Long Jeep Poems
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Schizophrenic tendencies
Stealing useless sh*t like a kleptomaniacal king
Laughing and tip toeing to the closet
While listening to the faucet drip
Freaking out my third eye blinking stunting your growth with a lean
Heavy petting in front of you
Sucks to think about you and actually think that I was thinking about letting you view
Drama setting developing characters steady sweating in a church corridor and sat down on the pew
Confessed a few horror stories and placed the priest in a matrix
Intelligently designed inside this hell's hatred
He cried and prayed as I snatched his soul and vaped it
There's no escapaping this
I'm being blamed framed about to get arrested in vain while they tape it
Look Mom I made it!
Walk a mile in my ASICS
Basic training
No negotiations
Guilt trippin on my laces
Remembered my cape and draped it over dead friends that became time wasted
Man I should've saved them
They always told me to go home
So I jumped off the deep end and waited
I'll eat you like a four course meal prepared and plated
I'm ing hungry
Spitting on you in front of me with a toxic venom developing a tongue disease
Better start to run from me
As I lunge with hands clung to a machete and swung at you hung from a tree
This sh*t is fun f*cking dumb b*tch punch you in the face and munched your c*nt for free
The f*ck you want from me?
Dan, drum roll please
Sum it up punch drunk stole your b*tch at the lunch truck five fingers linger the flavor of the week
Swinging at a country singer smiling inside my violent dream
Means my demons fire breathing heaving the heat
Call me the pretty b*tch leave your ass in the urn with burns from the third degree
Half cocked leaning against the wall throwing up queasy feelings mixed drinks 1,2, and 3
F*ck you and f*ck me then leave
Fall on your way out like that autumn leaf
Trippin on the broken sidewalk cracked under your feet
Deep sleep woke the weak dreams screaming for tweak
Leaped over your jeep and beat you with the meat cleaver stashed under the seat
Freaking the out inside an asylum for three weeks
Jeez it's freezing my body’s even seizing with heavy breathing strapped in a straight jacket teething
Lost in a controlled environment where everything that seems to be or seeming has no f*cking meaning
She is shadowed by fuzzy cobwebs of a morning without coffee,
while dust motes mingle with the mold of time.
Gazing out to the yard, through dingy glass, and fog,
into a dismal January, she hopes to catch a glimpse of the paper boy.
He travels through rain, sleet or snow, how could he understand,
(this teen-aged Paul Revere), that in this decrepit old house,
she is longing for a sign of youth? It has been a weary night, watching an old woman hang on by threads of life, that had worn thin years ago.
Watching and waiting, while cold winds blew and snow was falling,
and death was hoping to make a house call.
Any diversion, life being lived,... one brief eclipse of life in motion would be a relief.
To observe him toss the news into the sky like a Frisbee... not a care in the world
How would that feel...has she ever known? Has anyone ever been so young?
She thinks she may go mad with death and dying, with weariness, with waiting.
She suddenly shivers from a dreaded draft of frigid air, slithering in,
like a sneaky, uninvited ghost, slinking in around the rim.
nor'easter winds roll top shoe box...
splinter the silence.. -- debutante' caught in amber
a cataract view frozen sepia
Grabbing a handful of a thread-bare doily, she polishes the cold glass,
rubbing vigorously in circles against the grime,
making figure eights, in spite of frozen, stiff, fingers.
Satisfied, that she has a decent view of the blanketed yard,
and can see clearly where the muddy, gravel driveway,
bends gradually, curving to mate with the snow banked road,
at last, she spies the old Jeep coming, and watches with automated eyes,
yet, with some expectation, and strange excitement.
Then, as she might have guessed,
the teenager drives hurriedly by, barely slowing down, tossing the news,
and leaving her gaze and her thoughts, splattered by dark murky water,
while the slinging gravel that has been pitched into the sky, by his screeching tires,
falls like the pieces of the old woman's lonely life upon the pristine snow.
__________________________________________
For Deb's Contest: "Mix It Up"
"Sometimes miracles happen when you're least expecting them.
Quote by poet."
It was the week before Christmas; it was a cold, bright snowy day
Told the kids we'll go sledging; unaware a blizzard was on the way
They all got into my jeep, and on the roof I fastened the kid's sled
Then in the large trunk I secured, our Bernese mountain dog, Jed.
I drove carefully for about five miles to where there were steep hills
We were well wrapped up from head to toe, against the winter chills
The kids and even my wife took it in turns going downhill on the sled
Then with bone chilling winds the blizzard hit; it filled me with dread.
I thought we must go home now or we might struggle to get back
Others had the same idea and were already driving down the track
The family got in the jeep, but I noticed there was no panting sound
Nobody had noticed Jed was missing and he was nowhere around.
I told my wife to drive the kids home and I'd go and search for Jed
I waved them off but I had some foreboding thoughts in my head
The images in my mind as they drove off were of all the kids crying
And what if Jed had met with an accident and he was slowly dying.
I searched through the dense forest, but he was nowhere to be found
The light faded and was getting dark; fresh snow covered the ground
I'd resume the search first light tomorrow, after a good night's sleep
But I was concerned it would be quite risky if the snow was too deep.
I didn't sleep very much, and thankfully it had now stopped snowing
Then climbed out of my warm bed and told my wife where I was going
For nigh on five hours I looked everywhere, but finding Jed wasn't to be
I drove home feeling very depressed, wondering what I'd tell the family.
On Christmas Eve we walked to our local church for a carol service
The kids were sad and they weren't singing; I couldn't help but notice
About nine o'clock we headed off home, it was a clear but cold night
Everyone was real silent and I didn't know, how I could put things right
We walked up the long snow-covered pathway, to our house in the dark
Then out of nowhere our Jed bounded toward us and gave a loud bark.
Written on the 4th December 2023
The Bandits Rendezvous
By Franklin Price
9/1/2019
Once upon, a Far East time, in nineteen sixty eight
The GEEIA squad made history on a non-remembered date
The plan had come together to build a club house new
When it was completed, was named, “The Bandits Rendezvous”
All the parts, to build it, were scrounged from miles around
Taxpayers did not pay a dime to raise it from the ground
The name not given lightly when it opened on that day
At the south end of the squadron a base called Cam Ranh Bay
Our scrounger, whom I will not name, got a jeep, for quarts of rum
From a needy alcoholic, there were a few where we were from
Had it flown down to us, in a Hercules with space
Then drove it down to Phan Rang where another trade took place
The jeep was traded, for a truck,with wood to build the core
Some was traded to the Navy, who poured the concrete floor
Soon the walls were standing and the roof was on the top
But the inside of it barren, and,. for sure, we could not stop
The middle was an open bay. The ends were spacious rooms
We made them into places that were far from storage toombs
The south room had a large teak bar, flown from the Phillipines
The north a full blown kitchen, a place to cook our steak and beans.
Parachutes adorned the middle bay, to provide some ambience
When we had our first unveiling, brass was invited to the dance.
General McConnel came, he was the Air Force, Chief of Staff
Along came other Generals, not the lowly riff and raff.
Don't remember any congressmen, no congress ladies at the time
The drinks were flowing copiously for opening this crime
The General gave a rally speech that made us all so proud
It was in the early evening, we were a drunken, rowdy crowd
When the night was over, and I staggered to my rack
I marveled at the place we'd built, from our scrounger's useful nack
He was right there with us, was a pirate, having fun
In the club house, “Bandits Rendezvous”, when all was built and done.
That's my story, I have told it. That was fifty years ago
The statute of limitations, has run out, for all I know
It was all for entertainment, yes, was all this glitz and glam
It helped to be creative in that place called Viet Nam
Although yours truly modest,
the only personal issue
I will lightly boast about
constitutes lingering
self worthlessness bred
if not prior to first grade,
than most definitely incipient,
academic deadlines
loomed large with dread
and exacerbated by procrastination
quickly adopted as linchpin
damned obsessive compulsive
currents (i.e. thoughts) fed
modus operandi, which intricate
schema writ over lifetime invisible
within this talking head
who ironically enough
never uttered a beep
engendered from lack
of confidence, esteem,
somehow worthlessness,
insignificance,
emasculation, et cetera
took root, and didst leap
(axon to neuron)
and said mindset did seep
percolating into every nook,
and cranny comprising
aging shades, transformed
gray matter, sans this
beatle browed bummer, a deep
purple, though easily mistaken
for minuscule Uriah Heap,
or perhaps, ewe might notice,
(albeit while in a sheep
push disposition) similarities
between mine fist
sized thinker, and another creep
pee totally tubular Charles Dickens
character, or maybe
even a commercial
for nano bot sized jeep
grand Cherokee keep
up a moderate clip despite,
and/or because I
oft times feel a light
buzz sensation within me quite
average gummed up noggin
jammed numb skull,
(essentially barren aged
teenage wasteland recently
undergoing gentrification),
(yeah how really) excite
ting, a no brainer fright
fully glommed with peevish
gobbledygook plus worthless,
obsolete, and crammed academic right
hand busily twiddling, scribbling,
and sloppily drafting
error riddled assignments
deliberately failing heavily
marked with bright
colors adding oomph
to mental blight
punctuated by
attaining puny height
(...oh, about seventy inches),
nonetheless, my slight
physique and mute quiet
as a mouse, I might
as well hove been a stand in
for Charlie Brown right
down to the tree eating kite
good grief - never an ending fight
with Lucy, hence now this knight
in rusty armor forever
disparaged his might
and attests to
20/20 hind sight!
While traveling along an unfamiliar path
I was caught off guard by your beauty
I stopped the Jeep to get a closer look
But noticed The Master was still on duty
I pondered at your color and fullness
Wondering why you had not yet been enjoyed
But saw Him drawing near to me
So quickly moved on to be totally annoyed
He came after me because He saw my heart
And said I could not have you as my own
You belonged to another gardener
Who chose to let you shine…ALONE!
He said I could have any of the fruit
Bagged and ready for the taking
I acted uninterested and aloof
But He knew…..
I wanted to give that tree a good shaking
I woke up from my dream and found my heart
Faltering at the sight of you
Oh, to have plucked and tasted your flesh
To have touched your morning dew
To have squeezed you to emptiness
And drown in the fruit of your soul
Coward, cowardly I am
How could I just turn and let you go
You are my Sodom and Gomorrah
And I have become a Pillar of Salt
You are the pleasure I can no longer look upon
My wanderings have seized and I am the fault
If your member offends you
Pluck it out
I wished to God I could gouge out my eyes
I pant for your form
I long to peel away your layers
And sink me teeth in what my flesh denies
To be blinded
Would do me no good
For I have seen the fulfillment of my desire
Your time of plucking has passed
And you remain a treasure on her tree
But, I alone, hold the secret of your fire
I will work the land
I will put my hand to the soil
And grow the passion that has been awaken
I am a slave bound to work
For the fruit of my labor assigned to the sloth
But the oil of my heart will never be taken
Written by Trudy Schrader on 02-12-11
Note: I mixed this one up a bit. I hate making poetry behave. I want to see what the
message of my soul has to say. I can't do that if I stuff it in a frame and make it behave
in some form. I'm a verbal processor, so once I see what is going on in heart, I can deal
with the issue...and the last stanza sums it up. Sometimes intimacy isn't for the
enjoyment of the Love it produces but the passion that will produce more.
Author’s note: The following is in haibun form—poetic prose (microfiction with less than 200 words in this case) coupled with a haiku. It was written in response to a writing prompt to (re)tell a Christmas story in local (Michigan in this case) contemporary terms. Bronson Hospital is our local hospital, and deer are mystical creatures when encountered on foot in local parks but road hazards when encountered in vehicles at night. Indeed, we all have mystically tinged obstacles on our sacred/secular life journeys through the dark toward the light.
Journey of a Contemporary Joseph
By Mark D. Stucky
José suddenly brakes and swerves. The rusty Jeep barely misses the deer that had jumped onto the dark road and stared wide-eyed at the approaching lights. Fortunately, no other traffic obstacles slow the drive to Bronson Hospital…but he still fears the future since he and Maria have no insurance or documentation.
José feels jumpy-yet-paralyzed like that deer, haunted by fears about their long journey from their impoverished village. They had often felt unwelcome in this strange new land, but at least fewer people here were judgmental of an unwed pregnancy.
José shivers, partly from anxiety but mostly from the cold. His meager jacket hardly protects against freezing weather, conditions alien to his previous life. He reaches over and pulls the blanket up around Maria’s shoulders, and she smiles weakly. Maria murmurs to him that in spite of her discomfort and doubts in this time of trouble, she feels a miraculous peace of God, protecting them and promising a better life for their coming son. José glances at her and, for the first time in months, smiles too as he drives toward the lights ahead.
Journey of hopeful
pilgrimage into unknown
possibilities
(First published in Small Town Anthology VIII: Entries from the Eighth Annual Tournament of Writers, Vicksburg Cultural Arts Center, 2022, p. 161. Indeed, Jesus and his family left Bethlehem to become undocumented immigrants in Egypt to escape violence during his earliest years.)
(Image by Tomas Anunziata on Pexels.com.)
Inferiority complex viz mine (mien)
Although yours truly modest,
the only personal issue
I will lightly boast about
constitutes lingering
self worthlessness bred
if not prior to first grade,
than most definitely incipient,
academic deadlines
loomed large with dread
and exacerbated by procrastination
quickly adopted as linchpin
damned obsessive compulsive
currents (i.e. thoughts) fed
modus operandi, which intricate
schema writ over lifetime invisible
within this talking head
who ironically enough
never uttered a beep
engendered from lack
of confidence, esteem,
somehow worthlessness,
insignificance,
emasculation, et cetera
took root, and didst leap
(axon to neuron)
and said mindset did seep
percolating into every nook,
and cranny comprising
aging shades, transformed
gray matter, sans this
beatle browed bummer, a deep
purple, though easily mistaken
for minuscule Uriah Heep,
or perhaps, ewe might notice,
(albeit while in a sheep
push disposition) similarities
between mine fist
sized thinker, and another creep
pee totally tubular Charles Dickens
character, or maybe
even a commercial
for nanobot sized jeep
grand Cherokee keep
up a moderate clip despite,
and/or because I
oft times feel a light
buzz sensation within me quite
average gummed up noggin
jammed numb skull,
(essentially barren aged
teenage wasteland recently
undergoing gentrification),
(yeah how really) excite
ting, a no brainer fright
fully glommed with peevish
gobbledygook plus worthless,
obsolete, and crammed academic right
hand busily twiddling, scribbling,
and sloppily drafting
error riddled assignments
deliberately failing heavily
marked with bright
colors adding oomph
to mental blight
punctuated by
attaining puny height
(...oh, about seventy inches,
nonetheless, my slight
physique and mute quiet
as a mouse, I might
as well hove been a stand in
for Charlie Brown right
down to tree eating kite
good grief - never an ending fight
with Lucy, hence now this knight
in rusty armor forever
disparaged his might
and attests to
20/20 hindsight
analogous to Snoop doggy dog.
The ten fat mice
ate loads of rice,
with lots of spice
but then needed water with ice!
There was a snail
who lived in a green pail.
One day he got pricked by a nail
and that was the end of his tail!
Did you hear of the beautiful rat
Who sat boldly beside the cat.
Had a nice long chat
But then suddenly had her flat!
There was a silly old pig
who ate plant, tree and twig.
She loved to wear a jazzy wig
And for bones she would dig.
The lazy golden duck
Got stuck in the muck
But the kind goose turned his luck
And helped him out of it, unstuck!
The funny little red bug
Drank beer from the jug
And danced all over the mug,
Ended up giving his mom, a huge hug!
The smart silver seal
Didn't ever miss a meal
Of oranges and banana peel
And loved to balance on the wheel!
The two friends, dog and frog,
Would often go for a jog,
Chat and relax on the log,
Until they were chased by a stinky hog!
The beautiful little black fish
Would often twirl and swish.
To be a mermaid was her wish,
Alas she ended up as food in the man's dish.
The determined fawn
Worked from dusk to dawn.
Sat to sing to her friend the prawn,
Now she's sleepy and gives a big yawn!
The wonderful quail
Always delivered the mail
Be it snow or hail
As good as our email!
The white snake
Ate a white cake
Full of snow flake
and slept on the white rake!
You must know the stupid ant
Who climbed the dangerous plant.
Sat there in a prayer and chant,
Frightened she wet her long pant!
The super silly cock
Sat on the dock
To sing to the geese flock,
but ended up being a laughing stock!
There was a goat
who had a bloat
by eating the fox on the boat
But then she couldn't float!
The wolf pack
Had a sack
Full of ducks that quack.
Not for long, when came the panther black!
The sharp and clever spider
Drank all of his cider
Before he climbed into his glider
To become the fastest rider!
There was this sloth
That loved the brown moth.
They took a vow and oath
Got married they both!!
The drunk swine
Had tons of wine
But then fell on the porcupine
To prick and break his spine!
The black and white sheep
took a long leap
Over Mars in a jeep
But on the way they fell asleep!
timing is everything
pretty much anytime
anyhow anyplace
morning noon or evening
whatever the birth date
no matter the season
or how tight the G-string
victuals and drink
the chiefs of a good diet
this old woman could not be quiet
she wiped her clammy hands
on a mellow yellow chiffon dress
Circa 1959
timing is overdressed
always never again
maybe sometimes never thrice
the aging colors
of dusty dreams
invite us to frolic
but only briefly
now that it's technical
there are no more heroes
this old lady only waved
when she was yawning
where had her archives gone
into a lifetime of sea
timing is to blame
cooks faster than bacon
doesn't stop and carries a knife
hour after hour reaches out
blinds us to see
takes us half the way there
days tripping over rock stars
nothing is by accident
in adjoining rooms
that old lady never listened
had many years of unread messages
lost the keys to the Jeep
waited for the next available rep
timing held its breath
up-to-the-minute
it was no small matter
prior days posted
atop one another
stealing sunshine
never recoiling
yesterday at sundown
she crashed the ATV
this old lady lived to skål
joy rides at the speed of sound
backward and past the contrasts
always in a leopard pill-box hat
timing had meant everything
still in response to yesterday
it was no grand prize
a gray higgledy-piggledy shrub
below the tidal noise
standing in the doorway with poise
blocking the Entrance
that's what ^tiempo_ was
cowbells and castagnettes
this old lady kicked it
in an instant such as this
cursed by seasons of glare
life kissed her feet in recompense
timing and it's belongings
had paced past and present
and lasted but a moment
in the vestibule by the portal
there is a possessed clock
it stages lifetime shifts
every step you take up or down the staircase
days weeks months years decades
a life-span of keeping your eyes on it