Looking at floor plans what to do
dream of building house brand new
Single story now best for me
two bathrooms, bedrooms three
Master suite with nice en suite
large walk-in closet would be neat
Kitchen with window above sink
walk-in pantry nice I think
Living in tornado alley storm shelter to
big living room, a study with walls of blue
Want a utility room tired of laundry in kitchen
Screen in front porch a must to mention
Like a patio with grill for cooking outdoors
not a swimming pool but green house for sure
Dinning room with table big enough for eight
detach garage with the house is it's mate
Want central heating and air
back up window unit stored as spare
Good storage and a dog room please
dog shower and groom station for ease
Fenced in yard with fence high
big dogs jump think one flies
Floor plans are fun to explore and find
got to win lottery to build dream house of mine.
The children gathered around
the crackling fireplace as
Rumple Stein opened his
heavy, leather- bound book.
His voice dropped to a low,
raspy whisper that made the
shadows on the wall seem to
stretch and dance.
"Deep within the Whispering
Woods," he began, "the old
witches brew potions made
of forgotten nightmares."
He leaned forward, his eyes
gleaming in the firelight as
the wind howled outside the
window.
"They command slimy green
goblins that creep into
bedrooms to steal the
laughter of sleeping boys
and girls."
A floorboard creaked in the
hallway, making the children
jump and clutch their
blankets tight.
"But the worst myth of all,"
Rumple Stein hissed, "is the
faceless monster that hides
right under your bed."
He pointed a long, crooked
finger at the youngest boy,
whose eyes were wide with
fright.
"It waits until the room goes
completely black, listening to
the sound of your heartbeat."
With a sudden, loud SLAM of
his book, he smiled and
whispered, "Now, blow out
the candle and go to sleep."
even in a crowd
one can still find solitude—
silence not required
My children got me a subscription one of those services that sends me a weekly prompt, usually something about my childhood, to help get those creative juices flowing. One of those prompts read, “when you were a child, did you have to share a bedroom and possibly a bed with your siblings?”
Wait a doggone second guys. Do you mean to tell me that sleeping alone when you were a child is a real thing? Man, when I was growing up back in Wakenda, I recall the biggest house we ever lived in had four bedrooms. I know that a four-bedroom house might sound like a mansion but when you throw in the fact that there were more kids than you could count without using your toes, plus mom and dad, that sure didn’t leave much space. Heck, even after I joined the Army, depending on where I was stationed, I had to share a bedroom with 4 to 12 other people. Then I got married and spent each night of my life sharing a bed. After all those years, I’m not sure I could sleep a whole night without the sound of snoring and an occasional fart drifting out from under the covers.
The streets are full of madmen
The bedrooms they are too
After hours of internet p..n
What do you expect? What do…
The kids carry guns
Challenge their arrogance
And they’ll kill you too
The madhouses have been emptied
No funds to house the insane
Waiting lines are crawling all over the city
Snaking in tangled descent into Hell’s reign
The cemeteries are ready to open their tombs
The dead will come to meet the mad
In a sanguine ceremony of riot and wounds
I see the coffins open
I see straight jackets flying like sails
Over dark rivers of blood
Splashing out in the tempest gales
I speak to myself “Put on the amour of God’s holiness
Stand against the schemes of Hell
Against the schemes of authority’s unwinding deceitful spell”
Shipwrecks are following from fraudulent choices
One upon another, upon another
Crashing against the rocks of eternity
Amidst the exploding noise of drunken whores' voices
All are drowning in self- made poison
Flowing for centuries from sick societal breasts
Sinking with hearts of stone into a deadly bottomlessness
thoughts jump
like grasshoppers
from one idea to the next
between words,
quiet spaces
say more
than we think they do
grandma's old button box
spills memories
on my desk
yesterday walks into today
like rain
through an open window
sometimes
we forget periods
and let our breathing
make the rules
poems can break their lines
anywhere
they want to rest
words stretch
like rubber bands
sometimes they snap
and fly away
half-finished sentences
can be the most
honest ones
when we're hurt,
we pretend everything
is perfectly fine
kitchens and bedrooms
hold secrets
that make us
who we really are
looking closely at the truth
even when it makes us squirm
not yes, not no
freedom lives in the maybe
wild looks like freedom
when you've been sitting
still too long
who are you?
I'm the kid
who won't stay in the box
rivers always
know their way
flowing towards
something bigger
we are the change
we want,
each small choice
creates waves
Things that happened when we were young
Was better left unsaid
It wasn't spiders we were scared of or the
Monsters under the bed.
The thing we was scared of came in to our bedrooms at night
We were scared Children we were not strong Enough to fight.
When we had the courage we ran away but the Police bought us back the same day
And when we told someone it was no surprise
That the one responsible said We were Telling lies
So beaten abused In a life filled with violence
Children like me were abused into silence.
Wee Willy Winky creeps about the town
Into children’s bedrooms he’ll be peeking.
Sometimes if he finds an open window,
into that child’s room he will go sneaking.
He fancies himself a Sandman.
But nothing like the Sandman is he.
No peace does he bring the sleepless kid
as he creeps about in hours that are wee.
He sprinkles no sand into sleepy eyes,
but he slides like a ninja beneath a child's bed,
then mutters low sounds that he thinks are soothing,
but he frightens most children instead!
“Go to sleep; go to sleep,” he sometimes whispers.
Children who hear this are filled with fear.
Too terrified are they to leave their bed.
They think that the boogeyman must be near.
Wee Willy Winky, you do nobody good
as you creep all around in your nightgown.
Some of those you visit get PTSD.
You ought to be jailed and banished from town.
kibitzer neighbor
a blatant staring voyeur
vicariousness
living our dream lives
peeking into our bedrooms
crazy old woman
I'm that house who has been on the block for years
Who have seen many parties and lots of tears
I'm hearing rumors that I might be put up for sell
Different types of notices coming in through the mail
If only I can make the decision or be given an option
I don't want people fighting over me at an auction
I'm getting too old and my paint is starting to peel
By looking at me you can only imagine how I feel
Broken cupboards, run down sinks and crooked tile
There's hardly anyone who looks at me with a smile
Who could possibly want me when I'm so run down
You can't open a door without a screeching sound
True I do have a big yard but my grass isn't green
I also have the biggest bedrooms you've ever seen
There are good things about me that's still the same
My roof is still strong and doesn't leak when it rains
Screws and a new paint job would give me that shine
Give it some thought before signing that dotted line
(A mystic whispers)
Through this scrying mirror
Be it by
Eyes, Touch, Paper, or Phone
Let my power
Melt your heart of stone
Through
Wind, fire, wave, and sea
I see you
Are you ready to atone
Can you feel me
Rolling in
Like green moss
Creeping across
Warm wet skin
So you can absorb me
More
To open wide
All your mind's closed doors
To let me in
So long nights
Can begin
With Earth warmed
By new shadows
Borne
Open up so I can linger within
Until dawn
Willing heat to rise up
Like young pawns
Called to fight
In Winter's War of Emotions
So prepare well
Summer Solstice is coming soon
On the 21st of June
A rebirth
A time of new beginnings and spells
With me and you
Engaging in deep breathing
In hot bedrooms,
Wallpapered in sinning and yells
Where old feelings flee
With the ringing of our libidos bells
To be swept away
By sweet cries of a new renaissance that will never stop
And be replaced by new psyops
As all your resistance
Drops
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Overnight, they could read each other's minds.
They were embarrassed and retreated.
Almost immediately, the streets were nearly empty.
Inside their homes. The people hid, stowing away in bedrooms.
The homeless, perverts, and streetwalkers were the only ones that went public.
Their intentions were always straightforward and obvious
For a long time, they knew themselves and what everyone was thinking.
Over time, some got closer to God.
Others drifted even further into the scrub of life.
Some went mad.
Hanging themselves on the most private parts of their minds.
Although retired and glad to be "job free"
I've still places to go, things to do, people to see...
When I get back home the first 'Order of Biz'
Is seek out where Sweetie Lady is
I start my search through 1st floor rooms
Kitchen; computer niche; both bedrooms
If searching fails to show where she went
I go down to check our cold basement
She doesn't go up to the model airplane attic
So all that points to my one remaining tactic
Explore the 'Wilderness': to wit:
The lot on which our house doth sit
Although the view across the yard would seem to be quite clear
She has amazing ability in it to disappear
So then I have to raise my voice
Like a pet owner, but I have no choice
I plead "Please call to me, my Sweetie Dear!
I cannot tell if you are here!"
She emerges from some bush, with pruner
How can I not have seen her sooner?
No matter, now that she's in sight
I only want to hug her tight!
Love of my Life: searching I DON't dread
Is when I search for you at night
Close by me...in our bed!
Bedtime
The beginning of the night was hot
I went to bed naked (daredevil.)
On the other side of the bedroom, I saw a naked man had
a big stomach, large balls and a small .
Since he wasn’t me, I did not bid him good night
I switched off the light.
During the night, it got cold, a foretaste of winter
hastily put my pajamas on.
I had noticed the man in the other room had a long foreskin
at least he was not Jewish.
I made a mental note to ask her who he was
we sleep in separate bedrooms because of my snoring.
I was thinking of Carl Jung. was he a Christian or not
some of what he said was right in our Western society is steeped
in Christianity, as is our everyday speech.
Woke up at eight, walked into the kitchen
, and made coffee
thought, if the man who was not there was still sleeping.
(Tennyson.)
I have a problem with my eyes
Being bigger than my brain.
I mean I have a weakness
Of owning more books than water makes rain.
I purchase them by the dozen
Whenever they’re on sale,
At the local bookstore I buy them galore
Smiling inside without hesitation or fail.
No subject too large or near too small
As I stack them high on shelves and walls
In bedrooms, closets
And out in the hall.
They’re down in the basement and the attic as well,
I admit I’m addicted to even the smell
Of an Emily Dickinson, Thoreau or Frost,
Or MK Rawlings, whatever the cost.
I love a good mystery
But history’s my fav
While God, religion, and good grammar
I always crave.
The problem I have is reading them all
Cover to cover whenever they call,
Morning or evening, midnight or midday
Surrounded by books and all that they say
Keeps my mind moving and grooving along
And points to some places I’ll go when I’m gone.
The day when the angels come ‘round up my soul
I’ll think of these books as silver and gold.
And leave them to someone who
Might even see
Between all the pages
A man like me.
nothing belongs to me
my face has been held by calloused hands
turned however they saw fit.
lips covered in theirs
how it belong to me ?
how could i love it
hands clasped tightly around my neck
how could i caress it
nothing belonged to me
it belongs to them
my body
to the men
that feed it
food
fear
it belongs to them
wanna tell me about love of self
i find it hard loving things that never belonged to me
such as my body that burned in their beds
now im left with ashes to love
flimsy
evading
i belonged in their bedrooms
silenced
how could i love a voice i never heard
was it lovely ?
teach me
teach me how to love myself
teach me how to love things that never belonged to me
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