A mangled man's
remains,
remain dismembered.
Scattered limbs
laid amongst the
litter.
Littered
ligament lies
amidst tense
muscle,
resting cuts
lay tender.
I really
try to not
remember.
This I
wish I
was lying about.
I can't
I magine
mans lying about.
Torn asunder, ripped
apart by chainsaw
teethed razor.
Rehearsed excuses
always sound best
on scratch paper.
Throw it away or
save it for later?
From behind ear
whisper bubblegum's
last flavor.
Hope all is better
before a blue
member come rapping
upon thy chamber.
They won't just go away.
It's best to
answer, then
answer what they ask.
Then they'll leave you
alone.
To go
about your day.
left in disarray,
disagree met dismay.
Where is the
line that
compromised game
last time?
I just want to lie down
In this grassy field, do nothing
I just want to listen to my body
Reflect myself, see the sky
Observe the clouds passing my eyes
Hear the crickets sound, the wind that howls
Lonely, yes it is, but lying is good
It's value to me, it keeps me relax
It's magical, beautiful, full in its horizontality.
The trappings of
a Poet …
or being a Poet
They’re each something
different
remote and distinct
The tweed jacket
wood paneled
image deceiver
Lays claim to what
only
—enlightenment inks
(Dreamsleep: January, 2024)
laying on an icy lake
praying that it stays cloudy and cold
a smile on my face speaks volumes
i think of all i am ThankFull for and Rejoice
though there are spurts of melancholy, the beauty overshadows victoriously
life is never perfect despite individual feelings
regret is somewhere hidden in cornered closets of every mind
at the tail end of the present, i reflect warmly on the fact that i am not alone
i am motivated to push forward
my gravitational pull is fervently flavorful
so WonderFull i feel,
i completely forget that i am laying on an icy lake
a pep in my step expresses caravans
i think of the little things that in everyday life i fully ignore
the whole of my body spins till fully Full Circle
as a result of unbeknownst Self Realization, I become that much more Well Rounded
My head bowing
Whispering tongues
Breathing silence
tired river flowing
slowly between the two banks
fog laying a cloth
October 11, 2023
Now Laying In Boot Hill Under Frozen Ground
Tony was a wicked dude carried a thirty-eight
Always raced his fast cars always cheated Fate
Carried a straight razor in his left shoe
Things that would be daring, he was ready to do
Afraid he would cut his own throat, wore a beard
But damn sure was nothing else, man never was skeered
Fought in the roughest bars that were around
Beat living hell out of every bully he ever found
Yes, he was still alive at age thirty nine
And ready to tackle any that crossed the line
Do not ask about his last fighting night aiive
Shot by a ten year old kid, took his last dive.
Yes sir, he was easily toughest dude around.
Now laying in boot hill under frozen ground.
Robert J. Lindley, April 2nd, 1970
Note. ----- Age 16, no edits.
Laying Here I Tell Myself I Hate This
I feel like I could take my whole life and close it within my Fist
Yet Here I lay as another week has came and went
Laying here just thinking how much of my Life do I resent?
My Thoughts have a way of just making things worse
Laying here is not going to help when all i really need to do is find a way to feel better before I burst
Not everyday is this bad
Laying here i quickly come to realize things must change before I end up going Mad
Written during a moment when life was more heavy then usual
You know the old saying your goose is cooked
Whenever I hear that I really get shooked
I hear there's some truth to that nasty old saying
I'm valuable because of the many eggs I keep laying
You have to learn how to run really fast
If you don't, how long will your life last
I've learned to do more then just waddle
You'd be smart to use me as a role model
Don't get caught walking around here alone
The inside of a kettle will be your next home
Keep your bill shut, don't utter a honk or quack
If you get noticed it may be your last act
Author Eileen Clark
Why do we call hurricane winds acts of God
Instead of calling them acts of nature?
Who is to blame for countless acts of fraud
Shall we lay them at the feet of our culture?
SILVER MEDAL WINNER
"4 Lines" Contest on All Poetry
December 10, 2021
written November 9, 2021
Sagely silent woman half smiles
Man blathers on and on and on
Abject grief traveled many miles
Death has come to their precious son
Solemn church has six empty aisles
This brave soldier has long been gone
Sagely silent woman half smiles
Man blathers on and on and on
Dressed up child looks at dull gray tiles
Wishing she could blink and be gone
Outside window a gentle fawn
A teen's cell phone now butt dials
Sagely silent woman half smiles
Yeah!
The sun rises everyday,
Stars twinkles everynight,
Moon lights the darkness,
Only difference are the weathers,
And our sights.
But who cares,
I am here waiting everyday,
Waiting,
To see the lights,
Some black and white,
And some colourful and bright.
Waiting,
To feel the touch,
Of rays of the sun,
As much,
That not everyone but my kinds have to Dutch.
You see,
I am laying here everyday,
In bed,
Fighting for life.
Just alive to wait,
Wait for the shinny days,
And twinkling nights.
I wonder how good it feels,
To be in love with someone,
Miss and go crazy.
Make friends, travel and stay till late nights,
But here I am laying in a bed,
You see.
Your life is kinda blessing,
Be glad everyday for your days,
Be glad for everything,
Happy or sad.
Be glad for yourself,
And the people you have.
It's hard to wait,
Trust me,
I am afraid of death.
But still I am waiting everyday.
To see the lights,
Feel the touch,
Of rays of the sun,
That people like me have to Dutch.
Are consciousness and memory linked,
if so to what degree
Do thoughts control what knowledge seeks,
does reflection hold the key
Remembering back through sense of self,
trying to define
If what is past now lays the track
—that underwrites our mind
(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2020)
Either Laying or Playing Than Portraying
Low for them Trump really was laying;
Usual around always would be playing;
Like a doll;
Does appall;
Likes to lie and from laws is straying.
Jim Horn
Laying up Treasures
Written: by Tom Wright
January 2015
When I was but a young married man,
On occasion I’ve heard my mother say.
Son, you’ll never accumulate very much,
Until you discontinue giving so much away.
But inside me was dwelling a need or feeling,
That neither one could fully understand.
Why I’d take those things I labored for,
And place them in some other’s hand.
Now late in life I’ve remained the same,
I’m surveying some things I could share.
Finding each thing leaving me for another,
Makes Jesus smile for He is fully aware.*
*Matthew 2:40 KJV
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