I peer through
Into your world
I smell the fragrance
Of family
Cooking roast dinner
I listen intently
Party poppers
And Happy Birthday songs
Someone singing in the shower
I see colours and shapes
Moving reflections on glass doors
Dancing couples
A dog, shadow tail wagging
I feel the warm air
Of the inside world
Tangible moisture
Making my eyes steam up
I hear a phone ringing
Friendly chatter
About nothing important
Laughter
I peer through
Into your world
Yet, I am not to be invited
In from the cold
So I reverse
Retreat into the empty
Silent, homeless streets
Of a large cold city
The paper words
Letter unposted
Still clutched
In my calloused hand
"Is tomato soup more important than friendship?" by Poet
I try to talk to her
but she's too busy eating her tomato soup
I hit the chat machine
and all I hear is falling parmesan cheese
but the drama in the online community is too wide
I only wish that I could find a friend
a friend that has time away from her soup and cheese
I try by proclaiming my loneliness
my life without tomato soup
but a chicken souvlaki salad is what I eat regularly
with jalopeno poppers and chicken pastina soup
why isn't my soup better than hers
and why does she spend more time with her soup
than with me
I pray one day I'll find the answers
but for now I spend countless hours alone
while she sips and devours her tomato soup
To those of us that struggle with addiction,
It's a choice you could say a self-infliction.
You’re a slave to the substance and you’re not aware,
A heavy cross for one to bare.
All the wheeling and dealing you can muster,
your wife a Tweeker you can't trust her.
Shady characters come with a song and dance,
getting ahead in this game a slim chance.
Every night you pray for a tomorrow,
another day filled with betrayal and sorrow.
Everyone is a liar, a thief and cheaters,
junkies, pill poppers, coke heads and Tweekers.
A mirage of addicts come and go,
tomorrow someone here could be Jane Doe.
The same thing day in and day out,
sometimes there is enough others you go without.
Addiction is with you everywhere you go,
It outsmarts you, you have no control.
Addiction comes in all shapes and sizes,
hand in hand with denial, deceit and lies.
You can never really be at ease,
My name is Addiction and I'm your disease.
TURBO1904 OCT. 2021
High ho! High ho! What a wonderful beautiful day
The birds are tweeting, squirrels are chittering.
The sky is glistening with faeries and poppers
Streams of happy sunlight beams disarm faeries
Compelling monarchs to light on my marigolds.
Nothing can take my fire; I am ready to write THE poem.
I have a new purple notebook and smooth roller ball pen.
“YOO HOO!” Oh, man!
Mrs. McGilly has something to say.
Could be an all-day thing.
I pretend I cannot hear her, until we are touching noses.
What are you doing?
Writing.
I write!
You do?
She runs home for her baby books to prove it.
Returns with two friends. They have brought a little picnic.
You shouldn’t have! There are two sentences on the page.
They were not brilliant, instead hurried.
I try to escape into my house where I maybe could write something.
But my sons-in-law drop by looking for an apple pie or a cheesecake.
So I feel compelled to make them.
By three p.m. I am sitting on the toilet with my notebook
rapidly writing down two more sentences.
“Hey, Mom!” are you okay in there?
My three daughters have come for supper bringing my six grandchildren.
Maybe tomorrow I think.
Breastfeeding Perils
I watched you take your first breath
And open your sleepy eyes
Your trembling lip and clinched little fist
Never a mother could resist
From head to toes with your thick white coating
Soon rubbed clean and a warm blanket did cover
Placed on my breast to feast on the milk
But silly you turn away like its buttermilk
You spit and you sputter
And wrinkle your nose and cry
So what must I do to make you happy my child
What have I done to get you so riled?
The lights are dimmed
As you snuggle so close
Soon this first time mom with learn what to eat
To make my milk not sour but sweet.
A year has passed since that glorious day
When you played finicky
Now you grab with your two little choppers
Seems you have developed a taste for jalepeno poppers
Feels like the pavement runs out
And the bottles always empty
And sometimes I can feel
I don't really like it here
But the taste is familiar.
There are a few fond moments here
But memories are always
second best
And all of these pictures are geting blurry
They got wet in the flood last spring
And probably
The poppers last Wednesday
And now that I think about it
I'm not sure
If I dreamt them up later
It's nice that we are older
cause most of us don't remember
most nights now.
The dreams can be better stories.
Doctor narcotic slinging jellybeans and placebo
with one twitch of the wrist, one life goes on the tilt
distorting the dream and wrecking the rainbow.
His red-nosed ribbon circling twice around the block
most are panning for happy and coming up with salt
poppers become sniffers become lifeless rocks.
His minions slowly slipping one darkened soul at a time
shiny new nuggets recruited- thrashing in the krill
the black scythe taps another name into the shrine.
Doctor narcotic watches a thousand funerals pass by
through the black tunnel of his desperation mill
hardly a tear in his green jellybean eyes.
People used your popcorn in popcorn poppers.
You were the one and only Orville Redenbacher.
Sadly, you died twenty-two years ago today.
Your popcorn is still being eaten and it's here to stay.
People were sad when you died in 1995.
You're deceased but your legacy survives.
[Dedicated to Orville Redenbacher (1907-1995) who died on September 19, 1995.]
New Years Eve it’s party time
Sup the beer and drink the wine
Special meal with new made friends
Comedian, sometimes offends.
Food and dancing all the way
To give old year it’s last hooray
Music singing from the show
Songs and jokes and laughter flow
Countdown starts with 10 to go
Poppers an balloons to throw
At last the final seconds boom
Bells and chimes to fill the room
Hugs and kisses, Chinks and cheers
Shaking hands, smiles and tears
Special thoughts for old friends passed
Resolutions never last.
Confetti, streamers piled in heaps
Stay up late, eat Tats and Neaps
Champagne flows, fizz and bubbles
Drink too much- have some troubles.
In the morning a different story
Headache-nausea feeling poorly
Take some pills and close your eyes
Promises to be more wise
Last day today with sad farewell
Next Year to meet again we tell
Drive Safe –good trip to all we wish
Memories that last just bliss.
Birthday hats with poppers at top
Rainbow balloons with smiles that don’t flop
Chocolate cake with whip creams and candles
Chortle whispers create loud and proud cuddles
Stereo sound gently dances with children
As happiness goes around in a secret garden
Suddenly stop as someone makes a wish
Blows his candle as he finds a relish
Gradually sings the Happy Birthday song
Everyone hums and do sing along
Music kicks in and finally grooves just start
Come to my party, we’ll about to start!
January 24, 2016
Boxing Day
Christmas over,
Boxing day,
Snow replaced by rain,
Turkey eaten,
Presents opened,
Bones and wrapping remain.
Silent carols,
Muted bells,
The candles all burned out,
Bottle tops,
Nutshells
And gift tags lay round about.
Glittered cards,
Ribbons and bows,
Tinsel, baubles and more,
Unwanted gifts,
Stale perfume,
All strewn across the floor.
The tree bare,
Bulbs blown,
Forgotten cracker jokes,
Empty bottles,
Hangovers
Santa just some bloke.
Party poppers,
Paper hats,
Plastic Jesus in his stable,
Fallen cards,
Holly leaves
Litter the festive table.
Melancholy
Mistletoe,
The anti-climax seems sad,
But in my heart
It will always be
The best Christmas I've had.
I Do not Breath
I do no think
Of life that mocked me
I do not think
Of elders who forgot me
I do not think
Of my depression
I do not think
Of hell on earth
I do not think at all
Anymore
I shall hang from the rafters
You can all laugh now
I am as dead
As when I was alive
No difference at all
Bury me in that poppers grave
Beside the man of god who was the devils slave
He is in hell, and there shall I reside too
Taunting his perversions for all of eternity
My mind is yours
I think of you
As I stab away at your heart
I think of you
As blood spatters all over my face
I think of you
As the life ebbs out of your vassal
I think of you
As my hate grew into a flowing river of your blood
I think of you
As you stare into space with those dead eyes
I think of you
As they bury you in a poppers grave
I think of you
A childhood robbed
I think of you
The hand of god stealing an alter boys innocence
I think of you
Rotting piece of flesh in the ground
I think of you
A hateful cruel man of no honor
I think of you
No more
Almost New Year
Tic Toc, the countdown’s started,
Another year’s nigh done.
Break out the poppers, the salt and the coal,
In with the new and out with the old,
As parties rage on across the land,
Resulutions emerge from boy and man.
Mistakes forgiven, mishaps forgot,
Alliances forges with every shot.
The old care not, the young don’t know,
The lovers see through Rosie glow,
Blinded by hope and fooled by fear
We welcome in a brand new year.
Drink up ye hearties, make merry ye men,
Your future begins with the chimes of Big Ben
Heather Buxton
Almost New Year
Tic Toc, the countdown’s started,
Another year’s nigh done.
Break out the poppers, the salt and the coal,
In with the new and out with the old,
As parties rage on across the land,
Fresh hopes emerge for boy and man.
Mistakes forgiven, mishaps forgot,
Alliances forged with every shot.
The old care not, the young don’t know,
The lovers see through Rosie glow,
Unrealistic vows we make
For ‘New Year’s Resolution’ sake, but
Blinded by hope and fooled by fear
We welcome in this brand new year.
Drink up ye hearties, make merry ye men,
Our future begins with the chimes of Big Ben.
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