Long Hyde Poems
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BACK STORY
Me and my dad used to work as a team on the Trolley Buses for Manchester Corporation, out of the Hyde Road Depot. Dad drove, and I was his offsider, collecting fares, and keeping order on the bus, like making sure people did not block the aisle, or go past the stop they had paid for. and no one was standing up if there was room to sit down, also making sure people upstairs did not bang there feet on the floor. General Spoilsport eh. In the second part, Moses was a big African fella, and his offsider was a little red headed Irishman, they usually had the run in front of us, and tried whatever they could to get us to go ahead, and take the load off them, timetables did not bother them much. I always told dad,
if it comes to a fight, I will take the little one
Trolley Buses
By Robert (Bob) Moore ©
I used to work on trolley buses, up and down Hyde Road
My dad he was the driver, and I controlled the load
Move along the bus I’d say, there’s room for 2 upstairs
that’s where you were allowed to smoke, in those days no one cared
Leave from Piccadilly, the 210 was our bus
Keep eyes on the timetable, it meant a lot to us.
Ardwick Green and Belle Vue, then on past Debdale Park
Hyde would be the Terminus, then turn and head right back
Sometimes a petrol driver, would try to make some cash
With overtime on trolleys, but sometimes they were rash
They’d forget about the trolley arm, and try to overtake
They’d see us wave and shouting, and realized “mistake”
It was all too late of course, and the sparks would start to fly
The arms were bent and waving, and the power it would die
Then swearing and apologies, and laughter close to tears
Then back to depot on batteries, for the ribbing and the sneers.
Moses was an African, his offsider was a Mick
They tried to get us to take their load, with every dirty trick
We pulled into Hyde one day, they had their trolleys down
You should be in front they said, and take the load to town.
Dad did not bat an eyelid, we’er on a break he said
you’ll have to wait 10 minutes, before we go ahead
they knew they could not wait that long, they had to make their run
so trolleys up, and off they went, we drank tea and watched the fun.
MY OLD BOSSES FUNERAL
by
JOHN M. ARRIBAS
Went to the funeral of my old boss
After several speakers I was at a loss
Who was this person they were eulogizing
Kind words and praise was so surprising
I knew him well for many, many years
Despised by family and also his peers
He was a tough boss that never praised
The toil of his workers, most thought him crazed
One speaker after another had bountiful praise
They must be mistaken or in a mental daze
Like I said I knew him well
Being around him was a living hell
His ex wife had nothing to say
His two daughters couldn’t make it today
His son sent a card but forgot to sign
It said” hi mom” are you having a good time?
I had an eerie feeling throughout the service
These lauding comments were making me nervous
I had to make sure I was in the right place
Walked up to the casket and stared at his face
I had to touch him to see if he’s cold
Lipstick and rouge made him look old
Underneath the makeup he was turning gray
Get him underground don’t wait another day
Sure enough the old codger was dead
But I couldn’t believe the plaudits said
He was a bitter psychotic misanthrope
He was cheap a bigot a total mope
He was intolerant abusive and never approved
To belittle and disarm was his every move
The praising went on like a marathon
It sounded as if they’re sorry he’s gone
It must be that he had more than one side
They’re talking about Dr. Jekyll I knew Mr. Hyde
BOSS’S FUNERAL (2)
Later I learned what the praise was all about
He left a fortune for his rep to dole out
Total discretion for his rep to give away
To anyone that had something real to say
Everyone here and others previously chosen
To say a few words about the recently frozen
They all praised and offered exaltations
Expecting a big payoff for their commendations
But when the will was officially opened
Not a thing awarded to those who had spoken
Instead everything was willed to his son
Cause he was best to continue his fathers run
Of all of my kin and friends it was easy to see
My son is a son of a ***** just like me
So he gets my wealth and also my genes
He’ll succeed using unscrupulous schemes
When its his time to turn from ecru to gray
He can expose the hypocrites as I did today
Nutty grandpa president
is talking crazy uncle Donald again
His little Chucky thumbs
is tapping epithet tweet nonsense
Batty grandpa’s been
grumpily sucking
on the hate hot sauce bottle
stashed in his KKK closet
Now he’s sporting a Commander-in-Chief cap,
dressed in a wrinkled birthday suit
Churlish grandpa wanna blow the nuclear candles out
in his Oval padded room
He’s trying to smear his coconut-frosted
pejorative German chocolate cake
on every African looking face
Calling Doctor Strangelove and nurse Annie Wilkes Misery,
bad Grandpa is verbally pooping all over the place
His anti-social, mood swing meds
is scattered everywhere on the bed
Nutty grandpa prez
is a stable genius he says
But his schizophrenia behavior
is open and shut caged rage ... Jekyll and Hyde
Hannibal Lecter ... American Gothic suicide
Old Grandpa says
young women love him like Frankenstein’s bride
His paranoid soul
got a misogynist itch
in it’s nether parts
Curmudgeon grandpa claims he’s really rich,
and has an Ebenezer Scrooge heart
Nutty grandpa prez don’t like no immigrants
who came from where he ain’t
Straight jacket truth wraps him wrong,
he loves to swear that he’s no saint
Crazy grandpa just wanna roam the West Wing halls at night,
cursing at everybody left and right
His angry autocrat ticker just wanna be dictator loved
with family suck-up sniveling loyalty
Cuckoo grandpa flew his nest egg eyes over someone in the staff,
whose nurse Ratched mirror image greedy
Nutty grandpa president just got another person fired
for improper cleansing backside kissing
And the raucous din,
rising from the voter base-ment,
means it’s electoral shock therapy time again
So lock the border doors —
keep it dissent quiet, dum-dum
Czar grandpa prez don’t like all that democratic noise
Silence of the lambs,
that soothing lullaby hum
Is the sweet sound
that calms his Joker tweeting thumbs
Rest your rage, nutty grandpa prez:
Uneasily snore deeply,
wearing your Mad Hatter MAGA brim
(keep having more troubled, neo-Nazi policy dreams
of Making America Great Again)
As the White House hospice staff is issuing
M.A.S.H unpatriotic greetings
to Parallel reality refugees
seeking insane asylum ...
Welcome, to the Oval Sanatorium
Every morning I wake up not knowing if ill look in the mirror at either Jekyll or Hyde. Not knowing if ill be praying to die or feeling alive.
This right here is my typical bad day, keep your pity or judgement to yourself
. I don't need an instant replay of what I'm already thinking anyway.
Slammed by everyone's negativity. That just stresses me.
Putting everyone ahead of my own needs, my wants, my dreams. Mind in disarray, screaming at myself everyday. Trying to motivate myself, getting lost in my thoughts, fantasizing about death, smothering myself in self doubt.
Ever since I was a kid I felt something with me wasn't right. Always confrontational, always ready to fight.
Constantly seeing the negative over anything optimistic. Delusions making me think I'm being realistic
I remember back when I was only 4 was just the 1st time I ran away from home. Before that though I'd leave my bedroom window open praying someone would sneak in to slit my throat.
But I guess nothings different til today cause I'm still praying for that same fate. And trust when I say I will never exaggerate. Cause I want to obliterate
these times I feel the energy from the pain of every living thing at once, suffering and in pure agony.
The pain so untouched and raw, it steals my breath from me and blinds me so I cant see.
Overwhelming as this energy rips through me trying to surface. Tried to stifle it down but end up regurgitating their anguish out my face. Purging...
I need air... I feel like I'm buried alive and dragged underwater at the same time
And no one sees me struggling or they just don't care, though, all my life its been the same morbid tune... Being relentless. Always cocked and loaded ready to pop off at anyone who dares cross my path. Then reloading, only to pop off again at the next poor son of a who questions me or who I claim to be.
I don't even know where I'm going anymore.
Will any part of my life ever make any sense, or will I continue being relentless in my uncertainty of what to do next.
Maybe ill accept all this pain and anger I carry with me cause this is just who I am and was just meant to be.
Might as well wear my self doubt and self hatred on my sleeve, cause days like these make me feel like my soul has never been clean.
I'm alone in a crowded room
Mentally in a world of darkness
Consumed by sadness
Living a life of loneliness.
Why was I chosen?
What did you see in me?
I loved you and trusted you.
My innocence stolen
My youth violated
My childhood taken
My mind confused
As your hands discovered places
I never knew I had
As your lips opened mine
To seek the warmth within
My body betrays me
What is this feeling?
It feels good and it feels wrong.
My silence is loud
My tears are quietly unshed
I am trapped in a deep abyss
With no certain way out
My voice screams
And no one hears me
My subliminal messages are powerful
But no one feels them.
I can't sleep at night
My body is too alert
Waiting for him to come in
Touch me all over, do his dirt.
This man of God
HALLELUJAH, AMEN!
Becomes the spawn of Satan
Be careful, beware!
Night cloaks his perverted actions
And as the sun arises
He's holy again.
I began to hate this Jekyll and Hyde
They become one.
Good and bad
Bad and good...
The lines are unclear.
My posture slumps,
Clothes are oversized
Trying to hide the woman I was becoming
Maybe he would overlook me
If he couldn't see
The obvious
The overt
The ostentatious
But for 2 years
It did not work
And I was left alone,
My voice unheard
My pain not seen.
Writing, my therapy
Diaries, my friends
Dreams become nightmares
Shadows move in the night
They come to me
Fondling my prepubescent ******
Kneading my undeveloped breasts.
The silence is deafening.
I want the morning to come
My tears began to flow
Along the side of the face
And I look down at myself
With the sadness of self-pity
And wonder night after night
After night after night after night
Why me?
Why did you hurt me?
You were my daddy,
Even though you weren't
I loved you as the dad
I never had.
Your temporary pleasure
Is my permanent torture
And the distrust I have
For all things male
Certainly began with you,
Congratulations, take a bow.
Thank you for raping my innocence.
Thank you for abusing my childhood.
Thank you for tainting my spirit.
Thank you for corrupting my womanhood.
Thank you and God bless your perverted soul.
MOTHER you’ve turned your back on me over a
religion I did not follow
I won’t sit here any more in self-pity and wallow
You’ll NEVER know what I’m all about
Because my love you’ve chosen to do without;
As I’ve grown into an adult, you’ve missed so
many important things in my life
It’s like you’ve purposely stabbed me in the heart
with a knife;
You’ve lied to me forever about my dad,
A man I never in my life ever had;
I was a reminder of the father you pushed away
I’m sorry MOTHER if the truth I must say:
I’ve apologized to you over and over, for running
away too, my one big mistake
Your love for me has always been fake,
You were NEVER there for me in the first place
To you I was nothing but a disgrace,
That’s okay though, I’m now grown
The pain I felt once upon a time, to you will
remain unknown;
I do miss you, think of you often, but I need you
no more
You used to hurt me to the very core
It has now been so many years
I no longer shed any more tears;
I at one time would sit and wonder what could
have been, through many days and nights
Sorry I grew up and you lost your control and
all your former rights;
I never could do anything to win your heart
You never loved me right from the start,
I wasn’t able to bring you any kind of joy
Why was that MOTHER? YOU told me repeatedly
it was because I wasn’t a boy,
You couldn’t even be proud of me when I did
wonderfully in school
Dang MOTHER that just wasn’t cool;
In front of others you were so nice
I knew differently, you were cold as ice
It was like living with Jekyll and Hyde
No matter what happened you were never on my
side;
Several people mourn a mother whom death
wasn’t able to survive
While you MOTHER get to be here very much
alive,
I used to hate you more that words could say
But no longer I’ve found another way,
I’ve now let all my past feelings out
I no longer have to scream and shout
The pain in my heart, mind and soul is now gone,
and I’ve become the bigger one,
To me this is now the end of us, I don’t fell guilty
anymore, I am so done;
Finally at last I can close the door in your face
Because GOD has given me peace, I am now
in a different place!!!!!
The intestines of a sow....The heart, of a baboon....Don't worry, we'll take good care, of you!?
Androids and clones....And, we'll freeze your brain, for, tomorrow....
All wisdom, originated, in the west?....This is, 'Our God'....This....This....That....
We're right, your wrong....Kill the plague....Conquer, the desease....
Help them all see?....A feather, shall divide....Their....Your....Fate?
Set a date....Grab a mate....Choose your side....'Rise'....Articulate!
Interpretations....Prophecies....Analagies....Symphonies....Survivor....
Here, take this pill....but, do call me, in the morning, for, another, breakthrough?
Freud and Young....Einstein....Professor, whats his name?
Modern analysis....Scientific....Astrological....Philosophies....And, Doctor Phil....
Shave a little here....Add, a little there....'There'....There you go
Presto....Pick a card....'How'....How'd they do that?
Its all, in the scope son....Its all....In the eye, of the beholder....
Hit em with a left....Buckle em, with a right....Now, now, now, now, step, to the side!
Here, I just made, these eyes....'Your OK~I'm OK'....Call me, Mr. Jeckyl
No, I'll call you. Mr. Hyde!....
And, ten million years ago, today, man, walked upon the moon....
And wisdom, 'wisdom,' well, you see, it came, from the north?
Here....Meet....R2,D2....And, have you ever seen the bones, the remains
Of...."A Rackatackle Shaborous"....But....Dr. Frankenstein....
Yes John....What, is your question....(Lightning bolts and thunder)....
Well, professor?....If everything originated in the south?....Then, what am I to do?
You see....My eyes....Will close....Soon....Before....I ever....Even...."Breathe!"
And, I really want to know, before I go, the meaning, behind the cause....
Behind the factor? Behind the feather? The planet, the universe, the statue, or, the tree?
'The God,' that shall, or shall not....R2D2....Decide....My....'Eternity!?'
Yes, yes, good question....'Igor'....Could you answer that for him, please....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
{The Ologies 2B}
Form:
DR. JAKAL AND MR. HYDE
Science verses madness, welcome Dr. Jackal meet Mr. Hyde,
Within all mankind a darker side exists, it is the beast,
Teetering on the brink of being released at any time.
Hatred’s malcontent, our inner basic instinct prowling, in
Our darkest part of the soul of humanity.
A madman’s obsession to gain control of his darker side,
Experiments in places where thou’est should not dare go,
Making judgments only left unto a higher powers call.
In a hidden laboratory, beneath the darkened streets of London,
A scientist crosses a fine thin line between the conscious. And
Unconscious mind, splitting his spiritual soul in two, releasing the
Beast from within himself, behold Mr. Hyde, heckling, screaming,
Into the darkness of the night, I’m free at last.
In shadows hollows he lurks, waiting to prey on the innocent,
Unaware of his malevolent presence, a black bag tucked under
This creature of the inhumane picks his victim with sheer disdain.
Luring them with silver flashing coins of promise, he kills without
Hesitations malice, relishing in their screams of tortures monumental
Torment.
But the manufactured poison, wears thin, and the Dr. Jackal, personality,
Chimes in again, and realizes what his alter ego has done, but it is too late,
To save the innocent from death’s final demise, so he flees the scene,
Escaping into the night’s shroud.
Never again Dr. Jackal vows, will I release this inner demon, yet
Hyde will not be denied, I will take power again.
Dark and light battle within one beings soul, until the eclipse of one nights full
Moon descends, and Dr. Jackal faces Mr. Hyde at last, ending his own life!
But in hell’s final crescendo, whom truly has lost the battle for existence,
The Man or monster.
Heaven only knows the truth on such matters; I’m just a lone mourner,
At a madman’s funeral, and shall I place two roses upon his grave, one
Of ebony black Mr. Hyde, and one white for my dear friend Dr. Jackal.
Farewell my friends, may you both find some kind of peace on the other
Side, he left a note with these budding gifts, and it was so signed
Sincerely the man dressed in black.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
(1.)
A Poet's Heart Speaking On One Current Politician's Game
From the abyss wearing robes of silver and white
shots fired hit and miss underneath sly pale moonlight
shadow-man, dancer in his own one man parade
illustrious actor of scenes very well played
self-appointed guard of illusory born flames
Jekyll and Hyde, ghost of dark veiled games.
Offering panacea, hope some may believe
master of the Three Card Monty, born to deceive
orator salivating charm and lying praise
devious trickster, painter of sordid malaise
words from a jackal mouthing malicious deceit
remorseless scammer, setting innocence's defeat!
Demonic liar, politician through and through
that boisterous showman, scamming both me and you!
Robert J. Lindley, 2-28-2020
Sonnet, ( When Truth And Candor Are Called For )
Modern politics reveal the blackest of deceptions
and arrogant deceit... a critical assessment...
~~ ~~ ~~
(2.)
From Wind In The Willows, To Shine From Stars Above
For all we are, and all we strive to be
tho' we in haste cross the bar, do we see
serenity, that which our hearts yet yearns
infinity- Time's eternal wheel turns
paradox, we see, we touch, and we feel
slaves in a box, each haggard breath we steal!
Hold dear life and this truth truly believe.
World wields devil's knife, as its dark deceives!
For all we are, does not Life its flow set
tho' we in haste cross the bar, yet we bet
more than we now hold, such a crying shame
soul man's, too oft sold, as if sordid game
a stumble, a path blinding one and all
accursed mumbles, groans down empty halls!
Hold dear life and this truth truly believe.
World wields devil's knife, as its dark deceives!
For all we are, can we ever this know
tho' we in haste cross the bar, ill wind blows
as our journeys wind through treacherous paths
we face evil and darkness's many wraths
calamities, daggers cutting in deep
realities, we are but lambs that sleep!
Hold dear life and this truth truly believe.
World wields devil's knife, as its dark deceives!
Robert J. Lindley, 2-28-2020
Rhyme, ( Plundering Depths That Life Too Oft Denies )
When a child if gifted with a book it transforms into a key to unlock the mind. The gate to the secret garden of imagination is pried from its forgiving hinges and the child is free to expand their imagination to galaxy proportions.
The simple pages of a book provide a passport for a passenger seat next to the likes of Captain Biggles in his Tibetan adventures to locate the forbidden city of Shangri Lah, or a magical flight to Neverland with Pan and the lost boys. Who knows how each “child’s mind’s eye will envisage the loathsome creature that is Mr Hyde or the demure Dr Jekyll?
It captures the heart of a parent to witness their young boy, lying on his bed, engrossed in the pages of Stevenson’s Kidnapped. His imaginings transform him into the character of David Balfour, fighting alongside the Jacobite rebel, Alan Stewart. Such a comforting vision is a young girl, lounging on the couch on a rain soaked winters afternoon, fanning through a copy of Anne of Green Gables, engrossed in the character of Anne Shirley, wishing to emulate her outgoing spirit and giving nature.
The abundant bread basket of literary expositions act as a conduit, unlocking a child’s ability to make judgements about morality, injustices and an understanding of consequences in decision making. All the while the simple act of quietly reading procures an incalculable and surreptitious response to education for a lifetime to come.
The nostalgic aroma of floral vanilla and almonds that emit from the pages of an old book invokes a sense of anticipation to the imaginary adventures about to be embarked upon, creating an atmosphere of ambivalence.
An implore to parents across the globe to leave the television set and so-called social media, bombarding a child’s mind like a tidal wave, leaving in its wake a desolate landscape of nothingness. Embrace the tactile feel of pages in hand, gently stroking the mind, embedding feelings of, wonder and imagination. Read to your children every day and encourage them to jamb their noses into literary masterpieces from the likes of Stevenson, Doyle, Dickens and many more worthy exponents that have stood the test of time.