Long Kicked out Poems
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Everyone he had loved or loved him was now long gone.
From New York City and down to the south of Rome;
From Eastern Europe to Alaska in the city of Nome;
For most of his life, from pillow to post, he had roamed.
He 'd lived in many places and spaces few had ever known.
For long he wandered near and far, forgetting his real home.
Perhaps he was looking for love to free him from being alone.
With different colored socks and two right shoes;
With a purple right glove to break all the rules;
With tattoo on his forehead and a ring-pierced nose;
With never a fail, he had flowers, and his favorite was rose.
With one left gold ear ring, and one right silver ear ring;
With knee-out pants and torn shirt, he took the mic to sing'.
With a red backward cap, turned inside out, and a red eye-patch to match,
he pulled out a cigarette for a few puffs, but could not find a liter or a match.
The crowd was aghast that one like him was able to get past the door man.
He wasted no time trying to explain, realizing they would never understand.
They looked down on him, hoping he wasn't a criminal, threatening danger.
He was tired, broke, hungry, homeless, and just a drifting harmless stranger.
They looked him over from head to toe, evaluating weight, height, and size.
Although he was not, they never considered he might be an angel in disguise.
He said, "I am a poor old stranger from Kobacah, and my name is Sitruc.
Very hastily, a he-man security guy took the mic and handled him rough.
As he was being kicked out, he told them that they just missed a great show,
and that he was sorry that they had to settle for a local guy named Joe.
As he gathered himself and reset his rose, Sitruc took one last look.
He then found a bench and took more notes for his first book.
As I awaked from my dream about a vagabond,
I felt as if I had run a marathon.
082121PSCtest, Vagabond Dreams, Craig Cornish
Have you ever, met a woman before?
Yes have you ever, loved a woman before?
You wake up and see her, and run out the door
That’s my woman, that’s my strife, that’s my wife
I met my woman in a pub
Yes, met my woman in a pub
Only woman kicked out the ugly club
That’s my woman, that’s my strife, that’s my wife
She’s never been kissed by a boy
Yes never been kissed by a boy
You’ll feel compassion for her abused sex toy
That’s my woman, that’s my strife, that’s my wife
Chorus:
That’s my woman, that’s my strife, that’s my wife
You know marrying her has ruined my life
But I love her, I love her so
Kicked out of a theater for the twenty-sixth time,
the owner suggested to the highest building in town they should climb.
From there, throw yourselves down to the street.
Their act was considered both putrid and effete.
It was discovered three beautiful women also came.
Hilda, Wilda, and Tilda they were called by name.
These girls didn’t seem to have anything to hide.
In a similar situation, they contemplated suicide.
As all six of them were ready to go,
there was somebody mysteriously playing a piano.
The man playing the instrument was a millionaire.
He often played in isolation in the open rooftop air.
The man thought this sextet had talent that was not bad.
He hired all of them to star in a musical that he had.
However, the stooges and female company once again tasted defeat.
The man was insane and bound for Dr. Dippy’s Retreat.
Based on the Columbia Pictures short subject “Rhythm and Weep” starring the Three Stooges.
Do you know what it’s like
To be required no more,
To be put out to grass,
To be kicked out the door,
To know your work’s ended,
No more will be done,
To be slung on the tip,
Pushed aside by the young,
To be pensioned off
In an unceremonious way,
To know you’ve had yours,
Every dog has its day,
To have an appetite for work,
But be left to hunger,
To be replaced by someone
Less able but younger,
To be told you’re too old,
When you feel in your prime,
To be sent on your bike,
Before it’s your time,
To be all washed up
And flushed down the drain,
To have no physical wounds,
But still be in pain,
To feel your age,
Find you’re no Peter Pan,
To see your life going
No longer to plan,
To recall when you felt rich,
But now you feel poor,
To hear your heart slowly pumping,
Alas’ it races no more,
To experience an emptiness
That nothing will fill,
To have no medical symptoms,
But still feel ill,
To be out of control
Of your own destiny,
To be constantly asking
Why me ... why me?
I decided to go to the store one more time.
I was going to pay.
It’s the same life that was left over for me.
Like ice cream in the back of the freezer.
I had woken up early that day.
I wish the corner store sold flowers.
I’m ashamed.
I decided to go to the store one more time, one more time.
To pick up some pop from the fridge.
One more time.
My wallet is empty.
I could pick wildflowers.
Or steal dead ones from the graveyard.
Which have wildly different connotations.
Either way.
I wish I could pay.
Kicked out of the store.
Going to the graveyard door.
Wildflowers are free.
But not good enough for me.
I’d rather eat decay.
After waking up early today.
No-one Believed in Me at school
Kicked out of school at 16
Worked like a dog to make my future
Worked in things that weren’t my setting
Not worth my time
The stupid idiots at school made my life like cries in my eyes
I haven’t forgiven them in nearly 10 years
Always remembering
The bullies
The teachers who put me down
Who spoke to me like I was dirt
Who were racist
I worked for 4 years
Made a life at an early age
Then it happened
Something exploded
Do you see me now fools
I am higher than you
You envy me
The people who bullied me once
Look at me
Envy me
They looked down on me
I am higher than them
They will never forgive themselves
While deep inside I never forget
I can’t let go
I am seriously ill
One day I’ll be higher than all of you
I can one day leave this void that has been separating me from my loved ones with your guilt.
Form:
This is the story of the frog, the bee, the spider and the mouse
They decided to become roommates and purchase a small house.
First the bee got kicked out, and he began to grouse
They are unfair to bees, especially that danged mouse!
The next one out the door and off the lease was the mouse of course.
He called up his cousin and said “the frog was the source!
Frogs always have it out for me, he told his cousin.
I wish I could stomp on them by the dozen.”
The last one to go was the spider, kicked out by the frog.
He found a marvelous new place inside a log.
He hid inside it for days because of a big black dog.
Now the house is inhabited by only one selfish frog.
In the cold tub, at ten-thirty in the morning, I float like a wreck after a week of drinking and gambling,
My body trembles, my mind is a dense fog, when suddenly the phone rings like a bell in an empty church.
A young voice, a folk singer, tells me she has kicked out her boyfriend, his clothes flying out the window like lost birds,
I explain the cycle of love, a mad carousel of closeness and separation, a song endlessly repeating in the heart of time.
She asks if I want to hear her new song, and I, naked and wet, sit on the edge of the couch like on the edge of life's abyss,
My thoughts are as dirty as the bathwater, but I laugh at her funny lyrics, an old and tired clown's mask.
I tell her I like it, a white lie like the foam of the whiskey I later swallow, an antidote for my poisoned soul,
I promise to keep in touch, but the words are as empty as my pockets after a day at the racetrack, where luck deserted me again.
Six hours later, I am poorer by five hundred dollars, the money evaporated like my hopes for a better future,
I approach the phone, a tempting serpent of communication, but I leave it untouched, no one wants to hear a loser’s complaints.
The radio plays a sad song, the perfect mirror of my weary soul, defeated by my own inner demons,
The darkness of the bedroom swallows me, and I sink into it like a sea of regrets and madness, a castaway of my own life.
I lie in bed and stare into the void, lost in the labyrinth of my own mind, a Minotaur trapped in his own chaotic creation,
The thoughts spin like racehorses on an infinite racetrack, without a winner, without an end, just an eternal and futile race.
I am once again madly bound, caught between the walls of harsh reality and shattered dreams, a prisoner of my own choices,
A poet of despair, a singer of failure, a master of self-destruction in this crazy world that spins without me.
It’s rather odd
That I woke up pretty early this Saturday morning
It’s rather odd
That I awoke from my indescribable dream, filled with mysteries
It’s somewhat peculiar
That I enjoy being a teenager—now I could do whatever I want and when I want!
But that’s selfish of me, huh? Ha-ha like I care…psh!
It’s rather alarming
That I awoke from a motivating dream without the alarm going off
But that was only a coincidence…I think!
It’s rather startling
That I aced a test in my Algebra 1 class and…
Yet I failed the class miserably…so I have to take Algebra over again! GREEAT!
It’s rather startling
That I faced my past fears and…
Now I don’t appear to look like a fool anymore…or do I?
My startling moment was
When I noticed that I had an acting talent!
My startling moment was
When I noticed I had a writing ability too…
My startling moment was
When I composed my own song—now that’s awesome!
My startling moment was
When I heard that my brother was going to be kicked out of the house!
My startling moment was
When I did my piano practice on my own—now that’s tricky!
My startling moment was
When I noticed that I had suicidal thoughts…
I had horrible experiences while facing this problem…DX
My last startling moment was…
Uhh, I totally forgot…
What was my last startling moment if you know?
Oh!! I know! I know!
When I first created my main characters in my future trilogy! ?
What would happen if raisins, ate ants?
And if sugar took nectar from bees;
What would happen if my reality, were to cease...
What would happen if clothing are moths?
And GPS and google got.. lost;
Genocide, and apple pies
Makes us diabetic
You got this!
What would happen if the sun melted the earth?
What would happen if Lucifer got saved..
you know real salvation...
Well it's to late for him
He's been kicked out of heaven,
Now he's here on earth..condemn and lost
What would the heathen do?
What will the sinners choose?
Life or Death, all that's left;
You got this!
Not to late for you, what will you choose?
Why? don't you understand;
the devil played his last hand;
Eternal Life or Bereavement
Heaven or Hell???
5/28/19
written by James Edward Lee Sr.2019©