Long Chalk it up Poems

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The Alta Dena Cow

There is, in the Los Angeles area, a well-known brand of milk, called Alta Dena.  Near also,
is the city named Alta Dena, and my grandson lives there.  I asked him if he had seen the dairy there, and he told me that it does not exist.  I then asked him if he had seen herds of milk cattle there and he said that he had not, and doubted that there were any.  Of course I wondered why the milk had such a name, and jokingly asked him to look for at least one cow in the city, since it was well built-up, and there were no obvious open pastures at all.  I told him that we could only conclude that it this had to b a very famous and rare cow that could supply all the milk needed by a large urban dairy, and thus must be insured, protected from the idle public, and secreted in some private home where she would not be disturbed.  The whole story and speculation grew into a riotous family "search" for this wondrous animal.  I, of course, ask my grandson each week when I see him, for a progress report on the search.  Finally, I have decided to turn it into a poem:

      A Search Continues

Something very hush-hush is going on
and Alta Dena folk aren't going to tell.
All cowdom secreted within its bovine lair
yet Bo would stare contentedly at us
with no incursive moo directed at the hellish
vine that she must eat, in lieu of meadow grass.
That ever-present cud must still
be masticated; yea, her celebrated udder
must be filled.

Yet none admit to having sighted her. 
Beastiana though she be, no Altadenian
will dare so much as low on her behalf,
no bull, Eden-bound, is ready to exchange
his bold, testicular desire 
to service mewling ruminants
who merely run away.

Nay, uncowed are they, though cowed they be,
and cowards not--and if you do not see
their wisdom, chalk it up to power,
Bo's mammary magnificence, so easily
in jeopardy before a single squeeze,
not of a nipple but a trigger
thus applied, and speeding out of sight.

Challenge, indeed, our quest to find
this noble and prolific queen
who dominates with graceful quietude
her milky empire slurping quite
without a care, lush liquid destined
not to slosh within her, rather
in those tumescent tummies
ever crying out for more.

Would I betray them for a share?
Of course. Away with those content
to sour the milk of human kindness
with deception. Let the  search go on!
       ~


Halloween

I’m sitting in a dark, nothing but a T.V. on.
I’m watching horror movies, or am I watching paint dry.
I see people, I see faces, but I still can’t shake the feeling I’m being watched.
A scream I hear, I chalk it up to the T.V.
A rat-tat-tat, on the door, only to see no one,
I’m not sure I even moved.
I’ve been sleep deprived for days, but today, on the most holy of holy days,
I cannot sleep.
Today is a day of celebration.
For once, the evil, the dark, the macabre, it’s celebrated.
My interest aren’t looked down on, they are praised.
I think to myself, maybe I should makes something, to commemorate
the occasion.
I step to the kitchen, pull out a knife, and begin carving the first thing in sight.
Tonight, it was a pig.
I think last year it was like a bumble-bee or something, I don’t know, it was making a lot of noise and I just wanted some peace.
Either way, after trimming the fat, I had to clean up a bit.
The phrase, bleeding like a stuck pig, totally true.
Blood got everywhere, this is gonna take so much bleach to clean.
So I shove it in the oven, mouth watering at the thought of the sandwich I’m gonna make when it comes out.
I knew animals fought,
But this one fought like it really didn’t wanna be dinner.
I just hit it with the pumpkin it carried.
A few hours pass, and the pig is done.
I trim off the hair, and then the skin.
I can’t stand the skin, so stretchy and not tasty.
It’s like eating elastic, or a shirt or something stupid like that.
Either way, I peel back the skin-and I indulge myself.
Normally I go for the entrails first, but tonight is special.
I go straight for the brains.
So tasty, with just a tinge or copper, or was it iron, I’m not sure
Either way, it was salty, and metallic, and delicious.
I only treat myself to this kind of meal on the special days of the year,
You know the days I’m talking about
Easter, July 4th, tonight
Those days, they are wonderful
So yeah, the screams were annoying, but they stopped now
All that I hear is some laughing, and my own noise
Tap-tap-tap-squish
Tap-tap-squish-tap
It felt divine.
Then it all ended, someone said my time was up.
That pig’s blood went everywhere
Everywhere. It was intense
After all of that, I’m back in front of the T.V.
I’m really not sure if it was a T.V. or a wall.
The first thing I remember other than that night,
Was asking the guards if I could watch Silence of the Lambs on Halloween.

Fiction

What beliefs within that do you define
the adversary's lies or Gods Truth divine
like a child absorbed what you've been taught
have you examined the things that are thought

In the stronghold of your heart and mind
the vast majority of information you will find
is designed to impair accurate thinking
because six thousand years of deceit are drinking

The Word of Truth is made for our correction
to tear down the the entanglements of defection
to expose corruption and self deception
the barriers and veil to the Father connection

People believe in angels but seem to forget
that the armies of Lucifer are still here yet
a deceiver and lies are his pathways
to deaden hearts where clouded thinking stays

Is the easter bunny a truth or lie
and when children grow up and do ask why
in the Truth of God they haven't believed
because like a fairy tale it is received

Just another story as it's understood
like the fables to show evil and good
that the outcome and end can't be serious
because they believe the Truth is mysterious

The paths of Truth lay within simplicity
and it's clarity does overcome lies duplicity
Gods Kingdoms children and such like ones
speak a single Truth not Babylon's tongues

Like the fiction of fairy tales lies reside
in religious doctrine whitewashed graves hide
by pomp and pageantry Jesus teaching denied
and the indoctrination of demons Gods Word belied

Fiction upon fiction are children fed
so like those tales Gods Truth made dead
why take it seriously when one is grown
all stories end happily in heaven is shown

What is important is what they get now
for death doesn't exist for eternal soul anyhow
Beliel and Satan and prophetic prediction
they can just chalk it up as another fiction

One cannot teach lies and be a spiritual Jew
by teaching of Jesus can only speak what is True
to be a Son of God with all lies must brake
for Holy Spirit must heart and mind remake

The Word of God should affect all reason
and clean out all thoughts that to God are treason
Jesus may have died to save all from sin
but that won't help if not reborn within

Behold I am coming quickly says He that is True
to cleanse the earth and make all things new
broad the path to destruction those chosen few
they have believed Gods Word and whats holy renew

COPYRIGHT © 2009 C Michael Miller
Form: Rhyme

Too Weak

TO WEAK

Im sorry that I am to weak to just be "friends"
The reason quite simple didnt want it to END
YOU were a drug that ran through EVERY vein
Now sitting here alone loathing the PAIN
Losing u in my life wont lie it truly STINGS
Did you know all the pleasure your love brings?
, surprised at my own reaction when u told me goodbye can't tell you how many times I've SAT here and cried
I sit in isolation and it deeply hurts
cant stop thinking about YOU which makes it all worse
WAS I BLIND? maybe the ONLY one who didnt see
Impossible because I WAS THERE I felt  the electricity
I KNOW YOU felt it too the chemistry between u & I
STILL unsure what I did for you to tell me goodbye
UNAWARE that we had a problem
 thought everything was ALRIGHT
YOU were my FIRST thought in the morning
My last thought each night
Our attraction & desire unconfined
Every day thoughts of you burn in my mind
We had "something" hard to define
Still VERY special uniquely YOURS & MINE
Some  time has passed thats true
Feelings not subsided STILL  MISSING U
MY ego & confidence slightly tattered
WANTED to be the Women who remotley MATTERED
WISH to go  back to the way things used to be
when u got butterflies when U thought of ME
To the place of newfound friends
A thrill with  EVERY message youd send
Perhaps you felt was the ONLY choice
GOD I long for our chats & the sound of your voice
YOU meant so much to me  even MORE than I knew
Knowing me BETTER than those closest to me do
I think thats WHY it hurts so much
I invited YOU in & opened MYSELF UP
KNEW what was blossoming long ago
Now Im the PATHETIC loser who cant let u go
I heard it early on Cupids arrow calling
Easier to ignore than  admit I was FALLING
Easy for you maybe u can give me a CLUE
HOW do I go forward and get OVER you?
Crushed like bricks when you withdrew
Waiting for a sign or some kind of break through
MY live and friend have not 1 regret
I cherish EVERY moment we shared NEVER to forget
NO words need be spoken how YOU FEEL I already KNOW
Let's chalk it up to learning and a reason to grow
I am TRYING my best to do whats right for ME
Pick up whats left if my wavering dignity & 
HOPING someday YOU will SMILE  
when u  stop & think of ME
© Diana Vee  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member As Fate Would Have It

You never know when the day begins or until it is complete what twists and turns that day may take…or what people you might meet.

Today a nod to fate…or luck…or what many call destiny…this story revolves around two mechanics, some donuts…a soldier…and one dead car battery. 

After a wonderful time the day before…hiking, seeing animals…identifying trees and flowers…we decided to rise early and grab some donuts before visiting Bok Tower.

But when we tried to start our car…the battery was dead…already things were not going our way…it seemed that fate had other plans for the beginning of our day.

After getting a jump from our roadside service…(whom we immediately had called)…we drove to O’Reilly Auto Parts to have a new battery installed.

But this O’Reilly’s didn’t have our battery in stock…(that’s 2 twists of fate if you happen to be keeping score)…But Chris, the manager, found one at Eric’s O’Reilly’s and sent us to his store.

After paying for our new battery…(yes, it was a tidy sum)…and thanking Eric for installing it…we said in unison…”Bok Tower…here we come!”

Our car was running…we were happy…we were only 2 1/2 hours late…and then we remembered our donuts and thought…Bok Tower would have to wait.

As luck would have it…standing in front of us at The Donut Man shop…(which only added to fate’s intrigue)…was a soldier…how did we know he was a soldier?…he was wearing his fatigues.

We thought…we only had a little car trouble that delayed us getting on our way…and how that pales in comparison with what a soldier faces every day

So we told him to put away his money…that we would buy his donuts and whatever else he wanted too…as a way to thank him for his service…it was the least that we could do.

Tom, the soldier, realizing his day was also not going exactly as he planned…smiled, thanked both Deborah and me then before leaving…shook our hands.

Fate finally brought us to Bok Tower…and we’ll not soon forget the wonder fo such a beautiful place…nor the kindness of strangers we met along the way…or the smile on one soldier’s face.

I apologize for the length of this story…let’s just chalk it up to fate…but it is my hope…just like our donuts…oh…and Bok Tower…you found it worth the wait.
© Jim Yerman  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Jesse Evans and the Boys and the Kid

Jesse Evans and The Boys earned much notoriety
during the old west's most untamed and wild history.
Raiding resturants and salloons they would drink and eat for free.
"Chalk it up!" they'd say to all of the merchants before they'd leave,
and riding along with them was one William H Bonney,
known as William Antrim formerly
and speaking Spanish fluently.
Three months earlier he was but a young boy of fifteen,
orphaned, scared, alone and in desperate need.
Now he was holding his own among outlaw killers and theives.
Such a feat for a small young boy of his stature wasn't easily achieved.
He was a prime target for this dangerous gang of thug bullies
who would often abuse him, make fun of and tease.
The kid was forced to face a very hard reality.
He could just take it and be miserable, or he could leave,
or show them all that he was a force to be respected and taken seriously.
He began practicing his shooting skills regularly,
hitting his target everytime and with lightening speed.
On his horse he would shoot at anything and everything,
whether he was stationary or whether he was moving
from every single possible concievable position
and always hit his target with such accurate precision.
Once for fun one outlaw shot the kid's hat off of his head.
The kid returned fire shooting the hat off of the outlaw's head.
Holding his pistol trained on his intended, the kid coldly said,
"I could kill you right now. I could kill you dead,
but I'm hungry and I would rather eat instead."
The kid returned to his meal and nothing more was done or said.
His message was crystal clear; Respect Me Or You're Dead
and from that moment on, respect him they all did.
Jesse Evans and The Boys now all took very seriously this Billy, this kid.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Being 60

It’s a milestone at least, chalk it up as a feat,
That your younger self never thought you could meet.
But how does it feel, this crossroads you face?
It’s a case of you got there, it’s no fall from grace.

Are there any advantages to this dreadful affair?
They call getting old, it’s simply not fair.
It’s gone in a flash, yesterday I was ten!
Only to be reminded, that was way back when.

I snore all the more, the hairs are a pain,
Grow in all the wrong places, again and again.
And the hairs on my head, they see not the sun,
Receding to follicles from whence they begun. 

As grumpiness sets, becoming part of the psyche,
Talking to oneself becomes ever more likely.
The stares from the driver pulling up alongside,
Are testimony to the depths I reside.

Don’t get me on sight, or my hearing, please no,
In chatter I nod but it’s only for show.
I recognise no-one at distance these days,
I’m waving profusely to strangers not phased. 

It has its advantages though, I’m assured.
Free prescriptions for one, I’ll maybe be cured,
Of the ailments, I once couldn’t pronounce,
That now lick their lips as they poise to pounce. 

It’s funny though, your priorities differ,
From the innuendoes that caused you to bicker.
It’s a new priority, what will be will be,
Live in the present, the future ‘we’ll see.’

Those dreams you once had to get to the top,
Are now different dreams, as the ego you drop.
You can reminisce, with some sense of pride,
The events of your life, it’s one hell of a ride.

At sixty there’s wonder, enlightenment.
No stature, no dreams, no entitlement.
It’s life you revere, just making the best,
Of this world we all cherish, we’re merely a guest.
Form: Rhyme

Leverse

A Special Dark Run
A Pile of Fetty For Fun
Crystal Natures and a Ton of Bad Jokes
I said it all but thats not all I had to Say poke.
I had To Stay broke Huh.
To see how rich the fix is
I had a simple Plan
Purely Intrinsic Huh
In consequence
Of course the relay of course 
The Bang we play
Got me wondering about my biscuits

Ima silly hammer
Hambone Scammers and schemers
Bad mamma jamma spree planners
Sagittarius and wee little
Stars that twinkle in the night sky
A good reason why we keep
Walking why don’t you knock
Stand around awhile and talk
Signal them and chalk it up to the sidewalk
Sitting here checking out the rocks in the concrete

Little River stone
Im sitting here tripping, Not always alone
Who the  are we missing
Lets go back and get em
Before we go to the next show
My Buddy was walking down the rd
Though the blacktop and dirty socks
Though the mad talk
And 333 packages of pop rocks
666 broken pipes
I needed some more  last night

I needed a reason
To leave I needed 
Some time to rethink
To think again
I need to survive
I need someone to 
Rely on to relay with
To replay the day for forget about the
Weight we carry the way we barely
Notice
Im sure im a sex fiend and there 
No way to come clean

There no way billy jean 
Is not my lover
You know it takes a special lever
With hands of pure gold
With a spirit that sparkles like diamonds 
Prolly for my own lust 
Prolly a hundred times I tried not luck
But on the hundred and first time
I scored a critical hit 
On the first of whenever  
Your first check clears 
The lever thrown.

Take It Slow

Speaking and living off experience, 
what I've experienced goes against 
what I know, like I should take it 
slow, slow down my emotions I'm 
soaking in love because I love that 
feeling, but the cards I been dealing 
is sort of like the cards I been dealt. 
I sink head first instead of just 
taking it slow, so I end up with a lot 
of deleted numbers, text messages, 
and burned pictures Yeah I'm filled 
with love but still I'm drowning in 
this pitcher I drink from. Painting 
perfect pictures with my imperfect 
hands, Yeah I what this and I really 
need that look at my check list can I 
really give it back. I'll admit it 
sometimes I'm double minded but I 
put away those thoughts like never 
mind it, trying to align it with what I 
would like to call Ms. Right, there's 
no such thing most people change 
overnight, so in light of my new 
discovery having the rug pulled right 
from under me I hate this feeling so 
I go back to the drawing board, 
write a new blueprint that's fits me 
fundamentally and hopefully to find 
someone that I'm mentally 
spiritually & emotionally compatible 
with, story of my life right I guess I'll 
just dismantle it again. There's no 
rush I know chalk it up to me always 
getting so caught up ready to give 
my all it's amazing this heart of 
mine isn't tore up, but I guess with 
every short story I have more to tell 
than actually show, it's hard to take 
your own advice sometimes, but I 
gotta stay meek with the next one 
and just take it slow.
© Corey Ross  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Lyric

Three Strand Rope

By design it was supposed to keep 
couples together, threw prayer and 
communication it was designed to 
make everything better, but what 
good are those vows if you're not 
equally standing on that solid rock, 
what good is a promise if one 
person decided their belief in the 
father should so suddenly stop, and 
that ship that was once docked by 
that everlasting covenant, that love 
just sailed away slowly but surely all 
of a sudden, whether single in Christ 
or married to a wife, there is no 
relaxation nobody has the right to 
say What's right when you never 
asked them what was wrong, call it 
an assault charge not physically but 
you did em emotional & spiritual 
harm, I mean who gets married not 
wanting that happily ever after, 
which was once a best selling book 
turns into a dreadful chapter or 
should've and would've chalk it up 
to regrets, or a list you should've 
kept but there's no blueprint for this 
no matter how much you follow 
them steps, it's like a scary movie 
now but don't look away on them 
horror scenes that might just be 
what'll save you change you, I been 
there done it emotionally I been 
maimed too but who's to blame 
you? That's right when you don't 
look to the father you suffer 
misdirection and this is a life 
changing decision America's view on 
marriage is such a misconception, 
it's actually a blessing when it's 
done right and founded on hope, 
turn that negative into a positive 
hold on to that three strand rope.
© Corey Ross  Create an image from this poem.

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