Injured by an ice cube
'Tis hard to comprehend,
removal from it's tray
a spike of ice extends.
This dagger like stalagmite
did pierce my very skin,
a chilling site, believe me,
and much to my chagrin!
Some blood did run, yet briefly,
a smallish wound you see,
same ice that did the spearing
I used for healing me!
Grandma said
that an injured Golden Eagle
had once landed in her potato field.
Grandpa ran up to it
and killed it with a pitchfork.
In those days,
all first responders killed.
I'm old, I'm old
I'll die if I catch cold
I tried to skip
But snapped my hip
I'm old I'm old I'm old.
Guns, Guns, Who Loves Guns
Oops, We Shot Our Own Loved Ones
Guns, Guns, Tons Of Guns
Shoot You In Your Flabby Buns.
The guy might be a pickpocket
But he is my brother
One of the sons of the land of Asia
A weed of the populous part of the earth
In a bottled dark he keeps a dragonfly
and tells himself: greetings to you, the deadened morning.
Where silhouetted sentinels silently stand in vain
bleeding shades of layered shame on blight-lined highways below,
their ghostly shadows remind us of dreams we dared to drain.
Interred on unkempt plots, crumbling brick carcasses maintain
evidence we’re forced to see if the trails of traffic slow
where silhouetted sentinels silently stand in vain.
Rush-hour bottlenecks, the frustrated drivers’ daily bane,
exact tolls of tribute to hollowed homes lost long ago.
Their ghostly shadows remind us of dreams we dared to drain.
Daylight, drowned in the windowless dam of a plywood pane,
begs blackness, dwelling within abandoned walls, who’ll dare go
where silhouetted sentinels silently stand in vain?
Does the doll left naked on a spray-painted stoop remain
to testify children once played under its portico?
Their ghostly shadows remind us of dreams we dared to drain.
As darkness descends, the caravans of commuters wane,
leaving deserted the injured, desolate Jericho.
Where silhouetted sentinels silently stand in vain,
their ghostly shadows remind us of dreams we dared to drain.
White Cadillac
waiting for her.
Black night shadows
hide crimson lips.
Rude passerby
tosses a coin.
It injures more
than just her arm.
Someone's daughter
of meager means.
Still coming around
Like an injured bird
It's all just a matter of time
But that will come too
4/11/2018 6 pm
What lies well hidden in your heart
Is there because you knew I’d weep
To hear that I had played a part
In your torment within the deep.
If I had been then truly wise
To understand your love for me,
I would have never let the rise
Of sorrow maim your will to be.
You were twice injured, thrice deceived,
And I should have sustained you through
Your days of anguish when, aggrieved,
You bowed your head, though pure and true.
Our time went by unfelt and I
Regret the errors of my past
As I am left behind to sigh:
These hours and days may be your last.
Find my poems and published poetry volumes at www.eton-langford.com
4 Marines Murdered and I am wondering why? He killed 1 Police Officer and I still have no clue but let’s continue and move on, looking back at what is at stake I pray for the families who will be crying each and every day remembering how this coward took 5 lives that fought for us day by day. Protecting us we need more help, remembering how we all felt. On 9/11 many were killed, still wondering why they had to kill. Looking back the violence needs to stop how can we change For Chattanooga sake? Shootings are getting worse people are dying is it really worth that time for the families who are crying? Praying everyday it always works but for some reason someone ends up dead why does it hurt? Never looking back seems to do no good praying for the families to stay strong we all should. Waking up is kind of hard knowing that it is not all good, praying For Chattanooga is all we can do because fighting back and killing wouldn’t solve a thing or two? Looking back will we will ever be ok scared for others that protect us till this day. For Chattanooga keep your head up because God knows and please don’t ever give up.
On my palm, as I keep to rest my chin
Injured heart among the city din,
Healthy spirit to live it search
Days are so dark, for there is no torch.
Sand I am baked, in the desert brown,
Unfamiliar is the place, insipid is the town.
Absence of its candid human clay
In the strange city, I am alone today.
Modern life is in such a mess,
It is too fake that we wear is a human dress.
Did we think, neighbor next door, is unknown
Such has been the condition grown.
Where growing mind in love with matter
Did we not our spiritual connection shatter?
Absence of its candid human clay
In the strange city, I am alone today.
Easy life, where the world is advance
For the peace of mind give not any chance
Oh! Breeding strangers, what land it is?
Or we forget our spirit to ease.
Absence of its candid human clay
In the strange city, I am alone today.
I shiver from the cold
while my blood boils hot
I feel as if I'm an injured pigeon
looking for food in an empty
parking lot
Lost in the abyss that I call home
this feeling is what's comfortable
all that I've ever known.
I turn to wood as I call you up
on the phone
I get no where, only a lost signal
which reminds me that I'll forever be alone.
Tow my burdensome feather of essence,
And ignore the ghost of my regret,
Watch the trail of unseen and broken tears,
Stain the dust sapphire with vacillating reluctance.
Stretch me; rip me towards one poison or the other,
Sit, reflect—agonize,
Confront the demon who damaged me,
Or stay as unspoken as my intact existence,
Let the weight pour off of my chest in a typhoon of yellow rage, lament, and grief,
Or fester.
As swiftly as I came, I am departed,
The rock of indecisiveness devoured another victim,
And I am once more hushed.
Just when you think nothing could ever go wrong,
and the sun is bright and yellow once again,
the planet turns cold and you freeze over.
I don't remember much of that night.
Or why and how I got in the path of that truck.
I guess it was the drugs in my system or the booze in my hand.
Laughing with my friends we walked, talked, screamed things out.
Laying here in this sterile white bed, tears soaking my gown.
Guess who's laughing now? The drugs in my system the needle in my hand.
Wishing to be held but not even a card from my ever loving mother.
I cry not because my body is in pain, or because my memory is distorted.
I cry because I know I'm not the only one that feels alone.
I hope one day I wake up to a teddy bear and your beautiful face.
A moment before they release me..
Finished before start
Colts fans leap from Bandwagon
Peyton Manning's hurt
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