Long Small time Poems
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He goes by the name of Lacrimosa
He is the plain picture of a man
Those who don’t know him see him as a monster
But you and I know better that he is a broken friend
His smile drips of sorrow
His walk is that of a footless ghost
And should you accept his outstretched hand
And succumb to the adoring nature of his gaze
He will lead you away to a dreary place
That he calls home
And the monster will sing sweet nothings to you
And hold you safely in his arms
And though the smile on his orchid face may weep for you
Do not be ungrateful, as it is for you
You can shudder and shake and claw to get away
But you need him as much as he needs you
This puppet man who hangs from a single string
Neck crooked and marbled and hanging to the side
Will frighten and disturb those who can’t see his face
But he will protect you from the ones who claim to love you dear
He’ll hold you close and wherever you go
He’ll be there by your side, his cold hand grasping your own
He’ll be everything you need so you’ll never be alone
He’ll share with you his tears and guilt and blame
And for these gifts he asks nothing in return
But your companionship and smile for only a small time
He knows you cannot stay forever by his side
So when you’re ready to say goodbye
He’ll let you go
And he’ll insist that you keep his gifts
But in time you may throw them away
And turn your back on the weeping thing
Who gave all he had in your time of need
And let his crying fade away
But don’t look back or you’ll see him there
Extending his hand, begging to hold you in his arms once more
And should you choose to return to him
He will always welcome you
And make a place for you by his side
And one day you may decide
To snuff out the man on a string
To throw the gifts he gave back in his blotched, orchid face
And run far far away
So that never again will you see his smile so grayed
Or feel the icy sting of his clammy embrace
Never again will you sigh in the arms of a love once held dearer
Now burdened whenever they look in the mirror
With the image of what they at one time feared
Of a sad smile painted on the picture of a man
Neck crooked and marbled and hung by a string
Dangling a smile loose to the side
Tears scarring his cheeks
His arms open wide
A monster posing as a broken friend
Who goes by the name of Lacrimosa
Form:
Remember me, the cool glass milk bottle. I used to sit on your front porch early in the morning. You could hear me arriving before the sun was up. I am a Bateson Model Dairy milk bottle, beautifully made of thick clear glass. A lot of milk bottles have been replaced with plastic but I am an expensive looking quality original. I am one of the most popular milk bottles in the area.
I came from a small processing dairy in Wingham, Ontario where the Bateson family owned and operated their business for many, many years. Working seven days a week during the very early hours bottling milk delivered from local farmers producing hundreds of bottles for their loyal customers.
Remember the wonderful clinking sound of the milk bottles arriving? Leaving out the empties represents many people’s first concept of recycling. I can remember that relatively traumatic moment when I was replaced with the carton. There was just something really wrong about pouring milk out of a carton because it didn’t have that refreshing coolness of a glass bottle. A cold bottle of milk has a certain integrity to it and the glass retains that. What a shame.
The milkman would deliver me to the door and collect the empties which held a few coins or milk tickets to pay for the fresh bottle of milk. Many conversations occurred on the stoop of each home as the family pet circled for a sniff. My travels around town went from the horse drawn milk wagon to a square van. Sometimes when the van stopped the old dog, Dina would wake up to chase a cat up a tree.
Over the years my shape has changed and my new caps gave me some upbeat fashion. But the quality of my contents stayed true. Sadly, if you show a child a glass milk bottle today he won’t know what it is. I come in many shapes and sizes, the quart, the pint, the half pint, the creamer and many more. The name printed on my side changed little over the years to keep the nostalgia of the small time dairy business.
Now I am considered an antique waiting on dusty shelves in antique shops for a new home. When you see me you may be thrilled to find a bit of history to place on the mantle of your home. You might recall childhood memories of the comforting sound of the milk man arriving at the door with fresh milk so very early in the morning.
As I sit at my table
Overlooking the sea
I try not to look for its unforgiving blueness
it is too much for my heart.
My heart which is once again, empty.
Loss has followed my heels
for many years and
it follows me still.
As surely as the waves
flow in and out again with the ebb tide.
No more shall I look at the mountains
their tips frosted with white surely, and
no more the shells that I so carefully
collected with my most secret self
the part that was my own
which I let be exposed for a small time...
Came out into the shooting star sun
with the driftwood
even the grayness,
the light rain...
I picked them up
held them tight
took them home with me
each an expression of something radiant
and decorated the deck with their unique beauty
Arranged them in a way which said most eloquently
Here I am ...
here are the parts of me for the world to sea
for a while until sure as the water flows
It was asked of my heart
to toss them back
and so I did. Into the greenish dryness, I tossed them
Not where they go at all, it was wrong
but into the thick brownish cover of trees
for there were far too many of my shells by then
They were too heavy
they had become just a burden.
The very action itself left a scar on my heart
that could not easily be fixed nor would it ever
but it must be done
Always in the past when asked
to do something
that felt a trespass against my soul,
an action which hurt so very much
and went against
rather than with my own tide...
meant something was coming which
would surely damage me
A storm
which would rage and which would tear pieces of me apart
The shells were just fragments of myself anyway
but the innermost fragments of myself
which I had collected when I felt like sharing
at times when I sparkled even on gray days
In the glittering sun
In the light gray rain
but sure as the ebb tide brought them in
they would go out again
maybe not as I would have liked
but broken and damaged.
Surely as I had brought them in from the beach
they could not stay
as my heart,
dark and riddled with loss
must have its due
as I sit at this table
alone
and yet unable to look at the water
not to look at the mountains
and not to hear the birds sing
THE CHECKOUT LINE
I made the phone call
he's holdin got the work.
We gotta have the "ins" this time,
said he wouldn't front me dirt.
What we got between us
still ain't enough to score
Let's hit some jerk at an ATM
Or take out a liquor store
Warrants out for writin' bad checks.
Pawned everything we stole or had.
I'm tired of doing small time crime,
rolling whores and fags.
Haven't seen any gumball machines,
Just Dominos on the road.
Pull the piece from under the seat
I gotta feed this Jones
She turns to me grabs my hand
and she calmly says,
"Gotta feeling we're goin' down, goin' down We're on the road to ruin
can't find a place to turn around.
There's no need to test the water
when ya know you're gonna drown.
I gotta a feeling we're goin down.
Goin' down, goin' down".
We've shared a couple years together,
Still don't know your real name.
The only thing we have in common
is this disease and it's pain.
Dope makes magnetic friendships
Until the poles get turned around.
Look up ahead there's a Mini Mart.
We score then leave this town.
We only need enough,
to feed the monkey twice.
I'll take the clerk you hit the till.
Now listen to my advice.
Don't turn your back to the rear door.
Don't worry about the safe.
Lift and check under the drawer insert.
Grab the cash and we're outta the place!
She forces a smile and says to me.
"Gotta feeling we're goin' down, goin' down We're on the road to ruin
can't find a place to turn around.
There's no need to test the water
when ya know you're gonna drown.
I gotta a feeling we're goin' down".
I never saw the second guy
behind the office door.
Only heard the shots
And watched her drop
laying motionless on the floor..
I emptied my gatt
not one found home.
Used every hot rock in my clip.
Pulled the trigger on my 3x3
and only heard a click,
I knelt down put my hands in the air.
He knew I was his *****.
I called out to her,
there was no response.
Why did it go down like this?
It wasn't all a lost cause.
Someone had to pay the price.
Emily Maxwell traded this world
For a better life.
I was a teenager when back when, when I first started working in the tape industry. Working in Manhattan traveling from New Jersey either by train, bus or car for seventeen long years. I've learnt the ins and outs from just about every standpoint in the field. Starting from unloading trucks, to customer service, into sales and then eventually becoming an owner of my own company. I sold all different kinds of tapes, from scotch tape (which is actually just a cellophane tape sold by the infamous (3M Co.) to gaffer tape mainly used in the motion picture and television industry. There's a whole world of sticky substances out there that gets applied to some sort of material like cotton, cloth, cellophane, paper, polyester, aluminum, copper and tons of other kinds of foreign substances that can get adhesive applied on to. Almost every business or company uses some sort of tape. So, this is how it all works out in the end. Here I am, now at almost breaking the 65-age mark in life. After all these years of busting my butt and putting in the necessary time to make a living for myself. Well, here comes the ball-buster. Just like that ((SOLD)). The company that I helped build, the company that I grew with for almost 45 years of my life, just like that it's been sold and bought by some low-life never went to college son-of-a rich man idiot that knows nothing about the tape industry other than it is now owned by him. And that now went from being a family owned richly built company into a new family-owned corporate business that's slowly but surely getting rid of all the original employees and replacing them with new family members or part-time workers. In the past 3 years I've seen three companies that I have worked for, for almost 30 years have gone corporate. Two of the three I no longer work for because of the rules and regulations, like over the top insurances, workman's comp./liability insurance and million-dollar coverages on car insurance. It's totally unfair to the small-time companies. Thank goodness I've reached the age of retirement, or I might be working at McDonalds.
they went corporate
so many people suffered
happy to retire
The Journey:
This journey has many obstacles, and bumps along the way.
Many prayers to God above we often have to say.
Our minds lead us in some directions that are not true,
But God is always there and loves me and you.
God will direct our paths along the way,
If, we will just listen to His word and what it has to say.
We are only human and sin many times will sneak in,
And times we must kneel and pray to God again.
When you met the Lord, and allowed Him into your life,
He promised to help us through, and all our troubles and strife.
You must believe that you’re never alone walking with God,
And keeping your feet planted strongly upon the sod.
Life has a way of troubling us, and letting in a small time of fear,
But don’t forget to call upon God – and He can wipe away the tears.
Nothing is to big, or small for our wonderful God above,
He even laid His life down for us – all because of love.
So when life seems to crash, and darkness is all around,
Call upon our Lords name and stand upon your ground.
He can wipe away all the tears, and calm our every fear,
For when you call upon His name He will always listen, He will always hear.
You’re never alone – when you walk with God and prayer to Him each day,
For all our debts in sin, He has taken care of – and with His life did pay.
So matter what things may look like, and how hard they may be,
God will take care of us – and love for you and me.
Do not be discouraged; do not let your storm settle in your heart,
For God has promised to walk, and run the race in each and every part.
He lights our path, and directs our lives from the word we read,
And our prayers we grow each day as though a planting of the seed.
So when life seems to crash and darkness is all around,
Call upon our Lords name and stand upon your ground.
He can wipe away all the tears, and calm our every fear,
For when you call upon His name He will always listen, He will always hear.
By: Wendell L Mays
The Journey:
This journey has many obstacles, and bumps along the way.
Many prayers to God above we often have to say.
Our minds lead us in some directions that are not true,
But God is always there and loves me and you.
God will direct our paths along the way,
If, we will just listen to His word and what it has to say.
We are only human and sin many times will sneak in,
And times we must kneel and pray to God again.
When you met the Lord, and allowed Him into your life,
He promised to help us through, and all our troubles and strife.
You must believe that you’re never alone walking with God,
And keeping your feet planted strongly upon the sod.
Life has a way of troubling us, and letting in a small time of fear,
But don’t forget to call upon God – and He can wipe away the tears.
Nothing is to big, or small for our wonderful God above,
He even laid His life down for us – all because of love.
So when life seems to crash, and darkness is all around,
Call upon our Lords name and stand upon your ground.
He can wipe away all the tears, and calm our every fear,
For when you call upon His name He will always listen, He will always hear.
You’re never alone – when you walk with God and prayer to Him each day,
For all our debts in sin, He has taken care of – and with His life did pay.
So matter what things may look like, and how hard they may be,
God will take care of us – and love for you and me.
Do not be discouraged; do not let your storm settle in your heart,
For God has promised to walk, and run the race in each and every part.
He lights our path, and directs our lives from the word we read,
And our prayers we grow each day as though a planting of the seed.
So when life seems to crash and darkness is all around,
Call upon our Lords name and stand upon your ground.
He can wipe away all the tears, and calm our every fear,
For when you call upon His name He will always listen, He will always hear.
By: Wendell L Mays
Stirring, the emotion,
sometimes you just have to
make waves. Love provides ... its
benignity, true hope freedom and peace!
Lasting on ... no small time-forever. Surrender
friend is endless-it-is! To wake up everyday,
it's a joy to do it, taken alongside gentle
cool winds clemency abounds of grace
of chance! God bless the man-
willing to walk with him!
Knows Him as his faith!
~ "The ways of a fool, delight themselves trammeled amid closed eyes. Believing what is
seen in view of them alone is then the only view ... desire. One that only they themselves can trust,
in earnest". "Honest Open Willing hearts abide able, lead them knowing this. Are lead themselves by and
through the tender eyes of grace.Mercy enlightened illuminated high upon their gape". "No more, contempt
abides amid indifference"! Peace e'er aware of this truth ... evermore abundant ... is the eminent beauty
that Reigns" ... ! Her tears-by the way of the run of her cheek do fall, they pave the way for the day for
her dreams to be realized in Him, and as she cries, so-she-weeps. Softly casting-her hopes,
and only sorrow upon the quiet-whispering of-the-wind. For to be told the willing heart
she has always been known by God to be; no sweeter of a love for-Him-to-treasure. As
amid the answer of the soothing breezes, they gently caress her a she quietly lies
down midst the tears so wanted and shed for the love of the ones she beholds,
so dear, and waiting; within the joy of the Heavens. Lives the wisdom of God,
her Lord ... Jesus. For each tear she has wept so foretold they were
already in His heart this beauty ... envisioned, and being shed
they were shed for His life one-freely-given, and with each
breath she takes. She knows, with-His-love, one given,
and given for all with a hopeful condition, and so to
speak ... she speaks aloud to Him now a grateful
thank-you. As overwhelmed in all her honest
emotion, tenderly for Him, she weeps. ~
MAN IN A SUITCASE
Used to joke how Gregory Peck was my father
But never knew why I was called Sydney.
Or why Australia’s city was named after me -
And a dozen other cities around the world farther.
My dad surely was where mum’s love-treasure was spent,
But died before I was born and before they could marry.
Her family hated this guy but she was tough, didn’t worry,
And named me after the man for whom she was meant.
She never discussed her feelings buried,
Showed no photos, never talked about him to me.
Broken hearted I guess. Who wouldn’t be?
I never knew the man she would have married.
I didn’t really cotton to the name I had.
I preferred Alan or Steve or maybe Vincent
And a dozen other names meant for a gent,
Regardless of who may have been my dad.
I also disliked the name for its ambiguity, this name Sydney
- Sort of amphibious. A name in American movies - for women,
It could swim across the ocean and in British movies - for men,
(Always small-time crooks who were chirpy and cockney).
No, I never liked the name. It wasn’t worth a jitney
To me; and I used other nicknames for many a year,
It was only used in mockery for it was relatively rare.
Even today, “Syd” is ok; but please, never call me “Sydney”
But I found a dusty old suitcase and lifted its lid
After she passed away. Her life’s treasurechest,
And out rolled some gold, photo of old soldier dressed
In uniform: he looked like me: the name on back was Syd.
That moment - Damascus Road - change of heart.
Now, proud to have it, say it, hear it. Nicknames I forbid.
I like it especially when my loving wife says “Syd”
Now with this name I’d never part.
…………………………………………………………………………………………….
Written for Linda-Marie’s contest WHAT’S IN A NAME?
after the dance we opened the doors
dampness surrounded this place maroon drapes
paisley patterns blinded my emotions license plates
of james dean covered the pine paneling only in the back
funny how a pair of levi's could bring about
such lonliness but there was james standing there
leaning up against his motorcycle flickering that cigarette
i had dreamed of life away from a smoked filled room
however i was being forced fed macho manner
by mere bruts tyrants wearing tightly fitted pinky rings
shuffling their feet quickly my only thought was that of
the stingrays sharp shooters how their eyes are morbidly
unseen right before they strike their prey i wouldn't even
speak of away from tropical shirts and the pelicans beak
an yet after the dance we had entered this think tank
of sea urchants mere leaches all reaching for small time
scores the same old crabs in the same old bucket
one by one pulling the one closet to the top back down
to scurry sideways with the bottom feeders night crawlers
here i am again your place their place our place i wondered
if they noticed me at all or was i just a cold curvy bottle
of coke a cola to be placed on a red and white canvas
in front of knitted covered candles or was i just a manikin
leaning against that timeless old seeburg continuing to drag
the needle slowly across the nylon fibers of my favorite record
over and over again like filing my broken nail or fussing over
another run in my stocking who needs stocking why i was simply
this forgotten mermaid among a school of green eyed hungry sharks
but then there was james a mere mirage gazing down route 66 in land
catering to the backside of those levi's oh wait here he comes again
he's going to ask me to dance what will i say oh my feet hurt or just
say no shoes tonight shall we swim out of here my mind tossed to and froe
i just couldn't bare to waste a perfectly good pair of fins don't you know