Escape: Tribute to George Oliver
"People can't fly when they're backed into a corner." -Tami Longaberger
Centenarian, I can only imagine
What you were thinking
When you boarded your wheelchair,
Headed out the door of the Ewing Wing,
And took the downhill runway.
Surely you meant to take flight-
Bystanders who saw that you had left your Rocking chair
Could only gape in awe at your audacity of hope.
The California Highway Patrol,
Noting that you forgot to fasten your seatbelt,
Rushed in where the federal aviation commission could not.
The CHP took you back to John C Fremont
And bound you to earth for the few days
you had left.
Trapped, we often get our wings late.
My friend, I can only assume, that you,
Despite the new alarm on the door of the Ewing wing,
Are flying high above us
There once was a tiny wee child who's mum taught what's bad and what's good.
Who grew to be a champion, to right wrongs wherever they could
So when this person was accused, they trusted in their pride.
"I have nothing to fear surely if I've got nothing to hide"
Days did pass, then weeks did, and then they turned to months
But still there was resolve since they'd never faltered once.
Then the lawman said to them, "with charges great like that, this would be dragged out and they'd go crazy as a bat"
This was not the justice that child learned to make, and they'd been taught morality, but also learned to hate.
For that child had a father who taught them cruel and bad, who's teachings they'd forsaken, to be not like their dad.
But backed into a corner, sneered at by those called law, the child died and what was born then threw them on the floor.
Their mangled bodies, their stifled cries, too much for her to take, and now they've made the monster that they always sought to make.
So near so far doesn’t matter
Hanging my head in shame
Been to the track once more
I’m addicted to the flame.
I gaze upon fortunes woe
Indifferent to my pain
Chosen by a path of loss
I’m broke, so must abstain.
Crumpled up my tickets
Flung them down in distain
Where they ever worth a penny
Dirty filth I curse and blame.
Backed into a corner
Outlook’s much the same
Walls closing in all sides
I cry underneath the strain.
Wasted another paycheck
Gambled away in vain
Afraid to face the music
I take a different train.
Go back to parents house
Cannot face my wife again
I hate myself I’m disgusting
Habitual loser self ordained.
My mother makes me dinner
Father says I’ve gone insane
Why does my family even care
Flushed my own down the drain.
By
David Kavanagh
What would sly look like
would there be any foxiness
and the
what image brought to mind
a million clones
with black tie and white shirts
over used and unpretentious
would unused words
believe they are better
than the rest
Exquisite a diamond wall
that magnifies
exploding stars
as easy
lies back in oversized loungers
Enigma in a crowd frustrated
as it tries to explain itself
Love surrounded
has a sign around its neck
please no questions
Fear backed into a corner
startled
by surprise as he bashes
through the door
Life and death
share a joke
as on lookers
try to avoid there gaze
As and ifs
Ats and is's
Gather in a pack
Dream looks around the room
unsure its even there
Hope waits patiently at the door
Sentence starts a conga
as words take there place
And poem sees its face
"End it now he called to me"
As he was backed into a corner you see
"Do it. Go on do it. I dare you."
Wanting me surely to follow it through
We waited and left him with no where to go
As the time here went so very slow
Occasionally he would talk on the phone
Until finally he came out to us all alone.
© Paul Warren Poetry
The US Election Blues
Two heavyweight fighters
standing in a ring
who’ll make it to The White House
who’ll get the final swing?
Drink, till it’s all over
take a round the world cruise
I’ve got the transatlantic
no hope US election blues.
I feel sorry for the voters
disillusioned and depressed
who wish the warring couple
would give their ears a rest!
Backed into a corner,
whoever wins, they lose,
it’s the rock and a hard place
US election blues.
Donald reaches people
he’s got some new ideas
Hilary’s got pedigree
she’s been around for years.
Hibernate or emigrate
whichever one they choose
it’s the wind of change or stay
the same US election blues.
Every day, a skeleton,
a secret or a scandal
she’s a shady Ice Queen
he’s just too hot to handle.
There’s an S rated movie
coming to a state near you
it’s the polling booth, forget
the truth, US election blues.
They’re like the taste of Marmite
you either love or hate,
wake me up for Christmas
when it’s really much too late.
I’m leaving with Obama
and switching off the news
I’ve got the dirty tricks
mud sticks, US election blues.
i used to know love
take her out and tell her how i feel
promise the world
over the moon
laughing into a sunset
Televisions for mirrors
best and amazing dripping on every kiss
sugar down the funnel
i worshipped the idea
of you
release the doves
backed into a corner i
gave away nothing my sacred
still ringing
i noticed the continuity
the light still casts a shade
if time and space are the same
why does it still feel like yesterday?
i feel her bending back the elegance
the partition was only the beginning
i wallowed in my denial, laying on my back
the sun hurts my eyes
i forgave and learned of my needs
i gave thanks this love was a pathway
now which love was mine?
who dares straddle my holy ground?
brazen and also wary
courage and sensitivity
self loving and almost selfless
the wine i share in silence
the things i feed upon
while drifting in a milky way
a constellation came to my bedside
butterfly kisses my eyes were twinkling
still receiving a signal but by the time
i have a listen
they had been finished in a cycle
becoming something i have nothing to do with
hy does my skin feel so cold
A stray thought
resting on my lonely mind
The feeling of warmth
fleeting, vanished along with the rolling clouds
Is this supposed to be a paradise
or a living nightmare
Once the shadows part ways
here arrives the swift sense of victory
only to see failure charge with a white horse
and gleaming armor
Backed into a corner
begging for an option of sealing the swords away
for the grief of the loss
from beloved wife still burns strong
Do the Gods exist
she believed it so but I remain the fool
for I don't believe in anything that would steal her away
yet the reasoning proceeds to seep
as her predictions reign true to me
Possibilities are seen impossible for
now the feeling in these
breakable hands grows as cold as ice
Blood pours out of the bodies
these swords have severed
An arena...this where last stands are made
Obstructed is the view of the beholder
as in those eyes, the last one seemed so familiar
yet the only sound was the crowd screaming the name
Spartacus!
Spartacus!
Spartacus!
NEXT QUEET
10-18-2015 by jr Thornton
“Did you mean all those?
All the ones built to hurt.”
Is there form, plan, or purpose?
To those devices
To the bridge connecting
Was it intention to make sure it has burnt?
Maliciously never-ending
Devoid of way with no more choices
Backed into a corner
Rabidly defending a broken voice
Viciously attacking an emotional donor
A psychic vampire
Fooled once shame on the other
But fooled more than twice.
Ashamed for another.
Walking in fire
Sprinting desire.
Absolute oblivion.
Absolute hell.
Encased in her heart.
Engraved on my soul.
Even still revealed a charade
A farce. A final curtain, or maybe a false start.
Remain ambiguous. Elusively evade.
Judgmental and harsh
No love, or future certain.
No reason or universal constant.
Thought I had something romantic to say,
But only had to fart.
Run all you want you won’t get away.
Keep chasing your tail, same stuff different day.
Backed into a corner – cower and moan, you’ve blocked yourself - scream- deny all
you can.
But you’ve done the deeds and there’s blood on your hands.
Cry all you can, til you can cry no more…
then stand up and breathe in and there’s no place like home.
So, turn round and face it, the thing you fear most.
Yourself in the mirror - the past, and the ghosts.
Fight back, and time to settle the score.
Ask if it’s worth it and breathe and exhale. Or, just continue to chase your own tail.
You can look the other way, say you did not see a thing
Do not want to get involved, let the other guy do it
Beside you have to many other things to do
You want to hear the music, but you don't want to sing
If backed into a corner, you throw a fit
That is what some people will do
Don't take a stand, but go with the flow
Power in numbers, but the majority is not always right
Some day if you lose your right to vote
That would be a sad thing for anyone to know
You would lose the war without a fight
And complain that you missed the boat
You say you want relaxation and distractions
Besides this is all to complicated to understand
It works in their plan, they will give it to you
Like taking candy from a baby, could care less of your reactions
Like a heavy fog it will cover this land
And this is what they are planning to do
If your head is in the cloud, you will never see a thing
If you turn a deaf ear, you will hear less
Never get called on, if you do not raise your hand
They want you totally numb, never feel a thing
And we wonder why we are in such a mess
Some live in La La Land, with their head in the sand
Dark clouds rise in the skies with the high pitch
of loud thunder
Even the old to the young can't escape the destruction
of society's outrageous plunder.
Shredded clothes,
Aching bones,
and ripped souls leaves physical impressions of a
story untold.
Desperation of ejaculation
Thrusting in penetration
With dismal elation from unwanted relations.
The sounds of....
Please!
Help!
Stop!
and No! , comes from the voice of one's own
devastating complications.
Desperate is she to find the exit to the world
of escape.
Being backed into a corner with..
Fears
Tears
and memorable years when one has experienced
the world called 'Rape'.
Tiffany Saxon
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