Long poem by
Terry Trainor | Details |
Sometimes I have the courage to think of the things that made me what I am today,
My memory takes me back to terrible things far away far off into my bitter past,
My mind like a maze of dirty black alleys that smell of waste, loss and disgust,
The losses, the drink ripped away, not happy until it was all gone respect as well.
Invisible thinks of a garden where roses clustered with lilies scent on the breeze,
Bees found stores of honey in the petals of a thousand and one different flowers,
Lovers walked hand in hand along its winding path a beautiful dream of the man,
Bright with the embroidery of nature where children played in new myrtle flowers,
As Invisible thinks of this garden it is neglected but flowers can grow with weeds,
It could put a smile upon his face, a face that had never known any joy recently,
He hopes a gardener can covert this garden get rid of ruined waste, back into Eden,
Tending all the beautiful flowers that spring up with the weeds and smell gladness.
If he helped the gardener in his quest a hand might hold his and guide him through,
Maybe a hand would go around his waist to support him as well as guide his hand,
Dare he wish that the guiding hand and the support would be his angel from heaven,
A dear person to help him clear his garden and walk down the winding path as lovers.
An angel that would smile at him maybe hold his hand and squeeze it so very gently,
Would the angel talk to him and tell him that one day they would be together again,
Her beautiful grace shining warmly as she looks up to him, to her he is her hero,
Not a drunken mess that cannot cope, not a dirty vagrant, but her knight her love.
The tenderness of this beautiful scene in his poisoned mind became real he smiled,
He grinned as she sat down next to him as close a she could get then wriggled closer,
Warmth from her body not only warmed him but gave hope this what he has waited for,
She whispered sweetly she loved him and would be waiting for him and they kissed.
Invisible woke with a start and was she not by his side, was she ever with him,
A dream another heart wrenching let down and how could he have dreamed the dream,
It was so real he still felt the warmth, the impression of her hand holding his,
But it must have been a dream his own mind conspired to deliver the hardest blow.
Lost in a grief so deep, his loneliness complete he talks to Sam his imaginary friend.
These days get worse Sam they really do please help me,
I need to change but I need my drink more what can I do,
But I need to change so desperately Sam can you help?
My world has cracked and I've fallen into the crack,
But what I don't understand Sam that I was once good,
If I had any courage Sam I would be laying in my coffin,
Why does life drag you along with it I don't want to go,
Just a bit of icing on my cake Sam it is freezing cold,
Did you know this is where I was brought up my friend,
Did you know that most of the people that walk past I knew,
Sam! I know many of there people but they don't know me,
Why do they all walk past I wish somebody would help,
Maybe when I have drunk more cider I might feel better Sam,
I can remember being happy but not what being happy is like,
As Invisible sits drinking shoppers give him a wide berth and they look at him with hate.
These people Sam they look at me as if I have hurt them,
The people they are not our sort of people they hate me,
Has the world changed like I have but in opposite ways,
My life is full of sorrow drunkenness and dreams Sam,
Old sorrows wont go away new sorrows should take over,
So we have to face both the old and the new that's bad,
At night I try to close my drunken eyes it all returns,
Sam is that the same as you can you close your eyes,
Can you remember the valleys Sam the ones we used to play,
When we ran about all day Sam in the sun rolling in grass,
The old stream that twisted and turned, it had lost its way,
Floating lolly sticks watching them bounce away on ripples,
Buying bangers in November and throwing them into the water,
What I wouldn't do to go back for just a couple of hours Sam,
Just to feel the innocence and try to bring it back to now,
To enjoy what there is to enjoy and maybe get better Sam,
But that will never happen Sam we are lost on an island,
A well populated island but an island all the same Sam,
People are not like ships they don't bother to rescue people,
They just walk around or just walk away all the nice ones gone,
I remember my school Sam it's now been knocked down and left,
It has all gone, all gone no primroses in spring or bluebells,
Do you remember Sam the bluebells used to nod in the wind,
But they have all been built on, whats the use in talking,
Nothing changes from bad to good Sam remember that, eh Sam,
Still drinking his cider tears well into his eyes his nose runs and begins to quietly
to sob. He sits on the shopping parade seat, shaking as he sobs. His throat has a lump
in it so he stops talking to Sam. Invisible sinks his wet face into his overcoat
hides his misery from the people that walk past he just sat there lost and confused. His
greatest sadness an angel paid a visit to the maze of dirty black alleys that smell of waste,
loss and disgust,
Copyright © Terry Trainor | Year Posted 2013
Long poem by
Steven Medellin | Details |
The Whiskey Bottle Wish
One late summer night outside a saloon in the mid-west, an intoxicated Dusty Rogers, stumbles out of the Bar nearly taking one of the revolving doors with him. As he flutters on out, he catches his fall on the walkway hand railing in front of him. Focusing his sight with a loose grip holding the railing, the other hand has tighter grip on a bottle of Whiskey. Hesitantly letting go of the rail he musters up enough hand eye coordination to fix his hat and pull up his pants. As the drunken man walks down the strip of a quiet town... A quiet town after all the rooms in the bathos are vacant, when all the liquor has run dry from every bottle, far after all the lead and gun powder filled the air ... It's then a quiet town. An hour walking and countless chugs of sweet, sweet whiskey; the drunken Rogers, has been taking over with the urge to piss. He sees a hallucination of a building up ahead about ten feet away. He pulls up, face nearly inches from what he thinks to be the wall of the building, but is in fact a towering cliff side standing over fifty feet staring down on him. He starts to piss on the cliff side soaking his pants and boots. He places the bottle down with his left hand as his right hand is stretched out flat on the wall holding himself up. He's leaning forward so much it appears as if he were holding up the mountain. He begins to mumble.
“You drunk. You will always be a drunk... That's all they ever spoked about me. But, why? How did this... How did any of this happen?” His right hand slips and his face crashes into the jagged cliff side in front of him. He groans in agonizing pain while he is lies in his urine. Bludgeon face he shouts up at the stars.
“Damn you! You tooken everything from me. You left me all alone! Why didn't you take me too! Am I not good enough for death...? I do anything to feel the blaze envelop me. Like they so did... “Wiping his tears he whispers. “You should have tooked me with them. I should have burned on that train with my family... That was my destiny instead I bare the mark of Cain." looking up at the sky as if expecting an answer. “Just sit up their laughing as you strip everything from my hands and fill this void with this damned bottle."
As he continues to wipe the tears off his face, he gets to his feet zipping up his pants and is about start to walk along the mountain side. In his peripheral he's sees the shimmer behind him. Turning around he Picks up the bottle of whiskey and stops to eye ball the remaining two or three gulps. Looking at the bottle and he starts to rub the side as if where a lamp. “I wish to see my family" holding back the tears forming in the corner of his eyes. "You took everything from me so in return, I'll take all of you!"
He takes a swig and starts walking along side of the cliff shouting obscenities. In his anguish he stumbles and trips upon a metal beam railing falling flat on his face. Instead of picking himself up, he reaches for the whiskey and goes to take an even bigger hit from the bottle. Franticly shaking the bottle to get out every drop out he chucks the empty bottle in the air. The bottle never breaking hits the ground skipping and flipping along the gravel. Below his feet wooden planks placed about a foot apart from one another lay in a row. Running up the side, adjacent to the planks, runs a solid steel beam. The drunk has no idea he has stumbled onto train tracks leading into a tunnel right through the mountain. He thinks he is walking down a hand railed stairwell leading to a basement. He walks on the tracks towards a tunnel, he loses his balance and reaches for non-existing handrails but the rails are too low to grab so he trips over a plank of wood and falls on his face once more.
“What...What kind of crap is this?" he cries as he lays out on the floor half conscious. Suddenly he starts to laugh the intensity grew as he was trying to get to his feet. He only manages to sit up facing the blackened tunnel ceiling as if it was a starless night sky. “What are you waiting for? Stop toying with me. If you want then come take me. I'm here..." a loud whistling sound comes charging through the tunnel growing louder each passing second. With a shaky voice and a sense of uncertainty he asks.
“Trumpets? Is that roar trumpets I hear? Is that you?" as the ground starts to tremble the sound grows immensely; numbing all senses. Then, a bright light comes ripping through the darkness like a bullet through midair. The light striking his glossy eyes blinds him. The ground rumbles violently as the whistling sound becomes deafening. He chuckles and spreads his arms wide open and says “You finally answered my prayers." he closes his eyes, and black was the last thing he saw.
Copyright © Steven Medellin | Year Posted 2014
Long poem by
Shadow Hamilton | Details |
Two friends were travelling to the east seeking unexplored lands
eventually they reached some grim looking tall mountains
slowly they made their way up to the summit and stood there
Breathlessly they were amazed by the panoramic view before them
Vast areas of open lands stretched out with lakes and forests dotted about
"what a wonderful place" said McLeod "lets climb down and explore it "
they set off it took a long time to get down to the valleys below
they set up camp by a crystal clear spring full of big fat fish
"Supper" said McBram "lets try to catch some" with only their hands
they set about fishing, soon four
fat silver fish had been tickled out
lighting a fire they found a good flat stone on which to bake the fish
the teasing enticing smell of the fish soon filled the air
They saved two which they smoked to carry with them
that night as they slept a bear raided the camp stealing
the smoked fish. Luckily sated it did not attack them
"Drat no breakfast" said McLeod " lets catch and cook some more"
Finally ready they set off following the stream down to a lake
there were plenty of familiar fruits and berries for them to gather
also many strange ones that tempted them "best not eat them" said McBram
"They could be poisonousness". "No look the birds are eating them"
Reassured they tucked in eating a few and collecting some for later
suddenly with a mighty sound a mound rose up with a cave in it
the two friends looked at each other in bewilderment . "What's that
where did it come from?" asked McBram as slowly they entered the vast entrance
An eerie light flooded the cave, it was being emitted by some red crystals
they looked at each other and going over to them they touched them
with a flash they were suddenly spinning through time itself
crashing down they found themselves many moons in the past
Before them they could see strange looking people that bowed before them
a weird man dressed in skins with a stick that was shaped like a snake
pointed it at them it seemed alive as it hissed at the friends wreathing
"These are the promised ones" he said "The ones foretold of in prophecies"
"They have come here from the future to fore-fill the ancient legend"
the friends were feted by these people who treated them like kings
and the following day they were led to an ancient monolith
and strapped to it. "What is going on" asked McLeod "why have you tied us up?"
"To stop the dragon carrying you off" said the shaman "The prophecy foretells
you must defeat it to rid our lands of its evil purpose. At full moon it takes a maiden
and some of the children and feasts on them. You with your swords of iron can
defeat it." "Well we have never seen on before" said McLeod
"How are we supposed to defeat it" "I have a magic potion" said the shaman
"drink it and its fiery breath will not harm you. With its protection you must
then strike the dragon in both its eye then its heart" Giving them their swords
the villagers scurried off to hide. Soon there was a mighty roar and the dragon
flew down breathing fire, its talons outstretched to grab them. McBram went
for its eye running his sword into it sending it blind, while McLeod struck it deep
in its heart. The dragon fell to the ground and laid there dead. The villagers
came out of hiding and prepared a great feast in their honour
Towards the end of the celebration the shaman gave them both a bowl
"Drink this, he said "It will return you to your own time" So they drank it
and found themselves again spinning through time. They saw many different times
and strange places as they were whirled back to the present
Unconscious they laid on the ground slowly coming to, they were back at their camp
on coming to they looked at each other in puzzled bewilderment. Talking about
what had occurred they decided it must have been an illumination. Until they saw
lying on the ground some dragon scales collecting them up they returned home
Their friends scoffed at their story saying they had dreamt it all, there were no
longer dragons in this land. The two friends showed the others the dragon's scales
which were stared at with awe and amazement. Right there and then the two
friends decided they would stay at home safe with family and friends
Maybe to be continued
Copyright © Shadow Hamilton | Year Posted 2014
Long poem by
Katie Pukash | Details |
When I was a child I only ever wanted to be strong.
I wanted to be able to compete with the boys
and when I foot raced them at recess I won every time.
They called me ‘She Hulk’ because of my muscular frame
and from the way I only ever wore soccer t-shirts and sweat pants.
After that nickname was implanted into my brain like a growing weed,
I’ve only ever wanted to be feminine.
I started wearing skirts and dresses
and in middle school they shrieked at the site of my makeup and done up hair.
But that weed inside of my mind only grew, and grew, and grew
until I became a mixed drink cocktail
with one part anorexic and two parts lonely,
because I thought that the definition of feminine began with the word frail.
No one ever realizes how greatly words affect us,
how a simple nickname can turn a pretty girl into a skeleton.
I stood at five foot two weighing seventy nine pounds,
so cold and frozen,
yet I still considered myself a ‘She Hulk.’
You could see my ribcage through my t-shirt
and my spinal cord protruded loudly through my weathered skin,
as if somehow my bones were dirty knives
just trying to cut through the flesh of judgment.
As I grew older I became the girl that was never enough.
Not good enough to speak poetry.
Not good enough to lay paint on a canvas.
Not good enough.
Not tall enough.
Not big enough boobs for them.
Not primped to perfection.
Not undeniably straight.
Not smart enough.
Not dumb enough.
Not ditsy enough.
Not cool enough or fun enough.
And I began to believe, too, that I wasn’t enough.
I never told my mother that I had been in madly in love with a girl.
I never told anyone about the night we first kissed
because I was too vulnerable for the judgment.
And parents always justify saying that ‘kids will be kids’
But when we are kids our brains are still growing
and the smallest of seeds that get planted will one day bloom
into one giant regret,
will one day affect the choices that we make,
will one day influence us about the clothes that we wear,
will one day shape us into the person who we thought we would never be.
I only ever wanted to be strong,
and as a child I thought strength was only about being able
to lift a bar stool above your head.
I thought that strength was only about being able
to beat the boys in bare foot running races.
I was told that strength was something only
a man could have.
But as I’ve grown older I’ve realized that strength
isn’t about muscle at all,
but it’s about weakness,
and the ability to overcome the social anxiousness.
It’s about carrying around a lifetime of baggage
on your broken back
because the ones that kicked you when you were down
are going to be the ones that were ultimately wrong.
I thought that the definition of woman
began with the word disappointment.
And I became a mixed drink cocktail
with one part freedom
and two parts Sailor Jerry
because every girl needs a stiff drink once and awhile.
We are not disappointments.
We will never be the ones who gave up on hope.
We will never be the ones who gave up on each other,
or our mothers.
We will always be enough;
enough for the ones who shunned us
enough for the ones that cursed us
enough for the ones the hurt us
and destroyed us
and beat us when we were covered in bruises.
But you see, bruises fade
and the scars of our flesh are only stories
things we have overcame
and there are things out there that we will overcome.
When I was a child, I only ever wanted to be strong.
I hid my vulnerability.
I hid the parts of me that were true.
I never told my mother about my girlfriend
because I was afraid she wouldn’t understand,
kind of like all those people who never understood
just how much words effect us.
I can’t say that I can beat the boys at foot races anymore,
because, well, I smoke cigarettes now.
And I can’t say that the nickname of my childhood didn’t affect me.
But I take that name now and embrace it.
Because I am strong.
I am the ‘she hulk’.
I am a mixed drink cocktail
with three parts greatful.
Copyright © Katie Pukash | Year Posted 2013
Long poem by
Reg Rhodes | Details |
A Mutual Enemy
By Reg Rhodes
My friend and I have a dangerous and mutual enemy. It is called alcohol, and
it is killing her.
Masquerading as her best friend, the alcohol is cunning. Repeatedly, it sells
her dreamy promises of escape from reality.
The alcohol is baffling; it keeps her convinced that she is not sick, that
another drink wont hurt.
Powerful in its relentless pursuit of her soul, the alcohol exposes its true
intentions, slowly draining her life.
Escape from reality was only an alcohol induced illusion, the relief only
Only small traces of her once-vibrant personality remain, her proud stature
reduced to an unrecognizable slouch. Her once healthy figure now skinny and
Alcohol; now the great betrayer, is tenanciously pursuing its goal to kill my
friend, just like it tried to kill me.
The alcohol is merciless, and it aspires to steal her soul.
The alcohol is patient; slowly destroying my friends life, drowning her in a sea
of loneliness and despair.
She frantically swims for shore, and it is so far away. Miraculously, a raft
materializes. Gods concern is apparant.
She rejects the concept of God, even In the face of adversity. She is stubborn,
and refuses to see the raft, rejecting Gods help. She swims right by.
The alcohol shows no sympathy; it destroys it's victims slowly and painfully.
The alcohol is poison in her body; it doesn't care that her liver is shutting
It pays no mind to the plethora of mysterious health problems, the endless
barrage of doctor appointments or the many surgeries she must endure.
The alcohol is cunning; providing her with a dark veil of tears, keeping her
blind to her own terrifying reality.
The alcohol is the great deceiver; keeping her wrapped in a cloak of denial,
the pleadings of her friends and family go unnoticed.
The alcohol is the great repressor; It stole her smile, her laugh, her
The alcohol knows nothing of love; it has no regards for her kids, her family or
The alcohol silences her fear of death. It replaces happiness with anger, joy
with sadness, and confidence with bewilderment.
The alcohol is the great supressor. Warnings from her doctors go unnoticed,
she no longer fears death.
The alcohol keeps her in a constant state of self loathing, sadness, loneliness
My friend and I have a dangerous and mutual enemy that preys on our
unaided will, it makes her blind to Gods love for her.
Stripped of her many wonderful attributes, she no longer sees his plan for her,
or what he had in mind when he created her.
If only she would stop pushing God away, and allow him to embrace her with
his love, forgiveness, tolerance and understanding.
If she could only understand that only God can restore her sanity. That only
he can relieve her of the unbearable cravings and compulsions to drink.
If only she could believe in a higher power greater than herself, give up her
stubborness, drop to her knees and cry out for help.
Even an inadvertant prayer can be powerful, provided she has an
overwhelming, genuine desire to stop drinking.
For her, a spiritual awakening would mean freedom from the bondage of
A liberating fact for her is that she doesn't have to drink anymore.
The chaos and turmoil in her life will disappear.
Tumultuous mental torture will be removed, and she will feel serenity and
She will find that God will do for her what she couldn't do for herself.
Hand in hand, my friend and I will skip our way along the road to happy
Our dangerous mutual enemy, no longer a threat.
Copyright © Reg Rhodes | Year Posted 2014
Long poem by
John Beam | Details |
Penny for your own thoughts Penny ballad is all it costs First-foot in Auld Lang Syne A stagger then a cheer forgotten Lost train of thought always rotten Pennies are flying Westbound ribands are Caught but never sent Penny ballad is all it costs I would see it in print But of course the last penny spent Never in the jar Pennies are flying Westbound ribands are Caught but never sent
Copyright © John Beam | Year Posted 2015
Long poem by
alainey craig | Details |
Where Were You Daddy
where were you when I was all alone
why weren't you here after I begged you to come home
how could you leave me here with her, you were all I had
I had enough people to hurt me
I needed my dad
you promised you'll always be here to pick me up when I'll fall
you told me if I ever needed anything,
all I had to do was call
I must have called you a million times each day
I just needed to hear your voice
I needed to know you were okay
but you didn't even answer,
you didn't even say good-bye
I guess you were too drunk to remember about me
or maybe you were just too high
I needed you, Daddy,
I needed you to love me more
but you weren't thinking about me
when you walked out that door into the bars
dad you can see my permanent scars
always and forever is what you always say
will i have to wait my whole life to ever see that day
it's sad that you did what you told me any other guy would
if my own dad couldn't love me
I don't see how any guy could
I'm disappointed in you because you left me here with no one
even now you have apologized for everything you've done
you say I should forgive you, and dad i want you to know that i have
but just remember this...
who stuck by you right or wrong,
wasn't it me?
just like the typical guy you couldn't love me or appreciate the things I did
I don't even know who you are anymore
you're not the man I looked up to as a kid
I want him back, I want my dad!!
don't you see? nothing else mattered,
you were all I really ever had
you were the only one who put me first before everything else
we were a team, Dad
how could you leave me here by myself?
since the first day you left, there's been this space I've so desperately trying to fill
no one understands anymore and these cuts are the only way I numb the pain I feel
I found a way to fill the space, but it's only temporary
they can't erase the pain I've been through
you said I'll always be your baby
Dad, what did I do?!
These boys can't take the insecurities you caused
no matter what they do or say
you were supposed to be here, Daddy,
to take the hurt away
I just want everything to be like it was before you decided it was easier to leave,
before you forgot all the things you promised,
before your drugs meant more to you than me,
I just wish this would all stop,
I wish I could make it all okay
I can't forget all those years ago
I still blame myself, I should've made you stay
but you should have known better
I would never have wanted you to go
you were my protector, Daddy
you weren't supposed to hurt me; you were suppose to be my hero
but you did hurt me, Dad, and you can't take it back
it'll never be the same
I've become so insecure but you're not the only one to blame
even now you realize you were wrong and come home tonight
it's done so much damage trying to fill that space
nothing you do will ever make it right
dad i love you always and a day ill still listen to what you have to say
i have learnt so much while you've been gone and as you know a lot of it is thanks to mom
but i'm willing to start a new but dad my decision only depends on you!
Copyright © alainey craig | Year Posted 2015
Long poem by
nick armbrister jimmy boom semtex | Details |
Juniper’s Daughter Picks a Man
On a cold rainy early winter night Juniper’s Daughter landed her flying disc on the car park of Aldi and went for a beer. She was dressed in casual attire so as not to stand out, she wanted a man and did it the old skool way. Juniper’s Daughter sauntered in the bar held the door open with one hand and let all of the men in the venue get a good look at her, in turn she took in each of them.
Most were crap but one caught her eye. She slowly looked his way and made eye contact and entered the pub, walking over to him. Two dozen sets of male eyes and several female tracked her as she went to the bar and stood next to the man. The witch shook her hair and ruffled it with her hand.
Turning she glanced at the man and announced in her Danish accent, “Hi there, you gonna buy me a drink then?”
The man looked at the young woman beside him noticing that she was toned up under her loose fitting casual clothes and replied, “Yea why not. What are you having?”
“Why young man I’ll have you! I mean I’ll have a beer!” Laughed the witch slightly blushing, this got the man exited and guaranteed his interest in her.
His gaze never left Juniper’s Daughter she looked into space at the spirit bottles upside down behind the bar. The man ordered the drinks in a flustered voice, losing his cool a little? She smiled gently at him and asked his name, he replied, “Jason.”
“I’m Anna but people call me The Witch due to my blond hair and looks coz I’m from Denmark. I don’t mind that actually.”
“Really? I’ve never been to Denmark but I like their beer they make, really good. Have you drunk it?”
“Oh yes my love, I’ve had it many times. Thanks for the beer.”
The couple were quiet for a minute drinking their drinks and thinking about the other, he liked the blond lady. She wasn’t like local gals and did she really want him or slip up?
She liked the young man from first glance and soon she would make love to him in her flying disc after their drinks. Moving closer to the man, Jason, Anna gently held his hand and slowly moved her face towards his and kissed him once on he lips.
He didn’t back away or resist, he met her kiss and parted the witch’s tongue with his kissing her deeply, she closed her eyes and ignored the envious looks from other people at the bar and tables in the pub. A few people whispered and pointed, this doesn’t normally happen and who was this foreign gutsy stranger?
After a long timeless kiss the witch let her hand brush Jason’s jeans feeling his bulge, they kissed again and finished their drinks. She whispered that she wanted him and held out her hand, he took it and followed her. Together they left the pub and walked over to the car park where he thought her car was parked.
Copyright © nick armbrister jimmy boom semtex | Year Posted 2015
Long poem by
Richard Lamoureux | Details |
I pulled up to the Stork Club in a bright Red Coupe Deville. I must admit I felt a bit of pride as I tossed the bell hop the keys. I said "Keep it close Kid!". As he sat behind the steering wheel, I admired the way that the chrome reflected the street lights. I walked towards the entrance and the bouncer motioned me to the front of the line. I smiled and pressed a twenty into his palm, he didn't crack a smile but he did open the front door for me.
At the entry a pretty young thing took my hat and coat, her smile made up for the doorman's lack of exuberance. She handed me a ticket and I slipped a twenty down her ample cleavage, she didn't seem to mind. In fact she said "My name is Hana and I finish at One." I said "That's good to know doll face."
There was a large mirror and as I adjusted my tie, I thought "this Havana white suit suits me just fine. I liked the texture of the fabric and somehow the whiteness made my baby blues pop! I walked up to the bar like I owned the place, I ordered "A Scotch on the Rocks." The bartender winked and said "Right away sir." A cigarette girl came by and I ordered some Camel's. She opened them for me and I peeled another twenty of my roll and said "Keep the change." By this time people where starting to take notice. A gorgeous dame sitting at the bar asked me "Are you going to buy me a drink?" I played it cool and said "Maybe" she looked surprised, I guess that wasn't the reaction she was expecting. She looked intrigued which was exactly what I was hoping for. I tapped my pack of camels on my forefinger and two cigarettes came out. I offered her one and she put it up to her luscious lips. I removed a gold plated lighter from my pocket and starred deeply into her eyes as I lit her cigarette. She starred right back and I thought "This couldn't be going any better."
All of a sudden there was a big commotion at the front door. I looked up and the Bell Hop was pointing in my direction. There were two uniformed officers with him and they were heading in my direction. I could have ran but instead I reached for the dame and gave her a huge kiss on those luscious lips. I then turned and put another twenty on the bar and said "Give the lady a drink." A moment later my face was pressed on the same bar and handcuffs were tightly fastened to my wrists. I guess in the end I gave all these fancy folks somethin to jaw about. In the morning they will be reading all about me. A great story to tell the grand kids.
For Judy's "Puttin on The Ritz" contest.
Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2015
Long poem by
Casarah Nance | Details |
There is still screaming in the silence
after the light dim to evening hour apparel,
and the stories of comical characters have all been read.
She is an angel, small and sweet, tucked into bed.
Animal print wallpaper with big eyes open wide watches over her.
Colorful displays of rainbow blankets fill her over sized bed.
She sleeps in her warm haven, finally admiring heaven
while dream dust sprinkles her eyes shut.
And there is still screaming in the silence,
as I walk down the hallway of scattered toys,
picking up the pieces one by one, returning them home.
Soap soaked dishes get a scrub down and drip dry.
Lips sip the special soda from the red solo cup.
Minutes turn waiting for the man to return,
after eight hours of working on the production floor,
he demands a warm meal and more.
He is paying the way the bills after all.
The man becomes the money that walks through the door.
There is screaming in the silence,
when the sun comes up and little energy wakes.
She fades from angel to acrobat,
bouncing from furniture to toy without a second glance,
a tornado beast in a destructive dance.
I serve her the orange juice, splashing the side,
drops on the counter become the tears I cried.
Keep it together, don't scream while the money sleeps.
Hush little child, tired does not hide anger well.
Breakfast served on silver platter paper plates,
a splash of rum in a red solo cup.
Fumble in the fray of the day and the sips repeat.
There is screaming in the silence.
Why are your eyes red the man asks,
tired and worn I'm sure, life becomes a blur.
Don't tell him I've been drinking.
It started at night at first, a slap splash, a burst,
just to help me fall to a friendly sleep,
but now it becomes the hours I keep.
Enough to keep the demons at bay,
who really knew, they played there anyway, just hiding,
waiting for the right trigger to ripple free,
broken is the light inside of me, hard to handle.
extinguished candle of individuality,
I am a drone all alone in the empty shell of me.
There is screaming in the silence,
picking up the fragments of broken toys.
Washing stains that will never let go
from dirty laundry and sunken skin.
A fully functional smile after another swallow,
and another day, I am ready to preform,
mother hood, wife hood, robotic repetition of life.
Don't tell him I've been drinking.
It is the secret of the silence.
And does he see there is a disaster to me
that comes with liquored reliance.
December 06, 2015
Copyright © Casarah Nance | Year Posted 2015