when our skin touches
im left with diluted smells
like wearing your boyfriend's hoodie
only its not mine to have
These smells have become nauseating
reminding me im only useful for backseats
and undercover kisses
my body is craving closeness
but im only handed meaningless motions
and tinted glass laughs
blurring what they really want from me
Love is only a broken teenage dream
my skin isnt what it used to be
im left with marks
from those who never truly knew me
Its not mine
But I still choose to love like this
backseats have become a place where Im seen
in the same space just another girl
they're always going to replace
Its something to distract me
from the damaged parts of my body
they never choose to see
When the night
Clouds out of sight
Evil goes off thought
But at heart do persist
When the moon
Announces it soon
It becomes a boon
Joy to the goon
When the acts are local
It resist every being vocal
And design the land's dry miracle
To play games so satirical
With the joy of money
Immoral becomes honey
Causes many mourning
Tagged forewarning
With every visible injuries on joints
Gut got them crazy points
Even if Malignancies swallow Microsoft
They won't excel in theft
One seems powerful than others
Of the three units
Overshadowing with tactful conceits
To comfort others at the backseats
Wake from your slumber
Wake and take the pains no further
There once was a dude named Santa Claus
He did not know how to slow and pause
He raced with his sleigh
Spilling presents astray
Into the waiting backseats of cars
Monday, December 13, 2021
I Need a Good Laugh: XMAS LIMERICK CONTEST Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Andrea Dietrich
We traverse those extraordinary significances that transpired
well earned, spent in our fabled youth's labyrinth corridors
obliged naive hearts bolted in present infinity for so oft
succeeding the key of memories becall. It beckons
in subsequent years of a pensive soul tryst with
thyself. Loneliness fades grasped by natures
opening redolences proffering counsel to
evaporate my soul resplendent aspiration to utterance, awakening
greeted birds to flight and favor a dusky crown bejeweled by
distant stars flickering arousal as a moon in its assiduous
mood o'er guiding men to sort out words of worn-out
theme deftly tucked away neath backseats of row
vehicles parked on an acclivity crowded lane.
Steered twilight's, vigilant years wane,
within the effervescent youth from
dawns intrepid golden sleigh.
2020 February 02
We tender that special moment that was well earned, spent in our fabled youth's labyrinth passages beholden to young hearts locked in eternal time for e'er so oft consequent the key of memories call. It beckons me now in subsequent years of a pensive soul tryst with thyself. Loneliness fades grasped by natures blooming redolences proffering counsel to evaporate my soul resplendent aspiration to utterance, awakening welcomed birds to flight and favor a dusky crown bejeweled with distant stars flickering arousal as a moon in its laborious mood o'er guiding men to sort out words of worn-out paper neatly tucked away neath backseats of a row vehicles parked on a hillside crowded lane. A cooled engine warms my car as I leave behind a season of mist and mellow fruitfulness.
2020 January 28
“Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness” By John Keats
I'm back lads! After a long while of inactiveness. (This is not part of the poem).
I imagine a world filled with wonders,
where dinosaurs roam the streets,
there're flying cars racing high above,
with children cheering in the backseats,
when cloud burst into popcorn treats,
chorused by thunder, lightning, and rain,
then a rainbow danced calmly across the stage,
and the drama starts again.
Welcome my friend, to my world of imagination.
He came out fighting
He always comes out fighting
Like a caged animal who has not lost his oomph yet
Today was no different
His parents were called
They have blocked the school’s phone number
They do not want to know
We are a bother to them
He is six
He always comes out fighting
We wonder about them
But they never come
Parents who do not come to school even to pick him up.
They send different people each day
People arrive in pickup trucks and jeeps.
Most do not greet him
The only reason we know they have permission
to pick him up, is the mother calls in.
She does not answer, but she does call.
Our sad little fighter slides into backseats daily.
No one turns
No one greets him
He comes out fighting daily
Wonder why?
REVOLUTION BABY
Am from the backseats of mean streets
I got my eye aiming the Wall Street
They said education is the key
I wonder why they made it expensive for we,
Am sitting around hood rats,
Gangsters and Ex- prisoners
Sniffing, snatching, stuffing stuff
Mama expects a lawyer, a doctor, a mayor,
Newsflash!
We are in the middle of a crisis
Am the original copy of a son-of-a-gun
I define the odds
I believe to break a law,
Is to make a road
You go east or west,
Home is still the best
But with a bullet in your chest
Don’t mess with these streets
They will give you a free ride to hell
Pot and crack do rounds all over,
It’s a mess,
I am needed, you are needed,
We are needy
Damn!
We are in a man eat man generation
You either survive or succumb
There’s a billion ways to die,
Choose one,
It’s time for a change,
Change of perspectives,
Change of attitude,
Change of behavior
Let’s get out of our comfort zone,
Coz that’s what’s drowning us,
We need a change
Change for the better
It’s revolution time!!
Gulls circled above, spiralling through car exhaust
Kids fidgeted in the backseats of chaos
Eerie silence, interrupted by overheated transmissions
Someone blasting The Doors...theme music
Stern, heavily armored Homeland Security soldiers
Slowly approached, assuming insurrection
Just another day in the new Amerika
Land of the free, home of the brave
Large signs proclaim:
"All contents must be declared, please exit your
Vehicle when stopped"
Off to the side, transport busses waited
Like praying mantis seizing their victims
Filling quickly,
abandoned cars quickly towed
Destination unknown
Destination
Unknown
04/12/13
© All Rights Reserved
I remember your smiling face
Staring down at me
It all just seemed pillows and promises
But soon the comfort fades out
And we’re left with hidden pictures
And misguided hearts
But now, I’ve stared at the memory long enough
That I can feel your hand wrap around mine
And this time, we won’t let go
It’s been so long since seventeen
We’ve gone so far, fearing never to find our way back
School hallways and car backseats linger in my heart
In just a moment, with just another smile you took me back
To seventeen
Now, I’ve stared at the memory long enough
That I can feel your hand wrap around mine
And this time, we won’t let go
Sitting on the edge of the bed
Spiraling toward the edge of my mind
I hear the door close behind you
Still, I sit here, wondering what this means
Somehow I know
Somehow I know, you’ll be back again someday
So I’ll just sit here and let you find your way back to me
I’ve stared at the memory long enough
That I can feel your hand wrap around mine
And this time, we won’t let go
This time, we’ll be walking hand-in-hand
In cities of affluent urbanity,
why are kids so rare in the vicinity?
In backseats of their glitzy cars,
no tots there licking choco bars.
Instead they have beribboned cats
or manicured dogs wearing hats
going to sauna-spas for pets,
some to clinics of doting vets,
others to lawyers for insurance
or pet's fabulous inheritance.
You may call me an old-fashioned hillbilly,
but without kids, you just don't have family !
About family, about humanity,
y'see, I'm hounded by
a strange curiousity
in affluent centers of urbanity
where children are rare
in the vicinity.
Cozy backseats of expensive vans and cars
don't have kids licking melting
chocolate bars;
But instead I see brightly beribboned cats
or all sorts of pampered dogs,
some wearing hats.
They go to saunas and clinics for pets
to see animal psychiatrists
and vets
or hire lawyers for a pet's life insurance
and its entitlement
to inheritance.
If we spoil our pets like they're really human,
society might lose that which
it can lean on;
I reckon you won't believe this hillbilly,
but without kids, we don't have
a family!
INsaneity POEM
INsaneity POEM
Normal activity in the millennium has replaced abnormal activity in THE DAY
Back in THE DAY thay say it was not that way at all
A man walks in a circle talking to himself and moves around slowly to find the
best advantage spot and although he is dancing all by himself there is actually
someone on the other end of his cell phone
People hold communion with a web site and spend HOURS looking for a link to
what they deem a most neccasary thing but alas and alak
It is all just pixles and even LUST is hard to nurture and to keep in the Ethernet of
404 and 401 and on the web the images of love the *********** of past
becomes the addiction of the many lost forever in their past.
When people drivewith the head up in their last place that they look and the
people are just robots with a cell phone in their hand and in the
corners of their places in the seats and in the backseats there is lust of a
different sort no more sex but just the jaded memory of 404 and 401.
I'm hounded by a strange curiosity
about kids, parents, about humanity
in glitzy, affluent centers of urbanity
where children are rare in the vicinity;
backseats of expensive vans and cars
don't have kids licking chocolate bars,
limo windows show beribboned cats
or huge and tiny dogs all wearing hats
going to saunas and clinics for pets
to see psychiatrists and doting vets,
or hire lawyers on pet's life insurance
and entitlement to fabulous inheritance;
you pamper pets like they're truly human,
you mistake the eggshell for the albumen,
I reckon you won't believe me, a hillbilly,
but without kids you just don't have family !
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