Long Like butter Poems
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They’re tiny spells
Little glittering magic pills
A hidden superpower to chill
Press play and let the world uncoil
Slow motion thoughts melting
Like butter on warm steel
I reach into the pouch
Expecting the glow
The soft promise of everything’s fine
But my fingers scrape emptiness
Cold
Hollow
Exposed
Breathe slow…
A rollercoaster drops through my chest
Psychological gymnastics
Brain yelling, “No way that was the last one!”
Checking again, again, again…
As if a hidden gem might respawn like a bonus life
But the package stays hollow
No power pellets left
Just me
Raw mode
Remembering how to chill
Without the magic
Summer rains are beckoning
come outside, come play and sing
slip and slap, splish and splash
hear those raindrops falling fast!
Swing that old umbrella high
for now it is the time to fly!
Step in puddles, shoes get wet
live in the moment, no time to fret!
Simple rains do coax and tease
chasing childhood memories
swish and spatter, soak and splatter
no time to fuss, it doesn’t matter!
Spurt and sputter, clogged like butter
straying leaves clump and clutter
rain water rushes down a gutter
run fast away, no time to putter!
Golden leaf races wild, astray
down the pipe and towards the bay
chase that crazy leaf away
so glad I came outside today!
Written 9/9/2022
A spirit is what it is,
sharing yet selfish, starving yet sated,
a humble sky that can erupt into a hurricane,
can be an avalanche on the mountain of confidence,
it will be a maternal calm in a moment of marbled mania,
or shatter the laughter of happiness with the pompous scorn of suspicion,
This element of unapologetic adrenaline is magnetic,
tickles our tastes like a feather of silky sweetness,
shapes the clay of a body's cunning with lust lost in a thirsty lick,
bestows bravery on Jealousy and can make a fool of Devotion,
Destiny is the web of it's dance, Fate the funeral of it's expectations,
Designs dreams and shares tears with Death,
weddings and wars, crimes and kindness are famiar family,
Joy, the breakfast of it's youth,
Determination, the dragon of it's desire,
walks like weather too cool for sunshine
breathes like butter burnin in a salty simmer,
the only force known
to be capable of creation and destruction with equal ease,
Love is the name, Life is the game,
cinnamon on the breath of suspense -
J.A.B.
" The oven is set on three hundred and fifty degrees;
the box of the Pillsbury Yellow cake is still unopened, for George's sake,
the kids are in the living room munching on cheese,
who's going to make the perfect batter for Ricky's birthday cake? "
" If no one volunteers, turn off your iPods and put them away
and come to the kitchen to give a hand...isn't it somebody's birthday?
It would be nice to see one use the mixer, the other greasing the pan...
how many of your friends have you invited? I hope not more than ten! "
And giggling they exchange words, thinking I don't hear their whispering;
I was a teen once and know how they think, but today they won't be laughing!
Hurry, bake the yellow cake...we have only two hours left, they'll be coming soon!
" Mary set the table, everything must look fantastic! No, don't lick the spoon!
The door suddenly opens...twenty five teens come into view and say, " Surprise! "
Hundred of small balloons are released from their hands...their thrill rises.
" Good Heavens! Who are these kids with faces painted like circus clowns? "
Have you asked them to attend this party? Where are the real guests? "
Silence filled the aroma-filled kitchen as they looked downward with embarrassment,
" Are they here to crush your birthday party, Ricky...if they are they will get
a taste of my dough roller right now! " No, mom...they want to throw my birthday cake into my face! " " Have they told you so? Wait here, Ricky...I'll think of a trick."
" Hi, cuties...are you ready to have a cake fight? " Yeah, " was their answer.
" Let's do it...do you want to hear a big mommy's laughter when your eyes will burn? "
The smallest one in the group yelled, " The birthday cake had better taste good
or your red face will turn yellow! " " Little rascal, you'll churn like butter! "
In a second the whole house became a battleground... they hurled cupcakes,
cookies and candies, but they had forgotten about the cake in the oven.
Smoke came out of their ears and noses... mom laughed when they ran
outside as if they had seen a real ghost, " Run for your lives before my dog attacks! "
Yo Bro Sound It Out/Tony Adamo
Yo bro, you got to sound it out/ let the spoken words roll/ let yourself go/your words are in and out of the rhythm track/ It’s the downbeat groove/ man, hit that word vibe hard you’re in the jazzo frame of mind/ word speak with high energy kickin’ it to the crowd/let your spirit upload/ I see you be diggin’ on that modern tempo, sync it up tight to punk jazz punchy/ bringing fire to your words that last all night/lo-fi horn breaks that make your spoken words come alive/ you be doin’ it to it on that hipster speak ride/ abstract thinking blows their minds/hey bro, take it to the edge/ neo-soul, hip hop, house, RnB, and jazz/ that’s your backing tracks for the complex word rap arrangements that smokes out the house/ are you hip to the soul train dance line with that vinyl 45-style sound/Don Cornelius was king in the programing of his dance show/ the funky rhythm and soul textured magic made the music sing out loud/ acid jazz lines push the drive in your words/ I feel the pulse, I dig the feel of the break beat delivery popin’ from your spoken wheel of feel/ You even rap speak to the radio along with the 50s and 60s soul music past/ man, you are the real deal/chilled out boppin’ hip hop, you spread your words like butter on toast/ funk music samples dance from the DJ backing you on stage, man he is the most/ beat chops kicks the words flying off the mic in a rage/ spoken word in between dusty breaks filled with jazzy baselines/ your downtempo feel in breakin’ it down/ man, your words have sex appeal/ you have the low riders cruising through time/ car hoppin’ and dancing to your spoken word rhyme/ brother this is your time/ let the world hear your shout/ hey bro, you gots to sound it out/let the triplets of jazz words you speak/ crash against the soul jazz horn section on top of the hip hop instrumental free beat/ Yeah/ now you be MCing/
For what's it's worth, here's my recollection
Of my young years growing up in Canada in the 40s
Right off the bat, you may think the war years
Were difficult for me and my family
With rationing of food and the everyday necessities of life
I remember my dad dividing up our food in the pantry
And when we used up our share of a certain item like butter
Before the next allotment, we did without
This may sound difficult to believe
This is my recollection... but it wasn't that much of a hardship
This self-imposed rationing was a voluntary thing
No ration police breaking down our door to check us out
As a young lad, they were exciting times
The good guys against the bad guys
We were too young to realize this wasn't a game
People of all ages were dying horrible deaths
It all seemed so distant, so far away
Even though a couple of German U-Boats were detected
A far distant inland down the St. Lawrence River
My memory of that momentous day when both wars ended
Was an overwhelming feeling of joy and exultation
Passed down from the celebrating adults
We in Canada didn't have it bad
But let's all hope and pray that cooler heads prevail
And we don't have another one that could be a war to end all wars
A cataclysmic event so devastating
It would end life on earth as we know it!
© Jack Ellison 2014
Take all of me
I just want to be
The guy you want
That's not all I want
Take all of you
I just want you to see to it that you are beautiful too
I want you to be the girl who accepts herself
I want you to know that you're the boy who knows himself
Though we're on different shelves...
Though you are the Giants and I'm the Elves
There's no where to run or hide
When you're on the other side
I just wanted you to see
What it's like to be me
Ah yeah
Ah yeah
I guess I'm a passerby
I like you
I love you
I need you
I want you
Nervouscited
Held your hand throughout the years
Dear God and all, I'm delighted
To know that you all care about the shedding of my tears and the letting go of fretful fears
I hate that I love you so
I love that I hate you tho
I appreciate your presence...your bramazing excellence
My elegant essence...my ascending evanescence
I shutter and faint when I think of you
I melt like butter and I adore you too
Bang me like a drum
Drink me up like rum
I'm feeling insecure and numb...I'm the floor gum
Because someone made me feel worthless dumb
Take a minute, take a break a bit
To take all of you
Divide it by me as you think there and sit
It equals a number so true
Take all of me
Times it by three
You get an angel from the Lord
An angel of pure accord, never once fought with the sin sword
No matter the subject or topic
tho' it may burn will I ever learn
would it hurt if my lips were to close
as whatever I submit suggest propose
she will be myopic
nay-say gainsay contradict oppose
may as well hold my breath
as every word I utter
receives the kiss of death
and melts in my mouth like butter
should I assert it's what she does it's her wont
'No I don't,' is her depiction
in contentious rebuttal
thereby confirming my conviction
and morning noon and night
she'd like to be I'll also mention
tho' none too subtle
the epicentre of my attention
is it a female thing or only her compulsion
for at the end of the day
it's not the last word she wants
it's the final say
I’ve loved and I’ve been hurt.
I want love, but I’m scared to start over.
Is it possible? Do you really think this is gonna work?
Is it based on luck? Should I look for a four leaf clover?
Can I avoid the same pain I’ve felt before?
With love, must I always get hurt?
Is this way too much? The genuine love, that I’m looking for?
I’m tired of always being on my toes, always having to stay alert.
Maybe I’m being too forward, but I’ll say it anyway.
From the moment we first spoke, I think I already knew.
I like you, more and more every day.
I want with you, a love that’s completely brand new.
Maybe you’ll promise me that you’ll never hurt me,
And my heart will believe you.
My mind will know hurt is still a possibility
Maybe you know that too.
When you tell me your “feelings”
Those damn butterflies in my stomach do nothing but flutter.
And You might not know this, but when you say those sweet things,
Oh man, my body it melts real quick like butter.
I want you, I want you to be all mine.
I never want this feeling to end.
I want you by my side all the time.
I hope that all of this isn’t just pretend.
I want this to be something real.
And I won’t let this die like the love I’ve felt for others.
I want it all to be true, Everything you tell me you feel.
I can love you more than your own mother.
So, I’m going to give this a try.
And I pray it doesn’t all end up a lie.
If I were a lamb,
I would be a favourite of the priest's.
I, being so docile and so sweet,
Would hold very still when they loop the rope
Around my neck. And then I would trot
So happily along, with no need for encouragement—
All the way to the altar, I would trot
With the rope constricted around my neck.
They do not have to tie me down; I will do all the work
For them, and I will perhaps bleat once or twice
But I lie ever so silent and still.
My limbs are so soft that the knife is met with no resistance
As it cuts through them like butter. I bleed so prettily
All over my new, white wool
That I can tell the priest holds pride.
I am exultant for my guts to unspool,
Like the most beautiful shining silk you ever did see—
And within my eyes there is no pain; they hold no
Accusation: they are just animal and dumb.
When I die, I do not stay away for long:
I am then a lamb again, with a thick, woollen coat—
And how the priest does love me so
That, for the sacrifice, I am picked again.
He loves to stroke me and touch my gentle limbs
As I am all his to love. The knife and I, we are friends:
So, when the time comes, I hold very still
As they wrap the rope around my neck,
And proceed to kiss me through the cold metal of the knife—
So intimate; so loving. I bleed all for them.
How delicately upon the wooden floor
My dead body lies.