tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77874717641883076092024-03-08T00:48:23.519-08:00Words of the HeartPoetry and other writings from Suzi.
Sometimes known as Suzi the Uzi in slam circles in Las Vegas, NV.Poetry Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05745536789207319653noreply@blogger.comBlogger61125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7787471764188307609.post-47112289928940577442019-12-10T09:15:00.002-08:002019-12-10T09:15:29.254-08:00An Ode to the Sun (for Audra)Does the sun know how brightly He shines?<br />
Does He see the light of other stars,<br />
And wish that He were in their signs<br />
or a passenger in their cars?<br />
<br />
Does He see the light of the moon<br />
and wish that He could be so heavenly?<br />
Does He pray for His midnight to be noon,<br />
and to be seen as preciously?<br />
<br />
Does the Sun above see the planets about Him<br />
And wish to be as bright as they?<br />
Does He think they would shine without Him<br />
That He is not the their light of day?<br />
<br />
Does the sun know the warmth of His light<br />
Or the joy He spreads each morn?<br />
Does He know His shine is bright<br />
and with Him each day is born?<br />
<br />
<br />
*Author's note: This piece was inspired by an email chain. The opening line is taken from Brian Morrow's opening line of the email. If he got it from somewhere else I haven't found it yet. If you know of an older work that uses the line please let me know. I'd love to read it.<br /><br /><br />all works posted here are copyrightedPoetry Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05745536789207319653noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7787471764188307609.post-83399650739314201522019-10-21T15:03:00.000-07:002019-10-21T15:03:49.978-07:00Bleeding heartYou reached past my facade and gripped my bleeding heart<br />
You drew it into the light revealing its darkened part<br />
You showered my starved soul with words of intention<br />
You promised whispered nights of gentle affection<br />
<br />
I believed the dulcet tones that spoke of gazing stars<br />
I longed for the steady rhythm of long distance cars<br />
I swilled gallons of brewed searching phrases<br />
I weaved about in the your inner mazes<br />
<br />
We fell not into the danger of love<br />
We fell not from the sky above<br />
We did fall from a greater height<br />
We succumbed to predictable plight<br />
<br />
You saw the truth of my bleeding pieces<br />
You saw me through some great releases<br />
You saw the breaks in my careful face<br />
You left in the middle of the plodding race<br />
<br />
I crashed through the earth's mantle<br />
I pretended my mountain was an anthill<br />
I gasped and searched for breathable air<br />
I chewed through to release the snare<br />
<br />
We stopped<br />
We dropped<br />
We quit<br />
We ended it<br />
<br />
Now there is no you<br />
Now there is no two<br />
only I and my bleeding heart<br />
<br />
<br />
all works posted here are copyrightedPoetry Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05745536789207319653noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7787471764188307609.post-63137596278284906852019-09-10T12:30:00.000-07:002019-09-10T12:30:39.464-07:00Rain DanceIt ended with thunder and lightning. The whole compound was left in ruin. Brian sat on the hill looking down at the wreckage. It was a total loss. No survivors.<br />
<br />
<i>Well that's done then</i>, he thought to himself. He picked up his bag as he stood and slung it across his back. He walked away from the smoking ruin that had once been Compound 67B. He had destroyed five of them so far. It got easier as he went.<br />
<br />
The first one had left him with nightmares and the shakes. He had never taken so many lives at once before. As a sniper in that god-forsaken sand dune overseas he had hardly even known the people he killed. This was different.<br />
<br />
These were his people, his countrymen. People he had once sworn to protect, except they weren't anymore, were they? They had sided with those... things. they had opted to become a part of the collective. To escape the dying world they had worked to destroy. They weren't really escaping. they were becoming cogs in a machine hell bent on killing them all. They didn't know. How could they?<br />
<br />
He had learned about it the hard way. He had almost become one of them. Escaping Compound 86Z had not been easy. He wasn't even sure how he had come back to himself enough to get out. All he remembered before waking was walking into a big white room and sitting down with 19 other people. The view-screen in front of them had snapped on and words began scrolling across it. He didn't even remember what the words had been.<br />
<br />
..............<br />
<br />
"Collins" He could hear his commander from far away. "Collins you have to get up".<br />
<br />
he felt so heavy, like he was still sleeping.<br />
<br />
"Collins get the fuck up man., they're going to fucking kill you."<br />
<br />
That wasn't right though, because Commander Wolfe had been killed in Kabul. the truck had exploded. It was why he was home now. He was home. He should go back to sleep..<br />
<br />
"NO MOTHERFUCKER GET THE FUCK UP RIGHT NOW YOU ROTTEN LITTLE SHIT!"<br />
<br />
Brian's eyes peeled open. He was laying in a dark grey room on a matching dark grey slab. He felt the needles in his arms, the cold steel against his back, the warm blanket covering him. He was completely naked. Groggily he rolled his head first left and right just barely registering that he was alone. There seemed to be nothing else where he was. even the tubes trailing down from his arms disappeared into the slab he was stretched out on.<br />
<br />
He sat up and curled his knees to his chest resting his forehead on them. Knees, Plural. Suddenly he was wide awake. He whipped back the blanket covering him and stared at his left leg. It was complete, whole, human. The last time he had been conscious it had been a biotech prosthetic. Some new piece of machinery from their benevolent visitors.<br />
<br />
He had lost the whole leg from the mid thigh down at the same time that Commander Wolfe had lost his life. Returning home he had been wheel chair bound until THEY had come. Offering medical miracles and galactic peace. Now it looked like he had grown a new leg.<br />
<br />
It was paler than his right leg, the muscles less defined. He swung both legs over the side of the slab they dangled without touching the floor. He looked down and realized this was sized for THEM. They would be able to stand next to it without bending over. He would have to hop down. It wasn't far. A couple of feet, maybe.<br />
<br />
The needle in his arm was getting warm. He knew the warmth of a sedative. Carefully he removed the needles from his arm. He didn't have anything to stop the pin pricks of blood that welled up, he was just going to have to bleed a bit. Sitting on the slab he watched his arms until the clots formed and his life's blood stopped seeping out. He didn't want to leave a trail of blood.<br />
<br />
He knew as soon as he saw his leg that he was going to have to get out of there.<br />
<br />
hours later he was wandering the halls of Compound 86Z there were no doors, you could walk into any room silently. Of course anyone could walk out of them silently too. in every room there was a person on a slab. Every single one of them had needles in their arms. Every single one of them in some sort of repair or worse; disrepair. One room had nearly been the end for him. A woman was laying on a slab, from between her legs an umbilical cord kept her attached to the placenta that held her child. They were both still alive. the unborn baby and placenta were floating in a container next to the woman. The rest of her organs had been carefully removed from her body but not detached from it. Miles of intestines had been piled on a a cart next to her. Her heart was suspended above her, beating out a gruesome rhythm. he backed slowly out of the room and ran.<br />
<br />
<br />
all works posted here are copyrightedPoetry Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05745536789207319653noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7787471764188307609.post-80500689424748293732019-04-29T13:16:00.002-07:002019-04-29T13:16:34.692-07:00StormI stand among the drops of rain<br />
amidst the claps of thunder<br />
Let them wash away my pain<br />
and return my sense of wonder<br />
<br />
The nourishing flow of water from sky<br />
the healing crash of sound<br />
chasing away the happy lie<br />
for the truth to be found<br />
<br />
Laid raw and perspiring<br />
I see the light of my soul<br />
waking, weaving and inspiring<br />
piecing together the broken whole<br />
<br />
all works posted here are copyrightedPoetry Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05745536789207319653noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7787471764188307609.post-82059199002272575632018-05-20T12:08:00.000-07:002018-05-20T12:08:31.893-07:00One brick at a timeE: Why does this keep happening?<br />
<br />
M: I'm not sure. We learned to ignore the fake signs. We learned to never hold hope in a hopeless world. We even learned to be content with what we had and not search for more.<br />
<br />
E: then how did this thing happen again? Why are we standing here rebuilding this fucking wall?<br />
<br />
M: fuck man I don't really know. Shit. We should have known better.<br />
<br />
E: that's it... After we get done with this one we are never looking back.. not even going to build a gate into this one.<br />
<br />
M: agreed.<br />
<br />
*Sometime later*<br />
<br />
M: only a few more bricks to go... Wait...what was that?<br />
<br />
E: what? I don't see anyth.... no. no. no. Not fucking happening<br />
<br />
M: but what is It? looks friendly! OMG LOOK!<br />
<br />
E: no<br />
<br />
M: it has blue eyes<br />
<br />
E: damn it. Keep it in the friend zone over there.<br />
<br />
*More time has passed*<br />
<br />
E: what the fuck is that sound?<br />
<br />
M: it's knocking on the wall... It wants to come in.<br />
<br />
E: no<br />
<br />
M: oh come on. It's track record in the zone was perfect! There's no reason to keep it there...<br />
<br />
E points to the bloody Carnage laying in the center of the courtyard.<br />
<br />
M: but this one won't be like that.. it's a...<br />
<br />
E: no<br />
<br />
*Year pass in a flash*<br />
<br />
E: WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO THE WALL... WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?<br />
<br />
M: I just made a little hole so it could see in. Then it said it could fix the mess. Look its really trying!<br />
<br />
E: I don't think so... It looks like it's make it worse!<br />
<br />
M: NO you don't understand! just go away... No one likes you and your cynical ways.<br />
<br />
E walks away into the shadows.<br />
<br />
*time marches onward*<br />
<br />
Sobbing can be heard in the courtyard. M is laying next to the bloody mess and weeping into one of it's fleshy folds. E kneels down and pulls M up into it's lap.<br />
<br />
E: it's ok. It'll be alright. We will start work on the wall again tomorrow.<br />
<br />
M: I thought it would be different this time. We were friends first.<br />
<br />
E: it's never different. They are all the same.<br />
<br />
M: why is it so hard?<br />
<br />
E: doesn't matter. Let's just take a break today and build the wall tomorrow.<br />
<br />
<br />
all works posted here are copyrightedPoetry Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05745536789207319653noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7787471764188307609.post-80326755951183783562018-03-28T13:54:00.000-07:002018-03-28T13:54:36.348-07:00Angst, Anxiety, Despair<i>What are you afraid of?</i><br /><br />I'm afraid of falling from a great height. Not just physically but with my heart. I'm afraid that I'm going to go all in and find out that I can't swim and I will drown in you. I'm afraid that I'll study all of the facts about you and fail the exam. I'm afraid of the depths in your eyes because I've never dived that deep. I'm afraid of fucking this up and loosing what I have.<br />
<br />
<i>Is that all?</i><br />
<br />
I'm afraid of finally finding a perfect fit. I'm afraid of the fire that could smolder for the rest of time. I'm afraid of that house on the hill that holds fulfilled hopes and dreams. I'm afraid of coming through the hardships stronger than before. I'm afraid of happiness forever. I'm afraid of succeeding in you.<br />
<br />
all works posted here are copyrightedPoetry Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05745536789207319653noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7787471764188307609.post-82519566184011752862018-03-26T13:19:00.001-07:002018-03-26T19:55:01.933-07:00A Giant Among CatsThe very first thing I noticed about him was how broad he was; he nearly filled the hallway he was walking down. Second, he was tall; nearly 6'4". Third was his smile, it was dazzling and reached not just to his eyes but into his eyes, His very very blue eyes. That color blue that changes with a person's mood. Right at that moment they were a happy stone washed jean blue.<br />
<br />
"Hi, My name is Jack, I'm scheduled to volunteer today."<br />
<br />
"uh.. sure.. um... Let me check the schedule"<br />
<br />
<i>Oh good job girl... good fucking job. You didn't even say hi back.. no no its too late now. keep your head down. look at the stupid ledger. there.... right there line 5: Jack Wolfe.</i><br />
<br />
"Um Mister Wolfe?"<br />
<br />
"Call me Jack" he flashed that brilliant smile again.<br />
<br />
<i>Are you going to giggle? DON'T FUCKING GIGGLE YOU IDIOT</i><br />
<br />
"heh.. Sure Jack. Looks like they assigned you to the kitten room. Oh man. I can change it to the kennels if you want, or uh we have some horses back in the stables right now..."<br />
<br />
"No no" he chuckled "Kittens is perfect."<br />
<br />
I knew I should say something, but I just couldn't. I was locked into those eyes and the idea that this mountain of a man was ok with being assigned to volunteer work in the kitten room.<br />
<br />
<i>say something moron</i><br />
<br />
"Well then, " I squeaked out after an uncomfortable silence. "Follow me. I'll, uh, I'll take you back."<br />
<br />
It wasn't a long walk. Kittens are pretty popular at the rescue center so we keep them up close where everyone can see them. The door to the kitten room is solid glass. Looking through you could see that every available horizontal surface, that wasn't the floor, was occupied by at least one tiny little ball of fluff. Every color of the kitty cat rainbow was piled around the room. I opened the door and 20 pairs of eyes popped open within the little fluffs and looked at me.<br />
<br />
"Hey kitty kitties. 'mere kitty kitties" I cooed at them. Easily half of the room's population transformed into tiny little yawning arches of fur; stretching their legs; tails high in the air curved into velvet question marks. The other half scrambled away to those mysterious hiding spots that only cats know about.<br />
<br />
Behind me I could feel him. He radiated a tangible essence. I stepped aside and he walked into the room filled with mewling kittens. His presence caused the opposite of a stir, the room went dead silent and was quite suddenly vacant. I don't blame them, if Mount Everest here had walked into my kindergarten room I probably would have run and hid too.<br />
<br />
<i>I know one pussy who isn't afraid.</i><br />
<br />
That voice in my head is Bad Anne. The part of me that I usually wish I was more like; except right this moment. I blushed with that thought and I know he saw it.<br />
<br />
"Uh... I'm sorry. They'll warm up to you."<br />
<br />
"Oh I'm not worried about it. I'm pretty good with animals."<br />
<br />
"Ok, Well, if you need anything the intercom is right here, just buzz me. I'm Anne." I stuck my hand straight out. Fingers fused together thumb straight up in the air. He folded his hand around mine and gently shook it up and down.<br />
<br />
"Nice to meet you Anne."<br />
<br />
As I walked back to the reception area I held my hands flat to my stomach trying to calm the field of butterflies dashing themselves against my insides.His hand had completely covered mine; it was warm, and soft. Not soft like a person who isn't used to work, but the way the flank of a race horse is soft and solid at the same time.<br />
<br />
The rest of the morning was a blur. We were having our big puppy adoption event and that always brought in the crowd. Around lunch time it was quiet enough for me to leave the front and go check on Mr. Jack Wolfe. When I reached the glass door I stood there and just stared. He was sitting in the little folding chair we keep in the kitten room for the volunteers. He had moved it over next to the window and was sitting in a pool of early afternoon light.<br />
<br />
His lap was filled with five or six little kittens who were clearly asleep. One arm was cradling a lanky one eyed grey tabby kitten I called One Eyed Willy (nerdy I know). In his other hand was his phone and he was absorbed in whatever he was reading. his right shoulder was occupied by the smallest of our kittens, a little albino short hair. She was nuzzled right up against his neck with her head under his chin. He was unconsciously rubbing his stubbly jaw slowly across the top of her head.<br />
<br />
I slowly opened the door making as little noise as possible. He looked up and smiled at me. My heart quivered at the sight.<br />
<br />
"I see you won them over." I was speaking in a whisper that was just barely above the sound of a breath.<br />
<br />
"Yeah" He responded with the same whisper. The vibration of his chest as he spoke woke One Eyed Willy. "This little guy was the toughest. I started calling him One Eyed Willy... You know because of hard I had to work to get to him"<br />
<br />
Had it been possible, I would have melted into a puddle of goo right there on the floor of the kitten room.<br />
<br />
"He's a total sweetie once he likes you. Its been hard to home him because of his eye." I was still whispering, the sanctity of sleeping kittens should never be violated. Its a universal law among animal people.<br />
<br />
He looked down into Willy's one good eye. "I sympathize with the little guy, hard to find a place when you're just a little broken." He was still whispering as well but the sadness of that statement resounded through the room. It was a long moment before he looked up again. His eyes met mine and it was like being pierced in the soul.<br />
<br />
My sharp intake of breath startled some of the sleeping kittens and caused an avalanche of kitties to fall from his lap. We both laughed at the many-limbed kerfuffle that ensued. Now that the little fluffs were awake we could resume our conversation in a tone more befitting of humans his size.<br />
<br />
"Its lunch time.We usually close the doors for an hour and eat lunch together if you'd like to join us."<br />
<br />
Again with that smile, "I'd love to".<br />
<br />
He followed me through the winding corridors to the little room we called the break room. His presence behind me was unnerving. Bad Anne was suspiciously silent. Normally I would have been barraged with thoughts of what I would do to him if I was brave enough to suggest them. Entering the break room, introductions were made all around. Every single lady in there practically swooned when he brought that thousand watt smile to bear upon them.<br />
<br />
The braver ladies and the men asked Jack all of the standard questions. Where are you from? How long have you been here? What do you do?<br />
<br />
Turns out he was exactly what I had expected. Veteran, lived here most of his life, Never married, no kids. Just moved into a new apartment. Worked in a warehouse on the south side; Forklift Operator. Saw an ad on Facebook that we needed extra hands this weekend for the adoption event and decided to volunteer.<br />
<br />
After lunch we all headed back to our respective stations and resumed helping animals find their new homes. at the end of the day I was mentally drained from answering the same three questions over a over. "Dogs to the right.", "Cats to the left", "no we won't give them to you for free no matter how nice your home is". After the doors were closed and locked we all began cleaning up.<br />
<br />
I was bent over putting a bag in the rubbish bin under the front counter when a shadow fell across my back. I knew without even looking that it was Jack. I stood up and turned around. He grinned a low wattage version of his smile and held his hand out to me. I took it and we shook hands again.<br />
<br />
"It was nice meeting you Anne. Thank you for not reassigning me I really need some quiet kitten time." He was still holding my hand.<br />
<br />
<i>Hug him</i><br />
<br />
That's probably the nicest thing Bad Anne has ever said.<br />
<br />
I let go of his hand and stepped in a little closer I raised my arms up and rocked up to my tiptoes. He still had to stoop down a little but I got my arms around his neck and we hugged. I can't say for sure if the hug lasted longer than normal. Time decided to get weird. I was completely encircled by him. Our cheeks were pressed together. I could smell him. I could feel his heat seeping into me. I could feel his heart beating against me.<br />
<br />
Then it was done. I felt simultaneously alone and fulfilled.<br />
<br />
"It was really nice working with you today Jack."<br />
<br />
"Same here Anne. See you around."<br />
<br />
The door closed on it's cushion of air and Jack Wolfe disappeared into the glow of the evening sunset.<br />
<br />
all works posted here are copyrightedPoetry Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05745536789207319653noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7787471764188307609.post-1894439801114063032018-03-06T12:07:00.000-08:002018-03-06T12:07:28.401-08:00A dream<div style="text-align: left;">
I dreamt of you. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I dreamt of your warm hands and gentle touch. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I dreamt of your voice and your laugh. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I dreamt of your embrace and the feel of you against me. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I dreamt of a shared emotion. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I dreamt of a comfortable place by your side. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
And then dawn arrived and the distance between us was real again.<br />
<br />
all works posted here are copyrightedPoetry Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05745536789207319653noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7787471764188307609.post-85646285352189043302017-11-07T15:54:00.000-08:002017-11-09T10:16:22.806-08:00Keep Her Hungry<div class="MsoNormal">
I do things to keep her hungry<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But I never feed her<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I don’t want to loser her but<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I don’t want to keep her either<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You see<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I don’t see<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What she see’s in me<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She’s everything I wish a girl could be<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I wish I could reciprocate the emotion<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That she lays down, its like a potion<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It makes me want to want her<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It makes me want to flaunt her<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But I can’t bring myself to do it<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Its not fluid<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Its doesn’t flow from me as likely<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As it flows from her heart, you see<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I friend-zoned her harder than JLaw did to Bradley.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But fuck man… fuck it solidly <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Fuck it roundly into the square hole I created<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Because one day this feeling of meh might be abated<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then she’ll be the girl I’ll need, the one fated<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To bring me through my old age into the golden setting sun<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In the meantime, she’s a load of fun<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And I will <o:p></o:p></div>
Do things to keep her hungry<br />
<br />
To Listen to it <a href="https://drive.google.com/open?id=1JaYJSFLuReMwbx831cnbDqkw_Gak87_Y">Click HERE</a><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
all works posted here are copyrightedPoetry Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05745536789207319653noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7787471764188307609.post-65204168077853453402017-05-03T12:52:00.000-07:002018-03-06T11:52:36.618-08:00A musing<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Today I am affected by a feeling that is undefinable.
It is almost loss; but, not quite, for I never had anything to lose. It is
almost hopelessness, but again I had no hope to begin with. It is most closely related
to sadness, but I am not quite sad. Emptiness, yet there was no fullness. I am
confounded. Unable to describe that which has torn my heart asunder. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Perhaps there is no defining it. Perhaps it is not a thing,
or a feeling, or even a thought. Perhaps it was a passing fancy with no
substance to it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Whatever it was, I no longer have it (not that I had it in
the first place).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">A fantasy woven of ethereal threads of thought and feeling.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">What is this thing growing inside<br />
not to be shown but instead to hide?<br />
What is this beast that rages within<br />
yet has no vigor, nor any vim?<br />
Why is there such an empty hole<br />
there was no digging within my soul<br />
Why have I lost so much sleep<br />
for there isn’t e’en a tear to weep<br />
Where has the key been taken<br />
this feeling needs to be shaken<br />
Where have all the locks been kept<br />
They close the eyes that would have wept<br />
Who is this shade that brings small pain<br />
Not quenched by fire nor by rain<br />
Who brings the joy and sorrow both</span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">It is the one that my heart doth loathe</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">all works posted here are copyrighted</span>Poetry Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05745536789207319653noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7787471764188307609.post-85875962665871282642017-03-29T16:06:00.001-07:002018-03-07T08:15:13.154-08:00You Make Me CrazySo fucking crazy. Just the thought of you makes me sweat. You stand too close to me. You touch me too much. You touch me for too long. God. I just want to turn and look up into those pools of chocolate you call eyes and tip my lips up to yours. I want to close my eyes and feel your soft full lips ease down onto mine. Hesitant. Then meaningful. I want your big hands to burn their way around my waist and pull me in. One on my back, one on my ass. Pulling, desperate. I want it to slide down the back of my thigh and behind my knee, pulling up, pulling me in, bringing my aching wet need closer to the hard evidence of your desire.<br />
<br />
I want to gasp into your mouth and hear your answer. I want to reach up and pull your face closer to mine. Your lips slide down my mouth, nip my chin. You tongue flicks out along the path of my beating pulse and laves across my collar bone. Your whispered appreciation a symphony in my ears. Your hand moves up my hip, lightly, tracing, questing, finding my aching breast. Your warm palm covers my tender nipple, rubbing slowly through my thin blouse.<br />
<br />
Arching, aching, needing you, inside. Clothes move, barriers removed. Hot ready flesh meets wet needy slit. Gently, excruciatingly, slowly. Deeper into me, deeper, I need you deeper. Slow rhythms to start, learning. Whispered pleas for more. Bruising fingers grasping, pulling, straining. Lips melding into murmured wants. Desire rising, higher. Silencing a crescendo of squeals. Breaking tidal waves of completion wash over us. You burst, hot, deep, liquid pulsing inside of me.<br />
<br />
Gentle. So softly you ease me down. Back to my own feet. I open my eyes and….<br />
It was never you. All of it in my mind. All of it in the split second after you walk past me. All of it a memory of nothing. You don’t even know. And here I sit, sweaty, aching to the beat of my heart.<br />
<br />
all works posted here are copyrighted<br />
<br />Poetry Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05745536789207319653noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7787471764188307609.post-12309837654713463212017-03-07T16:16:00.000-08:002017-03-07T16:16:28.989-08:00 WHAT IS POETRY?Written for Nashoba, Because she inspires me to be better than I am.<br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">WHAT IS POETRY?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Poetry is<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">A river of words
flowing down<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">A Mountain of
ideas built upon<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">The Bedrock of
emotion that is moved by<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 1in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Shockwaves of
physical turmoil that are<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 1.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">The Soul reaching
for<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 2in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">A Grander thing
than itself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Poetry is<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">A Grander thing
than itself,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">The Soul reaching
for<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Shockwaves of
physical turmoil that are<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 1in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">The Bedrock of
emotion that is moved by<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 1.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">A Mountain of
ideas built upon<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 2in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">A river of words
flowing down<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Poetry is A Mountain of ideas<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Poetry is A river
of words<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Poetry is The
Bedrock of emotion<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Poetry is Shockwaves
of physical turmoil<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Poetry is A
Grander thing than itself<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Poetry is The Soul<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Poetry is<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
all works posted here are copyrightedPoetry Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05745536789207319653noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7787471764188307609.post-87003227486415781832013-07-29T11:03:00.002-07:002013-07-29T11:03:20.371-07:00EnoughI am not always secure and confident.<br />
I am not always 100% sure that I am doing the right thing.<br />
<br />
More often than not I am worried that I going to fuck it up beyond all belief.<br />
<br />
I have never been enough for anyone.<br />
I am always lacking something. <br />
<br />
I give everything that I am and want to get the same back.<br />
That NEVER happens<br />
<br />
I want to be someone's world. I want to be the first thing they think of in the morning.<br />
I want to be the person they masturbate to.<br />
I want to be the light in their eye.<br />
<br />
I don't want to be the part time joy in someone's full time life. <br />
I want to be enough.<br />
<br />
all works posted here are copyrightedPoetry Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05745536789207319653noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7787471764188307609.post-56298487967616580942013-02-08T14:36:00.001-08:002013-02-08T14:43:30.310-08:00It Weeps<i>A new piece... I haven't written in a long time. I find that deep emotional turmoil brings out the artistry. This is and isn't poetry... its a weird cross between poetry and prose. the grammar is awful and disjointed but it makes it feel correct. </i><br />
<br />
<br />
Head bowed, brow furrowed in concentration. A brief exchange with you. A friendly smile, graceful walk. A humble attitude. The epitome of business professional. Every discussion laced with sincerity and kindness. A feeling of open honesty.<br /><br />But look closer… look into the windows. The friendly smile stops at the lips. The eyes, they’re hollow. If you allowed yourself to peer deeper. If you opened yourself up to truth. You would see it. You would swallow it. Instinct tells you to avert your eyes. Your animal self trembles at the nearness of it. You tell yourself nothing and ignore it all.<br /><br />Behind the bars of politeness, in a cage of civility. It rages. Screaming, weeping, choking on every word. Every hug is a greedy hook jabbed deep into flesh. Every handshake a tightening strangle on it. Every sincere apology is a jagged shard of glass digging deeper into it’s very soul.<br /><br />It knows. It knows that all is a stage. That the masks are only semi-permanent. It knows that one day you will strike it. It knows that one day you will show your true beast. It rages and comforts in the cage. Inside it is protected and suffocated. It yearns for freedom and fears the repercussions. It wants to walk in the sunlight but is terrified of the burn. It reaches for light and shrinks from warmth.<br /><br />What is true? What is false? How can it know the difference? How can it understand when you speak a truthful lie at every moment. You mean it when you say you care, but if you looked. If you allowed yourself to peer deeper. If you opened yourself up to truth. You would see it. You would be swallowed by it. Instinct tells you to avert your eyes. You would see your beast inside its cage and you would know.<br /><br />You would know that your true intent is to unleash yours upon the world. You would know that you lie at every turn. You would know that in truth you are the cruel and hated master who would kick and lash and tear the flesh asunder.<br /><br />And it knows your beast. It has seen those stripes on the flesh of others. It weeps with knowing. Knowing that you would devour its weakness. Knowing that its truth is shameful. Knowing that never will it step into the light and be loved. It is hideous and scarred. Grotesque by any measure. And it weeps.<br />
<br />
all works posted here are copyrightedPoetry Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05745536789207319653noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7787471764188307609.post-17670736759659773932011-03-11T17:52:00.000-08:002011-03-11T17:59:32.150-08:00A New RoadAfter years of wandering aimlessly without a muse I have come into the presence of one who has awakened a sleeping heart. I have been shown that there is still hope and still goodness in the world. I was handed a mirror and forced to see the beautiful person that I am and to learn to love her all over again. I will be forever grateful to the Muse who inspired this poem.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">A New Road</span><br />Alone I was left to wander<br />broken and mismatched<br />What I saw made me ponder<br />Had the gate been latched?<br /><br />Would there, could there ever be<br />in all the world 'round<br />Someone to view the real me,<br />To find what could be found?<br /><br />Was it in them to enjoy<br />that which I most love<br />There is no deceit to employ<br />I am the same below and above<br /><br />I thought hope was close to lost<br />and the towel was ready to throw<br />My heart was growing a frost<br />my light was losing its glow<br /><br />A light<br /><br />not mine<br /><br />steady bright<br /><br />beautiful shine<br /><br />Walked right into my way<br />And with a smile so sweet<br />Blew the dust away<br />gave me a tender treat<br /><br />Showed me that the inside counts<br />and to be strange was good<br />Gave my step a bold new bounce<br />and led me through the wood<br /><br />on the journey I came to learn<br />That I was just as bright<br />That What could heal had a burn<br />And was losing its own light<br /><br />together we found a way<br />to learn it over again<br />That its best to enjoy today<br />And seize now, not when<br /><br />The first few steps are taken<br />the road before unseen<br />the loose bits have been shaken<br />and the new slate is clean<br /><br />Where we go from here<br />is still to be sought<br />But I travel without fear<br />For I am brighter than I thought<br /><br />all works posted here are copyrightedPoetry Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05745536789207319653noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7787471764188307609.post-4853535343219234572010-02-18T07:00:00.000-08:002010-02-18T07:00:01.484-08:00La Lorana<div id="pBlogBody_356445337" class="blogContent"><p><span style="font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In my home land there is a place where the wild rose grows so thick not even birds can make their nests there. If you follow the old goat path south out of the village you will come to a stream and if you follow that stream west into the setting sun you will come to the source of the water. Just past there is a clearing. Not many people went there in the old days. It was a place of goat herds and rocks, not much else. Now there are the roses. </span></p> <p><span style="font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">They say that in the time of my great grandmother, before they built the bridge over the river, our little village was bustling with travelers from the old road. Many people came to buy our goat's milk. It was the finest goat's milk in the land. During this time there were two brothers who owned most of the goats. Pablo was the older brother and a ruthless business man. It was said he could sell meat to a bear, if the bear had money. Tito, the younger brother, was the gentlest of souls. He herded the goats he and his brother owned. He was so kind the goats would do anything he said if only he would smile on them. </span></p> <p><span style="font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In the village there also lived Esperanza and her mother, Lupita. Lupita was a poor bakers wife; and after her husband died she was a poor baker. Ahh, but Esperanza was the most beautiful girl. She was kind and gentle to the village children and would often help her mother in the bakery.</span></p> <p><span style="font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Esperanza and Tito grew up together. They were they best of friends. But as they grew older the goat herding and the bakery they did not leave them much time to remain friends. Years passed and with the exception of the occasional chance meeting at the village well they did not speak to each other much. </span></p> <p><span style="font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Every spring the village has a great festival. La Lorana, The Festival of the Flowers. Every house, hut, and lean-to is decorated with the abundant wild flowers that grow all around the village. In the village square the grandmothers decorate the buildings and merchants from all over come and hock their wares to any passers-by. The year before the bridge was built, the festival happened to fall on Esperanza's 18th birthday. As a treat Lupita allowed her daughter to spend they day in the village square admiring the merchant stalls and even gave her a few precious coins to spend on what ever her heart desired. </span></p> <p><span style="font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That evening as the dancing and singing started Tito came in from the fields. His herd was safely put up in the pens and his brother had told him he could join in the festivities. There in the center of the square, dancing around the bonfire Tito saw a vision of ethereal beauty. Esperanza was dressed in a flowing light green tunic cinched around her waist with a leather belt. Her brown skirt moved like smoke around her legs as she kicked and twirled to the musicians' beat.</span></p> <p><span style="font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At the end of the song all the dancers fell to the ground in breathless laughter. When Esperanza had recovered her breath she made as if to stand. And there floating before her was a hand. Her eyes followed the hand up past a thick wrist to a strong forearm and up farther to a set of wide, sturdy shoulders. Set above the shoulders, atop an adequate neck, there was the face of quiet confidence. Esperanza took Tito's hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet. They spent they rest of the evening hand in hand. </span></p> <p><span style="font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Every night after that they met in the village square and talked for hours, about anything and everything. Throughout the spring their budding friendship blossomed into love. Through the summer their love deepened. By the end of summer they were ready to wed. </span></p> <p><span style="font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Lupita had been very busy with the bakery, trying to pay back the loan she had received from Pablo. She never noticed her daughter's blooming relationship. But Pablo had, and he was jealous of his brother. Late in the summer Pablo came to Lupita and told her he would forgive her debts if she would promise him one thing, Esperanza's hand in marriage. Thinking she could do nothing else she agreed. Lupita told her daughter that night at dinner. Esperanza sat quietly and listened slowly feeling a great hole open inside of her. </span></p> <p><span style="font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Esperanza had always been a dutiful daughter. She had never gone against her mother's word. Now she was torn. Between her love for Tito and her lover for her mother. That night after her mother had gone to bed. Esperanza snuck out of her house and ran to Tito's little shack. There she told him what his brother had done. And for the first time in his entire life Tito felt anger. He would never allow his brother to marry Esperanza. All through the night he raged and just before dawn he decided that Esperanza and he would be married no matter what. Esperanza was frightened of what Pablo would do to her mother if they ran away but Tito assured her he would do nothing. They arranged to meet at the clearing at the top of stream in one week's time. </span></p> <p><span style="font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Pablo heard the whole thing. He had seen Esperanza running in the night and followed her to Tito's. He had sat beneath the window and listened. </span></p> <p><span style="font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As the week passed Esperanza tried very hard not to let both her excitement and her guilt show to her mother. She worked harder than she ever had in the bakery. She went to bed early every night. On the day of her departure her mother noticed that Esperanza did not look well, and as the day turned into night Esperanza began to look even more ill. In truth she was sick from the knowledge that after that evening she would never see her mother again. </span></p> <p><span style="font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After supper she went to bed and quietly packed a bag of the things she would need. She lay awake in her bed listening to her mother getting ready to lay down for the night. She wept silent tears of both joy and sorrow.</span></p> <p><span style="font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There was a hush in the clearing as Esperanza walked into it. The wind was unmoving, the trees did not rustle. Even the birds were silent. Sitting against a rock her lover seemed to doze. She smiled silently and continued on. As she got closer there was something wrong. She could not place it. Was there something in the way he sat, the way his head leaned forward on his chest? Esperanza knelt next to Tito and placed a hand on his shoulder. She tried to shake him awake. Her movements jarred him a little and as he slid slowly from the rock she saw his cold unseeing eyes. </span></p> <p><span style="font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Tito! Her Tito was dead. Starting from a small black hole above his heart, an ugly red stain had spread across his shirt. She cradled his head in her lap and as she sat staring into the eyes of her dead lover Pablo knelt down beside her. He placed the gun to the back of her head and pulled the trigger. </span></p> <p><span style="font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">They say Pablo left the village and never came back. They also say he never left the village that he just disappeared into his home and wasted away. But no matter what they say about Pablo none of them can deny what happened in the following weeks. </span></p> <p><span style="font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Lupita awoke to find her daughter missing. She searched high and low throughout the village, asking if anyone had seen her daughter. By afternoon the whole village was looking for Esperanza. It was not until the sun was making its way to the bottom of the sky was she found. Another goat herd found them. He ran to the village and brought Lupita. There she saw her daughter and Tito dead in each others arms. She wept and lamented over her daughter. She wailed as a banshee. It took all of the village men to bring Lupita back. For a week straight she cried. </span></p> <p><span style="font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One morning as one of the ladies came to bring Lupita some breakfast she heard no crying. The whole house was quiet. She found Lupita dead on her bed in her hands there was a single red rose and a scrap of paper. On the paper she had written:</span></p> <p><span style="font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"The Rose is for eternal love."</span></p> <p><span style="font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Within days the place where the bodies were found was covered in roses. Within weeks it was impenetrable. Over the years everyone has tried to cut down the roses. But they can not be so much as scratched by even the sharpest of blades. Except on one day of the year. La Lorana.</span></p></div><br /><br />all works posted here are copyrightedPoetry Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05745536789207319653noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7787471764188307609.post-33894668468912139712010-02-17T07:00:00.000-08:002010-02-17T07:00:03.844-08:00My Fiction<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I want to lose myself in your Fiction</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Let my Fact melt away</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Fold me into your gentle embrace</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Slide your silky fingers along my spine</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Graze your ivory teeth on my neck</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Trail your kisses accross my thigh</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Take my Fact away</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Harder</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Drag me into your powerful arms</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Rake your nails down my back</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Sink your fangs into my throat</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Take my flesh between your teeth</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Give me your Fiction</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">End me</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">There</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Yes</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">no...</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Don't Stop</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">ahhhh</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">There</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">My Fiction</span><br /></div><br />all works posted here are copyrightedPoetry Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05745536789207319653noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7787471764188307609.post-13730449954070113592010-02-16T07:00:00.000-08:002010-02-16T07:00:06.734-08:00Manbashing<span style="font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now Ladies we must admit<br />We have done a fair amount of this manbashing shit<br />Putting them down and kicking their balls<br />Pinning their dicks to poetic walls<br />Assigning them to the ranks of thugs and players<br />Calling the cheats, dogs and ... Vagina Haters<br />Of assholes I'll say I've seen my share<br />But I have also met the few that really care<br />I know you've seen them too<br />Those strong and caring few<br />They are like that elusive flavor<br />That makes the dish one to savor<br />You can't say just what it is<br />Only if you weren't looking its something you'd miss<br />You look around and all you see<br />Are guys who will take you on a fucking spree<br />They use you up like a circular rubber<br />Hoping to God you don't become a mother<br />Ad if you do get knocked up<br />It seems their cellphone is always locked up<br />So instead of grabbing those sharp dressed swines<br />Take a moment and read between the lines<br />Next time you go out take a look around the club<br />Do you see anyone you could really love?<br />Step away fro the martini glass<br />Pull down your skirt and cover your ass<br />And Turn down that next raving invite<br />Instead bop on over to an open mic night<br />Then look around, you know what you'll see<br />Men who want more mind than pussy<br />Do something you would never dare<br />And talk to the guy with the fucked up hair<br />Stop looking for the man you usually seek<br />And go find yourself a computer geek<br />Why do nice guy always finish last?<br />Is a line every nice guy has asked<br />So quit your whinin' and your bitchin'<br />Just look around and see you what you're missin'<br />Ladies, the moral of the story is very plain<br />We are at fault for all our man pain.</span><br /><br />all works posted here are copyrightedPoetry Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05745536789207319653noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7787471764188307609.post-63459593175867047732010-02-15T07:00:00.000-08:002010-02-15T07:00:03.780-08:00Baby Sis<span style="font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It has been a joy to watch you grow<br />From a colicky baby to the woman I know now<br />I remember clear that cold winter night<br />When you gave mom such an awful fright<br />The docotrs though you would be sick, surely<br />For you were coming way to early<br />But with your first breath you let the world know<br />That you would bring trouble where ever you go<br />Quickly the years sped by<br />And you learned to use that effective cry<br />And when you knew that we would linger<br />You wrapped us around your little finger<br />Growing up we moved alot<br />It seemed we would never find our spot<br />Then we landed in the CIty of Sin<br />And we started life all over again<br />From Kindergarten to Graduation<br />I watched you blossom with fascination<br />I am so proud of all you do<br />Though the words I say it with are so very few<br />Life with out you wold be amiss<br />I love you bunches Baby Sis</span><br /><br />all works posted here are copyrightedPoetry Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05745536789207319653noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7787471764188307609.post-70531490401391176792010-02-14T17:08:00.000-08:002010-02-14T17:09:04.277-08:00Ode to my Family<span style="font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Short, feisty and pale<br />Describes me family rather well<br />I learned my Irish brogue<br />From me great Granny the rogue<br />Who smoked and drank wine<br />Till the ripe old age of ninety-nine<br />I'd like to go out like me Granny B<br />Cigarette in one hand bottle in the other shoutin' "WHEEEEE!"<br />I'd like to age gracefully like me Granny M<br />Flippin' off other drivers yellin' "Fuck'em!"<br />Then there's me aunts who likes to play darts<br />When e'er there's a bulls-eye one of them farts<br />And me own dear sweet Mam<br />Turnin' fifty and dating again<br />With a stogey in one hand and Stoli in the other<br />Who could ask for a better mother?<br />And me sweet younger sis<br />Full of vinegar and piss<br />Five foot nothing and pencil thin<br />Busted a bitch's face open with only her shin<br />I don't know much about me great grandfathers<br />Only that they were outlasted by me great grandmothers<br />Me Granny M is married to me Gran-pa Al<br />Turning eighty and still me drinkin' pal<br />Me uncles are a lively bunch<br />Guinness and Jameson is their preferred lunch<br />And me poor dear dad<br />Divorced me mother, lost half of what he had<br />And last but not least, me own little boy<br />Who thinks his wanger is the perfect toy<br />When I think of me family me eyes get quite misty<br />O' course it could also just be the whiskey</span><br /><br />all works posted here are copyrightedPoetry Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05745536789207319653noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7787471764188307609.post-8587597120572915102010-02-14T17:01:00.000-08:002010-02-14T17:02:49.441-08:00Back Up Friend<div id="pBlogBody_363427975" class="blogContent"><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; font-family: Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">When all the others are too busy for you</span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; font-family: Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">You always know that I'll come through</span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; font-family: Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">I don't worry when weeks go by</span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; font-family: Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">And you don't even call to say hi</span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; font-family: Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">I don't get jealous when you hang out with another</span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; font-family: Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Nor when their kids call you their second mother</span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; font-family: Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">And when the time for me rolls around</span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; font-family: Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">You know where I can be found</span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; font-family: Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Standing behind you with guns at the ready</span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; font-family: Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Holding down the fort rock solid and steady</span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; font-family: Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Being your friend is about being there</span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; font-family: Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">When none of the others seem to care</span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; font-family: Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">It's about being ok that I'm not first on the list</span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; font-family: Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">And that sometimes I'm not even missed</span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; font-family: Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">It's about the secrets that you've told me</span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; font-family: Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">And the trust that will always hold me</span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; font-family: Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">It's about letting you cry and all the while</span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; font-family: Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">It's about making you laugh and making you smile</span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; font-family: Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">It's all the years that have gone to the past</span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; font-family: Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">And knowing what's behind your public mask</span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; font-family: Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Knowing exactly how to make you coffee</span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; font-family: Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">And not blinking twice when you turn down toffee</span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; font-family: Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Its conversations, libations, and reincarnations</span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; font-family: Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">And when the day comes to an end</span></p><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I know where I stand as your back-up friend</span></span></div><br /><br />all works posted here are copyrightedPoetry Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05745536789207319653noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7787471764188307609.post-11280565519748828902009-10-16T23:36:00.001-07:002009-10-16T23:39:02.086-07:00After the Dark<span style="font-family:verdana;">It happened from the very beginning</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I had this crazy, funny feeling</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">That you and I would find a treasure</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Like coal to diamond it took some pressure</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">It takes fire and water to temper steel</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">And time and patience for a wound to heal</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I’ve got that all and I see it in you</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">So together we can make something new</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Through life and death, up and down</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Past the false start and the worried frown</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Into the unknown so curious and fantastic</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Ignoring the words of the sincere and sarcastic</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Listening only to the song of our hearts</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Doing away with pre-determined parts</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Stepping from a cave darkened by fear</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Follow beside me and I’ll lead you clear</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">all works posted here are copyrighted</span>Poetry Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05745536789207319653noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7787471764188307609.post-11646954647569884502009-08-21T03:28:00.000-07:002009-10-16T23:39:19.590-07:00ForgottenHow quickly we forget<br />The hearts that we have broken<br />To us is just a little bit<br />The warm soul we have frozen<br />On we move with life anew<br />our gaiety and mirth abundant<br />Forgetting love like an old lost shoe<br />Remembering it only as repugnant<br />What once to us was love enshrined<br />And happiness of great renown<br />Is nothing more but an old face lined<br />Like an old man's scowling frown<br />From our life's sweet garden<br />The flower that now is weed<br />We plucked and let harden<br />Against the flower's need<br />But the lessons we did learn from it<br />We dare not ever show<br />Lest we remember how quickly they forget<br />The love that we did knowPoetry Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05745536789207319653noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7787471764188307609.post-81773476813715746702009-04-24T07:00:00.000-07:002009-04-24T07:00:00.652-07:00FF55 #3A slave can be owned by anything<br />It can be owned by time<br />It can be owned by love<br />It can be owned by itself<br />It can be owned by another<br />It can be owned by hate<br />It can be owned by space<br />It can be you<br />It can be me<br />Salves are we all <br /><br />all works posted here are copyrightedPoetry Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05745536789207319653noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7787471764188307609.post-45536740163314001752009-04-17T07:00:00.000-07:002009-04-17T07:00:00.585-07:00FF55 #2Love at first site is not a myth
<br />I have experienced it
<br />I have seen it working first hand
<br />And I know that it doesn’t mean a thing
<br />You can know that life will be perfect with them
<br />And they can know it too
<br />Yet still they walk away
<br />And you are left waiting for…
<br />
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<br />all works posted here are copyrightedPoetry Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05745536789207319653noreply@blogger.com4