Pitifully, he calls her again and again
Brando yelling, "STELLA" from his knees.
Like he ever meant something to her...
Stop groveling like a fool. She was a tease.
She doesn't come from Kansas or Oz
and Sunnybrook Farm is make believe.
Stop shouting her name. For crying out loud.
Shed your tears somewhere else if you grieve.
She left long ago on a streetcar to get away.
It's your fault she's gone. You and your drama.
You killed her desire. That's what she said.
The conflicts you created left her in trauma.
You were the spider who sat down beside her,
the tiny creature that was much too hairy.
You brazenly acted as if you were a king,
but there's nothing about you that's scary.
After all this time, still blubbering for Stella?
You're a weeping wimp and it's pathetic
how you demean yourself time after time.
No one cares because you're not empathetic.
She waved farewell and made your life hell.
So, get off your knobby knees, Marlon.
Alice doesn't live here anymore. She left
and no longer wants to call you, 'Darlin.'
If indeed in fact
This is actually reality
The current world I am
Existing and alive living in today
And rather I am not in
A perpetual dream state
Having to digest and then dissect afterwards
The daily news and all the issues and things
That are happening around our world today
Political , social and societal
That lead me into believing
Is it the world or myself that has gone mad
And at that point I think if I was on a Bus
I sincerely wish to get off at the next stop
Because it seems to me like
It is going in the complete opposite direction
And I must somehow be on the wrong Bus
Because the consequences are if I don't get off
And I might just end up being hopelessly
Lost forever after that
And although selfishly I may be
Alright and okay with that
As the Manic Street Preachers said
If we tolerate this
Then out children will be next
Tell me—
Did you fear the
Rumors?
About me, us, ilk?
Greedy and needy and yearning
For what you
Cannot give us!
I’m her—your
Worst fear
Given flesh.
Insatiable, hungry
Consumed with a need no
One can meet.
I mean it. No one. Biologically impossible.
I do want it all.
In me, around me, on me,
Breathe in the smell of one and
Taste
Another.
I’d beg,
Really.
I am everything wrong,
But I feel so right
I want to be loved and
Used.
I don’t think the two
Thing are mutually
Exclusive.
Ain't it Funny how
Lucifer once said to his father
Some certain individuals
No matter how guilty they are
Or evidence doth incriminate them
Always seem to get off
Scott Free
Enough said
Mic Drop
That's all I wished to say
As i am currently off to serve
Scott's sentence now
So due to this unavoidable catastrophe and travesty of justice
I will be most unfortunately out of commission for
the a wee foreseeable while
Hope to be back and see you soon
I'll be back
All depends on if I am prepared to change
And i manage to get parole for good behavior
With again
Ohh so Devilishly glint and glimmer in his eye
Trying his level best not to crack a Smile
Whilst all the while chocking up way
down deep inside
Looking most angelic as if he could sprout
wing's from underneath the ethereal
glowing hallo eminent above his saintly
head
Like butter wouldn't melt on any given
Sunday given up for lent
One day …
I offered you a compromise,
But you went riding by,
Upon your high, high horse,
With your nose up in the sky.
One day …
I offered you a get-out clause,
But you went riding by,
Upon your high, high horse,
With your nose up in the sky.
One day …
You will have to stop and listen
And that is when of course,
Reality will force you to
Get off your high, high horse.
My hobby horse is not getting much exercise now,
As now is not the time to lament,
But to pick up that garden implement,
And show some real intent.
Or find another hobby that is more your style,
To reduce the stress for a while,
Even a bit of whittling can make one less vile,
As you should produce less bile.
Your hobby horse won't mind,
If you take time, to unwind,
As you will be no good to it,
Out of your mind,
Having forgotten how to be kind.
Bentley, get off the ground!
I smiled because I am shopping child-free.
In charge of no one except myself.
The only Bentley I have known is a dog.
This Bentley is a small boy, around six years old.
He has brown hair and dancing eyes.
He scrambles from the floor and tips the cart.
His mother yells “BENTLEY!”
I smile, knowing that someday this same mother
Will be sad not to be yelling “Bentley”
For he will living somewhere on his own,
And her kitchen will be too clean,
And her arms will be empty
And it will be soon.
Get off that ole red wagon;
Get off that ole red wagon;
Girl, git off that ole red wagon;
But down that bottle,
Don’t want just ice water;
And yet still don’t want no alcohol;
Get off that ole red wagon
Now why you wanna do that to me;
The times I wanna get next to you you flee;
You are one of the very few girls whom comes down with a flu;
Every single time I trying to git next to you;
Get off that ole red wagon;
Get off that ole red wagon;
Girl, git off that ole red wagon;
But down that bottle,
Don’t want just ice water;
And yet still don’t want no alcohol;
So girl get off that ole red wagon;
Why you wanna do that to me;
But down that bottle so you can be free;
9/7/76
Written words by James Edward Lee
Arranged music by Alton Adkins 1976©
Get it off your chest and other various parts;
Brains, Minds, imagination and huge hearts;
Open wide,
From inside,
Start sharpening tool as well as your smarts.
Do you like letting it all hang out,
And always about it start to shout;
Will like luster,
Of a brain buster;
With sick Trump have another bout.
Jim Horn
Yesterday was Costco visitation day and
also having breakfast at IHOP where we
always stop and then in will have to bop.
Get off , get off
You must run
And do not turn
Your face right or left
You will competitor
With another people
Who wants to replace?
You must be at the sight
To be the first
That will be chosen
The fire is gotten
Who could catch that one?
That runs in fast
You must be at his speed
To your shoulder by his
To make the neck by neck
To be that one
Who will be adequate?
To be that look at
His legs as he runs
They do not settle
On that earth
They only touch to be pushed
He can fly
To catch, you must fly
To fly, you must train
And do your effort
Do it with your best
Make your heart to beat a lot
To push more blood
Wide your veins
To bear that pressure
You lungs must wide
To get more air
That is important
To get it to be reach
Of air in your veins
How is the win?
How is the first?
Do you examine
To be the first?
What is the feeling
When you called the first?
Compelled To Get Off of My Chest
Feel compelled to remove from my chest;
Trump has been big crook like all the rest;
Looked near and far;
Next to Trump are,
And you should be sure to see big nest.
Jim Horn
Get off of those streets
They are filled with confusion
Just leave those dark clouds behind
Nothing but pure frustration
When you live in a state of poverty
Gloomy moments will appear
Such a bitter disparity
There is nothing but bad air
Like train cars speeding
along, years come and go. I'm
relishing the ride.
September 3, 2018, entered in Brian Strand's Early September
Standard Contest
get off your shackles
loves luminance
is infinite
go
touch me not
leave me alone
giggling girls
puberty smiles
guessing red blood
spotted
then gushed
guilt descended
10.30 am
july 19 2016
Lately the devil has me in his despicable sights,
Things go well, then he sends an unpleasant plight.
So I’m doubling my prayers to throw him off track,
And let God be the one to get him off my back.
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