I met her at a biker bar
(C) 2025 by Russ Dodson
I met her at a biker bar
somewhere in midtown Monterrey.
She said she was a topless dancer,
working fifteen shifts a day.
She handed me a well-worn token,
said her name was Daisy Mae,
said if I learned to play the game right
I would never have to pay.
I placed the token on the table,
waited for the song to play.
When it started, she stood up;
I watched her body start to sway.
She headed for a dressing room,
looked back and said, "Don't go away."
She returned wearing a costume
meant to lead a man astray.
In pasties and a beaded g-string,
everything was on display.
Her eyes said, "This is all for you, love."
There was nothing more to say.
To Die
I numb my brain to ease the pain
The world is mad...a new insane
Compassion's seen with such disdain
The truth now seems so very plain
To die would be considered gain
***********************************
Alone
Alone, alone...always alone
The pain I feel cannot be known
This heart of flesh has turned to stone
Alone, alone...I am alone
Alone, alone...always alone
My dreams on wistful wings have flown
Depression has usurped my throne
Alone, alone...I am alone
Alone, alone...always alone
The wind gives voice to primal groan
This world no empathy has shown
I'll live, I'll die, and rest...alone
**********************************
If all is of mind, then what are we doing?
Physical life, is it worth pursuing?
So discouraging, so immature,
How can mere man, ever endure?
The mind can think in such jubilations,
Creative thoughts giving sensations.
We rush to create, with no time to spare,
No patience displayed; we do not dare.
Take our time, uncertain as it seems,
Let thoughts mature manifesting our dreams.
For surely the timing is part of perfection,
A thing in its time finds no rejection.
Live in the moment, this time is just right,
To be who you are, bring others to light.
Each moment is filled with all that we need,
Sometimes we’re a blossom, sometimes a seed.
The joy is in sharing, however we can
A smile, a hug, or a comforting hand
Give unto others, you’ll surely receive
God’s blessings of Love if you only believe.
.
she knows better
mine frenetic
digits
theirn
tourette's
mine crystal
end
armand de
night
You could say we never met
But I let you into my world
Muse come down from on high
In person personified,
Forever intertwined
Moving in different directions
Still you will remain
A part of my poem
Gentle and kind,
Forever intertwined
You were good to me
Always so sweet
I was horrible
We didn't meet
I think you're dear,
Forever intertwined
I give you my word
Unoriginal and old
A word I know I've broken
A promise I still intend,
Forever intertwined
I can see your glow
Walking out to me
Cutting through the haze
I cannot break my gaze,
Forever intertwined
Am I delusional?
I know that I am
But it's impossible to say goodbye
I'll carry you around with me
I don't even have to try,
Forever intertwined
I thought I'd killed this part of me
tuckered and tucked in with him
ebb and flow of pillow head
personalities have dreams
we walk on the sea
we see no sun, with eyes shut
lily pads and no frog legs
and the sky’s a blinding blue
our feet toss and turn
pebbles rise into the clouds
a curious sight, indeed
even in the darkest night
distressing whale song
whistle salts breeze into face
we walk our separate ways
sleepy fits of temperament
hopeful peppermint
a couple buoys apart
harbor of port and starboard
ahoy, matey…don’t walk plank
drop splash to the deck
wakey…wakey…the seas wake
the blasting siren alarm
no one cares less where wave crests
it rests on the bed
that is the crumpled bed sheet
only need to straighten it
a boat left in the harbor
the sea’s now placid
We are not trapped by iron bars ~ but by vibrating strings in a play
Stars, atoms, creatures and time itself are string figures still quivering
Ten heavens are trapped together by these unseen strings still weaving
All between the innumerable fingers of Saklas, still twisting
(Inspired by the scientific hypothesis of string theory, which states that everything on a subatomic level is made up of one-dimensional, vibrating strings).
Banjo
if you want to bruise your ego
try to learn the 5-string banjo
I’m trying to learn Scruggs style
and it definitely is a real trial
three fingered right-handed rolls
is a complete shock to my soul
getting the timing down
so, I don’t sound like a clown
somewhere old Earl is having a laugh
at every time I make a gaffe
if ever I get on stage to play
I would suggest everyone should pray
I have a guitar string heart
You plucked the
Strings and healed the
Scars
I have a guitar string heart
You’re the one who came and healed my
Scars
I was used to being abandoned at
The corner of a wall
When you came
Along and-
Plucked my strings and closed
The wounds
Never would I have
Imagined you
My heart was broken into pieces
And left alone
I was torn but
Then you-
Plucked my strings and closed
The wounds
And this song is sounding
Choppy and
That’s because of
You
You make my heart stutter
When you’re in
The room
Someone asked old Mrs. O'Leary,
"What do you think about string theory?"
She said, "I don't believe in such a thing,
because it doesn't cover everything,
and what it leaves uncovered can be pretty damn scary."
New year
Big cheer.
Low gear
Snows here.
Wind blew
Leaves flew.
Team scored
Crowd roared.
Sun tan
Bronzed man.
Warm sun
Beach fun.
Beach walk
Gulls squawk.
Bright bling
Gold ring.
Place bet
Roulette.
Bells ring
Wedding.
Trains late
Irate.
Won race.
First place.
Birds fly
Sky high.
Flat tire
My ire.
Written on 20th January 2025
DREAMS DEFERRED
dandelion dreams
dancing doting dogwood tree
deforestation
THE QUIET ONES
dark heart’s art tar scars
black blood beating beckoning
sociopath scream
BUTTERFLY BRUNCH
black blue butterfly
breathless beauty blessed beware
bird beak bite bloody
a morsel of this
a crumb of that
a string, a stick, a stone
a robin scours around
the nearby ground ~
discards make her nest a home
It's roots are a foothold
To a mainstay stem
That shoots arms so strong
To hold person and string
Rope and note in his bag
Dire fully, he scrutinizes it
Till he locates a stronger hand
Fit to send him to dead-land
Throngs are amassed, astounded
Officers seek for testaments
His loved ones are richly wailing
Now he's like a drooping ceiling
Poem on a string
hangs there delicately ~
before taking wing
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