Long Lights out Poems
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It was late in the afternoon, it must of been about an hour that I had arrived
As I took the first step into the facility already I felt my body overwhelmed by chills
I stripped to the nude, and I felt as if the scene had touched me all over, their sight belittled me
I stood wearing nothing, eyes set their sight upon me, for they saw a criminal with no heart
They made me dress in orange
Full jump suit and feather-light slippers
I was escorted to my cell
Upon arrival I met my cell mate, Peter
The walls seemed to take life and spoke
Words of death I came to understand, and I feared for my mind
Insane I was going, for I began to hear voices of sorrow and broken hearts
The walls caved in almost and I felt death's grasp on my back
The clock ticked and ticked, every second seemed to turn into hours
Locked up where no where to go I recalled all of my fair memories
When the sun once caressed my face, lips and dreams
An animal I had become for nothing mattered behind those bars
"Lights out" and my heart grew weak
Not knowing of how to react, I began to see death as an answer
For if I died I would not have to live as a caged animal
Dark, lights had been out for an hour and again my eyes betrayed me
I saw thousands of spirits walking the empty halls
A million snoring souls slept
It smelled like death was walking among the spirits of the deceased
An awful sight, and I was trapped in it for the next 15 years
It was now the next day and I stood inline for food
Color was all inside
Brown I am for that was my ticket to group
Called horrible things, same sex predators all savored to my soft face
It was shower time and I grew in very much fear
As 100 men walked in nude to shower
I fresh meat
I couldn't bare it, so I entered not
I met my cell mate again in the recreation room
And all was learned
I was to be jumped in
And if I lived I would be graduation day
The clocked ticked it was again 7:45pm
My heart was beating really slow now
The men came into my cell with chains and bats
Guards stood idly by to my screams of fear
I saw a bright light in all the blows I was taking
I was drowning in my own blood
An angels hand took me out of my body
The clock ticked 8pm, may I rest in peace
Lights out, lights out!in the run about, the critte
rs flee to me. Storm, blazing lightening, air too w
arm My friends with fur feel a curse On the wi
nd- a sense of berzerk Huddling together, kit
ty close for good measure Ozone green, bir
ds stop the preen Feels like a train is
gliding by, so close nigh Rumble the
ground before the sound The animal
s knew-I had no clue. we shudder
in this shack back to back. A -
growl here, a hiss there, out
A banshee on the wind, mak
es me want to flee Ye
t the TWISTER keeps
us here, shaking me
nagerie Slamming ra
in above our h
eads- Oh the d
read! Here we
must stay
- as buildings
rock and sw
ay Perha
ps
- for
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es
t
of
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Copyright 2014 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
POETIC LYRICS BY THOMAS L.H. ANDRESS
Dedicated to EVERY AND ALL MELISSAS, ELIAS' & MATILDA'S!
(BANGING IT TO THE MAX!)
(HILLARY AND BARRY...2016...PEANUTS & BRITTLE!)
NIGHTS...OUT...My-Time-is-OUT!
My-Light...is-OUT...He-was-a-lousy-LOUT!
In-my-lousy-NIGHT-OUT...My-Poster's-STROBING!
LIGHTS-OUT...AND-STROBING!
FLASHING-AND-DASHING...He-was-a-lousy-LOUT!
If-crystal-smiles...CRACK...He-was-a-lousy-LOUT!
If-teeth-don't-SQUEEZE-RIGHT...HE-WAS-A-CROOK
AND-CROOKED!
If-crystal-smiles...CRACK...He-was-a-lousy-LOUT!
You-wonder-AND-DOUBT...Are-you-SMART-or-DUMB
AND-A-LOUT?
I'M-SMART...AND-YET-YOU-DOUBT!
He-said-WONG-ing-And-WRONGING-BRING-DOUBT
SO-PEN-RIGHT...AND-DON'T-DOUBT!
He-was-a-lousy-LOUT!
A-CROOK-TO-THE-MAX...AND-A-LOUT!
CONNING...to-the-MAX!
LIKE...A-MAD-MAX...SO-DON'T-DOUBT!
If-TOOTHY-GRINS...SPIN-YOU-RIGHT-TO-WRONG!
DON'T-DOUBT...He-was-only-a-lousy-LOUT!
In-the-howling-BLUE-STARLIT-CRACK-OF-LIGHT!
BURSTING-and-SPINNING-TO-THE-RIGHT-TO-LEFT!
BLUE-LIGHT!
And-when-I-awoke...toothy-grins...and-smily-faces
MY-SISTERS...TOOTHY-GRINS!
MY-SISTERS...IN-TOOTHY-GRINS...AND-PINKY-TOES!
Dancing-in-the-BLUE-LIGHT!
POSTERS-BLAZING...AND-DAZING!
SMILING-FACES...AND-TOOTHY-GRINS...ALL!
OUR-WALLS!
AND-BLUE-LIGHTS...AND-STROBES!
ORBS-OF-OUR-HOPES-AND-DREAMS!
If-you-wonder-and-DOUBT...Our-Boxes...OF-TOYS-BRING...GRINS!
TOOTHY-and-TOOTHLESS!
THE-BEASTS-IN-THE-HOWLING-AND-WINDLESS...SWIRLING
'NADOES...IN-THE-PUREST...HOPES-AND-DREAMS!
OUR-BOXES...OF-OUR-HEARTS...DREAMING-AND-SCHEMING!
HOPES-AND-DREAMS...STORED-RIGHT!
RIGHT-TO-LEFT...AND...LEFT-TO-RIGHT...SPUN-RIGHT!
SWIRLING-AND-TWIRLING...BURSTING-AND-BIRTHING!
When...MOM-AND-DAD...POPS!
It-was...CRYSTAL...and-POP!
'NANAS...AND-CRUMBLY...CAKE...AGAIN?!?!
SCHOOL'S...OUT!
LIGHTS-OUT!
YAY!
YAY!
NO-WAY! NO-WAY!
AND-WITH-OUT-PINKY-TOES-AND-PINKY...JUMPS-TA-START!
CRYSTAL-BLUE...STARLIGHT!
CRYSTAL-BLUE...STARLIGHT!
LIGHTS-ARE-OUT!
LIGHTS-ARE-OUT!
STROBING...AND-STROBING! CRYSTAL-BLUE-STARNIGHTS!
STROBING...AND-STROBING! CRYSTAL-BLUE-STARNIGHTS!
FINI--------------------------------------------------------FINI!!!
"Possums on the Run - Part 3"
Collecting cut
silver blue grass
carries garbage bags
green-ant bites, no siree,
this aint fun.
Stand guard, he’s the
lawn mower Pope
(she laughs)
on his ever vigilant run.
Look on him with sadness
Look on him with Love
“one less mouth to feed”,
she thinks,
“best to run run run”.
What could have been
lies under Palm, Pinaroo
buried under rain and Sun
never coming home…
He’s a roll your own man
sits on the back step
watching the setting sun
dark indigo shooting star sparkles
gecko changing colour on the wall
Fruit Bat squeals
hissing Bush Rat runs.
He’s thinking, “make
the lawn safer
ruddy trapdoor spiders,
poor piping hot water
down the holes
cover with dirt.
That’ll kill 'em,
stop the effers
before they bite ‘n hurt.”
Takes a sip of hot black Tea
gets up to iron the school shirts.
Sunday becomes Monday
becomes Tuesday bleeds
into remaining days
like Autumn leaves into
Winter trees bare barren branches
of each week, this is his life
these days his ever dwindling
seeds of memories.
What purpose day in day out
he is screaming on the inside
no where to voice it, no one to
share his Black Dog bouts.
“Make sure the table’s set for breakfast
and all the doors are locked girl,
before you turn the lights out”.
And you think,
“Is this all there is?”
You look through the windows
outside into the dark
along the fence
possums are running,
You think,
“Run Possums Run”.
Lynette, Linnet
a small bird, goddess, idol
ever golden burning Pheonix
on your shoulders
sings her fading song
“lovely child please,
never ever forget”
(Lovejoy-Burton/2018 Jan)
All 4 parts of "Possums on the Run" dedicated to an honourable man, an extremely courageous man, who served in both Royal Australian Army (first regiment into Vietnam) and Royal Australian Airforce, who lost his wife to cancer (32 yrs) and raised three girls on his own. This man was all about speaking his "TRUTH" and standing firm by what he believed in, my father V.C. (Peter) Burton.
1. T-Rex/Cosmic Dancer
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v5pw8BNPn6U
Window Teacher
by Odin Roark
As teacher
She was petite
Unassuming
Framed in layered paint
No make-up on her
Save occasional steam facials
Winter cold
Apartment hot
Patiently she granted access
Permitting learning through her
Worn but faithful eyes
Rectangular lenses
Forever dilated for 24/7 study
Across the street
Other windows
Same opportunity
Different lessons
Pulled blinds
Hiding fear
Glass with cracks
Glass turned cardboard
Innocent children
Faces of confusion
Above the street
Pigeon-lined roofs
Poised like sentinels
Destiny marking time
Standing guard
Here yesterday
Today
Tomorrow
Below the street
Tunnel-sounds of motion
Fathers
Mothers
Singles
Junkies
Suits
All riding to anywhere
But here
Down on the street
Few pedestrians
Some exploring a dumpster’s overflow
Dollar Store breakage
Bodega fast-food wrappings
Liquor store sadness
Nighttime festivities of the block
Broken bottles as glitter
Wet and dry
Dead or alive
Kicked
Smashed
Stacked
Bagged
Forgotten garbage
A growing city’s collateral damage
Beneath my building
Express train speeding
Rattling eyes of my teacher
Time for school
Real school
The kind only un-papered immigrants know
Learning what textbooks cannot teach
For you have to be blessed
With a window like mine
The glassed portal to what harsh reality
Bestows on many
Here where there is no graduation
No cap and gown celebration
Or Mom and dad accolades
No sweetheart promises forever
Only survival
And for the window-school drop outs…
A future of smaller classrooms
The kind with no willing and generous
Window teachers
The kind with bars to the outside
Where all the garbage walks the yard
Where subway vibrations become
Steel Sliding
Locking doors
Torturous echoes
Before lights out
Memories become dreams
In these dark classrooms
Where fear laden eyes
Once behind windows to the outside
Now reside in solitary regret
To return to condensation on glass
As the only obstacle to learning
To be free of eyes forever moist and blurry
Clouding remembrances
Of the petite unassuming window
Framed in glorious layers of paint
Oh…if only to return
Does This Make Sense?
Some will find they’re at odds with opinions expressed
here, call me to account, but I color all friends
who remain in the room! When your feelings are hurt -
if your heart’s to forgive, will’s to clear each impasse,
joy’s to act in a way that shows warmth to some rhymes
(till the end of life’s breath), that expand who I am
(though blood slips bounds of banks), I aspire to that rock
as I climb from life’s beach, clear my vision of clouds,
and join aspect of stars that are light-years away.
Is perfection a reason that love gets confessed
or observed? Who dreams pearls (fools sign worth - fashion trends)
all command such an arc (this sad question’s too curt?)
when their fossilized curves serve to compost morass
at bays’ bottoms with oysters whose housing sublimes
to time’s sandstone? Is fruit from a poisoned exam
(that one cheats on) all ‘Love’ is? You need to take stock
if you think you’re not fool to believe you best crowds
of those wiser than you, aren’t Cro Magnon cliché.
Are genetics we own plus or stain on (God’s?) path?
Ours a toehold, a second (from life’s first veneer
through the moment we’re in) if earth’s hour is one day,
our whole galaxy’s fatuous footnote, a tag
in the grand scheme of things! And we’re plum in God’s eye?
Did the dinosaurs sin to imagine God’s Grace
was theirs too in the millions of years they held reign?
God! One day all got stoned! Did they brag they were clay
formed, a likeness of God that He kissed with life’s breath?
Some may claim that “The one thing I’m sure of is death,”
but they’re kidding themselves. Our acts can’t earn their way!
“Souls are real!” “Death is real!” Both aspire to less pain,
but ‘Lights Out’ is a window our fingers can’t trace.
It’s in ‘faith’ all approach to greet exit and try.
Does the Atheist go to his fate smoking f*g?
Do Believers who die win gold rings in some way?
Do Agnostics escape faith who think truth’s most dear?
May God’s Justice get served, steeped in Grace, not earned wrath!
Brian Johnston
7th of March in 2021
The particular part of the yard he was fixated on was pea gravel and sand. He had a twig
in his right hand, and was drawing a face, “What are drawing?” I asked, “An angel” he
replied. “I see. Nice work, where did you learn to draw like that?” I don’t know why I
asked, but something was comforting in the conversation. “I’m not drawing…it’s called sand
script.” I didn’t correct him, as I thought he was trying to impress me with a big word,
but I chuckled inside-I swear, I never showed even a grin. He sharply turned and looked at
me and said, not Sanskrit…do I look Hindu to you?” He seemed annoyed, like I was talking
down to him-maybe I was-- so changed the tone I used. I said, “What is sand script?” “It’s
drawing angels.” “You’re drawing an Angel?” “Yes-- Yours.” “Oh I see. Can I watch or are
you done?” “I don’t care, go ‘head – no I’m not done” he said as if irritated by my
question. As I watched him drawing with this piece of twig, I noticed a face, quite
familiar. I was impressed as he moved the gravel around, the way his lines raised and sunk
to create an almost real figure of a man. He kept drawing and was working down to a neck,
when I asked. “You don’t mind me watching do you? I can move along if you’re bothered.” He
replied “no, it’s for you.” I couldn’t help but giggle a little as I asked “It is? How did
you know I’d be here this moment tonight?” He replied, “I know you.” “I’m sorry, you know
me? I guess I’ve not noticed, I’ve never seen you before-do you live here?” “Do I look
like I live here?” the man was quite curt. “I don’t know, I’m just trying to figure out
how you know me, and that I’d be walking here tonight.” “Your angel told me.” He spoke
softly this time, humbled in his tone. “Your angel has been talking to me for a long time.
It took me awhile to get here.” I didn’t say anything. “I see angels, and they talk to me.
Yours told me I needed to share a message with you. Darn thing’s been annoying the livin’
day lights out of me for weeks. You know I walked here, all the way from Raton?” “Raton
New Mexico!?” I asked truly aghast.
Her mocking salutation in salute.
Sudsing down your brains drawingboard in a victoriously ill repute.
Nature's pendulum holds you in it's dungeoness pattern of holding, then you go down it's chute.
Hell's guillotine greased, oiled,
sparkling it's grinning teeth bare,
waiting to have you.
At an altar of self sacrifice,
to the taste willing flesh- au pair.
Hands thrown to the four winds, and you down her stares.
Tripping while galking at her balcony.
Every which way you roll in the dis gust.
Whispering sorrow across the Glade.
Comes that silvery voice in alchemy.
Across the fortress, under seige that no longer serves as your own, but betrays in mutiny.
Conscience, erased clean, washed to arrays of vacancy, vagrancy, shift phased,
beamed, deemed, worthily-unworthy.
But chosen just the same.
A frozen mural of the living.
Ignoring perditions telltale signs.
It's propriety flashing in a neon haze.
Emergency.
Lights out.
Divergence.
True colors bleed.
In the ritual that brings a nightcap on the
remains, of the day-
That fell against the dusk-
Beneath the shadows of lights cusp.
The repose that lies unrebuked in between-half lifes and sinew.
Half full of temptations brew.
Whole mind to be punched drunk.
Shenanigans to ensue.
The undeads morphine pushing Angel.
Karma Sutra supernatural instructor
of compromising positions of mortal danger.
Too much for you proofed.
Her nails painted quaint,
and tender while tenderizing you in hellfires tinder;rotisserie spit
the choke, the ribbing in the
private joke;
The masterstroke, of sparkling sway, taking away care, caresses
for play.
Sugar cube down in her fairey gleeming's; melting into the half empty cup of
silver stomached linings, a slivered casket in the red district on display.
With silver bullet pan flash with
no cares handling.
Fondling, her cashed in-massaging in her squeeze;
spits in your eyes, takes what is clear- in front of you unto blackened fade from audacity; a sidewinder
of curvaceous sleaze.
Spellbinder.
Rosemary's Bed
Maylands Salvation Army, Girls' Home
I am in the entrance foyer of a large house.
The wood floor is highly polished.
There is a large stairway with a turned, wood bannister.
Dad is telling my three year old sister and me
that we must stay here because
he has to work and can't take care of us.
Mum has gone away somewhere.
THE MATRON takes our suitcases and *smiles* at us
instructs us to, "come with her".
Dad says, "he will come and visit us every Sunday".
I am taken to a dormitory and told which bed will be mine.
The bed on the other side of the fire place
belongs to Rosemary.
Our beds skirt, either side of a fireplace
that is midway along the wall, with rows
of beds on each side of it,
as well as opposite,
twenty beds in all.
At the end of the room is an alcove with a curved bay window.
There is a bed there, all by itself.
I can remember being so scared in this room.
The older girls told me, "there is a man with an elastic arm"
who lives on the roof
and, "he can reach down the chimney and grab you".
Although I didn't really believe it, a few nights later,
we were all woken by a piercing scream.
THE MATRON came down to investigate.
The girl who slept in the bay window bed, said,
" a man with a monkey's face" jumped on my bed.
THE MATRON searched everywhere inside and out -
we saw her flash light beam- out there in the darkness-
her report was, " it was nothing." -
probably one of the cats that lived in the wood pile.
I always had trouble sleeping after that
and after lights out -
although it was strictly forbidden -
I would creep across and climb
into Rosemary's bed.
Although her bed was an equal distance
from the fireplace as mine
the human warmth and contact made me feel safe
against unknown forces of the night.
I slept on the edge of nightmares until, finally
I left that place.
Suzanne Delaney
From- Rememberances of an 8 year Old.
For Frank H..... I recall.....Contest
His eyes were wild with angry
He roughly shoved her out of the vehicle
I froze, terrified
Her life was in danger
Or was it my life in danger
Our lives where in danger
She was begging for mercy
Once the love of her life,
Now a merciless monster.
Once the beloved father to her child,
Now a furious stranger
We didnt deserve that.
From the roadside l fought with her
I couldn't lose again
Strength failing, panic taking over
I froze, terrified
I couldn't save myself
She can't save herself
We can't save ourselves
The buildings just towered over
Why not fall on us and bring an end to this?
The ground stood its ground,
Why not open and swallow us up?
Even the birds turned a blind eye
With no help in sight..
It all came crashing down
Seems like a terrible dream now
The flashbacks have rested their case
The bruises are gone,
The scars have faded,
Memories erased.
Seasons and years have done it,
That which couldn't be done quicker.
The shadow of fear is not recognisable any more.
The harsh tone in the voice
Doesn't move me anymore.
The threatening look on his face
Doesn't scare me anymore
My eyes dont shine with tears at this anymore.
The fire of anger in them is enough to tell him,
I am a different person.
Strong but not masculine.
I square my shoulders and hold my head high.
I look him straight in the eye
Without any sense of apology.
I am the heroine,
The lioness he crafted
And will never be able to touch again
This bold character in the once feeble me,
Scares the day lights out of him.
My hands maybe shaky
But my knees won't give in.
Armed to the core,
The degrading words bounce off
Some shatter and fall,
There is no route to my being for such
I got my power back,
No one is going take it away from me.
Time to shortchange myself
Is what l don't have
I will not relive the moment
All shame is wiped away
Beauty for ashes