Long One foot in the grave Poems
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Guess who just had a baby
Then hearing about another death of a celebrity
Say hello to a group of friends
But look down and see I’m mute again
So Put in my password and username
But everyone logs into a different game
What? Am I the shadow?
Just An upvote, a like? Part of a brand?
Yes, please let me buy that
No wait. What the hell! This aint Only-Fans!
Fantasizes, as the water pressurizes and the temperature rises
A frog won’t sit still, neither will I.
But when I say "[redacted]" no one bats an eye
Unless you’re one foot in the grave, 'bout to die
Instead, if I say "suicide," they all cry, “It’s unalive!”
Screw it. The shadow you knew is dead
That being said, ”[redacted] this, and [redacted] all of you.“
You expect me ‘cause I’m taller
To reach for that ‘cause you’re hotter
You want me to donate to your charity
So you can get a tax break from my humanity
Here’s a remedy, stop panhandling me
Read my lips stop asking for tips
A pretend look of surprise, let me reoffend
I recommend you go ask your boyfriend
Stop using me as a steppingstone to your next sunrise
The only thing thatd make you cry is rubbing salt in your eyes
Fantasizes, as the water pressurizes and the temperature rises
A frog won’t sit still. Neither will I
But when I say "[redacted]," no one bats an eye
Unless you’re one foot in the grave, 'bout to die
Instead, if I say "suicide," they all cry, “It’s unalive!”
screw it. The shadow you knew is dead
That being said, ” [redacted] this, and [redacted] all of you.“
This how your kindness is manifest
Standing on a mountain ants call home
Or your moral throne where only birds would nest
So please, leave me alone
Fantasizes, as the water pressurizes and the temperature rises
A frog won’t sit still. neither will I
But when I say "[redacted]," no one bats an eye
Unless you’re one foot in the grave, 'bout to die
Instead, if I say "suicide," They all cry, “It’s unalive!"
Checkmate. The shadow you knew is dead
Shot in the head. So That being said, "[redacted] all of you.“
[redacted] all of you.
So [redacted] all of you.
[redacted] all of you
So [redacted] all of you
[redacted][redacted]
[redacted] all of You!
Sizzling Surprises
I’m ruminating here on this promenade of sizzling surprises.
I’m sitting here, watching the living denizens walk on by.
None of these sentient beings ever look at me,
Never see or acknowledge me, not for one second,
Never say even one word to me, as I sit half dead here,
On this hardened beaten park bench.
Just watching and wondering why the heck they don’t look at me.
Ah, there’s a young lady, just sat down across from me,
On the bench over there, a dozen purposeful strides away.
Hey honey, look over here. I’m an old dude still walking the earth;
You know, like you and everyone else; I’m just looking at you,
I mean no harm, really. Just checking you out, as a half-dead man would,
Desperately, with no conscience or inward analysis.
Just looking at your slender svelte legs, crossed like pretzels in the sun,
And I am thinking and wondering why you don’t look at me.
Is it because I’m an old dude, with one foot in the grave?
Is it because you’re afraid to encounter another human being, face to face?
A human who has seen the fortunes and misfortunes of a long life.
A human man who can create a masterpiece of sizzling surprises,
Just for you, all in a matter of five astonishing minutes!
Oh, for God’s sake!
Stop staring at your cellphone and look over here, just for ten seconds!
I’m an old dude still walking the earth,
And I could teach you a thing or two about living,
About connecting and responding and empathizing,
About turning your mono-vision away from yourself, and your narcissism.
Just for ten seconds, try to see the loneliness of another sentient being;
You know, like me and everyone else here; I’m just looking at you,
I mean no harm, really. Just want to connect, as I once did with the young ladies,
Long ago under this same sizzling sun, up there,
Long ago when I sought those same sizzling surprises that I seek now,
And the sucking maelstrom of intense pleasures I could conjure up for you,
All in a matter of five astonishing minutes!
My girlfriend is not a poet in the way that most people mean.
She is a collector of rare and valuable information. Today,
she told me about cats & the color of their coats. We adopted
a kitten recently, a baby thing with elastic legs and a penchant
for biting paper. She is the color of placing a screw in the drywall
to hang up a favorite painting, likely some print of Vermeer or Matisse,
in the wall of my old apartment and then tearing out the screw in my
haste to keep moving. My girlfriend told me that our kitten would not
be the color of drywall forever. Her coat is cold activated, she said,
an abstract form of albinism. The coldest parts of her body, ones
closest to the grave, will get darker. The kitten will develop brown gloves on
her hands and feet, a little tuft on the tail, as if that would help hide
the dirt. One foot in the grave and all that. I found that bit of information
endearing at first, the brown gloves, because I, too, wear socks
at all times in the house. My girlfriend said that when she gets old,
the cat I mean, her circulation fails and her now warm blood becomes
cool blood becomes slow blood and the cat will be extremely brown.
Here I was, thinking that when warm blood becomes cool blood becomes
slow blood she would be dead. I do not envy her, my girlfriend I mean, how
sweet it must have tasted, the apple. How rich at first it must seem. Until
one day you realize that each new brown fiber, each new high-effort hair,
isn’t brown like an acorn, or perhaps an open gate, but rather brown like
an apple seed, brown like the required 199 apple seeds that need to be ingested
before a human being dies from cyanide poisoning (per my girlfriend.) I am
a poet, my girlfriend is a collector of knowledge, Death is a modern artist whose
brush stroke falls in earthen tones on the coat of a kitten. No doubt his magnum opus.
My life spirals ever downward...
The grave taunts me with its laugh.
Death's bony fingers are affixed my throat
As the jester of my unmerited epitaph.
My angst at my ever-flounder appears
Well-earned and justly placed
Where the rabid minions of an avenging God
Will no doubt make bold of my disgrace.
Have I lived too long a life so plain
Where my soul was too confined
And any realistic hope of eternal bliss
Seems mere folly at this time?
To live too long is an old Man's curse
And bound to evoke some industry
Where best intentions are set adrift...
To partake sweet ecstasy.
These stains that commemorate my Earthly Sins
Are laid denuded for all to see.
I drag them unceremoniously into an afterlife
That may not wish to bolster me.
But who among us hasn't stumbled
With Death's foot ajar the door
With temptations strewn like pearled oysters
On life's repugnant shores?
The righteous path is straight and narrow
And a vehicle for all those bold and brave
But only appeared crucial and strategic as
I stand with one foot in the grave.
How happier were those days gone by
When I was young and free from vice.
If I had only maintained such vernal guileless
To insure a place in paradise.
But I have come to this conclusion
As Death's whisper slakes my soul with dread.
Too much time has been my nemesis and any
Last minute burbling is better left unsaid.
So at this hour... this late late hour...
I now confront an awful truth.
I might have had a better chance at Heaven...
Had I perished in my youth.
The End
Ever-flounder: A bad situation of one's own making.
*I wrote this poem from the perspective of someone who fears their sins are
too heavy for God to bear.
*Follow my cartoon at Webtoon Bob's Your uncle.
Rainbow Nation
Blanca is white like beautiful snow in the Drakensberg Mountains
she snorted star powder past the perforated septum into her brain
Black as coal from the underworld mines in Mpumalanga Melanie
had her stomach pumped and purged while sleeping off darkness
Amber is coloured mixed race in the Rainbow of Nations her work
still paid in dop cheap vine that slaves her away in alcoholic trance
Arnav of Indian descent was hooked on dagga grown by the ocean
converted to heroin sold her frail body and skin for brown liquid sugar
Jacobus Bandele Lungelo and Bhavin shared needles and comfort
on the streets of Johannesburg flirted with disaster drug related crime
and their dealers cracked at the dawn longed for dust in the dusk
Drugs do not respect colour gender ability social class and religion
all druggies are equal with craving dependency not restricted to some
Now united in rehab like the state of the nation they all stood at the
table of mountains with one foot in the grave at the cliff face of habit
One day at the moment they now battle their demons resist the temptation
for only the time being from one morning away from the devious mourning
one drug line not taken one fall off the wagon shunned and avoided for now
They have all chased the dragon for far too long and imbibed with the devil
for so many wretched days and nights of delusion torment addiction and pain
Again once more each day anew their only chance to abstain one day at the time
Circle in the sand could tell a story
of a lost world, where celestials and machines
were one.
A crafty place where symbiosis is tasted
on the tongue.
Chimera epoxies elysian forgeries,
ruins, blistered and urned
by the seasons and the sun.
Cogs turning in the Temple of
Desperidium.
Wraith of translucent heat layers, reeling as film,
screen of video player stealing the image
of vesselic seal.
Black wings covering the eye of the past in-echoed Artisan-
lens cap, loosed, by
gait of prose and print of boot.
But it won't, divulge its secret cache,
of high hand, poker face,
in sign language-of cornerstones plans
laid from.
Jacobs Ladder Inn-hiding,
drone wave form.
A fleeting glimpse of visage,
visitage of what will soon again re-spawn,
kit of kingdom come.
Masking, its schema in paved,
mapping in hum of ley-line amathema,
violet band in tardigrade.
Petrified rainbow relic in the strata,
its soil forgotten in mind shade.
Like black chute of night blooming mushroom,
bubbles up, defiant creation,
pharmakeia l.e.d balloon parabolic ort-asm,
phantifuge,
sailing its wave of rebellion in bloom.
Renaissance reconnaissance recognizance
frequency of insanity of fallen ones
that denies their death row doom.
Tower of Babel has one foot in the grave
and one lit up in stereo- fm,
in the netherealms of CERN/Hades
a portal seeking to pierce the veil,
as a mitochondria drill.
They seek to house themselves in your temple
and corrupt the windows to your soul.
Be not soft upon the morrow
For the maliciousness it contrives.
The future beckons unending sorrow
To gamely catch the vulture's eye.
'Tis the destiny of mice and men
To be laid waste by nature's curse.
Where foolishness belied of ink and pen
Will by the margins burst.
Persist not in vacuous dreaming
To make bold some vague intent.
Obviate all grift and scheming
To survive the main event.
There are those with want of glory
To lead sluggish minds astray.
With a foreshadow of song and story
For those with one foot in the grave.
These stygian forces stand ready
To make dark such days to come.
They seamlessly evoke some cosmic eddy
Where weathered voices go unsung.
We are pawns to this game we borrow
With our future slaked with pain.
If your happiness lies on the morrow...
You will be despondent once again.
If you're consumed by fear and trouble
With clouds toned a spectre-grey.
Prepare for further ruin and rubble
With a new sunrise on the way.
Put away burbling of blissful leavings
You think the morrow may provide
With the approach of another evening,
You will not long survive the tide.
You may bloviate a ray of sunshine,
Pushing hope where none exists
With an ignorance to the grand design
Where winds of chaos oft persist.
I will grant the morrow stands untainted
With yet no mark on time and space
But remove this cheer you've now acquainted
And forever leave my hiding place.
The End
*Follow my cartoon at Webtoon Bob's Your Uncle.
"Palpable; so as we come so we go, for-mercy, for this only would I ask, many days of mercy
Lord mercy... ."
God harbors all of them i know for me as I feel He does for all of us like sands through the
hourglass all our days we're just wrestling them down with one hand tied behind our backs
one foot in the grave with one another until we rest each one of us... up under.
Laying back relaxing billowing up aloft them clouds mirroring their blessing limits thunder
lightening echoing each proclaiming their opportunity, prosperity — time... dancing apart from
my ill conformity — through this I've seen God's mercy reigns.
I've traveled along as best I can, and I find the mercy of my friendships and His, entirely
worthy.
Of all the things I claim/feel to be this way, my life, I guess I wouldn't be able to hold it at the
top of the list, though myself without them I may still wonder why I still do, from time to time.
Pitter padder rains murmur outside rapping upon the security of my filthy bedroom window
reminding, yes anything is possible, there's many chores to be done, because I believe today
like with the clouds, with God the sky's the limit.
The most I can pray for as I do still is peace with this.
So with no further delay, I wish you well today... !
Peace be with you friend... mercy open you even more carry you a little furthermore each
day knowing this... .
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E7xUZkKd58c&feature=related
World on a string
By Michelle Morris
23/11/2022
You want everyone to think
You've got the world on a string
But no one seems to realise
You're struggling with everything
All your parties and excess
Your fun and carefree attitude
Is a front for the dark reality that
You're in deeper than you should be
It's all about to blow up
Your world on a string facade
It's all about to show up
That you're scared and you're marked
One foot off the cliff, one foot in the grave
One foot off the mark, the rabbit's gonna give
One foot off the cliff, one foot in the grave
If you don't get your act together, your life is going to cave
You want everyone to think
You've got the world on a string
You're fooling yourself and them
While your life is falling in
Like Alice in Wonderland
You don't know up from down
If you're going to keep this up
You'll not live to steal the crown
What you want is yet to be determined
You don't seem to know anything at all
All your friends are helter-skelter
And there are gunmen at the door
One foot off the cliff, one foot in the grave
One foot off the mark, the rabbit's gonna give
One foot off the cliff, one foot in the grave
If you don't get your act together, your life is going to cave
One foot off the cliff, one foot in the grave
One foot off the mark, the rabbit's gonna give
One foot off the cliff, one foot in the grave
If you don't get your act together, your life is going to cave
© Michelle Morris, 2022
Let me show you your own death,
Night can fall in many ways,
Every time a friend betrays,
Love has one foot in the grave,
Voices rush to call you knave.
When you can't catch your own breath,
Cold-cocked by traitorous smile,
Lying sweetly all the while,
Whore to all that came before,
Lamb's blood now scrubbed from your door.
Tells you that YOU did the deed,
All the hurts you never knew,
Suddenly burst into view,
Love's sweet light now going pale
'Victim's curses' soul assail.
Withholds that at last are freed,
Silent lies dressed now as truth,
Venom spoken without ruth,
Your love now is shaken cold,
Burden more than heart can hold.
Clothed in naught but righteousness,
All withholds become your sin,
Vengeance poured on world of men,
Moderation disavowed,
Scales of justice truly cowed.
Souls so stained by callousness,
Only God has strength to mend,
Danger there for simple friend,
Branded! Yes, by love's bright flame,
With God's help forget the name.
Brian Johnston
Sept.06, 2014
Poet's Notes:
Sometimes innocents are caught up in satanic whirlwinds that blind them to what friendship really looks like and what is required of a friend. Dear friend still, former friend I still believe to me, I will always pray for your soul. May God open your eyes to who your real friends are! Live well and prosper, but short of a miracle, I will not be by your side! New friends, who are easier to love, it seems are everywhere!