Some people have a birthday day.
I have a birthday month.
Sometimes I extend it into the next month too.
I truly might enjoy my birthday a bit more than others.
It’s my birthday, I say, and quite often.
Not once or twice.
I have thirty-two birthday shirts.
Therein, I feel I have to milk it more than most.
Paddington Panda provides perky playfulness of soul
Bringing joy to the dinner table in happy tales.
But when he spills his enormous blue rice bowl
No one has ever heard such disappointed wails!
In her pretty kimono made of embroidered gold red silk,
His mother said, “Let’s not cry over spilled milk!’
“But this is not milk, it is much better than that!” He said with a whine.
It is rice and brown sugar! A favorite whenever he would dine.
Life lessons….
You’re not ready to experience life,
If you haven’t experienced life.
That doesn’t mean the past’s the future.
It tends to be the future for seen by the past.
Respect is the first rule.
The next is to forget the first rule if they never respect you.
1+1=2
1+1=11 if they bleed the same way as you.
Equation aside, it’s do or you die.
Opposite forces collide
The one who’s left standing?
Tis the only difference between you and I.
Life’s mountain, we climb
Breath for breath. Step for step
You milk it for what it’s worth,
Still the cream will rise.
Sun down to sun rise,
Never take a break,
Never pump the breaks
It’s a real one to look death in the eyes.
To no surprise
While passing another peak.
Grim reap in the benefits
Just do it then die.
You come in as submissive
My inner circle you dominate
Blood line circulate never ovulates
One silly move
you in it for weeks
I meditate your lust
My past I garden you to die
Water you to drown
Milk it
my bones will carry me
Breathe, weed, smoke, air was always air
Lifeless solutions you benefit
I live to regret
My faith in you contemplate
Traditional quick but puppets
Bloom or follow dooms leads
Cement- mixer
They are re-building the house across the road,
the cement-mixer churns from early morn, a black, big dog
sat barking at it until it lost its voice and sounded
like a helpless kitten wanting milk, it became so embarrassed
by its loss of bark, it went into the shed and refused
to come out before it had got its voice back.
The big black dog has few friends the couple who came here
on vacation left without it and I suppose being from Setubal
it barks in a different way than local dogs.
All cement mixers sound the same this monotone churning
like a padre who likes the sound of his voice and bore
his parishioner senseless, and when staggering out of the church
everyone, even those who do not smoke, lit up.
Soon the mixer will move on and annoy someone else, but
the big black dog has nowhere to go, so I will befriend and learn
its Setubal bark
The maid with a pot on her head
A heavy pot of milk it was
She struggled on forward match
Her soul full of imaginary joy
With the legs trembling helplessly
Like a drunken fellow in the streets
Tracking home lonely at cockcrow
All with her were in danger
I saw her reach the doorway
A stagger passed death note
Milk, the maid went their ways
And the maid on her kneels wept
You could see tears rolling like river
The mouth trembling with rage
And the hands stretched sky-wards
As the broken pot rested in protest
My favorite drink, so thick and rich.
It's much better,
When in a cold cup.
Chocolate milk; it goes with any meal,
It's a drink
And a dessert,
All in one.
~Will You Do it ?~
( Couplet )
Will you make it in the house?
Will you hit it with a mouse?
Will you eat it with a fox?
Will you hide it in a box?
Yes, I will do it here and there
Yes and no I will eat it anywhere
Some things I can do
But some I don't have a clue.
I will do them here and there and every where
I will do it when I'm standing up or sitting in my chair
And the cat runs down and it's more than I can bear
He hides here and there and I just don't care
Will you take it in the house?
Will you catch it with the mouse?
Will you hit with an ox?
Will you store it in a box?
Yes and no I will do it right now
Yes and no I will milk it with the cow
I will make it standing up
I will get it in the cup
I will grow it in the house
I will give it to the mouse.
Dorian Petersen Potter
Aka ladydp2000
copyright@2010
December.19.2015
Trust,
a term
delicate
and so gentle.
But In the wrong hands
It is detrimental.
Deception, demon's weapon.
If a firm hold is obtained they'll
provide an insertion into your
spine and allow flux without discretion.
Lesson learned, to guard trust like a diamond.
People will milk it without conscience.
Apply theories of deception
and bathe in its vain essence.
The reason I keep my
mind alert and keen.
I won't allow
deceit to
ruin
me.
October 3, 2015
There Is Another World
There is a panther in my back pocket that does hides
sometimes leaping out to slash and take other's sides
When necessary I unleash it's great power and rage
woe and tribulation then reigns supreme upon that stage
There is a tiger in my heart waiting to be set free
turn it loose as my soul eats fruit from life's tree
As new love arrives I keep it held in very deep check
nevering allowing it's power to cause another wreck
There is a kitten in my soul that yearns to truly love
pure milk it drinks and sings like a beautiful dove
As it plays and gives back far more that ever it takes
healing my worries , ever so deeply tragic heart aches
There is another world that gives those gifts to me
Coxing forth kindness and goodness from my life tree....
Robert J. Lindley, 06-20-2014
I've been told that I am a walking talking contradiction.
A man that swings from gentle to bad. Some of that is
true but only because of the great many spiritual battles
I have surely had.. Today, I've slain the Dragon, so mighty
is it's roar in defeat.
Suck it, milk it- bleed it dry!
But leave My Heart still untouched
The Fires will rage, and they will die
While I am somber all too much...
The Temples I tread, inside my Head
Searching for a safer place
A Room to dwell outside the Hell
Of my prison's burning Gates
Death Row Dinner Plates
Did you ever wonder what Ted Bundy ate
As his last meal – you no longer need wait
An artist is painting death row dinner plates
I found them today on the web
One inmate requested white meat KFC
Black walnut ice cream, pecan pie (sugar free)
Indian fry bread and milk it would be
I saw that today on the web
Another inmate, a meat lover’s delight
Ordered pound upon pound and a beer (make it light
And then he refused to take even a bite
I saw his plate there on the web
Some went for simple, an apple, some spam
A salad, some French fries, or just toast and jam
A lot of fast food, no one ordered lamb
Their plate’s pictured there on the web
John Wayne Gacy had shrimp, a dozen deep fried
A KFC bucket and French fries he cried
A whole pound of strawberries before he died
You can find it out there on the web
And as for Ted Bundy, he didn’t much care
So they gave him a steak cooked medium rare
Eggs over easy, hash-browns, toast and a pear
I found that today on the web
One point that I’m trying to make with this poem
Even on death row, you’re not eating alone
They note what you order and soon it is shown
On a plate that is sold on the web
if disneyland can pump water to the top of splash mountain
why not do it in this fashion
turbines at the top
and hundreds of strategically placed water wheels
all the way down
one source of power used for the pump
created for an output
If you can create a wind tunnel with mindblowing gusts of wind
why not put 100s of windmills in the mix
and strategically milk it for what its worth
If you want your own home to be a rollercoaster ride
why not get a couple of digital picture frames
and figure out how to time them with different programs
for some interesting home entertainment experiences
which will eventually lead to some pretty high class videogames
with a dance revolution floormat to lead yourself through a strange maze
If you think glitter is pretty
wait till you figure out how to put a whirlwind in a box
and watch those colors swirl
eventually we might figure out how to use a mirror to reflect sound
and turn it into a light show
musical magic more highclass than the fireworks you know
A child is born
all loving, forgiving, honest,
a special child of the light,
eyes wide open, awake,
the wolves are happy,
to feast at the table of its suffering.
Feed it just enough love to survive,
milk it of its light, little by little
suckling its love, its forgiveness,
a sweet delicacy for a vampiric world.
The child becomes a young adult...
control, conformity, submission,
overwhelming expectations,
no freedom, no love, no peace,
a barrage of others suffering,
cant get it off me, out of my head!
out of my heart, it hurts!
Its all too much!
Why do they all hurt me?
Why are they not honest like me?
How can they be so mean to me?
What is wrong with me?
I just want a taste of love,
to remind me why I am alive!!
(Silly & funny children's poem in the style of Dr. Seuss)
Will you make it in the house?
Will you hit it with a mouse?
Will you eat it with a fox?
Will you hide it in a box?
Yes, I will do it here and there.
Yes and no I will eat it anywhere.
Some things I can do
And some I just don’t know.
I will do them here and there and every where.
I will do it when I’m standing up or sitting in my chair.
And the cat runs down and it’s more than I can bear.
He hides here and there and I just don’t care.
Will you take it in the house?
Will you catch it with the mouse?
Will you hit with an ox?
Will you smoke it in a box?
Yes and no I will do it right now.
Yes and no I will milk it with the cow.
I will make it standing up.
I will get it in the cup.
I will grow it in the house.
I will give it to the mouse!
Dorian Petersen Potter
Aka ladydp2000
copyright@2008
December, 24, 2008
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