Long Day one Poems
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There once was a couple who lived a peaceful unit until one day they designed to have a mystery party. Little did they know it will turn out to be the real deal.
It all started when the guest arrived with bong.. A gunshot they heard. The couple looked at one other and asked "Did you hear that? Did you change the plot." They both said no and went ago with it. Little did they know there was cold blood on the floor. Harsh killing, shooter on the loose and no one knew where he lurked.
Could be Wade the butter, could be Billy, the chef that always carries a knife in his suit? Could be Sue the maid, Sugar sunny the exotic dancer, or could be the happy couple? Thunder lurks booming sounds like if its was coming from the inside. The lights turn off and everyone shouts now no knows where they will end up. Feelings of fear and smell of blood in the air the lights turn and the suspects and killer all in the same room.
Flames were rising blames flying claims thumping but one one screams. Stop! Stop! Stop! Lets figure out what happened. Clues to the sense she had a gun in her hand was pointing at her but the gunshot was right through the heart. There was no letter to say it was a suicide. Meaning only thing there was murderer on lose but everyone was a suspect at this point.
Everyone started asking questions Could be you? Could be me? Who killed Sue the maid?
Everyone gather together just one person was out the group. He feeling guilty and guilty he was. The lights flickered like if they were winking at the him. Nervous- very very dreadfully nervous had been and is. He breaks down into tears. "Okay, okay!" It was me, said Wade." But she asked me to. She was my life. She was my wife. What could I have done? Sue was diagnosed with lung cancer. She had one day one day to live. She took out a gun. A gun out of her bag. She took it in her hand and she took mine as well. She said goodbye my love and pull trigger I know I didn't pull the she did, But the guilt was growing knowing I saw it all and I didn't call for help knowing she would be suffering through the night.
"I am weaken in mind but not by spirit, I hope she forgives me. I am calling the cops I have proof of what I am saying its true. Now its time to let her go. Moral of the story is it wasn't a murder but a mystery in a way a person that knew it was her time to say goodbye.
A boy. Short. He goes to school and cowardly hides behind every corner, scouting out what lurks behind the next turn. Always shoved and disregarded, he seemed to have no friends. He was bullied everyday by this monster. Someone who terrorized him since day one. “Why me?” was his battle cry, just before every black eye.
A boy. Alone. He was adored at school. A big jock. He hated his life, his choices. He picked on this kid, a rather small kid, who was simply pathetic. He would catch glimpses of him, cowering behind corners, and hiding in bathroom stalls. It was this kid that made him popular. He did not hate this him, but simply saw him as an stress reliever. Anger reliever. He was praised at school, abused at home. School was his safe haven; his home away form home, but no one knew what truly went on behind that strong, muscular smile. Divorce. Abuse. Shame. His mother was a prostitute, sold every part of her just to manage to keep him alive. His father was a drunk. Abused every inch of him to relieve him of his intoxicated wounds.
A mom. A prostitute. As a little girl she was very bright. Did well in school, and even managed to get into a good college. It wasn’t until that one night she mad a stupid mistake. It was one of those fraternity parties. “All the cool kids went, right?” She would tell her self. That’s all it took. One kid. One rufie. One sip. Next thing she knew she was pregnant. She dropped out of college. Told her boyfriend it was his kid. Got married. And had a beautiful baby boy. It took five years until she told her husband the truth. The truth about the conception. He left. She was alone, receiving no support. No money. It took her one month until she found herself in the back of a strangers car in an alley way for $200.
A frat boy. A stupid hazing ritual. “Host a party. Drug a girl. Have sex.” Only he made a mistake. He got drunk. Too drunk. He had no control over his actions. The demon residing within him took over, raped a girl, and impregnated her with what ruined her dreams, his dreams. In frustration he went to get fresh air. And made one more stupid mistake. He was conscious of what he did, and knew he could not live with his mistake. Police found him hung from the fraternity balcony the next morning.
This is in dedication to all those who suffered from something that was no in there control.
Momma
She doesn’t want to hear from me no more
I'm tired, she cried
Pointed me in a direction
But I see that door
Would it be selfish on my part
To grip her palms and ask for more?
Though it's not on her chest
She simply hopes that her customers tip the best
If I said she hated me
I wonder would she put these lips to rest
In this post digital life
I got an email from a past friend
Point the icon to reply
Started to type but I had no words to send
Like a small whisper it said love won't last
As if to hold my head I didn't bother to ask
Rub the hurt
To keep her above the dirt
She tried
She held on with what she could
Until she died
I said I'd never shed a tear
But I lied
I took her hand and cried
Before you leave this story alone
Maybe there's something you could do
To piece together the worry at home
In moments that it really counted
I guess I just would not listen
At times when I should have softened
My heart did nothing but stiffen
I guess that's just the way life is
Think about what you love and lost
What was once yours was always his
I never saw her but once
But she never forgot
To send me peace on my birthday
Sometimes I wonder
Did she lose me in her worst ways
Then again
There isn’t much I can say
She tried
She held on the best she could
Until she died
I said I'd never shed a tear
But I lied
I took her hand and cried
With a little help from you
We put together withered ends of a string
In better hope that one day, one of us
Would suffer once more to hear the other sing
Sometimes fantasies are life
But most of the time
You just want to find intimacy with your wife
I'm not trying to make amends
But it's all over when it ends
So love your child
Make your everyday float above his smiles
I couldn't sympathize for your illness
For every person maintains their own struggle
So wipe away your tears
Let us not become absorbed by the puddle
Keep doing what you do
no one can stop you from pursuing it but you
The consequences, the awards
I'll happily push my cart
Further down the morgue
So close your eyes
If I were to take my last breath
I'd still wish you the best
She tried
She held on with what she could
Until she died
I said I'd never shed a tear
But I lied
I took her hand and cried
First times
are meant
To be special
Or so I wish.
With a lack
Of experience
And a timid
Demeanor,
I never learned
How to say no
To a person
That I liked.
When I look
Back on it now,
I think to myself,
How stupid could I be.
Our very first date,
In an empty cinema.
I heard the clink
Of his belt buckle undone.
Tension held on
As he took my hand
And guided it
To what he pulled out.
His breathing grew heavy,
And I sat stiff
As he moved my hand
Against his.
I should have said no,
But I wasn’t taught how.
Uncomfortable
As he asked
If I’d put my mouth around.
I shook my head,
Shaky
And nauseas with fear
As I pulled my hand back.
He claimed ‘blue balls’
And asked if I knew
What that was.
I didn’t.
Every time he touched me
Or the very least tried,
I’d grow sick
And he, upset.
He yelled at me once,
For getting sick to my stomach.
I didn’t know he’d yelled
Until someone told him off.
He’d apologize,
But only half hearted.
It was clear from day one,
What his intentions were.
‘I need to get laid’
He’d tell me on repeat.
Guilt sucked me dry,
But that was what he wanted.
First times
Are meant to be special
Or at the very least,
Consensual.
After the first,
I was glad
Nothing more happened,
Or I’d regret.
But in the second half,
I grew comfortable.
Believed he was
A changed man.
How silly of a thought,
For someone like me,
To be so naive,
I’d given in.
First times should be special.
That’s how I wanted mine.
Instead, what I got
Was not even a choice.
In the secret of the bed,
Doing nothing more than touching,
He guided his
And my head tilted back.
When he told me
‘It’s in’,
I almost felt sick.
Why hadn’t he asked?
Where was my consent?
My thoughts became muddled,
Filled with disbelief.
It couldn’t be, could it?
But he confirms it the next day.
I sit on the thought
That my first time
Was taken from me
Without question.
But if I were to tell someone,
They wouldn’t care.
It could count as rape,
If it never happened again.
It happened more times
Than I can count
(that’s a lie, I could),
With my consent
This time.
If I had it my way,
I’d go back
And do it over again.
I wouldn’t let him touch me,
Because my body rejected.
I should have listened then
Instead of crying and begging.
There was something spectacular
about a winter, long and hard,
on the Miles River.
Some days will never be the same.
Greying skies, heavy hung
with crystal burdens
of the wind, and air. Twenty above,
after sunset, zero.
And the snow was the problem
of every man of driving age
with responsibility. His children
were busy getting ready.
And getting ready! The flurry
of wool, and the long john-ed cotton.
A long and hearty walk ahead, river bound,
passing ponds along the way...
A pair of skates, tied together,
a knitted cap and a smile
crossed the frosted fields, the puddled
slush and slurry, hurried
to gather like the feathered geese
who gathered
on the ice inside a frozen cove,
a forgotten day one January.
And the town of Saint Michaels:
a sidewalk of salt and shovels
digging out the shops...
the smell of warmth, of oak,
drifting thick from brick and mortar,
soups and running noses tucked away
inside the bars and churches,
snowfall on stones in cemeteries
of the Methodist, St. Luke's,
and of the Catholic.
There's birds at the feeder
of a residential tucked nearby.
A sigh, a whisper of air
between the shops
from the docks, chilly regards
from river and bay.
And a waterman, on his way
to the mouth: leather skin, covered
and coated in khaki and denim,
with permanent painted on flannel.
The oysters busheled up are icing over
in a harbor of seafood trucks
and white liars, old men who carry business
no longer, young boys with no blood to offer.
Forsaken a tradition, over a dollar.
And so the middle aged...age. With bad knees,
busted knuckles, and a thermos of lukewarm
coffee, black and heavy.
Cigarette smoke and rubber boots,
bibs and denim jeans drying inside
beside a stove of wood, the cord
stacked long outside.
And babies buried deep in coats
and blankets, mothers careful
in the parking lots of
Grauls and Acme.
Stews for dinner, Oyster based
and beef, warm tomato
with Saltines for crumbling
and butter for spreading.
Just the way of things.
On Spencer Creek, someone took down
a Christmas tree: a tomato cage
on a dock. Distant echoes of a motor
lapped the shoreline.
Some men dreamed of spring time,
when the cold would stop biting
and the creeks would clear
away the winter with the rain.
Some days will never be the same.
Writing Yet Again, grab my
pad, I grab my pen, in deep
thought I begin to write my
feelings I hide within.
Within the deepest part of my
soul,
These emotions I can't control,
and yet my heart won't let you
go, can't walk away and this
you know.
Deep inside my heart just
bleeds, and now I'm always
feeling weak, u ask me
questions I can't speak, look
you've done, done to me.
It seems I'm always gettin
jelous but baby boy I just can't
help it, it's that thing called
love, I thought u felt it.
Everytime I hear a text I think
it's her textin you that, and
then you always turn ya back
Juss to respond now what is
that?
You told me that u loved me
now your walkin away from me,
got me feeling like the dummy,
and it hurts to know you'd
leave me lonely.
Yet and still I can't speak.....
There's a lot of things I see,
and I pretend that I don't peep,
and u always lie to me, I guess
I'm blinded by this love.
This silly thing that we call love,
no one said it'll hurt this much,
knocks you down, don't help
you up.
That's the reason I can't
speak...
I'm always yearning for ya kiss,
always dying for ya touch,
always needed you to hold
me,prolly cause I love you so
damn much, and it Juss hurts
cause you don't see.
I always thought that you were
perfect, thought that maybe
you were worth it, and us two
together was for a purpose,
was this a BIG,BIG MISTAKE?
Gave you my heart, you balled
it up,
And some how I still can't get
enough,
Have I really gotten weak?
I've always had ya back since
day one and that's a fact, now
it's ya turn, and I get ya ass....
To kiss.
I truly do believe a good girl
you had indeed, somehow
someway u dont need me, I
was too blinded by your love.
People always tried to tell me,
let it go cause he's not worthy,
worthy of ya love.
And I'd Just sit and cry, I'd try
and try to deny it, hoping you'd
Just change, but I see that they
were right.
I stand putting up this fight,
and I know you no longer
like.... Me or even care.
So now I'll let you walk away,
still you'd be thought of
everyday, I know I'll miss you
Sooo damn much.
But you were Just keepin me
stressed always worried bout
the rest, instead of being here
and loving me.
But this is what I once called
love and swore I couldn't get
enough,
But here's from me to you,
cause I can't speak.....
~~~~~~~~
The sick elephant, perished at sunset!
Headline news, tears, anger, outrage and scorn.
A worldwide sadness, her baby just born!
Monies were collected, protests in the streets.
Medallions with her picture worn,ah, hearts so torn!
~~
A kitten walks the street alone, we save her!
We scream, "Where is humanity's soft heart?"
Organizations formed then, for feral cats.
We pour huge funds into shelters at once.
But whay of the unborn human, about to be
killed?
Sleeping, softly in their mother's warm womb?
Little fingers, sweet little toes, about to die?
Our hearts, souls, eyes, do we in denial close.
Millions upon millions, will indeed today, die.
Never to see sun, moon, stars or bluest sky.
Taken by methods too cruel to speak.
Angel babies killed in abortion mills.
The world weeps not a tear for human loss, still!
For the unborn, all, yes I will take a stand.
In a world that adores trees more than the
family of man.
A ghoulish thought, human life surrendered.
A baby is not a bad tooth to remove by any
Governments monies, freely tendered.
Sing not to me, that you love humanity!
Nor of world peace, when our own kind we kill.
Yes, aware man wants to this world control.
This world is not yours, it belongs to God.
What good, this verse, in a so very cold world?
Why! So you dare use fetal cells,I ask why?
To use them in a vaccine, you drool for?
Their cells floating in your selfish bloodstream?
We pen about the evils of truly great men?
We hum and talk to Muses, how very!!
We buried God, we loathe free nations.
Globalism only, downing, all the rest.
Then wonder, why all the worldly unrest?
Laughing our lives away, a great escape?
Reality, no, never on our plates!
Good, unborn people destroyed,oh how we do cheer.
Unethical, political thieves and snakes we adore.
As we quill, on God's sunny shores.
1/22/2021
~3~
National Sanctity of Life Day
January 22, 2021
President Donald J Trump
Thank You!
This day to respect the unborn~
Cancelled by the current resident
of The White House on Day One.
So be it!
Distorted
My face is distorted
Is my real face even showing?
I don't know if I'm experiencing my true feelings
My love is true is yours?
I demand you and you shut the door in my face repeatedly
We have many years together and yet we have nothing
Our children see the real you
The real person I have seen since day one
I can't believe you let your love for society get in the way of my innocents
How dare you?
I have to be everything to them and it's not fair to them
They will grow up knowing I was the only consistency in their wee lives
Where is the outline for me?
Do you hear my screams? What about the silent ones?
I go without so much because my wee little ones need more than I
What do you go without?
I look in the mirror at myself
Who is looking back at me?
Is this really me? Is this really my life?
I stood by you through so much
The things you did the things you said to me
You have hurt me like no other has and yet I'm still here are you?
Emotionally I'm not here, My heart stays here, But I can't figure out where my mind is
Or where it all belongs?
I'm so torn, so broken, so numb
I guess I'm just going to be distorted for the rest of my time with you
I promised I would love you through everything and I have but where is the outline?
I don't see the real me and haven't in a long time thanks to you
I don't even do my hobbies anymore I just sit and watch the world as I call life pass by
Why do you want our wee little innocents to see this? what would posses you to?
If I broke my promise would I be submitted to the pits for enternity?
I gained so much and yet I lost more much
You hurt me with life itself and nothing but fear
Can you honestly tell me what have you lost you entire life?
It feels like a band-aid that I just can't take off no matter how I rip it off
Do I wear a mask over me? Does anyone see the real me anymore?
I hurt so much with you but yet I loved you for so long
I can't accept your I'm sorry pity excuses anymore
Is my face nothing to you? Does it mean nothing to you?
My heart feels so much anger, depression, emotions of not being wanted
Do you or have you ever felt this way?
I don't know what to believe in anymore
I feel like paper and I'm being torn into a million pieces
Or what if you are putting me through a paper shredder?
Is the real me even showing?
I'm distorted
We spent Christmas in Camas, Washington
With Aunt Lil and Uncle Carl on this run
Carl owned the town’s only sporting goods store
He knew local fishing; where to catch more
Carl said, “Steelhead fishing is very hot”
“I can rig you up; you might catch a lot”
A Steelhead punch card cost so much to buy
I said to Carl, “I think I’ll pass it by”
Carl said, Steelhead are ocean going trout
It’s Rainbow specie with lots of clout
They’re born in the river; then go to sea
Return back home grown; they spawn and then flee
A long island lies in the Washougal
Using a life raft to get there was frugal
Its eighty rods before the rivers meet
Paddling a boat there was no small feat
With boat secure, Carl and son went fishing
I only watched, from where I was sitting
Saw action on shore; a guy had one on
Which he played for a while, then it was gone
I saw Carl when he hook one of good size
The way he played the fish, was quite wise
I felt the old fish bumps starting to rise
When the fish broke water, I was surprised
Those fish are big and their fight would be fun
I knew right away, I’d have to catch one
Carl landed his fish, it weighed seven pounds
Got out his punch card and punched out one round
I said, “I’ll fish if your offer’s still good”
“We can rig you up; I knew that you would”
“But you need a license before you fish”
“I’ll open the store, if that’s what you wish”
“Nope, I think I’ll just fish without any”
Carl said, “Not wise, that could cost you plenty”
“Carl, it expires by the end of the week”
“Get a four day one; that works for you neat”
Next day I was on the island early
Fishing hard but my bait acted squirrelly
Had to add some weight, so it would hit ground
Then threw it up stream and let it drift down
“Oh My Gosh!, I’m snagged!” I said with a frown
I bet I hooked to a log on the ground
I was wrong cause that log started moving
Yelled, “Fish on!,” my attitude improving
That fish was stripping the line from my reel
He could turn sideways and rest standing still
He used the current to his advantage
When he made a run, I couldn’t manage
Carl walked over to check on the action
“Carl, he’s too big to get any traction”
“And there isn’t much line left on the reel”
“If he was up current it'd be ideal”
(Part 1 of 2)
Today we celebrate Noah Webster and his creation…the dictionary…without them you might say we’d be speechless…we’d have no vocabulary.
For how important are words once they form within our heads…with their ability to evoke emotions the moment they are said.
A word, itself, is not beautiful or ugly…complimentary or demeaning…it’s only in the context and the way we say it that gives a word it’s meaning.
Words when spoken from a place of love have a musical refrain…words when spoken from a place of hate are meant to damage and cause pain.
Some words make us feel good and bring with them happiness…let me name a few…there’s freedom, laughter, joy, peace, love, compassion and family too.
Some words when uttered leave fear and sorrow in their wake…like Alzheimer’s, Aids, war, death…tornado and earthquake.
I remember when a friend informed us her doctor wanted to see…if cancer was growing inside her…so she ordered a biopsy.
Biopsy…now there’s a word with the ability to fill ones heart with fear…as you anxiously and hopefully wait for the doctor to say the words you want to hear.
It’s interesting that as word spread of her biopsy that was planned….words of encouragement came rushing to her from all across the land.
Words of love…of compassion and support…words easy to comprehend…drifted softly…blended together and landed on our friend.
Our words were one way of showing her we were thinking of her…that we cared…one way to let her know her fear and apprehension was something we all shared.
And as we all awaited the results…hoping our world might realign…our apprehension turned to exhilaration when we heard the word…benign.
It is amazing how one day one word can cause so much woe..so much anguish and concern…and the next day another word replaces it allowing joy and happiness to return.
And so I wonder if Mr. Webster, the lexicographer, would agree…if we only used kind word from his dictionary…how happy we’d all be.
How words of kindness and love are an investment used to gather friends…and one day, when we need it…those words pay dividends.
For when I think of our friend’s frightening experience…it is the words of her friends I recall….leaving me to wonder if words of love…of support…of kindness…of compassion and of friendship…aren’t the most beautiful words of all.