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Peg-Leg Pete The Pirate And Dirty Deadeye Dan

Peg-Leg Pete the Pirate was a very evil man,
He used to eat his dinner from a filthy frying pan,
And when he’s finished eating he’d play “catch me if you can”
With his desperado first-mate known as Dirty Deadeye Dan.

Now Dan was quite a ladies man, but also fond of booze,
In bars and streets and hotels he liked to drink and cruise,
He used to taunt old-Peg Leg Pete by dragging up old news,
Like Pete had only ever needed half a pair of shoes.

One day Pete had quite enough and things got pretty scary,
Confronting Dirty Deadeye Dan whose mood was always lairy,
A sudden hush fell on the room when Pete clumped in the bar
And Dan called out: “Hey, Peg-Leg, hop on over, have a jar.”

Peg-Leg Pete the Pirate clasped the pistol on his hip
And snarled at Dirty Deadeye Dan: “Enough of your damn lip.”
The floozy sat upon Dan’s lap was dumped onto the floor
And Dan rose to his feet and hissed: “You’d best limp out the door.”

Across the sawdust, blood-stained floor they faced each other down,
And you could hear a pin drop from the other side of town,
Eyes were locked and fingers twitched and seconds seemed like days
The tension burned unbearably and shimmered in the haze.

Both men drew their pistols and both men fired fast,
Flame spat from the barrels with the bullets roaring past,
But neither man could aim for squat and when their guns were done
They’d killed two people in the bar but they weren’t either one.

The barman Blind-man Billy Bragg and the floozy Scar-Faced Sue
Lay dead as dead as doornails, as doornails tend to do,
And through the pall of gun-smoke and the mist of rum and beer
Deadeye Dan called out to Pete: “We’d best get out of here.”

And so they did, they fled the bar, and vanished in the night,
Back to their ship, The Crippled ****, and sailed on out of sight,
Never to return to shore, and never seen again,
The rumour is they sank and drowned just off the Spanish Main.

The moral of the story is that when you draw a gun,
Be prepared to end your days always on the run,
“Or in your case, always on the limp,” said Dirty Deadeye Dan
To Peg-Leg Pete the Pirate, that very evil man. 


Copyright © Tony Bush | Year Posted 2006


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Purity Pawned


What does innocence cost, you ask?
    It seems it's just a grand,
        For I know a girl who had hers sold
            By her Aunt, in a foreign land.

They sold her soul at fiftteen,
    To a middle-aged traveling gent,
        Who filmed it all for the internet,
            In a dirty basement rent.

She begged her aunt to spare her,
    To not let this monster soil
        The cherished gift God gave her,
            For an hour's salacious toil.

She swore to help them honestly,
    And work three jobs, if needed,
        But this was quick, the die was cast,
            No matter how she pleaded.

She screamed and cried when the hour came,
    While the man did what he pleased,
        And she prayed God wouldn't see her,
            That her aunt would be appeased.

When thru, the sheets were bloody,
    And she hurt so down below,
        But bloodier still, her spirit,
            (Though that wound didn't show).

He let her use the hotel's bath
    To clean the vile mess,
        And gave her fifteen dollars
            To replace her ruined dress.

"A buck for every year!" he laughed,
    And threw it on the floor,
        Then yelled at her "Get out of here!"
            "You filthy little whore!"

Well, with those words, his horrid act,
    And the soul he stripped away,
        Over time that's what she's now become,
            Though she makes a grand each day.

See, they didn't just rob her virtue,
    They put her soul to death ...
        Now she curses him and her auntie,
            With every living breath ...

And she doesn't need her faith now,
    There's no happiness or mirth,
        For no God could ever repay her ...
            For what her soul was worth.




* SEVENTH PLACE in the "HASHTAGmetoo" Poetry Contest", Debbie Guzzi, Sponsor. *

* FIRST PLACE in the "Let's Talk About It" Poetry Contest, Richard Lamoureux, Sponsor. *


Copyright © Gregory R Barden | Year Posted 2017


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Suffering Time

14 hours in a New York minute,
I ought to stop,
But I can't quit it...

No answer to my call...
Is it the end
Of it all?

The pain, it does spread,
Making the future
Something to dread...

Somehow, some way,
I got to get out of here,
Cause I'm swimming
In a sea of fear...

So I say goodbye to you
My sweet...
As I acknowledge
My defeat...


Something is flying about....


Copyright © tom bell | Year Posted 2008


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The Snake's Complaint

You may wonder why I went after Eve.
Let’s face it: That was a big mistake.
At nun-time, attuned to the earth,
paradise on earth was mine…still I wanted more. 
So, I pulled myself up, joined with Re, and got heaven, too.

That should have done it: got creative, worked, achieved, 
partnered, advanced… merited a little reputation even.
But some revisionist considering the Egyptian myth
merely an approximation of happiness, and therefore
out of character, went with a more ambitious agenda 

(Give me more!) and altered the script. Red lined and marginally 
questioned for review, it seemed to call to me.
Beckoned for attention. Not one to settle for mediocrity,
I took on the challenge, of a vastly improved edition –
sought standing… and slipped.

Guess I misinterpreted the signs, didn’t understand that the 
surface itch might have been only for another version of me. 
A newer skin would feel so much more gratifying
than contracting myself around some same-species body.

It was and remains within me a discomfort in my being
a slow rise to the surface of squirm, a need to slither
from the source. Uncomfortable. Annoyed with the lack of 
consultation, nothing I would have ever turned 
down or dismissed – I just wish I had been in the loop.

She has separated from me already. 
My leaving the scene would only be
the physical manifestation, like the itch, 
a physical manifestation of discomfort
tangible to the one who feels it.

But, you can’t feel it, can you?
On the surface it appears calm,
but my skin burns for wanting, an escape.
Can you shed your own skin? 

I slinked up with it at all because of the promise of youth sleeping 
soundly in the garden, with no itch to complain of. No reason.

Still she will leave slivering down her own trail
then even a new skin wouldn’t hide the tells of an old mind: 
a new wrinkle in the scenario.
I’m getting old, the casing’s flaking off,
and I’m just itching to get out of here.
So what’s with the ironic punishment? 
God, He just evolved me from my fingers!

What a card, dealt summarily;
destined to tingle and unable to scratch.
You’ve been dismissed. So, let us give thanks to god. (Amen?)

How’d you like to be in the serpent’s shoes? 
Just some extra muscles running down a semblance of a spine,
Perhaps it’s evil to hold out apples like promises. (Give me more!)
Built to entice. Destined to disappoint.

If there’s one thing to be said in my own defense: I am flexible.


Copyright © Irene Hammer-McLaughlin | Year Posted 2009


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Scissors

Listen to poem:
“And you may love me like a saint, but you’ll lose faith eventually” – Cut the String, Mother Mother

I’ve got the scissors ready—
Never been one to cut straight,
But let me tell you—I cut just the same!
After all, it helps me breathe, when you’re away

Now I don’t mean that in a horrible sense
Where’s the lines that make it easier to cut?
You learn to go around the edges
In a circular manner,
So not to hurt their pride
Get out of here!

I didn’t sprinkle sugar on your wound
So that you could see how sweet I could maim you  
And I don’t expect you to be assured with the truth
Because the truth isn’t always an oxygen tank
Reality is the true gravity
The one that pushes you to the ground
And it will set you straight

It is fun when you duet with your imagined fate
But it’s a slap in the face when you wake up to your own wails
At 4:00 AM 
Writhing in unfathomable sorrows
It’s a ceaseless solo of defeat,
And the scissors are so near and dear
It is like I am ready
Armed for the foreseen pain again
Because pains are split moments
And your love is dangerously inconclusive

So I’ve got the scissors ready—
Never been one to cut straight,
But let me tell you—I cut just the same!
I’m ready to breathe when you are…


Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2018


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My Breaking Point

I used to be so optimistic 
Now, I feel like a pathetic stranger
I used to be so enthusiastic
I have to deal with more danger…
Now I am
Lacking potential, 
strength and intelligence 
I used to be a cheerful kid
I used to be a real bad boy
But, now I am
Mature enough to face my consequences
I used to be so courageous 
I used to be such a genius
But, now I am 
Guilty for letting go of my innocence…
I wept silently…tears bounce off my eyes
These voices in my head are telling me lies
But, now I am
Close to my breaking point
My bones are out of joint
There’s no more room for happiness
All of my joy is faltering…
As I hear you hollering
You pushed me around like some worthless door
I stand up for myself and face my fears
All I hear is your jeers 
I used to be a cheerful kid
I used to be a real bad boy
But, now I am
Mature enough to face my consequences
I used to be so courageous 
I used to be such a genius
But, now I am 
Guilty for letting go of my innocence…
I wept silently…tears bounce off my eyes
These voices in my head are telling me lies
But, now I am
Close to my breaking point
Don’t weigh me down…you’re as cruel as gravity
You demolished my sanity
I’m pushing forward…never looking down
‘Cause when I do look down, I can’t help but frown
I must get out of here…
Before I get swallowed up in my fear
Of losing this battle…of uncertainty 
Don’t bottle up tainted misery
I keep telling you, “There’s always tomorrow
To do what you love to do best…just rest,
Darling…please, hear me out!”
You just turn the other way
I suppose today was a humiliating day
I see you run away…
I used to be a cheerful kid
I used to be a real bad boy
But, now I am
Mature enough to face my consequences
I used to be so courageous 
I used to be such a genius
But, now I am 
Guilty for letting go of my innocence…
I wept silently…tears bounce off my eyes
These voices in my head are telling me lies
But, now I am
Close to my breaking point
I used to chase after you, but I’d rather not…
I didn’t mean to leave you to rot
I got to leave this wretched place 
Because when I ARRIVED, I felt like a disgrace
I’m planted on the spot
Now, there’s no way to leave this terrible, 
Terrible lot


Copyright © J.W. Earnings | Year Posted 2014


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Hot Summer Day

Ninety degrees F in the shade, no clouds
We might soon be dead, covered with black shrouds.
No hope that it would rain and get relief
All the trees were bare, not one single leaf.

Suddenly some hydrant sprang a big leak,
All children poured out, whether strong or weak,
That street was theirs and water rose so high,
They splashed and dived and uttered a great sigh.

A small boy came limping, last to arrive,
But one big bully blocked his timely dive.
”Get out of here, boy, you're not one of us.”
The boy began to cry, dared not discuss.

A man came up and quickly closed the flow,
Against the bully, fight became a row.
When all was calm, water flooded the street, 
The limping boy swam, all was a great treat.

Placed 2

09 01 2017
An Eve Roper Contest.


Copyright © Victor Buhagiar | Year Posted 2017


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Julian Eyes

Julian's eyes do not beam at me -
how could they, Julian eyes?
His lips are not near mine.
Julian's lips are no near parched.
He has been drinking hard since nine.

Julian's hands are shaky seen
holding beer glass full.
The head on beer catches the light
in this old bar we're in.

Julian's eyes are red enough
and make me recoil, see.
I'll phone up Uber to take me home -
get out of here immediately.








Copyright © Julia Ward | Year Posted 2017


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A wild goose chase


I accidentally let one loose
A ripe for roasting, fattened goose!
The ganders in Orwellian mode
Honked out the news in gaggled code.

Rash Farmer Giles, blood red with rage
Would not be easy to assuage
And goslings flapped their wings in fear 
As if to say ‘Get out of here!’

The rooster crowed with all his might
To publicize my sorry plight
And terror-stricken piglets squealed
As rifle cocked, he left the field.

I turned and fled: there’d be no grace
For farmer Giles had picked up pace.
But then, a crack, a curse ; a whopper!
Old Farmer Giles had come a cropper!

This close escape I did embrace
For he had run a wild goose chase!
And as I raised a thankful sigh
A cackling form went flying by!


Competition entry  : I accidentally let one loose : Charles Messina 22 July

July 2018

Competition : 'Second Chance for the Unloved Poem' sponsored by Jesse Rowe







Copyright © Wendy Watson | Year Posted 2018


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Sometimes

Sometimes I feel trapped in a little box. 
That box is surrounded with mirrors inside.
Sometimes I see a light in one of the corners.
Sometimes I try to open that light more to get out, 
I try, and try so hard suddenly it goes off.
Sometimes of trying so hard, I give up, I cry.
The mirrors get colder, as I cry.
When the light disappears and comes back, 
I look at my face in the mirror.
Sometimes I hear voices.
Those voices can't hear me, 
I try to scream, I hit on the mirrors beside me.
Sometimes I try to do anything to get out, I get sad. 
Sometimes, as time passes me by I get older, 
I survive without food, and water.
I think I'll never get out of here. 
Sometimes, I've wondered has it been forever?


Copyright © Jessica Aguilar | Year Posted 2017


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Stranger

He was just crawling out of a cardboard box
And I turned in time to see him fall
Running over to help him up
He cried I don't need no help at all
Reaching under his arm, I helped him stand
I must have stared and I heard him say
Get out of here. Leave me alone.
Don't worry about me, I'll be okay
There's a shelter, can I take you there
You'll get something to eat and a place to sleep
He said I got all that I need ain't going nowhere
I sowed these seeds, now it's time to reap
Sometimes things don't work out no matter how well you plan
For each day of sunshine, you get a month of rain
Then one day you try to dream but no longer can
And the happiness and joy are replaced by pain
Then you drown your pain and move from city to city
You blame everyone else and to yourself you lied
Don't look at me. I don't need your damn pity
Each night you look back and that's when you cried
So thanks for caring but I'll be fine
Got all I want and all I need
Got a brown paper bag and a bottle of wine
Be going home soon, then I'll be freed
So I left him there and went on my way
At home, I thought about him when I got inside
I saw his obituary in the paper the very next day
An old man died in the street, and I sat and cried.


Copyright © Vince Suzadail Jr. | Year Posted 2007


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Soldier

I’m here, in this terror.
 Blood, blood puddles everywhere
like after a demonic storm of rain, but instead it’s human red liquid .
Splattering,
leaking and escaping.  
More of it appears
at each second .
Tick, splat. Tock splat 
two more bodies morphed into
devastating dead corpses floating in scarlet lakes. 
Lives lost; heartless killing!

 It could have been me. 
Boom! Went the exploding grenade ... I couldhave been dead, but I’m still here. Around me soldiers running away from thestomp of guns like human ants marching rapidly from their hunter, without a plan and without the guarantee of survival. 
Millions of bullets shooting in
every direction, I cannot even detect from which direction they are coming
from. 
Murdering happens here because of forced hatred, 
which is inhumane... whoever
started the chapter of this horrific and barbaric dystopian novel should be ashamed.
On my side – dead intimidating bodies of my friends that I will never see
talking again- that have risked their lives for this country. I respect them.
 Ilooked at my blood covered hands; my blood is still within me. But for how much
longer? Some nearly dead people gasping for help, wishing to be at home right
now... 


...


Remembering the smell of freshly baked delicious bread that
was placed on the table every morning. My little daughter running happily down the
stairs ready for school, and my gentleman-like elder son always pulling the
chair out for her. My wife always had everything so well managed I just don’t
know how she did it, but I love her she is the best thing in my life. We all sat
with smiles on our faces and the sun peeking in on us happily shines on our
tired faces. Optimism flowing from all of our souls except mine. They all were prepared
to start the new day. My children for school and my wife for work and to cook
something ambrosial for us to eat at dinner. 
She would have put a lot of work in to her cooking, but yet I still
complained, I yelled at my children and never had time for them as I was so self-centred.
I hurt their feelings forgetting to go to their school plays, I been so
horrible-definitely not the kind of dad they would deserve... Can they ever
forgive me? I hope I get another chance, show them a different life, they
should be able to depend on me –most importantly, they should be able to trust
me. I hope it’s not too late to show that I have learned, from my mistakes. I
want to praise them as they deserve.


...


Holding back
tears full of regret, my morals are confused and my mind is apprehensive. Will
I ever see my family again? I am going insane. Now I wish I stayed home, but it
would seem like I’m giving up, after all this did teach me a valuable lesson in
life .This war is sickening to the stomach filled with brutality and ghastly
behaviour. Cold blooded, temper less and outrageous; actions. 


Pain –
everyone is feeling pain that is unimaginable. Here braveness and risking play
a very important role… If no risky decisions were taken we all would probably be
dead by now. I see people crying, young soldiers crying like babies as they
weren’t aware of the level of danger that was waiting for them. Now they just
want to believe it is just a dream. Factually speaking, all what is happening
is a test of self will and goodness. On how you will behave towards others in
life threatening circumstances. Will you be into act of selfishness?  


 


 
The Loudness is outrageous, shoot! Bam! Boom! Pam! Shut in
from every viewpoint ... My orientation is fading- I’m unable to concentrate incapable
of stabilizing my thoughts; my heart is pounding five times more rapid than its
usual beat. I have no idea where to secrete; none of what others examine seems
to work. Where’s my group? 


Maybe they left me behind. I have to take every possibility
into consideration; but teamwork is important here as it’s leaning on reliability
and forgiveness. Life is the most precious thing you can ever have. We all have
a life which is on same tier level. But, killing a life just shouldn’t happen.  We all will die one day its natural .You cannot
escape unpredictable death. No matter how much you would want life to pause it
won’t- for anybody. I’m sick and tired of this place I will get out of here
alive... I think, I have to do it for my family.


My family that I long to back home, I know I will adore
every single second spend with them. I just pray I return safe and sound and
can cuddle my wife again...


Copyright © Rose Lilly | Year Posted 2015


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Last Call




We sat at the end of the bar in a seedy place on Seventh street.
Nursing our drinks, we both had a bit too much that night.
My Whiskey Sour, you could tell everything about me by my drink,
always a Whiskey Sour, no mystery here, was still about half full.
Her's, this time a Strawberry Daiquiri, she drained with ease.  
"Set her up another Bar Keep," I sad to the burly tattooed man behind the counter.
She quickly responded with slightly slurred speech, "No, make it a Frozen Margarita!"  
She had been mixing her drinks all night.  The bar man grabbed her glass and placed
it in a small sink full of sudsy water.  "I told you, two drinks ago, last call, now dude drink up
so I can get out of here.  For Christ sake its 2:38,  I should have left 30 minutes ago."
The bar's last patrons had indeed left much earlier leaving only the two of us.
I touched Sarah's, or was it Sandy's, hand.  What difference does it make?  
She looked at me trying to focus her eyes, her expression bland.  Eyes roaming 
unabashedly from face to groan and back again.  She sighed heavily and turned 
back to the bar tender and pleaded for one more drink.  "Anything she said,"
trying to steel herself for the inevitable culmination of our evening, 
as if one more drink would make a difference.  The only response she got was
a short firm, "No!"  Grinding my teeth, I threw two twenties on the bar and grabbed her, not so gently, by the arm.  She half slid, half fell off of the bar stool she was sitting on.  "Lets go I said," leaving my half empty glass on the bar.  She stumbled across the floor towards the door leaning heavily against me.  She was tall and beautiful in a slightly used sort of way.  Not young but not old enough for wrinkles, just a few laugh lines around her eyes and forehead.  As we reached the door I thought I heard her mumble something about getting this over.  I didn't care.  I knew she should have been going home with someone a lot better than me.  

As we stepped into the damp, cool morning breeze, head free of the stagnate dead air of the bar, my senses cleared slightly.  Still, when I heard the sound of the vibration in my pocket it took a moment to register what was happening.  Stephanie(?), giggling beside me pressed herself against my pocket letting out a low, playful, "MMmmmm," making it impossible for me to get to my phone.  I pushed her away and she giggled some more as I fumbled for it.  Pressing the button on the screen my ex-girlfriends disheveled face appeared.  She had been texting me all evening, most of which I ignored.  Why I answered her call this time I don't know.  Deep purple and black bruises ran the length of the right side of her face and she seemed to have a chunk of hair missing from a red spot on her temple.  She halfheartedly tried to cover it with a wispy lock she pulled down over it.  "What?" I said gruffly.  The phone was set to speaker.  Tears running down her face, she said, "I love you."  My response was quick and indifferent, "Yeah, tell it to someone who cares.  Like maybe your new boyfriend."  

She dumped me for a new guy weeks before but kept calling me and telling me how much she still loved me.  She said she wouldn't have thrown me out if I had shown some feelings toward her.  She said he was sensitive and emotional and cried in her arms.  Yeah, he cried all right just before he beat the hell out of her.  I should have known when she started coming home with the bruises on her body.  He was careful at first not to hit her in the face.  I looked up and reflectively glanced down the street.  You couldn't see her apartment from where I stood but it was just a block down the road off Seventh on Stanton Ave.  I came home early one afternoon and found them there.  She was lying on the floor with blood trickling from her lip.  He was standing naked over her, hands curled in fists.
I lost it.  I beat him until you couldn't recognize his pretty little face, all the time hearing her screaming stop and trying to push me away.  When I finally stopped he was lying motionless on the floor and she was hitting me on my arm yelling foul expletives at me.  I looked into her eyes and realized I felt nothing for her at that moment.  I remember saying just before I left, "Baby, you've just missed your last call to wake up."  I never went back.  I understand he spent several days in the hospital.

Looking at her on that small screen with tears in her eyes and scared, sad look on her face I wanted to feel something for her.  I didn't.  We had a good thing and she threw it away for some psycho.  Now she'll just have to live with her decision.  As I looked at her pleading face I heard a angry voice in the back ground, "Who are you talking to!"  She glanced in the direction of the voice and turned back to me.  I watched as her helpless look became determined and she leaned over and picked up something from the table beside her bed.  Her sweet, tear filled blue eyes looked directly at me as she raised her hand.  "I love you," she said.  In an instant, before my inebriated mind could fathom what happened, I heard a loud bang reverberate down the street from the direction of her apartment and there before my eyes I saw her head explode like the pumpkins we used to throw from the roof tops after Halloween.  Beside me, Sherry (****, it started with an S), who ever, let out a gasp.  A moment passed and I grabbed her by the hand.  We started off in the direction of my dumpy apartment.  I couldn't help but to think at that moment, that's the last call she'll ever make.


10/13/15

Triple Prompt- Hear the Calling: 3rd Place

11/12/15


Copyright © James Inman | Year Posted 2015


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Baby Bug or My Pet Race Roach

Well, I've been in jail since Juvember,
And I've pulled thru Maynever,
And now it's past September,
And I wonder if I'll ever,
Get out of here,

Yea, this place sure would be lonely,
If it wasn't for my pet,
And he sure is real homely,
But still, my love he'll get,

He sleeps in a matchbox,
And wakes up in my bed,
He's sometimes in my socks,
Or a layin' by my head,

I enter him in races ,
With all my criminal friends,
And me, he never disgraces,
My race-roach always wins,

He can really move fast,
One second for five feet,
And I sure hope his legs will last,
So he'll never get beat,

And he holds the track record,
Here in this ol' jail,
And he might just beat it,
But only time will tell,

But then one day my race roach
Was walking on my shelf,
When he suddenly fell off of it,
And nearly killed himself,

So I hollered for the Sheriff,
And he came a runnin' fast,
I told him to call the doctor,
Or my race roach wouldn't last,

Well, the doctor came a flyin'
A little later in the day,
I told him my race roach is dying,
What more could I say?

The doctor said I am sorry son,
But his leg will never bend,
I believe his career's done,
He'll never win agin,

So I started crying,
I cried agin and agin,
I almost felt like dying,
Now my roach would never win,

So the doctor took him away,
Yea, he took him out the door,
And I just have to say,
I haven't seen him anymore,

But what really puzzles me,
Is where'd he take my "baby bug?"
I wish he'd bring him back to me,
So I could give him one more hug!!

Hey!!!I just caught another one,
A little faster than the last!
This little "Bugsie" can get it on!!!
Gosh is he ever fast!!!!!


Copyright © Lawrence Ingle | Year Posted 2008


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BLOCKHEAD

BLOCKHEAD

Some folks’ say all my life I’ve been a BLOCKHEAD.
Maybe if I could have gotten through that last ROADBLOCK,
news of my incarceration wouldn’t be such a family BLOCKBUSTER.
So here I sit all alone in my CELL BLOCK.
I’m suffering a bad case of WRITERS BLOCK,
without a clue the path my mind should take to UNBLOCK.
By the time I get out of here, I’ll need 100 spf SUNBLOCK.


For the BLOCK-BLOCK-BLOCK contest.


Copyright © John Trusty | Year Posted 2011


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First Impression

Please do not hold me within those claws of unworthiness
As if your judgment alone DEFINES me!
Get out of here, you little baby,
You don’t recognize what’s good for you!
Push away the peas,
But you’re still going to have to eat them!!!!
Your fresh eyes glanced easily upon stupidity,
No, not stupidity—merely mistake!
An innocent, mind-begrudging mistake!
That, yes, I admittedly made. . .

This is not even a scratch on the surface—
Not even a soft powder-pat on your tiny balls
That little trip up you witnessed,
That you misconceived as smart-alecky trash,
That you automatically assumed was ME,
It was YOU
So, rest easy,
I mashed the peas for you:

My heart is pumping with what you will never know
I am bleeding along the surface of your hardened exterior
I am a silly mistake in the form of a slip of the finger—
An acquitted mistake
That I will never make again
(trust me on that one, OLIVER!)

With all the efforts of justification,
You rest your eyes with utter annoyance upon me now
For that human, that CHILD standing there,
Smiling in the light like a sunburned baby’s ***
Is nothing but a diaper-filled disruption—
A **** disturbance uncalled for
But is adequately named, the one who IGNORES

The moment I looked at you, Oliver
I was certain of a sweet heart
It was in your eyes—a trust of kindness so genuine
So attractive you were,
Full of newness—a shiny toy that remains in the box
Limited edition (emphasis on limited)—exclusive….

By Destiny’s pacifying distain,
She taught me I could be crushed of dreams
The moment I fall on my face—
That people are not always who you think they will be
That I could be utterly and undeniably wrong in the good I see
And God, you sir, are so deliberately ugly to me!!!!!!

How’s that for an ETERNAL impression?!  


*Sorry guys. But I needed a raw rant off my chest. Love you guys immensely. If there’s an Oliver that reads this poem on here, I promise I am not aiming this at you babe….just had to make that clear…. XD *



Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2016


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PRESIDENT OBAMA MEETS A MUSLIM CLERIC AT THE WHITE HOUSE - AT CHRISTMAS

PRESIDENT OBAMA MEETS A MUSLIM CLERIC AT THE WHITE HOUSE... AT CHRISTMAS!!!!



President Obama had a 
little date,
Something which would
eventually - seal his US
Presidential fate.
He invited a Muslim 
cleric to his White House
for tea,
And this Muslim cleric - 
wanted everything for
free!

While Obama tucked into
his banana-filled 
sandwiches,
The Muslim cleric asked
Obama: "Do you have any
beverages?
Yes, of course, I do, Obama
replied - tea or "black" 
coffee? 
"Who you calling black? I'll
get you the sack - you and
your stupid donkey!"

"No, you silly man - I'm not
referring to you,
I'll call up my senate - they're
a motley crew!"
"Thank you, said the Muslim
cleric - but can I ask a favour?
Will you try this towel on your
head - and Islam you can 
savour?

"I'm sorry, but it is the wrong
colour, it clashes with my
eyes,"
"Just put the towel on - and
then call up your spies?
"My spies? What are you going
on about?
All the spies who I know of - 
their torture they do spout!"

So in the end they compromise,
and embrace each other well,
Obama said; 'that was close - 
I thought we would gel!'
"Obama, the cleric said; I love 
you - please, marry me?"
Oh, shut up will you - and climb
back upon the Christmas tree!"

Then all the staff came in - and
a knackered' Santa Claus,
Is this what you call Christmas - 
I must scratch my nose!
"What have you got, asked the
Muslim cleric, he really was
impressed?
Oh, I've got a towel - now I can
get dressed!"

Must we tell the world of our
secret love affair?
But we're not together - neither
do we care!
But for the sake of Islam - and
something called; Christianity - 
Let us get out of here - before
we lose our sanity? 

So, as dawn rises over the White
House - the President is waking
up - and now he's on the prowl, 
Blimey, what a dream I had - I
had to wear a towel!
Then he goes to address his nation, 
and this he did so dread,
But why were all the people laughing -  
his towel, it was a turban on his 
head!!!! 

BY
DARRYL ASHTON        


Copyright © Darryl Ashton | Year Posted 2014


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Lucifer Gets the Gig

“We have never heard the devil's side of the story, God wrote all the book.” 
Anatole France

"I heard you wanted to see me Boss?", Lucifer asked.

"I can always see you Lucifer", replied God. "No, I wanted to meet with you. Why are you always messing with the language? I see you got the message and showed up on time for once."

"Yeah, but I don't understand something.  I mean it seems kind of inefficient always sending angels around to deliver your messages. Too slow. The seraphim are faster, with the six wings and all, but there ought to be some kind of instant messaging system or something.”

"You see, Lucifer, that's what  gets you in trouble, always trying to buck the system. Nooo, Lucifer knows better than God. You know I have to keep an eye on everything all the time, keeping track of all those fallen sparrows and whatnot. Sometimes, it's a real juggling act. 

Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about your falling out with Gabriel. Kicked you out of the band, huh?"

"Yeah, said the fiddle didn't fit in with the new stuff. He wants to go all horns. Kicked out the harp player, too."

"Well, it might be for the best. You know I cut you archangels a lot of slack, considering all the great work you boys did on the Universe project and everything, but frankly Lucifer, you seem bored to me. Getting into trouble all the time. Idle hands and all that. 

Now, Lucifer, you're the smartest guy I've got working for me, an independent thinker. I like that. You've got moxie, ambition, but you don't really fit into the culture up here. Too smart maybe, always introducing these disruptive ideas.

I want to assign you to a special project. I've come up with an plan to make life on Earth a bit more interesting and you could be a big part of it. You'd get to be your own boss, have your own organization reporting to you and everything. In fact you don't even have to report to me. The only downside is you'll have to relocate."

"Oh my God! Oops, sorry Yahweh."

"You know you're not to say my name aloud! Didn't you get the memo?"

"Sorry, sorry. I just got excited. Yeah, I did get the memo. Can't we find something lighter than those stone tablets?  Anyway, wow! It sounds like a great opportunity. What would it involve, Boss?"

"I'll lay out the objectives, but you'll handle the details; you will always be in the details. 

I've got to get those people out of the Garden of Eden and out on their own. They just lie around idle all the time and don't do a lick of work. That Adam is dumb as dirt, not too surprising considering that's what I made him from, but Eve is pretty smart. I did a better job making her, but by then I had some experience.

Anyway, the objective is to get them to grow up. There's no challenge in the Garden, so they will never amount to anything unless they get kicked out of the house. No pain, no gain as they say. I made them in my own image, but I can't make them perfect like me. OK, Lucifer, you can lose the eye rolling right now!

They'll have to evolve if I ever expect to have any decent company up here. No offense to you boys, by the way, even if you are legacy, but I want my own groupies.

"But won't they die outside the Garden? It's pretty rough out there. Everything dies."

"Well, that's true, but it's part of the plan. They'll breed like flies once they have the chance, and the younger ones will benefit from the experience of the older ones and be able to build on that, but the older ones will have to die or there will never be any progress. They will just hang on to power forever and never want anything to change. Enough with the eye rolling, already!

Anyway, I'll have an angel or two to watch over some of them. And they won't be dead forever. I'll bring them all back to life when I shut down the project."

"Wow! What happens then? There'll be thousands of them."

"More like billions, but sorry, no spoilers for now. I'll get this John guy to write it all down later. It's a whopper of an apocalypse, a real showdown. 

Anyway, your first job is to get them to eat the forbidden fruit, so they can wise up. I put out the bait and was hoping they would sneak a taste on their own, but no dice. I'd suggest working on Eve, as Adam is clueless. 

After that, your job is to generally stir up trouble, to keep them on their toes and not get too lazy. It shouldn't be too hard. You have the talent for it already. It will give you a chance to try out some of your improvement  ideas. It's a good test environment. If they work out, we might adopt some for internal use.

Now listen. Once they know about you, they'll blame you for all their bad behavior even if you had nothing to do with it, so be ready for that. 

And to even up the odds, I'll play with a handicap. They'll have just one day a week dedicated to me, plus a few others now and then, but you'll get most of the business the rest of the week.

So, do you want the job, Lucifer?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"I think you know the answer to that. But before you leave, let's get your makeover done."

!!!!!! Poof !!!!!!

"Dude! That is totally badass! Love the horns and the hooves! The other archangels will be so envious of the new equipment! So where's my new digs?"

"It's called Hell, nice and warm there, by the way. Head out the Pearly Gates and turn left. It's on the road paved with good intentions. The place needs a little fixing up, but there's plenty of room. You'll need it. You have a day to get your affairs arranged before you leave."

"Is that a regular day or one of those thousand-year days?"

"Don't be a smart-***! Now get out of here! Go to Hell and don't come back!"

A day passes.

"Well, speak of the devil !", shouts Gabriel. "Hey dude, I heard about your promotion, if you can call it that. The old special project gambit, eh?  Listen, I just wanted to say no hard feelings or anything. Wish the best to you. By the way, what made you decide to take the gig?"

"He made me an offer I couldn't refuse..."

February 7, 2016



Copyright © Roy Jerden | Year Posted 2016


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Wait, I'm Alive

Wait, I’m Alive
What is happening, I don’t understand. What is everyone looking at and why are some of you crying? How is it you’re all looking down at me and taking turns! What was that, what you said! Are you crazy, I’m not dead!
This is not funny, how is this happening? No you don’t understand; that’s not true. Someone help me! Wait you can’t be serious, no you’re not going to do that! You can’t, please doesn’t anyone hear me. I have to get out of here.
What’s wrong with me, I can’t seem to move. My body is frozen in place, stuck or something. Why can’t I move, I need to get out before all of you do something terrible. Wait, I know if you look closer you can see me breathing; I am breathing aren’t I?
Please don’t cry, don’t say that either! No; I wasn’t. You can’t do this to me, please. Make this stop it’s gone far enough. Why won’t anyone listen to me? I can’t be closed in here, I’m afraid. It’s going to be dark; so dark and cold too. How will I ever get out? Is this to be the end of me; sealed inside my coffin while I’m still alive? 
Why would you do this, I know you loved me! I loved you and would never have done this to you! Maybe this is a dream; yes that must be it. I will wake up any second now. Wait stop please don’t close that. Help me; please stop before it’s too late. 
Oh dear God, what have they done? Please someone let me out, I’m begging you please! I can’t breathe, it’s too dark I can’t see anything either. Why can’t I move; could it be? Please God, if I’m dead take me now don’t let this happen to me any longer. 
What is that, a light thank God? Who are, I mean, I see, I was, I am! Thank you God for bringing me home!   ~ Debbie Knapp ~


Copyright © Debbie Knapp | Year Posted 2011


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Our Life

                                                 OUR LIFE
The word 
That word, you know what it is. 
The word that you call us  that describes us like were a pig 

You work us from dusk to dawn, 
you know that you are healthy so pick your own lawn. 
You call us dumb, but don’t allow us to read. 
You close your schools from us and say “you’re a flea”. 

You whip us and beat us and call us things. 
You hit us so hard that we want to fly away like we have wings. 
You sit there and beat us until we might die,
Then you just sit there, just there with that evil glare in your eye. 

We don’t even get extra clothes, 
Then you still make us work, even if it’s freezing cold. 
We don’t even get mattresses, we sleep on the floor, we look at our children and they say  “mama why”  “Why do we stay here, get beaten then cry?” 

“We’ll get our of here one day, I promise we will.”  “We’ll leave this place and run up that hill.”  “We’ll run far and fast and people will help us.” “I Promise, I Promise we’ll get out of here, we will.”


Copyright © Moriah McWilliams | Year Posted 2016


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A Man's Best Friend

Abandoned, scared and alone he lay in his bed
Wondering if he will ever have a loving home
On the concrete floor, he lays his head
Without a care for his old bone

It’s loud and the rotten stench of **** and piss fill the air
He lay, wishing and dreaming that he didn’t have to be there
Locked up and taken prisoner he is so sad
He never thought his life could get this bad

What’d he do to deserve such a terrible fate?
Waiting for the day he reaches the end
All he is now is a cute little piece of bait
Never knowing if he will ever mend

From the terrifying experiences had
Now afraid of any large objects or yelling
He is older now and the young ones are the fad
Look in his eyes and see what they’re telling

A lost and most beautiful soul
Awaiting the day he may find love
And get out of this terrible lull
He looks up to the heavens above

All he can see are painfully fluorescent lights
Wishing so badly to see the outside
To get out of here and have play fights
What he really needs is a person, a guide

Someone to love and support him
He waits and waits for his special person
Someone who’d make his life less dim
While the pain and loneliness worsen


Copyright © Aubrey Brown | Year Posted 2014


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Creature In The River

A couple decided to walk
down to the park near the river
At that time, you could barely see
the crimson moon, just a sliver

Moon was always that color
on Halloween night.
Lexy was holding on 
to James hand very tight.

They were so romantically in love
Lexy thought he was sent from above.
They'd been dating for quite some time,
everything seemed so sublime.

The moon had finally came out
from behind the clouds
While they were standing by the river 
they had heard something crack loud.

Lexy grabbed James and screamed,
"Let's get out of here."
She had a fearful look on her face
and turned to tears.

It was too late, a strange creature came out
the water with fiery eyes.
They were grabbed from behind, 
She screamed, continues to cry.

After she had screamed,
her mouth was covered.
Creature said, "You two lovers,
are mine tonight."

I need two virgins for the witch 
had been watchingfor you all year
Their faces were white, full of fear.


The creature had blood 
flowing from his eyes
As he completely came out of the water,
He was all covered with flies.
Lexy and James hands were finally tied.

The two who had grabbed them 
walked in front of them at last
They were zombies, dry blood  Tongues were like a serpents, fast
they didn't dare move for they were poisonous with venom.

A boat came by, the monster gave the kids to the witch
when she spoke, she was loud and had a high pitch.

When Lexy and James were placed
in the boat,
The witch cast a spell, then put on a black coat.

When she cast another spell, large snakes came out, then wrapped
around their bodies, hissing, 
they were trapped.

Boat finally stopped, snakes had disappeared,  zombies had came
and picked them up out of the boat,
laid on a huge rock, positioned same.

Their hands and feet were spread 
tied to the trees, next to where they laid,
spells were cast, evil prayers were chanted, when ordered, zombies obeyed.

A goblet came over with a dagger
piercing them through the heart
they died instantly, which was planned from the start.

Poured the blood,  from the heart into the glass bowl, too
Each zombie and goblet sipped blood from the bowl, they knew
they had to chant, then the leaders of the group and the witch bit through 
it and bit a piece from the heart.

Passed it around to each zombie 
so they could do the same
gave them energy and now
they were no longer tame.

Ate all the flesh off the bodies, made a sacrifice, spirits came out and flew away, 
turned midnight and disappeared, they all went to their homes to stay.
© Melanie . All rights reserved,


Copyright © Country Girl48 | Year Posted 2014


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Living to Get Out

We all feel like
dying to get out of here
at least sometimes;
a meeting
a relationship
a job
a car or bus or airplane
a house or apartment
a nation or state
a Party or clan
a faith community or PTA.

This is about  the reverse view:
living to get out of there.

How are my competitive assumptions
hunting for,
and haunted by,
fear
anger
death-love 
dissonance
despair
autistic and/or suicidal images and fascination,
anxiety and psychopathology
sociopathology
ecopathology?

And,
when does our cooperative intent
hunt most ubiquitously,
coincidentally,
comprehensively,
coherently, 
co-arisingly,
co-redemptively,
omnipresently and generically,
hopefully,
affectively, effectively, and efficiently,
sustainably, optimally, and faithfully,
permaculturally and polypathically,
for love and active peace,
cooperative vocations
fairness
balance
equivalent value for natural nutritional systemic merit,
medicine,
joy,
laughter and humor therapy,
rapture and ecstasy,
light and enlightenment,
primally eternal and sacred relationship?

Perhaps when we globally comprehend
that love is to human-nature's spirit
as health is to all nature systems;
that the dynamism of polycultural-polypathic love is to spiritual systems
as the dynamic power of permacultural ecotherapy is to natural systems;
that life is to synergetically cooperative love,
as death is to entropically monocultural terror of eisegetical isolation 
as the reposed destiny of universal prime relationship,
adventuring toward +/(-)(-)(0) negentropic global evolutionary exposure.

Perhaps when we culturally and religiously 
and metrically and scientifically
define Prime Relationship
as (0) Core Vector Beloved Community's Time
and Thermodynamic Double-Binding Temporal Principle
of Harmonic-Octave-Frequency Energy-Optimization Balance
and Sustainably Emergent Systemic-Holonic Climax Communion.

Perhaps we learn cognitive dissonance distinction
between thinking of death and fear as "goodbye,"
missed opportunities,
"that's behind me!"
and simultaneously comprehending dissonance and anger
as "farewell,"
teachable contiguous moments for global and personal well-being, 
love and active peace with justice for each and all,
including Self, Other, and Earth.

When we learn to begin each gathering with passing peaceful pipe,
communing our communion,
silencing our background screams,
co-passioning our minds full together with each Other,
in shared faith that before we can no longer see
whites of each Others' eyes and bleached true souls,
while we share this warmth of Tribal burning bush
DNA-iconic Wisdom-Presence,
we will each and all walk away from each Other
understanding differences between what we need v. want,
AND we will each and all walk toward our global future
with reconnected commitment to what we each and all NEED
to sustain our permaculturing lives and loves,
our racial polyculturing regenetic ribbon rhapsody,
our ecosystemic well-being,
our ecotherapeutic homes and communities
and vocations,
and economic trans-actional systems 
and networks of positively slow-trending information,
and eco-logical scientific revolution of religion,
of nature-spirit paradigms, 
Universal Natural Systemic Wisdom-Tao of Design and Development
with optimal Continuous Quality Improvement standards
and normative-therapeutic Prime Principle 
of P=NP Equivalence
= Yang + Yin 
= (0) Core Time's Beloved ReOrganic Balance. 

"To return to the root is Repose;
    It is called going back to one's Destiny."
                                   Laotse

Destiny is both new birth cry for air's incoming flight
and final breath extended,
co-arising incarnational,
incubating speciating Space within timeless Time.


Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2015


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The Last Train The Fast Train

The law was searching everywhere.
In every place you can imagine.
Far from home.
So far away.
It was a nice day.
It was OK..
It was a nice day, to get out of here.
We took the last train..
The fast train..
We took the last train..
Out of here..
Most of the time.
We were on the run..
From the law, and the misunderstandings.

Misunderstood by the right arm.
It was the right arm of the law..
It was a fast chase, from a rat race.
By the right arm of the law.
Far from home.
So far away.
It was a nice day.
It was OK..
It was a nice day, to get out of here.
We took the last train.
The fast train.
We took the last train.
Out of here..

Most of our time, we spent together.
So far from home.
We're chased forever..
By the right arm of the law..

It was a fast chase, from a rat race.
By the right arm of the law.
So far from home.
So far away.
It was a nice day..
It was OK..
We took the last train.
The fast train.
We took the last train.
Out of here..

We took the last train.
The fast train.
We took the last train..
Out of here..

We took the last train.
The fast train.
We took the last train..
Out of here...

Last Train Song by Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 1983,2014..All rights reserved..


Copyright © Kim Robin Edwards | Year Posted 2014


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when night comes

when the night comes and the moon 
calls me i have to go                             
              
i battle the skeletons that have ahold 
of me and wont let go                           
         
crying and begging them to let me 
have life they refuse the night is 
calling              
you have to go prowling the streets 
like the lines in the road                            
looking for a lover who has no soul 
some one to feed me clouds from 
the sky             
some one to play the drums to the 
tune in my head i want to go to mars 
and you sir 
can take me                                                                                                            
torn between whats real and what 
isnt my bodys going numb i love the 
sensation 
this feeling that comes when 
darkness arrives                                    
                    
the moon laughs cause from this 
night i cant hide                                     
discombobulated and frustrated i 
may be                                                                     
i need to get out of here cause this 
aint me                                                        
crying and cussing about what i use 
to be                                                               
but now the night and moon light 
has a hold on me                                   
            
this life that i live by myself with no 
one else to tell                                                      
hiding secerts and lies like i work for 
the government                                                  
i need help and i know it but im 
scared  scared of the awkard stares 
scared of the 
whispers scared of the opinions 
scared of jugdements                                                
i will do it but im going into the night 
one last time                                                 
this time to many im fading fast my 
body is numb                                                      
the skeletons grab me their not 
letting me go this time they are 
taking me with 
them                                                                                                                          
as i cry to the sky while the sun 
breaks the moon                                                        
i see life i see light i see joy no more 
pain no more rain                                           
the sun is smiling shining bright go 
with the moon it is to late


Copyright © carmen perry | Year Posted 2011