Long Come up to Poems
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behavior becomes boredom or bait or bestial badges. behavior becomes passion, penalty, or pleasure. like masked owls some are turning temperatures made tragic. like dying by breath or knit to knots memories become mirrors. by mind apparatus by anxious fate while gates are opening. lion statues or statuesque angels so deeply removed. just a bit of meandering or quite precise or the author is partly unaware. just thinking of something. just watching interior Showtime. just looking at unfamiliar intentions. some desire what they give. some desire more. where others might be uncertain. beautiful ugliness or musicality arts so many intellectual cellos. arithmetic attraction so distressed it feels like saviors, or so unruffled a person must get closer. birds just sit in trees. some are monogamous. others are uninterested. coming to an issue, where behavior is habit, (hollowed hallowed habits). if a woman is a certain charisma, she lives out her caress. if otherwise, she lives that path—in darker corners, carefree but saddened. same as in men, a bite at early stages, something considered sacred is overrated. some edible cactus a mouth full of oases, or dirt, weeds, with wrestling. if to digest disgust where the author peruses too many porches. like paradox so palace like where we learn too much to actually penalize others. some activities are disgraceful. we speak more to softer anxieties. while so far into ourselves it might not matter. one endorsement, as for an abused child, and he may come up to be a great humanitarian. it seems sameness for arts. captions in our minds. chains on our churches. too much debt to repay. a soul masked by its behavior. we might marvel at those getting it right. where two dwell there’s subterranean activity, they’re certain to have disagreements. drums rang out by dearth, some lack in violins, some ache feeling terrific. the author is walking further, looking at faces, compelled to accept dynamics. one was slighted. another wanted gossip. when it didn’t come, one decided to join in. no one asked. no one needed intrusion. but maybe, in a grand scheme, as becoming a motif, the two are just being behavior. bone of my bone. or soul of my soul. or we drift dangling from dungeons.
Salesman: “Can I help you? Yes sir. Yes Sir!
Well, you’ve come to the right place.
Our own lineup has won awards
We lift you up through time and space!”
Buyer: “Why, yes, I am. That’s a fact.
But I’ll be careful to decide.
When I do buy, I want the best
So don’t take me for a ride.”
Buyer: “No cigars or reflective globes,
I want style and sharp and sleek.
And it must swirl just out of range
They might come up to take a peek.
I need a ramp to shoot straight out
Or a pod that will reach the ground.
I would like a quiet downshift
So I can land without a sound
From zero to post light warp drive
It must hover and not just float
I can not deal with under steer,
I want sports car without the bloat.”
Salesman: “We integrate one straight from spec
And customize it to your needs
You should know our reputation
We are the one who really leads.”
Buyer: “It must have the finest force field
And nova lights across the tail.
Phasers and disintegrators
Must be standard or no sale.
Does it contain a COSMOS map?
So I can go anywhere I please
No incidents with the natives
I want to come and go with ease.
I want the newest type of GORT
He can shamble or he can stride
I want some muscle in the ship
When I suit up and take a ride.”
Salesman :“Of course, yes sir, of course you do.
Your choice of suits is here for you
Well, first there is the standard white: Buyer: “(No, that’s too passé.)
Shimmering like the Robinsons: (Ahem, much too gaudy.)
Subtle silver much like Klaatu: (No, that’s not really me.)
Or the basic Roswell glimmer:” (Okay, I’ll take it.)
(That’s the one for me!)”
Buyer: “I have a trip, I wish to make.
Away so far, a yellow star
There’s an orb, the third one out
So blue and green, it must be see!”
Salesman: “Very good! Congratulations!
Sir, you’ve made a splendid choice
Will you pay for that in Vorax?
(But we also accept quasars.)”
Don't forget to remove the Bay leaves from the
pot.
Make it easier on yourself
put the bay leaves and rosemary sprig
in a cheese cloth.
I'm in most incline to agree
yet some deemed them useless
almond ash and hickory ash
was used to create a super
strong aroma.
Pungent and earth friendly.
TENUTO___
The Zoomies
a group of five
songstresses
Clutter ( a Contralto Alto)
Clowder ( Contralto Soprano)
Glaring ( Mezzo- soprano)
Pounce ( the Soprano)
Bunting(Contralto)
allorubbing
glissando
tremolo
trill.
Piano!
Piano!
Staccato< paino
an detached and fast tempoed!
She detached her relationship
to be seen as more uncaring
toward the male gender.
She said such allowed her to negotiate
from being lesser involved from actually
being responsible
inside a fully functional relationship.
The legend goes that 1n 1887 at a festival somewhere unknown.
A group of Women who were hired to perform and were allowed
to have concessions.
The woman (The Zoomies) were fixing to serve up some delicious foods.
An inspection by a local there
who looked troubles in the face with a laugh, came up
to the head cook in the busy campground.
He told the woman she better take those bay leaves out of the soup
before someone starts complaining. The woman didn't take to kindly to this citified person
turning his nose up at her with an order. She sat the hot pot on the piano (according to legend)
She went down in her blouse, and pulled out her mini firecracker canon and launch a firecracker at the visiting chef. It's said the shoot knocked off the gentlemen's top hat. People thought it was part of the show.
* Point of Reference- The guy is said to have come up to the stage while more then 50 people( paying customers) were there and said "the rat and kitty stew smell like beef: that b*tch better not forget to take the BAY LEAVES outta the pot" Another legend is said that 6 woman singer corner the fella and stood above him and releived there selves. Ans said while the guy was enjoying his supper a woman reached down in her blouse and pulled out her breast and asked the man did he want her to make it a french creame soup!"
Ahhhhhhhh....To Be Young and In Love
_________________________________
Two Lovers at a party
Reuniting after Break
Not too long after New Years
Since then she's been away
He is playing the cocky host
With high school friends today
His fraternity's party
Before school gets underway
He looked happy to see her
When she finally did arrive
A big smile spreading and
His blue eyes looking bright
But with his old friends, a girl
Who once left his heart in tatters
His new lover tries very hard
Not to look as if it matters
He comes over to check on her
"I'm having a great time,"
She says casually, "Go on.
You just do you, I'm fine."
Yet she watches from the corners
Of her dark shining eyes
Hoping this gnawing little fear
Does not mater'alize
Since New Years Eve he'd raptly
Called ev'ry day and night
Saying the sweetest loving words
Her heart coming alight
But she fears he's a college player
A fraternity boy just messin'
With a cute young Freshman girl he's met
Without any real deep affection
She doesn't see him for some minutes
And starts to get slightly peeved
He sidles up from nowhere, saying
"You wanna sneak off with me?"
She protests against it
Lays her nonchalance on thick
He better not think its easy
To pull off this little trick
A kiss on her neck, a grin
A soft whisper in her ear
"C'mon now, Pretty Lady
Let's just slip on outta here?"
They make excuses to the party
Before really polite to do
They come up to his room and then
He says, "Oh my God, I missed you!"
His cool facade falls down
And he says the most tender things
He hugs and softly kisses her
Making her insides sing
Relief spreading through her
So much strength in her reaction
She tried to be so tough
But he melts her with his actions
Swept up in their reunion
He brings her to his bed
Holding her so very firm
His scent swims in her head
And she clings to him so tightly
In passion's dance and then
A love bursts deep inside her like
She will never know again
If you’ve been to north New York,
or the western side of Vermont,
you might’ve head of a sea monster,
the vast Lake Champlain is his haunt.
The locals all call him ‘Champy,’
not to dissimilar to Loch Ness,
many folks claim they have seen Champ
rising up from the chilly depths.
Now I once thought Champy was
just a bit of local folklore,
until the day when my friend Pat
invited me down to the shore.
He had himself a fine speed boat,
soon enough we were on our way,
I expected a bit of fun
tubing and skiing on the lake.
But Pat had brought a big, thick rope,
and a bucket that truly reeked,
we motored to open water,
when Pat stopped the boat, and did speak:
“You know how I love my cryptids,
and that I saw Champy way back,
I have discovered, by hard research,
what the beast prefers for a snack.
“That bucket has rotted lampreys,
we’ll drag them by the boat as a lure,
once Champy gets the scent of them,
he’ll come up to our boat for sure!”
I though my friend was a mad-man,
as he set about his strange work,
we dragged a line for ten minutes,
then the whole boat began to jerk!
Pat slowed the boat down to a crawl,
and a Plesiosaur emerged!
One of the lampeys hid a hook,
the ancient beast loved unnerved.
“You need to drive the boat, my friend,”
said Pat as he undid the line,
then he leapt onto Chamy’s back!
Had the crazy fool lost his mind?!
The massive beast did try to dive,
but Pat just pooled back on the hook,
Champy abandoned thoughts of escape,
just one pull was all that it took!
Then Pat pulled the line to the right,
and great Champy began to swim.
I gunned the engine to follow,
but could barely keep up with him.
He drove Champ like a chariot,
gliding swiftly across the waves,
stunned boaters looked on as he went,
all too shocked to know what to say.
I drove, but in one hand I filmed,
recording this forever more,
because what could be more bad-ass
then saddling a damn Plesiosaur!
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
"...and if that mocking bird don't sing... mamas gonna buy you a diamond ring"
Can I sing you a lullabye?
At night, when I can no longer fight the tears or pretend to be healed....
I sing to you
and beg you to forgive me?
Do you hear me?
Angel of my womb
dagger to the heart
I did it
I did it to myself
with no one to blame
I contemplate suicide
and wear the shame
on my sleeve
hoping someone will come up to me
and ask me how it feels to be a murderer
so I can look at them dead in the eyes and say
"I walk dead....
my soul committed suicide after that night"
baby... my baby... put up a fight.... betrayed by her creator...
all those pro choice persuaders
are killing the voice of tommorrow with their voices today
i fell astray and following the clan
I let them convince me that I had a plan and she just didnt fit in with it
innocence shattered with my choice
no chance to share her voice
I silenced it
silence.......
Empty...
body full of blood, and lost love, and a fields of children screaming begging
pleading asking "wheres my mommy" "i want my mommy"
small clothing, childrens drawing... and me walking
living
breathing
free
while my baby bleeds
bleeds for my mistake
for my hate
the moment you were conceived did u smile and thank God to be in me?
Did I confuse you by feeding you and rubbign my belly
Did you prepare for you death....
Did you of think of your mommy as less?
No words can convey how much I miss you...
I wish for one second I could kiss you
inhale your smell and exude it with my love
Im haunted...
I heard you cry that night
Saw you die that night
Could you ever forgive me?
the pain lives within me...
everyday ...i promise you... you'll always be my first
I dont want you to cry.... baby please forgive my sins... your memory lives within..
Can I still please sing one lullabye every night to remind you thats it alright...
mommy is still here... and shes sorry....
Years ago I wrote a poem in appreciation of Dad Jokes…
being a Dad and a PopPop it’s something I do on my family’s behalf…
It’s one way to teach my children and grandchildren how to have fun
how to smile…how to laugh.
It has been a responsibility I’ve always taken seriously…
using humor and Dad Jokes to give my family a lift…
once again…no need to thank me family…consider it a gift!
But humor is not easy to teach…much to this Dad and PopPop’s surprise
for many of my Dad Jokes have been met with moans and groans…
and a rolling of the eyes.
Through the years, however, I’ve remained unperturbed knowing…
If this Dad Joke didn’t make them laugh…didn’t give them a thrill…
I’m sure the next one…or the next one…or, perhaps, the next one will.
When I ask: Why did the man who crushed cans all day hate his job?
I can already see my family stressing…
then groan and roll their eyes when I answer:
Because he found it soda pressing.
I believe humor was hiding in my children and grandchildren
and that my slew of Dad Jokes freed it…
like when I told them Deborah asked me to put ketchup on the grocery list…
but then neither of us could read it.
With every Dad Joke I noticed my children and grandchildren
looking for the nearest open door…
“Dad! PopPop!.” They’d scream. “Please stop! We can’t take it anymore.”
But every now and then…peeking out from behind the moans…
Is that a smile that I see?
For a life-long teller of Dad Jokes…that’s always been good enough for me.
I have proudly watched throughout the years…
how humor in my children and grandchildren have grown…
to the point where they now come up to me and tell me Dad Jokes of their own.
And as I groan, roll my eyes and laugh…
a tear invariably drops from my eye…
for Dad Jokes…after all these years….have a way
to make this old man cry.
The Tree and the Sprite
Spencer the sprite was a very old sprite and a very old sprite was he.
He had lived as long as he could, in the depths of a wood,
In the roots of an uffulous tree;
A very old oak, an impetuous bloke, with branches too high to see.
Tonight was the night when the stars were bright,
Spencer would be four hundred and ninety three.
Said the Sprite to the Oak, “We’re having a bonfire and toast
And a tangulous roast and a drink made of Dandlewort tea.”
Said the tree, “Please don’t start a fire in my roots.
It scorches my shoots and the smoke makes me sneeze.”
“Don’t worry, dear tree,” said the conflatigous sprite it will only come up to your knees.”
Replied the uffulous tree.“It is my season to sleep and sometimes I snore,
Which is a bit of a bore, and in all of this wood I am really attached to my knees.”
Said the Sprite, “There will be five hundred young sprites And a Wizard called Nick,
"Whose magic is quick will come and show us some rifilious spells.
“He will put a spell on your knees and restore all your shoots and all the leaves you have lost as well.”
The tree cried, “I’m off!” Then with a baloominous sound jumped right out of the ground and fled to the East faster than man or beast and in a field near Clacton was found.
Said Spencer to Nick, “You had better be quick, a rolivous spell we need.
That silly old oak is an impetuous bloke and we want him back here indeed.”
Said Nick, “I have a great spell which will do really well it is Number 79.
I have tried it on oak and a tall and elderly pine.”
Before he could say ‘wood’ the Oak was back where he stood and in very frumptilious mood.”
But when he calmed down he said with a frown, “I really could do with some food.”
29/11/16
HM in Contest 'Zany' by Frank Herrera
Judged 7/12/16
He looked at that boy with pain in his eyes
and said I'm sick and tired of seeing all of
these lies
So you went away from home for a little while
and came back here bumping a brand new style
Looking at you now the answer's real clear
You must've ended up somewhere north of here
So I guess it's up to me to get you back to your roots
gonna put your ass back in some cowboy boots
Because you're country that's the way you were born
You're country heading back through the corn
It's a simple way of life around here
where you work, sweat, and bleed and never shed a tear.
If we don't do it, it won't be done
not everything in life is about having fun
I see you over there walking down the street
spent a pretty penny showing off your feet
By the way you're running you should've bought some cleats
Trying to run out of here like your at a track meet
You're a real big shot that what you think
putting all your money in a federal bank
But that ain’t the way we do it around here
we burry our money in an empty jar of clear
Because we're country that's the way we were born
we're country heading back through the corn
It's a simple way of life around here
where we work sweat and bleed and never shed a tear
we wake up early an go to bed late
no we ain't got time to procastinate
You come up to me and ask my advice
I look down at you and I don't think twice
Boy you need to slow down and catch your breath
you got us all worried and scared to death
we all remember that fire in your eye
and I don't believe that you've let it die
Because you're country that'd the way you were born
you're country heading back to the corn
After the card game that took place in the Bearagroves one day,
One of the Bully Frogs decided to come to our Troll pond, to play.
He was such a cute thing, though rather large for a Bully frog.
Still, he was most particular in what he ALWAYS repeatedly said…
Each day that summer, as I came out to give daily lessons to the Trolls.
The Bully Frog would take a look at me, and simply say… W-I-E-R-D.
By the end of the lessons, the baby orphan Troll, was usually fast asleep.
So as I’d tucked his blanket around him, with his club, upon which to teethe…
The Bully frog would come up, to look at me, and simply said… W-I-E-R-D.
You’re welcome to join the lessons, I replied each and every day.
But the response was always the same, W-I-E-R-D, before he hopped away.
Never did I ever hear, the normal sounds, that come from Bully frogs…
Till one day, I found more than three-dozen frogs sitting at the Troll pond.
Shocked at the number, I ask if they wanted to join the lessons, again…
But, up jumped a frog, which looked up at me and again exclaimed, W-I-E-R-D.
So I turned to him and asked him why, he kept saying I was so W-I-E-R-D?
The closest one, turned and said, ‘Because YOU are just SO, my dear…’
‘You know, you DO tutor Trolls A-N-D are now TALKING to Bully Frogs…’
He continued ‘I went home and told my family, who EACH had to come along… ‘
‘Especially, after you came one day to the Bearagrove like a crazy, wild thing…’
Apparently, I had been seeing a new Bully frog each and every day.
And I had to agree it’s a little strange… All the goings on, that come my way.
Perhaps… I really AM a LITTLE bit W-I-E-R-D, as they so like to say…
But now, I can add a whole lot of: ‘W-I-E-R-D’ talking frogs to that... each day!