Long Well off Poems
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Dylan Carston was a well-off young man,
thanks to a large and health trust fund,
his father was a true Wall Street ace
and had been quite generous to his sons.
Dylan had set himself up in Miami
after years spent getting his MBA,
he did consulting four days every week,
the other three he did like to play.
He’d partied with friends at all the bars,
and had his share of hot one-night stands,
not yet had he thought of a wife and kids,
he was enjoying the life of a young man.
One Saturday as he walked down the beach
to get exercise and breath the sea air,
he stumbled upon a frantic woman
calling for him to go over there.
As he drew near he saw down in the sand
a young woman who’s face had gone blue,
he could see no lifeguard near where they were,
but fortunately he knew what to do.
He found no pulse when he listened close,
and placed two hands high on her left breast,
with hard compression he began CPR,
pumping furiously at her chest.
Every so often he placed his mouth on hers
and forced oxygen deep into her lungs,
the other woman ran off to find more help
while Dylan continued the rhythmic pump.
Finally after three desperate minutes
a gurgled rasp echoed up from her throat,
life returned to her, the blue fading out,
though her eyes still knew not where to go.
Moments later he heard the rush of feat,
the lifeguard and the woman had returned,
Dylan gestured to where the girl lay,
“I brought her back, now I think it’s your turn.”
The lifeguard thanked him for taking action,
then knelt down slowly at the victim’s side,
ambulances came, reports were fill out,
when Dylan left three hours had gone by.
He felt good about saving the woman’s life,
it was a moment he would not forget,
congratulations came in, on top of that
the lifeguards sent him a certificate.
Three weeks went by and Dylan returned to
the safe routines of the everyday world,
and bit by bit his thoughts turned away
from the near death of that helpless girl.
So it was with a great deal of surprise
when a process server told him these words:
“Dylan Carston, you’re being sued for assault,
you can consider yourself dully served.”
Dylan’s mind whirled at the accusation,
he had no idea how this could be true?
Had some ex regretted their time and cried ‘rape,’
were they evil enough to go down that route?
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
Never stop even when i say i said
when i signed up
and no matter what
never give me my money back
oh boy do i ever miss my lazy boy and couch now
Just how far would one boy go to proove to his social class
grade seven that yes indeed we live
in a dictatorship
and free democracy is the same thing
thus the fad i am
the game i have become
mainstream which cannot be lost
cannot be won
the game of drive troy crazy
Some play as though they need to disagree with everything i do and say
some play as though they have to thwart my every attempt at love
some play as though there is a prize to be won and they win it and im not allowed
to ever win
some play as though they must make sure i fail at everything
oh the drama and how my life is a show
and no one must tell me
say it isnt so
prove to me im not god i say
yellow blue green
orange yellow black
and start again in the fashion idustry pof pink plaids and ducky yellows
sing to me my names of games for i am your ultimate weapon of psychology and
god
going to the mental institute to prove they are brainwashed not crazy
and the jig is truly up
did hitler really lose the war
and has the tricked message been sent
or am i fooling myself?
or should i sit here and cry wolf as the papparazzi in control of the propoganda
threatens the psyxchiatrists
and ths the game of drive troy crazy must go on
andf the boot camp torture nightmare goes on forever
YES YOU FOOLS
i know exactly what i am
and i am proud to have made it this far
to round four
some mess with my head as if they can hear my thoughts
everything bad happens to my friends
and my enemies are all well off
but oh what a wonderfull object to crave i have become as i scream and beg and
plead on the internet for amnesty
that even mensa geniuses cant figure out
for the game of drive Troy crazy is far too much fun!!!!
so now the tables have turned
and youre eventually going to realise who i am
and what wolves are circling around me
and the nonexistant crimescenes i point at
welcome back to level on eof how we can all belong
of drive troy crazy
and prove to him he isnt god
and no there is nothing there in the spelling mistakes written in english jibberish
but perhaps piglattin japanese if you were smart enough to figure that one out
The Shady Rest Motel
By Elton Camp
Wife and I were on a trip out of state
We were growing tired and it was late
Fairly soon, there wouldn’t be daylight
It was time for us to stop for the night
Motels where we were proved to be few
So we had to decide what we would do
The next place we saw over to the right
But it was revolting. Such a sorry sight.
Its huge neon sign long ago had gone out
But a crude sign showed what it was about
“Rooms for Rent” at the very top it said
The letters were uneven and done in red
The building’s painted walls were flaking
Faded and torn flag from a pole was shaking
We figured that we knew what we should do
When we saw the note, “Thirty dollars for two.”
In the car we had much rather have to sleep
Than to spend the night in a place that cheap
There was no choice except to press ahead
And hope we would find a better place to bed
After about ten more miles down the road
We spotted a spot where we might unload
It was well off the road in a scope of trees
It looked a pleasant place that might please
The little motel had a suitable name as well
Sign declared it to be the “Shady Rest Motel”
The shrubbery and grounds were well enough
It had an ice machine, vending and such stuff
To be extra careful, we took a look all around
And no particular fault was there to be found
We decided that the place was probably okay
So we went into the office with intent to stay
The office was lit up, but no clerk in sight
I called out, “We need a room for tonight.”
“Keep your shirt on and I’ll be right there.
I was in the back taking a nap in my chair.”
An older man stalked out, looking so sleazy
He was shabbily dressed and his hair greasy
A cigarette dangled precariously from his lips
A scary-looking pistol in a holster at his hips
Taken by surprise, we didn’t know what to say
“Uh, just how much for your rooms do we pay?”
We soon learned that he rented only by the hour
And it would be extra if we wanted to shower
We walked quickly toward the office door
“Sorry, but we are not interested any more.
Rather than stay in a motel this bizarre
It would be much better to sleep in the car.”
It was cold in New York City. In the dark,
alley, behind the lavish buildings among the
super rich, roam the forgotten.
Waiting in line at the redemption center,
turning in their plastic bottles, to pay for their
next meal.
The well off in their arrogance look at them
and look away in disgust. In their minds they
are nothing, of no value, they are the blemish
of society.
They have blinders on like race horses as they
make their way to Macy's avoiding looking at
them. Is it their selfish conscious, was it
the way they were raised? That causes this
self centered behavior.
What is lacking in a human being not to feel
the pain of others? Not to want to lend a helping
hand like a good Samaritan to a poor, or hungry
soul.
It is Christmas Eve. It is bitter cold. She makes
her way with a group. To the back alleys, to
find the lost, the hurting, the cold, the needy.
She holds them tenderly, tears flowing from her
eyes. She sees the purple hands from the cold
that some are experiencing. They huddled together
by the side of a building. A large blanket wrapped
around them. Cardboard mattresses they lay on.
She makes eye contact and reaches out to hand
them sandwiches. The group gives them blankets
they have brought. Clothing, socks, and gloves.
Their eyes light up, their hearts are overwhelmed
with appreciation and love for this woman and the
group that are with her. They say thank you. Just
before she leaves, she blesses them and says a
prayer for them.
As she is leaving one of the homeless asks." What
is your name, If you tell me I will never forget it. We
all want to know." She responded, "My name is
Mother Theresa...
Dedicated to all those that will remain homeless
during Christmas, those that will be hungry and cold,
those that are forgotten, those that are veterans that
have protected our freedoms and are homeless.
Those for one reason or another are destitute. Those
that are hungry and will not have gifts this Christmas.
May the good Lord watch over them and give them
comfort and joy, peace and hope.
12/4/2015
I forgive you my dear country
And her ignoramuses
To my televangelists who prophesy
earthquakes
And hellfire
Instead of love and forgiveness
So they steal from the poor
To buy miracles from God;
To my shopkeeper who doubles the
price
Of flour at will
Even before Kidero completes his
speech
On taxes
I forgive you all.
I forgive you, brother
For refusing my handshake
Because I'm well-off than you
As if being rich is a crime.
I forgive you Mr Bossman
For turning down my job application
Though my only un-qualification
Was I failed to belong to your clan.
I forgive you my uncle back home
For perpetually grabbing my farm
Because I'm always in town
Getting a life for myself
When your sons are the chief's
drones
Who grab chickens from helpless
widows
And lynch witches in the village.
I forgive you too my ambitious
cousins
For conning me when you promised
To get me a job in your company
Immediately I'm through with
college.
I forgive you Mr. Policeman
For innocent incarceration
Torture
And hefty fines
Though you know I was innocent.
I forgive you Wamboi
For eating my money
Then running away with my children
And half of my wealth.
To my White brothers who think we
still live in the bush with antelopes
And harass us at their embassies
And airports
I forgive you too.
Before you clone another virus to
kill my people
I forgive you.
To all vagrants who rape our women
And slash the throats of fellow
Kenyans for money
I forgive you all.
To my bright law-makers in
parliament
I forgive you for your lies
I know I will see you again in 2017
In brand new bank notes
And brand new promises
And I will still forgive you.
To my colleagues fighting for
recognition
And job promotions
And wishing me jobless
I forgive you too
Your're just victims of greed
And selfishness.
To my heads of state
Sparking wars at will
Puppets of neo-colonialism
I forgive you too.
It's not in my position to judge
Or condemn you
History will do that.
Lastly
I forgive myself
For being too human
And trusting too much.
If venting and throwing sicks
and stones is the only thing
That turns you on and what you
can get your kicks from
And you accept or haven't come
to the realisation or conclusion
You think you may indeed need
help the plobem lies in you not
them
Then thinking i spending time
with you to gather up the biggest
sticks and stone's to cast at me
Through though pious of heart
it will not defend or shield against
the harm you wish to cause and
impart upon me
Because as a happy person wishes
only to help and make an unhappy
person feel much like themself
So to does an unhappy person wish
a happy person feel unappy as
they are
Same theory in essence just miles apart whence it comes to there
own individual different versions
of what joy means to them
The good innocently only wish
to help those unfortunate less
well off and are blind to understand
Why they would ever be open up
to be taken advantage of by those
they are only trying to help
It's crass to say but when someone
you are trying to help reverts to type
And the inevitable eventually
happens just remember
It's never personal though it
may appear to you where as
those you are trying to help
Unfortunately most see you as nothing
more than your generosity a safe
sort target to prey upon and exploit
Barred and estranged from every
friend and crossing family
doorstep and entering the last
saloon in town
Until every outreach and
cry for help was given up
on and lost
And relationship damaged
irrevocably
Just remember though bones
may heal by themselves
Words leave deep emotional scars
that though we may choose to
put to one's side and hide
Can be brought up at a seconds
notice and bring the past back
into the present
Should bear the warning although
naturally and altruistic helping other's
out may seem
Charity begins and starts at home
and they alone can rebuild the
bridge they burnt down
and so to it's up to them
Should they wish to repair it
in order to find their way back
home
My grandfather taught me an unusual way to catch fish.
I tried it out one night I went with mom who is a musician.
During the day, she gives well off kids, music lessons, piano, guitar, and so on.
Mom is versatile in the music realm, not only instrumental, but composes and sings.
At night she plays in a hula dance troupe known as an Halau (hah-LAU).
They perform at hotels for the tourist, one was Ross Martin from 'Wild, Wild, West', TV series of the 60's, who met personally with the halau, backstage--and an 8 year old me.
I did what was told me by grandpa.
I brought from the house a few bread in its plastic bag.
Where mom plays at night, there's a hotel bar, the hotel sits on the bayfront of Hilo.
Outside the lounge sits stacks of discarded hard liquor bottles that's not always completely empty.
I would pour whatever liquor into the plastic bag of bread, as it sops it up really fast.
I would break up the soaked liquor bread and toss into the bay that's a few feet away from the hotel.
I would have dad's big net with the long handle and wait a short while.
Soon, fish will float up on their sides, stiff and not dead.
I would scoop them up and put them in our Hinode Rice cloth bag.
As they are a variety of fish that would float up, I scooped only one that I like.
The rest would revive and swim away, whilst the caught ones would be slammed onto the ground until the bag stopped moving--better than a prolonged suffocation and or fried alive, which is the method since they are too small of a bother to chop.
We call them, Manini (MAH-knee-knee) which means small in Hawaiian.
They are really good eating fish, very oil enriched--great frying fish.
Silvery body with sparse black stripes going down their flat sides.
Night trips with mom produces a catch between 12 to 18 manini's.
We also have spaghetti, beef stew, curry stew, and I am not listing any Hawaiian food as they are too great a variety.
Date: 06/15/2019
The shows I watched when young were black and white.
About five channels came on day and night.
The Beaver, Opie, Jeanie, Flying Nun
were characters I liked both good and fun.
Shows of humor sometimes missed their function;
one like that for sure was “Petticoat Junction.”
But “Laugh-In,” “Lucy,” and “Bewitched” were cool;
“Three Stooges” I rushed home for after school.
“Lassie” for the kiddies, “Rifleman” for dad,
“The Man From U.N.C.L.E” for us all, a 60’s fad.
By standards of today, those shows were tame.
The raciest perhaps was “The Dating Game!”
One genius fat guy, Hitchcock, gave a thrill
with horror tales. I like those re-runs still!
But there’s one 60s TV show that I
recall the best; I’ll finish telling why!
“Bonanza,” broadcast Sundays, was the one
for romance, drama, and great family fun,
for on the Ponderosa lived wise Ben
and his three sons, well-off but simple men.
The chubby one named Hoss was kind of sweet.
The oldest, Adam, I found really neat!
Little Joe, whom we girls would like to marry,
later moved to “Little House on the Prairie!”
It may not have been best of old TV,
but it was sure a cherished show for me
because it came each Sunday night at eight,
a special time so great I could not wait!
My mom and dad and we eight kids would sit
together happily enjoying it.
Before the show began my mom would pop
a huge pan full of popcorn, butter on top.
Each time commercials came, we’d dip a bowl
of ours into that pan; I’d get so full
for I’d eat eight or ten small bowls of it.
Once I begin with popcorn, I can’t quit!
This was the family custom I lived for
since television and food I both adore.
It was the night we all together sat
enthralled, and there’s not much that can beat that!
Written by Andrea Dietrich
(I have too many today to name TV favorites but I really
think "Bonanza" has to be my favorite from my childhood!)
For Michael J. Falotico's "Ryhme Me An Old TV SHow.... Poetry Contest"
Bleed for me
Why?
Why what she says?
Why do you cut, why do you bleed yourself?
Why do birds fly, how the heck should I know?
Ah but you are so beautiful, soft and sweet
You see only as you wish, no one looks closer
At the inside of me
No one sees the mirror I see
Tiss not true, I see through your eyes
Come then take a good look, stare into my emptiness
You see nothing ok?
I remain quiet, somewhat stunned at the rebuke
We both stare out the window, a broken neon sign
Singing with the wind
She whispers
If I cut myself, to pieces
I will slowly disappear and float away
Inside will be outside
The emptiness in my eyes will be everywhere
The Ferris-Wheel ride will end
I slowly gathered up some rather random thoughts
My life was sunny
Then one day it rained
Then sunny
Rain and sun, rain and sun
Then the rain came again
And again…
Dark clouds hovered
The days all became nights
Until there was daylight no more
A ghost taunted… I no longer mattered
Until I became the ghost
So you see, I have nothing left to cut
She shyly looked over at me, confused it seemed
You, you… you have money
You look handsome
I dare say you seem well off
You have it all, and want for nothing
The neon sign, the crickets, the bedside clock
A symphony of sound in a room of silence, tick tock. Tick tock.
Slowly, I discovered words, softly I dared repeat them
You said I see nothing
In this, is true, I did look into your eyes, I saw
Inside of you nothing as you say
Emptiness
I saw a poverty of wanton desire, lost to this world
In this you are also wrong
For as I stared you refused to avert my curiosity
Our eyes locked
The emptiness inside of you
You see
Is me
Time continued its journey
Tick Tock went the clock
Silence crept towards a comfort
Imperceptible, a few of their fingers interlaced
Touching
The neon sign stop flickering
And cried
I am a nurse. It is a difficult job, very stressful and emotional. The patients need
us to be at our best. Nurses are required to be dedicated, caring, responsible and
compassionate to others. Nurses need tons of empathy not only for their patients
and families, but for each other. Now, I have met some mean people in my life
so far, you know friends who disappoint, even family members at times. But I was
shocked to find a nurse who was the absolute worst gossip and bully. Imagine
that! She would join groups to degrade, gossip, insult, sabotage, be mean and
spread lies. How can there be team work with bullying going on? Each person even
if a newbie should be treated with respect, after all everyone was new once! It
always appalled me and from my very beginnings I have never been part of gossip.
Once, for fun, I told the big gossip a story, that I was having an affair with a
older, well off, married man, and I whispered, "PLEASE, don't tell anyone!" Well,
that spread like wildfire. Seriously, a nurse being so cruel is something no one
would expect but trust me she is a pretty good talker. " Oh did you see her
flirting at the Christmas party with every guy!( I think that one was TRUE) Did you
see how much time she spends with her patients and with talking to the families,
REALLY! Oh look at her playing goody, goody with the head nurse! Did you know
she is having an affair with an older, well off, married man, yes, its true she told
me herself!"
this girl was brand new
I did not understand why-
my t e a r s gave me strength
_____________________________
June 15, 2016
Poetry/Narrative with Senyru/The Pretty Talker
Copyright Protected, ID 16-800-637-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
For the contest, Pretty Talker,
sponsor, Skat
Fourth Place