ill drive down the highway at one eighty two
you'll say that'll we'll die but i know that can't be true
cause the strings and the signs of fate pulled us together
and they won't tear us apart for as long as i'll remember
the moon in the sky is so far away
in a big pit of darkness we call outer space
yet you always say you'll go there and back
cause our love will shine through the black
i love you too the moon and back is what you'd always say
and now your gone it's what i'll say every single day
how could I have let you go without knowing i feel the same way
I think about telling you more and more each day
hand in hand and lip on lip is what i reimagine
just you and me and a little tree that i've already planted
please fly on your rocket to one of Jupiter's many moons
to save me from falling out of love with you
you say you never knew that's what my heart reflected
I guess my eye's lie more than I expected
my heart tells my brain what it doesn't want to hear
so my brain mutes my heart, my thoughts and feelings cleared
leaving room for nothing and no-one as you were once near
your presence once filled the void and all it left were tears
“To be abandoned by your own
is the most painful sadness known”
_by Poet
She lives alone, although her son lives there
a floor below- but they are worlds apart.
He comes and goes without a single care;
this sad abandon stabs his mother's heart.
He pays no rent or helps with any chores.
Her food's delivered- ordered on the phone.
She cannot drive or visit any stores.
So with a broken heart, she deals alone.
Three other children live some miles away
and try to visit her throughout the year;
but cannot force their sibling to obey
and help their mother out by force or fear.
Abandoned now at eighty-two years old;
how does a mother deal with such great pain?
To get him out, the family was told,
“You can't expel a son from their domain.”
No course exists to remedy this wrong,
a son who so abandons her this way.
No reasons for his actions came along
for her to live this hell from day to day.
Inhaler
Dimes
Brown napkin
Three pairs of eye glasses
Two pencils, an eraser and a pen
Wallet with seventeen dollars and eighty-two cents
Comb, cracker, stale muffin, five receipts, toothpicks
Tiny piece of pink ribbon, twenty-two allergy pills
Empty pill bottle
Sometimes finding a forgotten purse feels like Christmas
We secured the dogs in a chain link fenced pen
I was gobsmacked to see the puppy ten minutes later
How had he gotten out?
Like a convict he had tunneled out
In ten minutes making a hole under the gate
Big enough to squeeze out his eighty-two-pound body
A space ship could have fit into this hole!
What is he doing now?
I turned to see; he was tearing up the driveway.
This is a black asphalt driveway!
We called a company to fix it;
They were gobsmacked that a puppy had done this!
Sharky suave loan shark got ahold of my great aunt Jean Sue
Loaned her twenty thousand at the rate of eighty-two
Eighty-two percent is way too high I said.
Joke’s on him, she told me. I will soon be dead.
Eleanor cannot see
Her eyesight is ridiculous
She has had all kinds of operations
But she is eighty-two, her eyes have given up.
A corrupt eye doctor writes her an excuse.
She takes it to the drivers’ license bureau.
She does not have to take their mandatory eye test.
Mandatory folks, MANdatory!
Eleanor has run into parked cars, trees, boats, and a river.
Last week she backed into an enormous concrete post.
The entire parking garage shook, she thought it was coming down.
Anyway, it certainly shook hard, she told me.
This morning she took her car to an auto repair shop.
Great news, she told me on the phone.
They gave me a loaner car.
T'was eighty two wonderful years,
Before you left me with long tears,
As you flew to a place not near,
None of my cries you again hear.
My loneliness follows the hearse,
Your long loud silence made it worse,
You now speak only in my dreams,
Since your last bath watered the streams.
You flew away in November,
Twenty eighth, I still remember,
It can't be withered by winter,
Your remembrance, time can't hinder.
As long as the stars still twinkles,
I'll bethink you with my wrinkles,
Eulogies bespoke your goodness,
'Cos you lived good life to fullness.
With God your soul will ever stay,
Your death spoke more than you could say,
To your honour I'd live my days,
May God forever guide my ways.
When I was sixteen, I was terribly keen
On a girl called Jane from down the lane.
Hooked by her looks, if you know what I mean.
But sadly I was far too shy
And let my chances pass me by with Jane.
When I tried, my tongue was tied. Oh why oh why?
I still fantasize about those eyes of deepest blue.
Try as I might, can’t quite forget the pain.
All right, I know, I must let go now I’m eighty-two
T'was eighty two wonderful years,
Before you departed to leave me in tears,
My loneliness hearkens to the fears left by the hearse,
Even the harmattan couldn't dry my streams of tears,
Because I know now you are no more near.
You left through the corridors of November,
Twenty eight is a number I will forever remember,
It can't even be withered by any winter,
As long as the sun shines and the stars twinkle,
I will remember you even after my cheeks wrinkle.
I came out first under your big umbrella,
You rhymed my name and I became a Cinderella,
You left me on a path illuminated in high candela,
You decorated my life with beautiful chandeliers,
You poured wisdom full into my many tumblers.
Before God made all the angels your trumpeters.
Now with God your soul now forever stays,
Your demise messaged more things than you could say,
To your honour I shall live my days,
May God almighty continue to guide my ways,
Rest on dad, till we shall meet at the heavenly quays.
Over eight hundred Palestinian women and children held hostage by Israel
no charges, no crimes, an IOF soldier confessed, intimidation the goal
IOF using children as human shields
on Oct 7th IOF helicopters shot their own, as documented by Haaretz
at the exact same time, Palestinians were having their homes bull dozed
their land stolen
seventy fives years of de humanization
National geographic has a map of 1947
please have a look
then go read
Jimmy Carters books
the IOF snipers shot a woman and child in a church
think about that
life has no value, they care not who they kill
aid workers and reporters
fodder for their guns
Hannibal's directive you can not make this up
the Israeli Supreme court has spoken many times
a people who welcomed the European as refugees
soon to regret their kindness
Israel formed by terrorists, so lets condemn this terror
the true Semites of the land, Jews and rabbis
stand by their Palestinian brothers and sisters
holocaust families handing tissues, they saw it once before
now thousands of children slaughtered
you are witnessing evil first hand
seventy five years or horror and crimes
An adrenalin rush, rocked my head
When I saw a child- on her sled
It made me think; should I go slide
I'm eight-two...So, before I died
Just one more time, before I'm dead
Or before I'm ridden...in my bed
What could happen, something tragic?
I'm eighty-two, can you call that tragic?
So here I go, down the hill ....Wheeee!!
Oh my God- ((Tragic)) ...."Peeee"
Remember how you felt the very first time
your eyes met, then your heart leaped into your throat
Remember how the bottoms of your feet tingled with glee
and as the plot thickened, your breath quickened
Remember how you struggled for what to say
fearful this perfect person might just get away
So special now that he's courting you ~
'cos he's eighty-one and you're eighty-two
This is about a couple I've been observing for
a month or so now. (Parents of two friends
of mine. It's SO cute!)
Aunty lost three pounds of memory,
it happened slowly, the clock on her mantle
ran faster, the rain began to fall slower.
Her cat was a stranger, then an ex-lover.
1300 grams of her vanished in slow motion.
The gray-matter remained
though it was hollowed out by blind angels.
At the age of eighty-two she demanded a dog.
We bought her an automated one
that moved and barked.
Eventually though its computer-chip failed,
aunty did not notice
she was by then busy
discussing politics with Theodor Roosevelt.
I once asked her what he had to say?
She replied that he had confided to her
that ‘the dead remember everything’
that seemed so sad to me.
They hate on your crazy life
because it’s the one that they want to live.
Good luck and lots of merriment, we'll miss you on the beat
The thought of you will cheer us through the kiss of summer heat
The work we do is hardly true to people in their plight
The human zoo we answer to is all we dream at night
We hope that you enjoy the ride that real people mention
Until you find the joy inside is free of our detention
The hopeful dream of happiness that happened just for you
Is now the nod of emptiness we share at eighty-two
The hopeful vice of paradise is what we really need
A joyful slice of something nice inspired by our greed
The plucky price of lucky dice is worth another spin
The fire you acquire is a buyer with a sin
You're a doer we admire, with a zest for cresting higher
So your quest, for the best, must invest you with desire
You're a winner, not a crier, and you always were a trier
If you soar, out the door, then you'll always be a flyer
Thank you, Shar, our old friend, for the time we had was great
Like a star, to the end, you did more than hesitate
With each bar, that we bend, is the path to share your fate
From afar, we pretend, that you care enough to wait.
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