touch
She so much wants for you to see
All she wants is for you to be free
What will you do but to reject
The most purest one you've seen or met
Because in the past you chose so wrong
While your soul mate was waiting all along
Finally it has come to be
Why can't you just believe
Copyright © by Scarlett Anderson
A man and woman
Lived side to side
A tree and English house
A pen is found on former’s hand
That knows no fetterings
His tales are based on happiness
A simple life with a tree
While all the while the woman sighs
The binds of residency
She brings her ladder down to him
Slowly down the tree
To invite him into her bleak
And somehow make him stay
The scarcity of the man’s life it seems
To be her serenity
And sadly so, she is declined
By the man who bears her love
A tear then falls to the saddened house
Accentuating the depression
A drop, five drops and a shower
As the skies sang with her sadness
The sky that longed the woman’s touch
Has decided how he could love her
The hardened tree falls at the man
In solemnity he was crushed
To which befalls the irony
Her then desire was to be gone
Two bodies felled to the silent ground
The woman and the man’s
An oak that fell at storm’s command
A crime of love it seems
Love lost, unreturned and forever gone
Longings torn from the hearts
Isn't it just like a woman
To want someone to hold her tight
To comfort her when the bad dreams arive
In the cold and the darkness of night
The sweet loving smile of a woman
Can make your poor heart skip a beat
Makes a man find the right things to say
And lay petals of roses at her feet
Now isn't it just like a woman
To wonder of stars up above
And take in the beauty of nature
Then turn it all into true love
Now isn't it just like a woman
With a soul that is tender indeed
She can comfort the hurt
And the pain in your heart
Yes isn't that just like a woman
Down deep inside
and tell me what you find
in the bottom of your soul
Look in the mirror
stare at your reflection
and tell me what you see
in those bright blue eyes
Do the looks match your emotions?
Deep inside those eyes
I see a broken woman
a woman so low
on the verge of falling
From the outside
I see a happy woman
a woman with a smile
on the verge of jumping
Look around you
All around you
and the people moving
not noticing your sorrow
Look in their eyes
glare for a while
what are their thoughts
about you ?
Deep in their hearts
They wonder what is wrong
a woman so withdrawn
on the verge of collapsing
From the first glance
They see an ordinary woman
a pretty woman
on the verge of laughing.
into this extraordinary woman
a fighter, a lover
See the sorrow
taking over this great woman
a griever, a loner
Watch the tears
flood from this stong woman
as she breaks.
I see women who come from all walks of life who have carried on in dignity and pride.
With self-respect and joy in her heart, peace in her soul and love that is sowed in her
She wears many hats as a mother,daughter,sister, wife, grandmother,aunt and friend.
She can express her motherly duties through love, patience and charity even if it means
to sacrifice her wants and needs.
She spreads the message of sisterhood with compassion and joy in heart and she will
stop at nothing to keep her sisters together
She fights for freedom and equality for women and for them to have all that it takes to
achieve their goals and reach their destination.
Her gray hairs define her wisdom and her wrinkles show her survival in this cruel world.
She fights for her respect and to keep her family together, she works hard to keep her
professional career intact.
She carries another soul in her womb and goes through many hours of labor and pain to
bring this person into the world.
She pours her all into doing the right and being all that she can be a feminine
Whether she is in Africa and Mexico or right next door she is the one that you should
She shines in all her glory spreading her grace and beauty sharing her holy duty.
The creator created a woman named Eve as a helpmate to Adam she came from his rib.
The woman is the backbone who holds it all together who keeps it all intact.
That it is a true fact.
Her heart is so big, her love is so strong
Most of her life, she has been treated wrong
She has so much love, so much to give
Sometimes it took all she had just to live
What in the world did she do to deserve
All the pain that's been forced upon her
She's worked so hard to do everything right
But, when she'd least expect it, there would be another fight
For days she would hurt and walk around crying
If she told anyone, they'd think she was lying
How could this life of hers be so unfair?
Is it too much to ask just for someone to care?
It caused me such heartache to see all of her pain
All the times she was hurt, it was done in vain
Such a wonderful person with all of this love
Deserves more than anyone that I can think of
I'll always be thankful for all that she’s done
I love her unconditionally, unlike anyone
Who is this woman with such a big heart?
She's the beautiful woman who gave me my start
She's very special; she's one of a kind
She's like a rare diamond that most never find
She's my best friend, she's my Mother
I hope she knows how much I love her
Copyright © 2000 Shari E Davis
Her eye's are pretty with innocent inside
Her face is precious with curious trying to hide
Her body state's that i am a grown woman
The tight clothes and plenty of makeup keep
the grown men coming
Her every move and every step is just to dog on sexy
That man's eye's missed her face because her body
is screaming caress me
Before he realize this is , he's inside
Her body feels everything that her curious face was
trying to hide
Those pretty eye's are no longer innocent
Guilt has came and made all her presents pastense
Now that body that stated to be a grown woman with
those eye's that was pretty innocent ; no longer can
hide her precious face with curious
That man never saw her face until after he planted that
seed and then realized that this is serious
Because her body was screaming caress me
His eye's missed her face but , saw her every move and
every step that he couldn't resist because she was just
to dog on sexy
Who cried , when her body lied
But , realized now she have to be a woman and this big
If it wasn't for the tight clothes and plenty of make-up
he would have saw that those pretty eye's with innocent
meant that she was daddy's little girl
Why is it I cant find love?
Is it because I am a good man?
Is it because I will never disrespect a woman
Or is it because I will even search the vast deserts
Of galaxies that exist in this universe
Looking for the perfect woman
That God wants to keep hidden from me?
Is that not what a woman wants?
These questions keep me analyzing
On why love doesn’t turn out what you expect it to be.
Why is it that broken hearts are never justified?
I have indeed experienced the reincarnations of lost souls
Better yet broken hearts.
Have I deserved to be treated so wrongly by the woman of my past?
Or was it that God has placed a curse upon me?
and the only way to break that curse
is that my love for the perfect woman must be true and real.
Endless questions without answers
keep popping into my confused mind
where did I go wrong in my relationships?
Why is it that I have to look for a woman
That is not so scandalous?
Why is that everyone else seems happy
And I don’t?
All I know it has been one long year
And women like that?
Should not exist in this world
Because messing with a mans heart
And his desire for somthin he loves
Has to be an unnatural ability
Which leads me back to my first question
Why cant I find love?
Kelsuke de Eichmann was a man of little yet complex words.
He used the word translucent instead of the phrase see-through.
One thing he knew how to do well was break a heart:(
He would see a flaw in a woman and just turn away.
If her beauty was overshadowed her brains he would walk away and never come back.
"When," he thought " when will I find this perfect woman? I have dated the young. I have
dated the old, I have traveled alone.
I have hung out with women from the far East to the far West.
I have suffered frost bites for the women of the far North & the same goes for those of
the far South."
He tried to create a woman from copper the next day and called it Stacy but we know it as
the Statue of Liberty.
He thought it looked perfect until he saw a red dot on her face.
He thought it was a pimple but it was actually a bomb!
He did what he always did when he saw a flaw in a woman, he turned, picked up his heavy
rain coat, and started to walk.
But he felt something against his heavy,gigantic, sticky rain coat. He looked and there it
was the red dot that was on Stacy! With his strong arms he hurled the coat towards Hawaii!
It hit Pearl Harbor and blamed the Japanese because they just happened to be passing by.
When a woman feeds a man,
she feeds his head.
When she feeds his ‘man’,
she feeds his heart.
When she feeds his heart,
she feeds his ‘man’.
A man’s heart is the woman’s thought.
She acts to please the man.
She dangles her act to the man’s thought,
and brings out the man in the man.
She pulls and pounds the man with her prowess.
She rocks and rolls the man with her rules.
When she sneezes the man sniffles.
When she snore the man snort.
When she shouts the man shakes.
When she stands the man sits.
A woman is the man’s delight,
the man’s desires.
Every man desires a woman.
Yes! A woman, because…
She is, ‘the bone of his bone
the flesh of his flesh’.
I saw her sitting in the park alone
Crying, crying there
She seemed unfed with nothing for her own
But the salty tear
My spirit grieved my heart was touched to see
Her just crying there
I sat in silence and longed for words to free
Her from her despair
She looked at me with suspicious eyes and sighed
With sorrow and care
As though something sacred in her soul died
Which caused her each tear
I hate to see a woman cries, I hurt
With every sad tear
I am angry for each inhuman hurt
Moved by every fear
And so resolved I chance assured her, please
Can I dry your tear
Then in sudden torrents, longing for ease
Her story came clear
A child violated make mothers scorned
And the seas in tear
Cannot wash the slithering hand, the horned
Thrust she has to bear
Daily in her womb it grows, daily she flees
Followed by each tear
She agonized with God on bended knees
And just silence there
She will not destroy the child for two wrongs
Will not dry a tear
Nor undo the sorrow souring her songs
Till death cease her care
So thinking fast I said the cross altered
Once another tear
A woman bruised and battered lived unfaltered
Its bright crown to where
New dreams to make from old dreams shattered there
Love shows through each tear
The rainbow in coming child, I'll be there
No more crying here
Her name was Sister Mary Mercedes Gleason,
A tiny woman with so much wisdom and care,
who belonged to the religious congregation -
the Presentation of the Blessed Virgin Mary.
She lived a longer life: 98 years of age,
amazing and a flashing mem’ry to all
her imprint of life she shared with everyone
she dedicated herself to the religious life.
She died in sleep at the early hours of Tuesday,
with serenity and less suffering thus far;
what a beautiful soul! What a gift of holiness!
truly, a woman of the Gospel in every sense.
Her community grieved her loss and,
at the same time celebrated for her new birth –
that’s in heaven, in the life hereafter with her Maker;
rejoicing with her triumphant journey with Him.
She lived longer for higher purposes and meanings,
embracing the challenges of being a religious;
expressed in human language and good works,
her examplary life manifested with piety and humility.
With her balm of choice to love and be mindful
of people around her in diverse moods and feelings;
she would love to share with them even in moments
with her caring presence to accost them with a smile.
She’s history, memories and relationship in toto,
Like everyone else, her life went on the calendar;
Like a new chapter that says, ‘to live to die is gain.’
her own life is a testimony, an inspiration to all.
A young woman sits alone on the steps of a church,
her heart is so full of pain, she has been through so
All by herself, and afraid to go in, what will these people
think about all her sins.
Then out of nowhere, an old lady appeared, and sat
down beside her, asking, "why all the tears."
The young woman told her about her past, and lost years,
and the reason for her pain, and all the tears.
As the old lady listened to her every word, they brought
back so many memories, as she listened to this poor girl.
Then she told the young woman, she was once lost too,
but God sent her a miracle, with a heart so true.
For sixty years, she had loved only one man, who
had a heart full of compassion, and was able
"For the last forty years, he had ministered here,
his spirit is so strong, I still feel him here."
"My son has taken the ministry now, and he is so
excited to be back in his hometown."
"So let us hurry inside, and find us a seat,
you know, God has a lot of good people in there
for you to meet."
a woman with a hemorrhaging problem went to see the Lord Jesus Christ
she believed that if she could only touch Him, it would save her life
as Jesus passed by the crowd she reached out and touched His hem
she was miraculously healed, the flow of blood did stem
physically, morally and emotionally she'd been condemned by her own peers
instead of praying for her to heal, the prayed for her to disappear
for misery loves company and with some people you will find
that even though they say they are Christians, they don't possess God's Kind
yes, life can sometimes be anxious, depressing and knock you to the ground
it can be tedious and routine, making you feel run down
yet when things happen over which we have no control
allow God to order your steps and with the Holy Spirit achieve you goals
just break out of your rut and go forward in your life
take a leap of faith today and catch the wave that is Jesus Christ
after that woman touched Jesus' robe she then attempted to hide
then Jesus said,"who touched me", for the power in Him did subside
that woman then stood up confessed to all and told Jesus why
He said to her,"your faith has healed you, go in peace" with God's prize
what a catch she made that day, it was a wave of faith
what a catch she made that day for on God she did await
her story has been passed on down, it's an example of unconditional belief
that if one lets God into their life through Him comes healing and relief
allow yourself to cleansed, wade in the water of God's tide
catch the wave of faith and then hold on for the ride
call on your determination to be your salvation and your inspiration
and whenever you call on Jesus Christ the power in Him will leave
and continue on to a place where there is a need
what a catch, what a catch, now healed and of good cheer
her faith in God has made her whole, her burden she no longer has to bear