Who you wish to blind with a smooch
Alice was yours before she went through
Crazy are bedding sheets you drum,
randomly young and pumped of rum,
red, and white of spring blossoms,
sweet are the hiccup of break-thrus
left-field of the holly-wood signs.....
As a safety felt child shall hum
free of all the conundrums.....
Cheap are not in control of the wines,
but what's a sharp of ice-cream sooth,
when sin was ever your sense of fun?
A candy candle line of finally undone,
Rose, merry and subtle pieces of peaches.
Modern warriors,
They fight for the home plate.
The bat and the ball,
is what decide their fate.
The people are pumped,
and they all yell and cheer.
In front of thousands,
the heroes with no fear.
Behind on the count,
but here comes the ringer.
Though it may look bad,
he will hit a zinger.
Under the lights and sound,
they come to witness.
The new king of the mound!
A lady at a coffee shop was sobbing.
Another lady, a Good Samaritan,
said gently: May I be of help, madam?”
“Not really,” she said, “it’s really nothing.
My husband...an accident...this morning,
fatal, and finally.” “Oh, I am so sorry,”
said the lady offering her sympathy
hoping she might lessen the lady’s grief.
“Oh please, don’t be. My tears are a relief.
In fact, I’m overjoyed. For after years
of repeated failures and frustrated tears
I finally got the freakin’ car brakes to fail
as he must have pumped the breaks to no avail!
And I can only imagine his despair
not able to stop somewhere for repair.
And can’t you just picture his desperation,
his face awash in horror and perspiration;
giving up any hope (more so prayer) –
the other accident filling his underwear!
Humility is to apologize although it's rejected
Showing respect although you're disrespected
Being humble isn't something most practice in daily life
Most people focus on who was wrong and who was right
Humility is the hardest quality of character to apply
Imagine being honest with a person who constantly lie
Humility can be shown if assisted by the quality of love
You can't have one without the other their hand and glove.
Forgiveness is another sign that displays the quality of humility
To forgive and forget isn't something that's beyond our ability
We're taught by human nature to be on top and be elevated
That if you allow yourself to be humiliated that you'll never make it
Constant competition among the people in the world to be flawless
Pumped up ego, to be conceited, always being presumptuous
We do all of this just to be knocked back down to ground level
Is it really worth it to imitate the characteristics of the devil?
They said you’d never survive,
That there were complications with the pregnancy,
They told me it would be painful,
Yet they made you stay in my womb.
They said there was nothing they could do,
That you were too weak,
They knew they couldn’t save you,
But that they could save me.
There used to be a choice for me,
But I don’t have a choice anymore,
We’ve been stripped of the rights to our own bodies,
Now I’m in danger.
Carrying you could kill me,
My life is a ticking clock,
I wish I could have saved your precious life,
But you might end mine.
My face is turning pale,
As I lay here in this hospital bed,
Blood runs down my thighs,
As my body slowly shuts down.
Monitors beep around me,
Each one forms a part of a song,
I’m being pumped full of fluids,
With IV tubes in both arms.
My life hangs in the balance,
I get weaker every minute,
But all they can do is hope for the best,
Because they can’t save me without removing you.
Do older women wear gloves
To hide their wrinkles?
Camouflage their age spots?
To try to look fancy, dainty or demure?
To look feminine?
They usually wear pink, white, yellow or light green gloves.
Few of them wear black gloves.
Is this on purpose or by accident?
Maybe manufacturers never make black tea gloves
What is up with older women’s hair?
Why do they dye it power blue, pink and lavender?
Are they trying to be punky?
I began to spy on them, to try and figure it out.
I watched them waddle into churches yesterday
All puffed, pumped and primed.
Only one was stumbling on heels
Why do older women wear flats?
Why has natural human beauty
Been deemed as not enough
Faces plastered and glued
With artificial, unnatural stuff
False eyelashes glued on
The length of camels plus some
Faces orange or unnaturally brown
Not touched by natures sun
Lips injected and pumped
Botox faces unable to move
Veneered teeth blindingly bright
Faces with so much too prove
It is so sad that young girls and women especially
Believe they are not beautiful or enough
Without wearing their artificial painted masks
Their natural beauty disguised and hidden…. behind the bluff
an erotic bike ride
as we rode along,
she said she
wished that she
was my bike
that she liked
how i pedaled
and i turned
to her
and said,
i wished she was
my pedal
that i liked
how she pumped
and when we arrived
at the bike rack
smiling
we both secretly
wished that
it was a bed
where we would
one day
rack it all up
My heart bled
and writing
was an open wound
As words
poured out
in hemorrhaged pleadings
No suture
or hemostat
clotting their flow
The nearer
the end
the harder it pumped
In gushing
pulsations of
finality
Bleeding out
what time
— could never give back
(Dreamsleep: February, 2025)
Give me a push the faerie said
The lion laughed
He remembered the last time he had pushed her
She had fallen out and her wings had torn off
I do not have a light touch, he told her
Pump your feet!
She smiled, now remembering.
She pumped her feet until she was up really high
Wasn’t that better? Asked the lion
The faerie laughed
Glad she knew how to pump
She loved swinging more than almost anything.
Water was sacred
either as a shower
squirted out of a sprinkler
on the backyard lawn
to run through and cool us
on hot summer days
or splashed from a font
when making the sign
of the cross as we entered
St Mary's for Sunday mass.
It was more so
when held within the banks
of the Port Adelaide River,
its tidal flow a pulse
that pumped through
the city's very heart.
It was my Jordan and Ganges
though in grandeur and size,
its upper reaches was little
more than a creek clogged
with mangroves and mud.
Its main channel was dredged
and widened for ships.
The river nurtured me,
fed my appetite for myth
and wonder and carried
my history in its dark,
oily flow. I both loved
and loathed it for holding
me to a mortgage.
It took a lifetime to pay off.
I still long to go back
and stand on its banks,
bathe my feet in its waters -
make peace - return
one more time to what
was once my home.
Though now,
I doubt I will ever see
the Port River again.
Written By: D. Collins 12/25/24
There's nothing like the curves and crevices of all women.
That distinct little thing that does something to men.
They get all pumped up, and don't know how to act.
Plotting in their mind just how to get at that.
Focused like a laser with a night vision beam.
Targeting in on what should resolve everything.
Some beautiful curves with spankable cushion.
Will get what she deserves for us to go all in.
Although written Christmas day this is not for the meek.
A brother like me needs a real Christmas freak.
All I want from Santa is to handle my wish.
Put in front of me someone Phat, Lucious, and Thick.
Scrapped slew of core concert memories,
they come back to me with an intro;
Set opens with that number one hit,
the crowd roars with the very first chord;
They come back to me with an intro,
taking me right back to that old tour;
The crowd roars with the very first chord,
tickets and wristbands capture the sound;
Taking me right back to that old tour,
endless lines and bustling adrenaline;
Tickets and wristbands capture the sound,
it gets pumped directly to my veins;
Endless lines and bustling adrenaline,
every nostalgic note comes flooding;
It gets pumped directly to my veins,
a portal to cut a rug through time;
Every nostalgic note comes flooding,
set opens with that number one hit;
A portal to cut a rug through time,
scrapped slew of core concert memories.
Ere, when life was a lowly yeast
That acted just as Nature taught,
A mind was there nor yet a thought,
Years, and life was born as a beast,
With some mind least by reason wrought,
Which, could rise yon its lot the least.
Later when humanity got
It, (human, humane not the least),
When the brain evolved at its best,
Heart just pumped blood, feeling the least
As muscle under human breast
That as is stayed, west be or east.
To head-aligned, not heart-inclined,
Man, God had thought, would grow past mind.
__________________________
Sonnet |03.11.10, revised November 2024|
I see you through the purple flowers.
Heart churning in your chest.
Sitting cross legged, pumped with powers.
Crowning chastity through your crest.
Wildflowers hear your song, for it is their song too.
The bumblebee lies atop your head, buzzing with the tune.
Cows grazing in the field below begin to sway and moo.
Red and orange songbirds stretch the notes over the moon.
Time slows its senseless clock then stops the endless ticking.
It slowly finds the rhythm and is syncing.
Heart beating with the moon and the cows and flower pickings.
The moment when the universe is winking.
I will look for you tomorrow and even yesterday.
But I can only find you now, ME, TODAY.
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