Zombies are not what you'd call givers
They'd rather sip blood by y'all's rivers
Butt crack stains on their legs
Ate backstrap, brains, and eggs
But, they preferred feasting on livers
BYOB: Bring Your Own Bruise or Bring Your Own Boos
IN MY OWN BACKYARD
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
climbing stairs or books
I travel from world to world
in my own backyard
The sun is high in the summer sky
And no clouds to be seen
The grass is high neath the summer sky
And growing tall and green
The mower starts with growling roar
And cuts through swaths of fescue
This mowing proves a sweaty chore
And soon I beg for rescue
My lawn’s expanse appears to grow
The longer that I labor
Seems to expand as I cut each row
The mower becomes my sabre
And I a true knight dueling a foe
Who laughs at my every advance
He stands unyielding before each blow
And about the green our martial dance
With never a sign of surrender
The fight goes on between us two
Which shall prove to be the pretender
Victory comes with the aim that’s true
And at last my foe lies low
Beneath the heel of the victor
Yet even now it grows
Who shall win next Saturday?
Sadly there is no predictor
Within a crack in grisly clouds one night
I briefly glimpsed the redish-orange hue
of the Australian desert poking through—
pillars of bunched up puffs, in the colored light
of a sleepy sun’s rosy rays,—and the might
of such a sight struck my soul’s drowsy blue.
So suddenly my heavy spirit flew
like a falcon to that unequaled height.
And soon returning home, I shut the door
on that marvelous fantasy of mine.
The evening heavens, far from human reach,
yet teach me a quite foreign form of speech,—
that of mysterious, metaphoric sign.?
Thus I transcend myself,—find something more.
children in backyard
play cowboys and indians
learning rules of war
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Mom, Happy Thanksgiving
Wishing You Were Here
A Tree Grows In The 18th Spot
With The 18th Tear That I Shed
I Stop On 18th Street
To Sing A Song
That Is 18 Minutes Long
18 Memories Come To My Head Out Of Nowhere
Then I Turn 18 Again
And I Rename MySelf Benjamin Button
When Some Stranger Named Paul,
Who Dwells In A Hard Castle On Avenue 19,
Plays A Nostalgic Tune Of Glorius Therapeutic Effervescence,
I Will Be At Your Burial Site With Flowers ?? For You
I Will Treasure The Memories In Tributary Showers For You
Without You Here, I Will Always Be Alone
Still Searching For Replacements But Failing Instantaneously
My Love And Appreciation For You Has No Expiration Date And Will AllWays Be A HolyDay EveryDay In Every Way More And More Each Day In Every Phase Like A Metaphorical Phase That Confuses Me With Similes, HowEver, I Still Find A Way Via Ginseng Vibes Of SunShine Inspiration Thanks Wholly To You......
I Miss You And Love You, M.O.M. (Mother Of Marty) Like The Purification Of Simplicity's Kindred Spirit In Its Maternal Essence
Keep Resting Easy........Love Infinity........
Backyard Hopscotch is my thing, my favorite backyard game,
And today I was inducted in the BH hall of fame,
Nobody else is quite as good as me I tell myself,
As I grab my chalk and hopscotch rocks from off the hopscotch shelf.
I draw squares on the ground and throw a stone to number two
Then hop from square to square like a demented kangaroo
Some people say I'm crazy as I play it every day,
However, it's a game I always win whene'er I play.
I'm always by myself and so I never ever lose,
But soon I'll have to stop as I've worn big holes in my shoes.
As young kids,
we loved playing hopscotch.
Taking turns we would put big boxes on the sidewalk,
then jump from box to box for hours.
One day we took a can of spray paint,
now we have a Backyard Hopscotch.
The grass boxes look great in red,
it now matches dad's face.
Backyard hopscotch
One, two, three
Pick up the coloured stone
Hop to one knee
Toss up the speckled rock
Four, Five, six
Twist on the vibrant chalk
And cast another mix
I once tried hopscotch in reverse,
Backwards it went from bad to worse.
My hop was scotched,
My stone was botched,
I fell head over heels adverse!
So many stars overhead.
The cold evening air gives
a focussed clarity to each speck
of light and a little of the chill
from space seems
to trickle down to earth
and settle this night.
Thoughts reach up as if
to grasp some meaning encoded
there in the morse of light,
a message perhaps left by a hand
but there is only a silence
on which the cosmos writes
its usual chatter,
the tortured cries from dying stars,
groans from galaxies
being torn apart,
a catalog of death and doom
and there caught on a web strung
between two trees, the smothered
screams from a half eaten moon.
kitchen floor paw prints
mud shaking on furniture
two bad little dogs
In the back yard they speak
Hush! They sleep. Do not ever I do
Not weep for them. No I never speak for
Them. My cats in the backyard are
Tranquil. They are each individually
Unique! Yes they are! And sometimes
Travel far for food. They greet eat
Return satisfied they play fight tumble.
And purr wrestle and pure they are
Delight! The ancients believed them
To be sacred. There they have laid
With the fallen in TOMBS and or
Pyramids sealed! This real I feel!
These felines are primes of nine
Lives Prim pure puuurfeeect EXISTENCE!
Simplistic care for these SACRED
With NO RESISTANCE! They sleep
Now. In the back quiet BEINGS this
EXPERIENCE. They sleep. Huuussh!
In the backyard. Hush huuuussssh.
VBR Black Panther! Val
JET Black Answerer! Big Black CAT
ROARRRR!
last years leaves
against the fence
warm winter day
rain and snow collect
grounds hard no absorption yet
water stands stagnant
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