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Jon
05-24-2007, 10:22 PM
FORK






You come to a fork in the road of life.

You see one named “Struggle”, one “Pain”, one “Strife.”

Would you split yourself in three

Simply out of curiosity?

Or, if not, which would you pick?

‘Pain” could simply be a small prick

“Strife” could simply be a rough berm.

“Struggle” is a relative term.

How tough would a struggle be to God’s humble worm?

So when you see the sign your path

Remember it may not be as bad as God’s Wrath.




http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a58/jonbug/fork-in-the-road.jpg

John Blaze
05-25-2007, 02:35 PM
Nice Jon, i really liked this.

reminiscent of Frost.

Jean
05-25-2007, 09:49 PM
reminiscent of Frost.

Yes, and I am afraid it's the weakest point.

I liked this, though:


Would you split yourself in three

Simply out of curiosity?

it reveals something about human nature that probably hasn't been so explicitly articulated before

and, Jon: when you post more poems in this thread, you might want to think of altering the thread title; just tell me then.

Jon
05-26-2007, 01:38 AM
reminiscent of Frost.

Yes, and I am afraid it's the weakest point.

I liked this, though:


Would you split yourself in three

Simply out of curiosity?

it reveals something about human nature that probably hasn't been so explicitly articulated before

and, Jon: when you post more poems in this thread, you might want to think of altering the thread title; just tell me then.

I am unsure what you mean by altering the thread title...do you mean like making a catalogue as in Wordslingers?

Jon
05-26-2007, 01:41 AM
Yes...I am sure that is what you mean. Please title it "Poetry: Dark and Light."

Jean
05-26-2007, 10:26 AM
http://i91.photobucket.com/albums/k291/mishemplushem/Palaver/0134-bear.gif done http://i91.photobucket.com/albums/k291/mishemplushem/Palaver/0134-bear.gif

Letti
05-26-2007, 01:22 PM
All of your poems amaze me, Jon. :rose: Send more please if you have time.

The_Nameless
05-26-2007, 01:38 PM
I like it; I like it, alot. It makes me question my choices.

My favourite line is: "How tough would a struggle be to God’s humble worm?"

Jon
05-29-2007, 09:33 PM
At this pont I can only post old ones many of you have already seen but Jean assures me that this is OK.

Letti
05-29-2007, 09:47 PM
Of course it's okay! I do love the old ones and the others need to know them, too.

Jon
05-29-2007, 09:48 PM
The day came, I always knew it would.

Some things went badly, neither of us did everything as we should.

We played and had fun, sometime we fought.

When wifey baked treats, you’d be my “look out” to make sure we didn’t get caught.

As often in family settings and life sometimes we’d hurt one another.

But I always thought of you as my furry little brother.

Time slipped and we aged together

We both felt the aches and pains of the changing weather.

Then I was injured and had to cool my jets.

Then it became crystal clear you were one of those unforgettable pets.

I was injured a couple of more times and had to “go under the knife.”

That was when it was clear you were no pet, but a friend for life.

Jon
05-29-2007, 09:48 PM
I’ve said goodbye to friends and lovers in the past.

Clearly those weren’t meant to last.



I survived past losses incurred.

But the loss of your love and friendship I am not sure can be endured.

I know, I know, all good things must come to an end.

But, after 17 years, it sucks donkeys to lose such a good friend.


Lassie, you will never know the empty shell of a man you left behind.

I only hope you know the love I held for your precious spirit and mind.

I return you to Mother Earth, encasing your shell with soil.

My friend, true, loved, trusted, missed and loyal.

Jon
05-29-2007, 09:54 PM
Have you ever been at the edge of your mind at all?
I don’t mean “the end of your rope” or “the last straw.”

I mean when you didn’t know it was you.
When you look at those you love and wonder who.

Now that I have clarified my question
Let me make one suggestion.

Answer it only if you have been to the true edge of your mind.
Answer it only if you have truly left sanity behind.

I ask of those of you who qualify “what did you see there?”
You see, I only wish to compare.

Oh! How rude of me to ask you to share first.
I have seen and been over that edge but, I was always coerced.

I stand on the precipice, looking below.
There I see all the things I didn’t want to show.

Like an unscrupulous corporation dumped all its toxic waste.
There was all the bad and painful I had done and faced.

The fumes rising from my mental filth make me light headed.
I slip over the edge while viewing all the things regretted.

Falling, I grasp and claw at the sheer cliff face of my mind.
Falling and falling, clawing and clawing, until the proverbial handhold I find


Slowly I begin my assent; fingers of despair try to drag me to the bottom of the edge of my mind.
About my legs, arms and waist, the tendrils of despair wind.

Those tendrils and fingers of despair cause twice the effort.
Tired and desperate, I seek shelter and support.

As those fingers and tendrils sap my strength like a tidal wave.
I see my cruel savior, I see my cave.

I pull myself up an in, panting like a dog.
The fingers and tendrils disappear into the fog.



In my cave, I savor moments of needed rest, but I also know.

That this cave is where resentment and self loathing grow.


I arise and begin to tour my cave,

With each step I lose control wave by wave.


You see this cave contains no paintings of ancient men.

Just list after list of my failures and short comings for me to read over and over again.


I have taken that last step where I was in control.
One more step and memory becomes a great black hole.

Beyond my next step I will only remember bad and only feel pain.
Beyond my next step is assurance that I am insane.

Now with only pain for memories and no real control
I travel involuntarily deeper into my cave, reviewing my soul.

Torment from things seen and heard, most not real.
But pain all the same as my heart is gouged by claws of steel.

I sob like a child as I beg my tormentor to end this hell.
But I know he will not, I know him and he knows me well.

I could have stopped this madness hours ago with a simple pill
But I didn’t take it because of the pain the pill makes me feel.

So look at this mess now, the pain and agony.
And all knowing that the tormentor is me.

I wonder what I am actually doing right now. Will I remember? Will that memory be true?
Oh the hours I have spent wondering “what did I actually do.”


I can no longer look at these cave walls with their lists of failures and sins.
I must stop this now, and this is where the stopping begins!



Madness cannot prevail; I throw myself to the cave floor.
And for a fleeting moment I think I see the face of the one I most adore.

Then that sound, that sweet lullaby,
Urges me back, struggling to return, I cry.

Each tear, each step, I return to the points of memory and control.
Tired and drained, my cave always takes its toll.

All the way back to the mouth of the cave I return
I pause and hear the voice for which I yearn.

“You must finish your climb up” the Angelic voice urges.
Remembering the fingers and tendrils of despair, my fear resurges.

But that sweet voice, I know it says true.
Yet I shudder, thinking of what I must do.

I reach for the edge of the cave and begin to climb out of my cave.
My Angel above me wants me to be brave.

I begin my climb and I look down so my Angel cannot see my tears.
She has not been over this edge nor in my cave, she cannot know my fears.

I struggle, each handhold dripping, slippery and wet.
A rainstorm? No, it’s my Angel’s tears. She has not given up yet.

Filled with love, hope and my Angel in my sight I continue my assent.
The tendrils of despair lash up at my legs, a tearing sound as my blue jeans are rent

Scrambling, slipping, bleeding, I see the top and what I know to be real.
I long to be back up there, no despair lashing at me, I need time to heal.

Hold by hold, my hands feel the top.
I pull myself up, now I can stop.

My Angel seems to understand, as I weep gently in her arms.
I am ever grateful for her love, patience and her charms.

Jon
05-29-2007, 10:00 PM
In the blink of an eye a father is lost
A household income is split
A pair of slippers lies unused
Some Blind Referee continues un-berated

A pair of eyeglasses view nothing again
A Bible’s pages ruffle no more
A protest by tires leads to twisted, folded steal
A prescription remains unfilled

A grandson is too young to remember
A church board now seeks a new member
A set of March madness brackets goes empty
There’s a little more mayo for the rest of the world

One less cheer for the Blue Devils
One less boo for the Hoyas
Minutes later Florida state troopers unbuckle a dead man
Screeching rubber, testing the steel of General Motors
and the mettle those left behind

Jon
05-29-2007, 10:01 PM
When one thinks of giants one thinks of Rome, Napoleon, and Alexander
the great.
All tremendous influences, however all insignificant at this date.

"Giant" you see, is a subjective term
How we must look to god's humble worm.

There are giants of industry and financial tycoons.
Physical giants playing sports, and the Mafia's goons.

Most everyone has had a giant in their lives, or wishes they had,
Like many before me, I called mine dad.

Giants are simply those you admire
Their task, not so simple, is to lead and inspire

Though Rome did not fall in one day, I'm sure it was a mighty sound
Much like when Jericho's walls crashed to the ground

I'll never forget the day my giant fell, on a warm "Mother's Day"
A half mile East of Bunnell.

Jon
05-29-2007, 10:04 PM
And when the dust settles what do we see?

A horrid accident?
A mangled automobile?
A set of yaw marks?
A stunned witness?
A survey of a shocking scene?
A phone dialed?
A recounting of a horror?
An authoritative assessment?
A highway closed?
A helicopter called for one half of the occupants?
A spirit given up?
A loss of a life?
A call made by a state trooper?
A call received by a disbelieving son?
A message passed from a grieving son to a shocked family?
A frantic flight of those left behind?
A landing and a feeling of uncertainty of those left behind?
A report to be written and filed?
A task for the M.E?
A weeping widow?
A widow too injured to weep for weeks?
A family happy to have one half?
An opening on the church board?
A lawnmower with less weight to bear?
A place empty at the dinner table?
A fan missing from "March Madness?"
A jogger missing from County Road 650 East?
A stray dog from rural Muncie goes unpetted?
A map goes unused that summer?
A trip goes unplanned that summer?
A National Park is viewed by one less person that summer?
A dull home film of that Park goes unviewed that fall?
A family misses that dull home film that fall?
A jolly grandfather passes no gifts that Christmas?


All because, when the dust settled, we saw a horrid accident.

Jon
05-29-2007, 10:05 PM
You returned me my license to wish upon a star.

A peaceful breath, breathed from afar.

A breath of life in a world of dispair

A sweet melody at a time when It did not seem I could care.

You saw a fellow struggle in an ocean storm.

You are a life preserver in lithe, feminine form.

My protector of dreams, demure yet somehow bold.

A warm breeze in a world of cold

The amount of peace you have brought me you will never know

The kind of peace that remains after you go

A gift I know I can never fully repay

Please accept this feeble attempt, full of cliché

The sweet flower that boldly breaks through the dense stone

The light shinning on the previously unknown

Your piercing eyes that reassure me it will be a good day.

The same eyes that send the dark cloud away.

Your strong love lifts the heavy weight from my heart.

Your sun drenched hair sustains me when we are apart.

Only distance keeps me from trying to steal you away.

Perhaps I will get my wish some bright sunny day.

I oft wonder why such beauty would befriend me.

It MUST be a result of a divine decree.

I wish I could cuddle with you until we fall asleep.

Then awaken in the early morning in a loving heap.

The beauty of your spirit is only out shined by your beautiful face.

And on that morning I would wish to walk with you in your favorite place.

To walk with you, holding you warm hand.

And listen to you tell me of your land.

I wish I could gently run my fingers thorough your beautiful hair.

And return the peace you share.




http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a58/jonbug/flowerrock.jpg

Jon
05-29-2007, 10:07 PM
The ocean waves roar, you cover my ears.

The carnage causes me angst, you cover my eyes.

The pain causes me to cry out, you cover my mouth.

The tears flow; you cover my face with kisses.

The night comes, you cover me with fleece

My dreams come, you make them true.

My fears surface, you dispel them.

The wolves come, you drive them away.

Illness strikes, you nurse me.

Old age ravages my youthful looks, you flatter me

I open my jewelry box, you are my gem.

Jon
05-29-2007, 10:08 PM
Horrible day, is there any other way?

Horrible night, why should I fight?

I want a better future, but to end it all by my own hand

Is that like giving up your stand?

After all, if the goal is to make the future bright

Then isn’t euthanasia just a coward’s delight?

Sure death removes the pain

But isn’t suicide just evil’s gain?

End it now and there is no hope

I can always put it off until tomorrow and today just cope.

Jon
05-29-2007, 10:09 PM
What does she think?

Focused eye with minimal blink

I give her no clothes to don

I make her outside her John

Does she worry about my lack of fur?

Does she worry that I am colder than her?

She looks at me with deep dark eyes

She sees through any disguise

Sometimes I let her roam free

Sometimes I chain her near to me

Is she self aware?

Are there burdens, I do not see, for her to bear?

Does she looks deeply into my eyes?

Or is this her non – human disguise?

If so then what does she see when she looks so deep?

Does she actually see a lover of sheep?

Or am I her leash, her, keeper, her role model?

Or perhaps her jailer, her governor, her throttle.

Jon
05-29-2007, 10:10 PM
You have done it now, no more life.

You have done it now, no more strife.

You have done it now, no more pain.

You have done it now, now they KNOW you were insane.

You have done it now, is that black cloud gone?

You have done it now, you are no longer Jon.

You have done it now, is there relief?

You have done it now; do you enjoy seeing your loved one’s grief?

You have done it now; did you finish that last prose?

You have done it now, is this how you wish your son to know this is just how life goes?

You have done it now, is this the message you wish that they view?

You have done it now, is this the message you wish to send to those few?

You have done it now, is the message you wish to send to those who look to you?

You have done it now, no more sunsets, and no more football.

You have done it now, no more smelling of honeysuckle, or hearing the dove’s call.

You have done it now, you will not see you son succeed, nor his children fall.

You have done it now; you will no longer see the magic of love.

You have done it now, you must answer to the one above.

Jon
05-29-2007, 10:11 PM
I’m standing on the precipice.

I can’t see it

I know its there

I can feel it, that’s how I know this.


When I can see

I look at the bottom

Red and gruesome until the sea washes it clean

This is not the danger for me


The danger is times like now

When I do not see

I think it far away

The only danger to befall would be the danger I allow.


I feel it is closer with each passing moment.

Is it moving towards me?

Am I marching towards it?

Is this my final, glorious stunt?


An angel’s wings stir the black clouds away

I see the ledge now, should I avoid it?

I know the bottom is red

Must I consider this be my day?


Her haunting, sweet voice sends me back.

Back to fight another day

Until the next time I find my way here

Maybe again she can sooth my anxiety attack

Jon
05-29-2007, 10:12 PM
It seems that someone has wrapped chains around my chest

Or maybe I have donned a one ton vest.

This is not something like the Princess’ asthmatic attack

Nothing so serious, but I feel about to crack

Nothing a physician can find

This is an attack from my mind

But what are you to do

When you mortal enemy is you?

I cannot reach inside my head

And ensure that my tormentor is dead

This I know to be the ultimate sin

But why fight a war you may not win?

Will this battle rage until my dying breath?

If so, why not embrace death?

Yes I know there are many moments when I can see.

But what of those times I am not me?

Such teenage angst at my age?

And still I know not who put me in this cage.

Jon
05-29-2007, 10:13 PM
Whipping and shaping the land.

With my symbiont, sometimes the sand

I pound your flesh and your home

Yet I repay you in Lome

I sting your eyes, in fury, I create your fears.

I chill your soul, I drive you from frontiers

I can rob your power and leave your mouth agape.

Yet I often leave, in my wake, a beautiful scape.



http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a58/jonbug/arch1.jpg

http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a58/jonbug/arch.jpg

http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a58/jonbug/devilstower.jpg

http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a58/jonbug/dune2.jpg

http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a58/jonbug/dune1.jpg

http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a58/jonbug/snowblow.jpg

Jon
05-29-2007, 10:14 PM
There is no love here.

I can tell.

The cries of the unborn

The tolling of the bell.


It is dull here.

I can tell

No one can cut through the din.

But then…isn’t “sharp” really just thin?


There is no peace here

I can tell

The distant stares.

The hate and deceit

The begging children at my feet.


There is no spirit here.

The distant stares.

I can tell

The swords made from plowshares.


There is no innovation here.

I can tell

Stagnant souls turning to dust

Hearts oh so callused

There is no passion here

I can tell

So few believe

And the balance intends to deceive.


There is no love here.

I can tell, my greatest fear

Without love then, does “here” deserve to be called “here?

Jon
05-29-2007, 10:16 PM
I traveled with Pleasure who chatted the whole time.

I traveled with Pain who was as silent as a mime.

I traveled with Sadness who whispered despair night and day.

I traveled with Contentment, his presence sporadic along the way.

I traveled with Freedom and paid its price.

I traveled in Chains, walking on thin ice.

I traveled at Dusk, my eyes heavy, my throat hot and dry.

I traveled at Dawn, the sun reclaiming the sky.

I have walked with all these before you came into my life.

I felt every ach and every ounce of strife.

Now I walk the same, but not alone.

Now, with a soft hand in mine, I skip into the unknown.




http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a58/jonbug/dirtroad.jpg

Jon
05-29-2007, 10:24 PM
I hope to have something new for you folken soon as i am sure most of you have already seen these and I apologize for that.

Jon
06-12-2007, 09:53 PM
The Race





Where stars do not shine, stories are not told.

Where there is no threat, all men are bold.

Where the dreams are awful, the sandman weeps

Where talking stops, hatred seeps.

When the songbird no longer sings in his gilded cage

The man may face avian rage

Where a race is subjugated

Hate, fear and despair is concentrated.

Jon
06-12-2007, 10:31 PM
BACK





I tried, I failed.

Back to vanishing

I lived, I died

Back to vanishing

I nurtured, I buried

Back to vanishing

I tracked, I rescued.

Back to vanishing


I hunted, I killed

Back to vanishing

I cooked, I ate

Back to vanishing

I gave birth, I suckled

Back to vanishing

I taught, I corrected

Back to vanishing

I prepared, I died

I vanished.


http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a58/jonbug/casket.jpg

Jon
06-12-2007, 11:00 PM
GADFLY




There were times that I wondered just what it all means

And times that I cried, I don’t need to know all the nineteens


But if my prayers are all answered, what do I learn

Would the strife of others no longer be my concern?

Does the struggling fish in a shrinking pool bring a tear to my eye?

Or am I satisfied to be Socrates’ gadfly?



http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a58/jonbug/horsefly.jpg

Letti
06-18-2007, 08:16 PM
GADFLY




There were times that I wondered just what it all means

And times that I cried, I don’t need to know all the nineteens


But if my prayers are all answered, what do I learn

Would the strife of others no longer be my concern?

Does the struggling fish in a shrinking pool bring a tear to my eye?

Or am I satisfied to be Socrates’ gadfly?



http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a58/jonbug/horsefly.jpg

I know who you are dear Jon and you see it yourself, too if you look into my eyes.
Nice poems. Never stop writing.

Letti
06-18-2007, 08:19 PM
I traveled with Pleasure who chatted the whole time.

I traveled with Pain who was as silent as a mime.

I traveled with Sadness who whispered despair night and day.

I traveled with Contentment, his presence sporadic along the way.

I traveled with Freedom and paid its price.

I traveled in Chains, walking on thin ice.

I traveled at Dusk, my eyes heavy, my throat hot and dry.

I traveled at Dawn, the sun reclaiming the sky.

I have walked with all these before you came into my life.

I felt every ach and every ounce of strife.

Now I walk the same, but not alone.

Now, with a soft hand in mine, I skip into the unknown.




http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a58/jonbug/dirtroad.jpg
This one is way too beautiful.
So beautiful.
I have no words..

Jon
06-26-2007, 11:05 PM
I am recovering from two bad emotional blows. I shall soon return with more poetry. I am sorry, I am not strong enough yet.

Letti
07-08-2007, 04:11 AM
I am recovering from two bad emotional blows. I shall soon return with more poetry. I am sorry, I am not strong enough yet.

*hugs you*
Don't be sorry. There is nothing to be sorry for. Sometimes the pen seems to be as heavy as a rock.

Jon
08-14-2007, 10:46 PM
I turned black today

I just could not find my way

This black cloud with me like a cancer

Makes it seem that going into the void is the only answer

It seems that all have left me, including myself

If only I could put those feelings on a shelf

Leave them there to collect dust

Leave them to corrode trust

One day’s journey seems a mountain, take your pill

Then I see the mountain was really a mole hill

But where they actually mountains, because sometimes they DO appear in life

Or do these pills spare me self manufactured strife?

What if I come across one of life’s REAL Mountains, take your pill

And now I am mislead into thinking it a mole hill

What if I climb this illusionary mole hill and jump, it being a mountain after all?

DAM these pills, what is real…thank God for these pills, keeping my senses dull.






http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a58/jonbug/molehill.jpg

http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a58/jonbug/mountain.jpg

Darkthoughts
08-15-2007, 05:55 AM
The first poem on this page is my favourite, but also I really like the one above. I enjoy the flow of your poetry, its very lyrical.

Letti
08-20-2007, 01:16 PM
You should be able to live on writing, Jon. You are so talented.

Jon
08-22-2007, 09:54 PM
I just fear folks don't like the dark side of my works.

But thank you all.

Jon
09-27-2007, 09:38 PM
The fool runs in fear over a cliff

The moments falling, he remembers every lie, every scam

All seem a world away but yet his fear makes him stiff

What fool could be driven to death by a gentle beast?

A blow to his pride for sure.

No one will know what drove him over at least.

And Doctor after doctor could find no cure.

This is how his illusion ends.

Driven by his own demons, no matter the form.

If you had observed, you would have heard when his mental grip portends,

and seen the signs of the impending violent storm

Ground closing fast, but still time for resignation.

One last thought.

One last hope for salvation

One last chance to find the answer so sought.

It’s over now, Terrestrial collision

Sadly, this tortured soul found no resolution

Did this mind lack strength, or vision?

Sadly, everyday many souls chose this solution


http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a58/jonbug/CliffOutcrop-m.jpg

Jon
10-22-2007, 10:20 PM
Pale man rides the plains

Pale man ignores the bloodstains

Oregon, trail of tears

Expansion, red man’ fears

Imminent domain, a sorry excuse

An entire race treated as refuse.



http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a58/jonbug/TrailofTears.jpg

Jean
10-22-2007, 10:27 PM
Jon, that was a real masterpiece. Thank you.

Storyslinger
10-23-2007, 07:33 AM
Very good

Jon
10-26-2007, 11:14 PM
Thank you guys. Those are complement from some real heavy hitters!

Jon
11-05-2007, 01:02 AM
I hear the clock ticking, but I know time is standing still.

I should know better than to make a mountain of a molehill.

I see the sun rise,

But shadows persist

I know the end is coming, but still resist.

I resist for the sound of a babbling brook

I resist for tomorrow may bring a better outlook.

I resist for the cool water of the creek in my skin.

I resist for the joy of watching my dogs jump in.

I resist for the crisp fall air.

I resist for the ones who care

I resist for the mourning dove’s woeful cry.

I resist for the cloudless sky.

I resist because there may be a chance

Of that one person’s life I could enhance.

I persist

I must push forward, back is a trap.

I must go on without life’s map

Thorns scratch my arm and rocks hurt my feet.

I cannot stop until my maker says my task is complete.

The dust between my toes and grit between my teeth.

I must crush those rocks beneath.

My path is not so bad I have some pleasures.

The bird’s song and Morning glory but two of my treasures.

The cloudless night and star filled sky.

Reading by the babbling creek of Socrates, the gadfly.

Read, smell the water and see the life all around.

Sit still and make no sound.

Patience may bring a deer or a crane inbound.

The smell of the Honeysuckle, the distant wail of a bird hound.

Yes, this is my life, my holy ground.

These are the things that make me endure

The broken mind, so unsure.

http://i239.photobucket.com/albums/ff79/walterodim_photos/creek.jpg






I was really hesitant to post this. I am not sure if I like it. I almost scrapped it. What do you all think? Is my angst getting old?

Jon
12-07-2007, 11:03 PM
All of this is true!






It’s been here days now.

All snow and no snowplow

I love the country living, no doubt.

I went to the near by city

Got lost in a round about.

Steve
12-23-2007, 02:22 PM
Jon, this is extravagant work. And I've never used that adjective before in critiques. Bravo!

alinda
12-23-2007, 03:18 PM
Jon,

I have printed these writtings and will share them with my son
Brian, who's been having a hard time in his life, I know your words will
touch his heart, and "do some good" you are a treasure to the young
men & women you've helped over the years, and a wonderful writer.
Thank you for sharing these with us...they are wonderful, and so are
you!! Thanks for the card you sent me. Merry Christmas.

Jean
12-23-2007, 03:19 PM
I am inclined to share the above opinions on Jon's latest poems

::a very impressed bear::

Jon
12-26-2007, 11:56 PM
I thank you all. Linda you are too kind.

I have been in my cave since I caught one of my favorite boys making the second cut on his wrist. It was deep and he meant to end his life. I just left my office and looked in on him hoping he was awake to say hello....FATE!

It really hurt me badly. I with drew for nearly a week. I only went in public for a short time to shop for Christmas and this is only my second time online since. The first time was very short.

Jean
12-27-2007, 01:48 AM
http://i91.photobucket.com/albums/k291/mishemplushem/Facilitation/0134-bear.gifhttp://i91.photobucket.com/albums/k291/mishemplushem/Facilitation/0134-bear.gifhttp://i91.photobucket.com/albums/k291/mishemplushem/Facilitation/0134-bear.gifhttp://i91.photobucket.com/albums/k291/mishemplushem/Facilitation/0134-bear.gifhttp://i91.photobucket.com/albums/k291/mishemplushem/Facilitation/0134-bear.gifhttp://i91.photobucket.com/albums/k291/mishemplushem/Facilitation/0134-bear.gif

Jon
12-27-2007, 02:13 AM
Mrs. Fortune smiles her black-toothed grin.

A smile? A smirk? I DID win.

I take my loved ones and the booty down life’s path.

I flinch at every gust of wind, as I know her wrath.

I see her wind blow a dead leaf. It once had the win.

Now it is her toy, it and its kin.

I hurry down the path, a protective prayer for loved ones and booty.

A prayer for health, success and wisdom to know my duty.

I KNOW Mrs. Fortune is really misfortune in fancy dress

She will exact a toll for her largesse.

Artful dodging and cunning quarry would win the day I thought.

But my ruse found me off the path and now caught.

Mrs. Fortune doffed her fancy dress and donned that smirk.

She removed the booty from me with a jerk.

Disappointed and sad, I did not see the ones I love.

But they were still around me, those life really consists of.

Dejected, and reality back in hand.

We return to the path we had planned.

Walking along, I ratiocinated there is another snare.

Her life long partner self- pity, who lives in the Pit of Despair.

I have my loved ones; I have no such luxury as this.

To burden their souls and drag them into my self-esteem abyss.


http://i239.photobucket.com/albums/ff79/walterodim_photos/a-deep-pit.jpg

Steve
12-27-2007, 10:14 PM
Jeez. Well, we're all here for you, Jon.

Jon
12-27-2007, 11:32 PM
Naw... not ALL of my poetry is "current angst."

Its just poetry. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.

Steve
12-28-2007, 07:24 PM
Which can cause lung/lip cancer.

Just kidding, Jon.

Jon
01-14-2008, 06:44 AM
This is clearly not my best work but it is "lite" and I wish to keep true to the catalog title.

This is also how I feel at this moment.






A Day to Refine



Wake up and feel the soft sunshine

Wake up; we’ve a day to refine

Wake up, the sun warm, the air cold and pure

Wake up, a life to live and loved ones to reassure

Wake up, the day is short, we've so little time

Wake up, we have mountains to climb!


http://i239.photobucket.com/albums/ff79/walterodim_photos/green_mountains.jpg

Jon
02-02-2008, 05:40 AM
Wow...Jan. 14th!
I should write more dark poetry.

Jon
02-03-2008, 11:52 PM
The tears of sorrow, so heavy and fall so fast.

The tears of Joy, light, and never last.

Tears of sorrow, great volume make seas

Tears of joy, light and rare, dried by a gentle breeze.

Rain drops taste like tears without the sorrow.

Soundless laughter looks like crying without a tomorrow.

But tomorrow always appears.

You can’t control the type of tears.

But you can see it open new frontiers.






http://i239.photobucket.com/albums/ff79/walterodim_photos/tears.jpg

Jon
02-25-2008, 04:44 AM
I have had a nightmare that reoccurs at least once a week for over a year now. I thought I had it defeated a couple of hours ago. I thank God for my two very large dogs who, in coming to my rescue, revealed the truth to a broken mind. I cannot tell you of the tears of frustration that came at the end...which you shall read.







The End of a Nightmare?





You make a grown man scream in fear.



But his voice paralyzed, no one can hear.



You make the shades flutter and things fly on a calm night.



You blow like a hurricane even with the windows shut tight.



You sneak up and restrain my hands.



No words from you, but you message this man understands.



An instinctual evil, implying great harm.



I had you; I grabbed you... I cried out an alarm.



I felt you flesh, muscle and tendon, soft like mine.



I know if not paralyzed by fear I’d have snapped your spine.



You tried to pull away but I held fast.



You feared ME, oh what a contrast.



Now I have you, now to end the hours of sleep you steal.



I call my dogs, and hope to prove you are real.



I imagine them both, with great jaws chewing your soft flesh.



I call one dog’s name, they both come at my call of distress.



I hold your arm or leg right to their jowls



Expecting to hear their deep, throaty growls.



All I hear are whines of confusion.



Damn you! You are simply an illusion!







http://i239.photobucket.com/albums/ff79/walterodim_photos/nightmareta9.jpg

ladysai
03-04-2008, 03:23 PM
Thats a well-done poem, Jon. And a very scary picture!
Good dogs..give them a hug from me, would ya?
:huglove:

Jon
03-06-2008, 12:07 AM
Yeah. I never appreciated them as much as I do now.

Thank you for taking time to read my poem.

Jon
05-23-2008, 06:01 AM
The Power of Suggestion












A face at the window



Your fears in steady crescendo



You run in terror and hide



You thought it a good neighborhood, a nice place to reside



You hide and consider your plight



No sight or sound heard but the still of the night



Slowly you creep up to the window in question



Was it that scary book you read? You know, the power of suggestion.



Pulling yourself up to level with the sash



You recall your days as poor white trash



Days filled with gunfire; not too distant



Nights when safety at home was nonexistent



Now you thought you’d moved up and away from that fear



How can it make its return in this safe place, on a night so clear?



Should you risk a sudden move? Yes, you should do it apace



You rise with all of your speed, and none of your grace



The face in the window, still there, a nervous chuckle, it is only your reflection



Your horror-book- imbued mind made a false, dire connection.



“Silly me I’d better go to bed before the neighbors think me insane



Just as You shut your bedroom door, a crowbar eradicates your window’s pane





http://i239.photobucket.com/albums/ff79/walterodim_photos/faceinthewindow-1.jpg

The Lady of Shadows
05-24-2008, 10:35 PM
i like your poems

Jon
05-26-2008, 09:21 AM
Thank you.

I tried to make this in a true horror fashion, no angst, no world views...just good old scary.

Jon
05-31-2008, 04:12 AM
Not For You


Are there secrets that make you weep?

Are there secrets that you keep?

Are there secrets you reveal?

Are there secrets you cover in cold steel?

Are there secrets you try to make sweet?

Are there secrets you are prepared to eat?

Are there secrets you whisper in your sleep?

Are they the fruits that others reap?

Are there secrets that cause you pain?

And to ponder them would drive you insane?

Are there secrets you share with your love?

Are there secrets between you and the man above?

Are your secrets the weight of a thousand lives?

Do your secrets spring forth when the reaper arrives?

Do your secrets stay tight against your breast?

And remain until your eternal rest.

Do you keep these secrets to be discreet?

Or do you keep them for the sake of deceit?

Would your secrets make a Holy Man fall upon his own sword?

Or are they a sinking ship with your integrity aboard?

Do your secrets take you to a place you wish to subdue?

But when you arrive, you find that place is not for you.

Can these secrets be held by a soul so riven?

Or bile spewed from a soul unforgiven?

Could a shared secret simply be a flag planted on foreign soil?

Or a kettle placed by another and left to boil?









http://i239.photobucket.com/albums/ff79/walterodim_photos/chrome.jpg

Jon
05-31-2008, 04:15 AM
I'd really like some feedback on this poem. It is one of those I usually throw away. It seems...fluffy and hollow... just not right. It is also one of those I had to stop. I could have written a hundred lines.

What do you all think? Be brutally honest...I DID say this is one of those I usually throw away.

ladysai
05-31-2008, 07:50 AM
I like it, Jon. Introspective and thought provoking.
I believe Mrs. Avery would call it excellent stream-of-conciousness prose.
:)

Jean
05-31-2008, 11:53 PM
Jon - would you post more of those you usually throw away? I would also appreciate it if you unburied the contents of your wastebuckets accumulated during past years, and post the poems found there, too. Authors are very often poor judges of their work, and what they throw away may very well be their best

Jon
06-01-2008, 12:26 AM
Jon - would you post more of those you usually throw away? I would also appreciate it if you unburied the contents of your wastebuckets accumulated during past years, and post the poems found there, too. Authors are very often poor judges of their work, and what they throw away may very well be their best


Thank you sir. This is most high praise when coupled with lady porn bot.

Thank you both but I remain dissatisfied with this poem and I am unsure why.

Jon
08-29-2008, 12:47 AM
This one struck me as a little silly. But then love can be silly. I find this one silly, sad and I hate to admit it was directly inspired.


Veil


I only see you through love’s veil.

My love for you is my lizard tail.

You cut it off, just to see me run.

Soon you will see I will pullulate another one.

Will you cut it off again?

And repeat your concupiscence sin?

Your cruelty only leaves my soul with a scar

A cognoscente of love, Is that what you are?

Are you a collector of affection and lonely hearts?

You blend a nectar sweet touch, with words like fiery darts.



http://i239.photobucket.com/albums/ff79/walterodim_photos/Bridal1.jpg

Jon
10-20-2008, 12:01 AM
Sitty


I hate the fuckin’ city, insisting on the paths I tread.
Sidewalks and streets, “one way” “No left turn” like sheep being lead.

I hate the fuckin’ city, postage stamp sized tracts of green.
Call thyself an environmentalist, making the sacred obscene.

I hate the fuckin’ city, canyons blocking any quick elusion.
I flee the gridlock, only to find a brick and mortar occlusion.

I hate this fuckin’ city with its weak attempt at architecture.
No master craftsman I, just optical conjecture.

I hate the fuckin’ city, these heartless concrete bastions of crime.
Even the white dove of peace, renamed “pigeon,” coated grey with grime.

I hate the fuckin’ city, my attempt to drive through
Met with painted lines, and colored lights to give me my cue.

I hate the fuckin’ city, as I speed to my escape, what the hell is a roundabout?
A child’s playground toy or a reason for the rural ones to hire a scout?

I hate the fuckin’ city, turn left, STOP for the lady walking her dog; possibly a mouse.
I just don’t know what to think; buying an apartment instead of a house.

I hate the fuckin’ city, people crossing at a whim, horns shouting, was that one for me?
How can a soul willingly condemn themselves to a life in such misery?


I hate the fuckin’ city, hordes of mankind walking past brothers and sisters in need.
You will be judged by how you treat the weakest of you kind. The “Noble Savage” indeed.

http://i239.photobucket.com/albums/ff79/walterodim_photos/city.jpg

Hannah
10-29-2008, 07:13 AM
I like that last one a lot, Jon. I can see you in the poem very much. I liked the ending.

Letti
11-22-2008, 12:24 PM
The tears of sorrow, so heavy and fall so fast.

The tears of Joy, light, and never last.

Tears of sorrow, great volume make seas

Tears of joy, light and rare, dried by a gentle breeze.

Rain drops taste like tears without the sorrow.

Soundless laughter looks like crying without a tomorrow.

But tomorrow always appears.

You can’t control the type of tears.

But you can see it open new frontiers.






http://i239.photobucket.com/albums/ff79/walterodim_photos/tears.jpg

You are way too good, Jon.
You are very gifted.
Thank you.

Jon
11-23-2008, 07:55 AM
THANK YOU LADIES!!

Jon
11-29-2008, 03:34 AM
1/3 offended





Look on with disgust, pity or empathy, then move on.





Moving on, a reaction that fits well with so many evils, one look and my role is ended.





It’s hard to not look, and so easy to be uninvolved. Soon this scene will be foregone.





I looked, others saw me, I hope I looked a little offended.





The evening news will give details plus, atrocities occurring around the globe





All the fighting and killing in What-ya-ma-call-it-istan, whadda ya’ expect me to do?





What could I possibly do, here in my Lazy-Boy chair and robe?





I reckon I’ll just sit here in comfort, and crank up the Blink 182




http://i239.photobucket.com/albums/ff79/walterodim_photos/dead.jpg

Jean
11-29-2008, 06:45 AM
Jon, I have spoiler-boxed the image, just in case. http://i91.photobucket.com/albums/k291/mishemplushem/Facilitation/0134-bear.gifhttp://i91.photobucket.com/albums/k291/mishemplushem/Facilitation/0134-bear.gifhttp://i91.photobucket.com/albums/k291/mishemplushem/Facilitation/0134-bear.gifhttp://i91.photobucket.com/albums/k291/mishemplushem/Facilitation/0134-bear.gifhttp://i91.photobucket.com/albums/k291/mishemplushem/Facilitation/0134-bear.gifhttp://i91.photobucket.com/albums/k291/mishemplushem/Facilitation/0134-bear.gif

Jon
11-29-2008, 08:47 PM
Thank you sir...I am sorry

ladysai
11-30-2008, 05:34 AM
Powerful words, Jon. And very timely food for thought.
I am sorry for the spoiler tag.
I think the photo was very much a part of the poem, and it's inclusion alongside (or rather, underneath) the printed words added much....the brutality of the image added exclaimation points, underlined and bolded phrases, and generally lit up the whole poem.
But, I understand the need for the spoiler tag, and I just hope everyone who reads will click to see the photo.
I really love the way you use photos as a base or background for your poems, Jon. It seems like the images enhance the words, and the words enhance the images simply by your placing them together in your posts.
Goodstuff.
:)

Jon
12-09-2008, 12:29 PM
Powerful words, Jon. And very timely food for thought.
I am sorry for the spoiler tag.
I think the photo was very much a part of the poem, and it's inclusion alongside (or rather, underneath) the printed words added much....the brutality of the image added exclaimation points, underlined and bolded phrases, and generally lit up the whole poem.
But, I understand the need for the spoiler tag, and I just hope everyone who reads will click to see the photo.
I really love the way you use photos as a base or background for your poems, Jon. It seems like the images enhance the words, and the words enhance the images simply by your placing them together in your posts.
Goodstuff.
:)


Thank You for your kind words! In hindsight, I see the necessity of the spoiler tags. While the picture was "true grit" it still may offend.

Jon
12-18-2008, 11:13 PM
Rancid Meet


You there
and me here

Look at what is between

Hate,

bile and bloodlust

We put it there together you and I

out of fear.

My archer’s bowstrings tremble

Anticipation

Your pike men murmur

and curse
like their fathers before them

Centuries now,
we partake in this macabre minuet

Much effort
many lives
to support these Crusades


Centuries old stalemate, yet we fight
this time each harvest

From dawn,

until the small hours,

men cast their last wish

Many,
like you and I,
forget the reason we fight and bleed

It is leaders like you and I that put humanity

To the Test

Yes we test humanity, those like us.

But is that
so bad?

There was war before man
Animals fought for sex, food and land.

Are we so different?
So
evil?

Your pike men grow impatient,
poor training

or a pretend?
my bow men slack their draw.

Weakening,
or conserving?

You look at me now.
What of my eyes
Your future
or your end?

Sun up now, Sun at my back


Your turn for fear

Your voice,
(the report I have heard every year since we were teens)
Sounds!

It at that moment, your voice could have been
a friend
with mead offering a cheer
But there is no mistaking that inflection,
or that word

“Hate”
“Kill”
“ FEAR”

all in one irreversible shout

“CHARGE!”

Your steeds
and your men climb the hill

undeterred

war cries drowned out
By The Hooves’ musical beat,

They reach that angle

The sun
Their eyes



My bowmen,

#TWANG#

times 200


Steed and men

F
A
L
L

with a shout

My bowmen knock,

Your next wave reaches

that fatal

g
n L
A e

The sun, their eyes

#TWANG#

Steed and men fall



My bowmen knock





On it goes until the sun

is your
ally


Then my men
and steeds

sprint,


squint
and die.




http://i239.photobucket.com/albums/ff79/walterodim_photos/400px-Gow2-barbarian-king.jpg

Jon
12-19-2008, 01:42 AM
Rancid Meet (traditional)


You there and me here

Look at what is between

Hate, bile and bloodlust

We put it there together you and I, out of fear.

My archer’s bowstrings tremble, Anticipation

Your pike men murmur and curse
like their fathers before them

Centuries now, we partake in this macabre minuet

Much effort many lives
to support these Crusades


Centuries old stalemate, yet we fight this time each harvest

From dawn, until the small hours,
men cast their last wish

Many, like you and I, forget the reason we fight and bleed

It is leaders like you and I that put humanity To the Test

Yes we test humanity, those like us.
But is that so bad?

There was war before man
Animals fought for sex, food and land.

Are we so different? So evil?

Your pike men grow impatient,
poor training or a pretend?

My bow men slack their draw.
Weakening, or conserving?

You look at me now. What of my eyes?
Your future or your end?

Sun up now, at my back
Your turn for fear

Your voice, (the report I have heard every year since we were teens)
Sounds!

At that moment, your voice could have been a friend with mead offering a cheer

But there is no mistaking that inflection, or that word

“Hate”,” Kill”,“ FEAR”

all in one irreversible shout

“CHARGE!”

Your steeds and your men climb the hill undeterred

war cries drowned out By The Hooves’ musical beat.

They reach that angle
the sun, Their eyes


My bowmen, #TWANG# times 200


Steed and men fall.

with a shout My bowmen knock,

Your next wave reaches

that fatal angle

The sun, their eyes

#TWANG#

Steed and men fall

My bowmen knock

On it goes until the sun is your ally


Then my men and steeds

sprint, squint and die.

http://i239.photobucket.com/albums/ff79/walterodim_photos/400px-Gow2-barbarian-king.jpg

Jon
12-19-2008, 01:43 AM
Which one is better?

Jon
03-03-2009, 10:57 PM
Love's Millionaire


Your almond eyes await

You posed a question

As I think back to that day

And chuckle at my internal debate


“Is this a trapdoor, camouflaged by beautiful brown hair?”

My thoughts raced, in time with my pounding heart.

Pounding harder than a man’s pecs can take

Can this poor boy become Love’s millionaire?


Softly you repeat your question

Two deep umber pools express your anticipation

A flash of your eyes sends lightning through my veins

A flush of heat divulges my love, and my infatuation.


I take your arm, your question not repressed

Caressing soft skin, fingernails to elbow.

Carelessly twirling your chestnut hair, lightly brushing the skin beneath.

I think of the angel speaking to me, and know that I am blest.


Your third attempt at an answer leaves you in doubt

But you cannot know, your question leaves me so… breathless

The epitome of beauty and purity, speaks softly, and to my soul.

The one who fate would never let me live without.


Your question, in a husky voice, posed thrice.

After removing myself from the dream world in which we met

I think to myself “This question begs an answer does it not?”

I look at your eyes and you figure, made by God to be my vice.


I take your hand in mine.

Two hands become one

Instinctively, our fingers intertwine

Then that’s what we’ll do

I say “Yes baby… I’ll marry you!”

Melike
03-04-2009, 01:27 AM
Which one is better?

First one.

I've just read some of your poems, I am going to read more as I have time.
I like them all.

Jon
03-04-2009, 01:53 AM
Which one is better?

First one.

I've just read some of your poems, I am going to read more as I have time.
I like them all.


I appreciate the input on those two works.

It is now a tie, 1-1.

I prefer the first... (my vote was not counted.)

alinda
03-04-2009, 05:40 AM
Which one is better?

First one.

I've just read some of your poems, I am going to read more as I have time.
I like them all.


I appreciate the input on those two works.

It is now a tie, 1-1.

I prefer the first... (my vote was not counted.)

s broken, I too prefer the first one, I really like the way you
p
l
a
c
e
d some the words like that! :D I love your poems Jon, they are right on target so often. (pun?) *twang*:wtf:

Jon
03-04-2009, 09:32 PM
Thank you Linda

Jon
03-05-2009, 01:25 AM
Late Acquiescence




Your heart engraved on my soul

It always will be

No chemical, knives or surgery

It always will be.

A disguise or distorting scar, useless

It always will be.

Then to embrace you, all that you are, your peerless tenderness, your demeaning wit.

It never will be

So ingrained, now… I acquiesce, too late

It never will be

I beg an appeal to your deep, cold heart...but

It never will be

Now, only merely a predilection, now only black, glazed eyes

It never will be

A mark on a soul, once the target of your voracity.

It once was

A hot knife will never remove from my mind, heart and soul that,

It once was

To all who once knew, remember,

it once was

And rejoice.

Jon
05-15-2009, 10:27 PM
Slime Alpha-Adam




Just lying here taking a snooze

I think I’ll wake up

And wiggle over there

Next to that bacteria making air

Smells like O², but she’s the only company here.

In the primordial ooze

Some call me Alpha, some say that's sacrilegious

These amino acids are just so damned delicious

Pfft…what’s this stringy thing?

Hmmm... a double helix shape

Oh well I’ll try something new


Gulp!!




http://i239.photobucket.com/albums/ff79/walterodim_photos/p245544-Yellowstone_NP_Wyoming-Seis.jpg

Jon
06-12-2009, 12:44 AM
The Crop


Cast away, but not to a far place.

Cast just enough that the healthy cannot see my face

Recently deemed iniquity

An activity began in antiquity






http://i239.photobucket.com/albums/ff79/walterodim_photos/cigar.jpg

Jon
07-22-2009, 06:31 AM
WARNING: Imagery of suicide and suicidal ideation.





http://i239.photobucket.com/albums/ff79/walterodim_photos/dagger1.jpg



Dagger
This dagger once used to skin rabbit and squirrel

No stranger to blood and gore.

A prying tool

It removes a steering wheel cover

It damages mechanisms behind the cover

This dagger makes a lustful slash in the airbag

60-70 now 75 M.P.H. - That should do

I aim the Ford Missile at a parked bulldozer

Safety devices now ineffectual; seat belt not engaged

I await the impact

This dagger at my throat

This dagger ensures an end to my 40 year journey

Jon
08-01-2009, 03:39 PM
A Letter From Young Me ; To Future Me




Hey man, don't take the brown acid!

Don't sweat all the beer you drank

There will be little blue pills for when you are flaccid

Do us both a favor and go easy on the crank.

Remember... that hottie you will sleep with in 1980

Think long and hard with your upper brain

Everyone will laugh because, dude, that was no lady

Bear in mind that welding doesn't mix well with cocaine

Know that cannibalism is not considered a family activity

Don't forget that the Hoover Dam isn't there for you to climb.

Be cognizant that farmers do not appreciate your bestialic proclivity

And DON'T go to a beatnik poetry reading yelling "Hell, that didn't even rhyme!"


http://i239.photobucket.com/albums/ff79/walterodim_photos/beatnik.jpg

Jon
08-01-2009, 03:49 PM
http://i239.photobucket.com/albums/ff79/walterodim_photos/quillandpaper.jpg


WARNING: Suggestive imagery.


Erotic Imbibe



The quill slides ever so slowly into the inkwell.

It takes ever sooo long to penetrate the well to its bottom

The edges of the in well being rubbed ever so lightly by the shaft of the quill

The bottom found; a pause. Succulent seconds seems sadly sacred

A slow withdrawal; fluid begins to drip from the shaft.

A complete exit to give the fluid to another, a taker; an absorber.

With the fluid adsorbed by the great promulgator

The quill returns, a luscious entry, a surly, animal thrust

Dipping more quickly now, more often

The ideas must be flowing; from mind to hand to quill to ink;

To cadger, freeloader, bum, leech. Paper.

Jean
08-01-2009, 11:34 PM
A Letter From Young Me ; To Future Me

Hey man, don't take the brown acid!

Don't sweat all the beer you drank

There will be little blue pills for when you are flaccid

Do us both a favor and go easy on the crank.

Remember... that hottie you will sleep with in 1980

Think long and hard with your upper brain

Everyone will laugh because, dude, that was no lady

Bear in mind that welding doesn't mix well with cocaine

Know that cannibalism is not considered a family activity

Don't forget that the Hoover Dam isn't there for you to climb.

Be cognizant that farmers do not appreciate your bestialic proclivity

And DON'T go to a beatnik poetry reading yelling "Hell, that didn't even rhyme!"
this is to my mind one of your very best, especially the last quatrain

Jon
08-02-2009, 11:49 AM
Thank you , sir!

flaggwalkstheline
08-06-2009, 06:08 AM
[quote=Jon;425388][SIZE=4][B]Know that cannibalism is not considered a family activity


Oh hell yeah:rock:

Jon
08-06-2009, 03:24 PM
Aye, yup

Candice Dionysus
10-23-2009, 07:09 PM
WARNING: Imagery of suicide and suicidal ideation.





http://i239.photobucket.com/albums/ff79/walterodim_photos/dagger1.jpg



Dagger
This dagger once used to skin rabbit and squirrel

No stranger to blood and gore.

A prying tool

It removes a steering wheel cover

It damages mechanisms behind the cover

This dagger makes a lustful slash in the airbag

60-70 now 75 M.P.H. - That should do

I aim the Ford Missile at a parked bulldozer

Safety devices now ineffectual; seat belt not engaged

I await the impact

This dagger at my throat

This dagger ensures an end to my 40 year journey

There is no doubt that this is a dark, dark piece. You evoke the image in my mind pretty clear as to what the scene looks like, during and after. This piece is definitely not for the fainthearted among us.

Seeing as how I've had similar feelings (I can't say I've felt the same, being half your age and a different gender, but I've felt similar), I can really get a feel for where you're coming from here. I think you were right, I think I'm one of the few people who can genuinely appreciate a poem this dark and brutal.

Though dark and brutal it may be, it is still a work of beauty. The words, the images, the emotion... Beautifully blended in an almost bleak, and surely truthful way. Thank you for sharing this with me, it is amazing.

Jon
11-03-2009, 01:15 AM
This one ALMOST got deleted. It lost me...or rather I lost it. I decided to put in the "where the fuck did this come from" file. I wanted to go on but something made me cut it off.

http://i239.photobucket.com/albums/ff79/walterodim_photos/harvestmusic.jpg



Refuge



This field of grain; his refuge

He would sit and play

The grain enveloped him

His music swept skyward

Past the birds he longed to fly with

To the gods he did not trust

To the souls who left him behind

Carried by the winds sometimes

To the souls who had yet to leave him

She will surely leave him soon

As will the harvest take his refuge

flaggwalkstheline
11-07-2009, 10:27 AM
ooo
thats a very interesting poem
It feels airy but theres a heavyness to the ending...
you put alot into something with only 11 lines:clap:

Jon
11-09-2009, 06:18 PM
Thank you for taking the time to give feedback. This poem just wrote itself.

flaggwalkstheline
11-09-2009, 07:57 PM
poems that write themselves are the best:thumbsup:

Jon
11-11-2009, 05:43 AM
The Six Foot Dirt Dive



Just pretend that I am dead for about three days.

I am not suicidal; I am just not happy.

Forget me for a bit, please, World.

And I will happily forget you.

No need to mourn or send flowers.

I will have no casket.

I will have no memorial service.

I will take no six foot dirt dive




Naw, it isn’t THAT bad being me.

Yes, I have pain in my heart and in my back

But right now, I’d just rather not “be.”

In three days when I arise.

Listen for the sound of a great boulder being pushed aside.


http://i239.photobucket.com/albums/ff79/walterodim_photos/jesus-resurrection.jpg

Jon
12-07-2009, 03:45 PM
You know the old riddle

"Four legs in the morn

Two legs in the day

Three legs at night"??

I am an oddball twist on this.

For 12 years I ran like a deer. I even look like one.

I rivaled prized greyhounds.

"Reach far ahead with the front two

Push hard with the back two."

The dog catcher never had a chance at me

One day my right rear foot got cut

Then infected

My friend (what some would call 'owner" but our relationship was never like that.)

Took me to the vet and got pills

They didn't work. Jon tried several different pills

Several different vets

For a year the infection ravaged me

Then it was suggested to go to a doggy dermatologist.

How odd....

But as starnge as Jon and I thought this suggestion was

He took me.

They took pices of my foot. It hurt so badly

For days!

Then they called Jon

Bad news

A malignant cancer.

You see, I didn't cut my foot.

I cut a tumor ON my foot.

"Jon, we have to make sure it didn't spread."

The doctor said.

Several tests and a very long week later we learned

it didn't spread.

Close call. Now to remove the tumor

"No" the doctor said

"Remove the leg. Lymph nodes you understand."

With tears and anxiety

He took me

I awoke feeling so strange

And I couldn't scratch my right side.

Off the table I hopped.

I didn't land right. Something in back is gone!!!

Now

I miss my leg and running like a deer.

But all is forgotten

When Jon scratches that little place behind my left ear.

http://i239.photobucket.com/albums/ff79/walterodim_photos/IMG_2986.jpg

Jon
12-07-2009, 03:47 PM
FELLOWSHIP




We built a society for folks to be free

Free to love. Free to hate.

Hate binds us all.

In all of our efforts we give quarter to the enemy-hate

Enemys can become friends.

Friends that require a common enemy.

What enemy can split a family?

Family has many weak points.

Point that can be eroded.

The erosion can be stemmed by fellowship.

Fellowship need not be a holiday tradition

Such a tradition can be practiced daily.

Daily affirmations that we are free.

Free to love one another.

Jean
12-08-2009, 02:11 AM
That Misty poem is so touching, it brought real tears to bears' eyes! http://i91.photobucket.com/albums/k291/mishemplushem/Facilitation/0134-bear.gifhttp://i91.photobucket.com/albums/k291/mishemplushem/Facilitation/0134-bear.gifhttp://i91.photobucket.com/albums/k291/mishemplushem/Facilitation/0134-bear.gif

Jon
12-09-2009, 10:53 AM
Thank you, sir.

Jon
12-18-2009, 09:29 AM
I am taking online classes on poetry. The following are my attempts at wreath poetry and slant rhyme.

Wreath poetry: The poems wit rests in the fact that each of the poems lines overlaps with the next line, just as the evergreen branches in a wreath overlap one another to form a circle.

I have also attempted to combine wreath poetry with couplets and quatrains and slant rhymes.

Slant Rhymes: sometimes called Half rhyme slant, sprung, near rhyme, oblique rhyme, off rhyme or imperfect rhyme is consonance (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Literary_consonance) on the final consonants of the words involved. Many half rhymes are also eye rhymes (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eye_rhyme). Half rhymes are widely used in Irish, Scottish, Welsh, and Icelandic verse (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Poetry). Some examples are ill and shell. Half rhyme has been found in English-language poetry as early as Henry Vaughan (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Henry_Vaughan), but it was not until it was used in the works of W. B. Yeats (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/W._B._Yeats) and Gerard Manley Hopkins (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gerard_Manley_Hopkins) that half rhyme became popular among English-language poets. In the 20th century half-rhyme has been used widely by English poets. Often, as in most of Yeats's poems, it is mixed with other devices such as regular rhymes, assonance (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Assonance), and para-rhymes (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Para-rhymes). In the following example the 'rhymes' are on/moon and bodies/ladies: When have I last looked onThe round green eyes and the long wavering bodiesOf the dark leopards of the moon?All the wild witches, those most noble ladies,(Yeats, "Lines written in Dejection")

Jon
12-18-2009, 11:11 AM
This is wreath with true rhyme.




How Much is That Doggy in the Window?


The corgi was in pain for days.

But then a daze rescued her pain

A pane keeps her from a home and doggy ways

Ways that dogs with families enjoy. She tries in vain.

Vanity taken for granted by others with that cute puppy gaze.

Whose childlike gaze will shatter this window and end this campaign?



http://i239.photobucket.com/albums/ff79/walterodim_photos/Corgi-Angel.jpg

Jon
12-18-2009, 11:14 AM
This is pure wreath





A Real Keeper


I am the Keeper of the land of dead dreams.

Death by neglect, despair and death by disinterest

Interest in the new bike gave way with age

Adulthood brought other dreams:: and nightmares

Nightmares of poverty: dream; financial success.

And financial success would go to your head?

No thoughts for the poor? No mercy for the weak?

Weakness you label a disgusting, fatal flaw.

And if your flaw is, in fact, poverty

To be impoverished is to cry for alms?

Alms that do not teach a man to fish.

Fishing feeds for a lifetime. Education?

Education is refuse at the pearly or fiery gates?

I, The Gatekeeper, await with your new bike.


http://i239.photobucket.com/albums/ff79/walterodim_photos/TheGatekeeper1.jpg

Jon
12-18-2009, 11:15 AM
This is a quatrain followed by a couplet; all set with slant rhymes.





Fraught



Do you recall just when was the last time

A time that we flowed through shadows?

Shadows that whispered "you are mine."

Mine to abuse. Mine to look through windows.


I remember that last journey.

A journey fraught with destiny.

http://i239.photobucket.com/albums/ff79/walterodim_photos/shadow.jpg

Jon
12-18-2009, 11:16 AM
No Tears, No Cries



Snow falls with the night. The city prepares.

Fluffy flakes impact the street with no sound.

Flakes diffuse the streetlight; a wondrous glow.

The impacts of the flakes bring tears to no eye.

A soft crunch as a heavy tire crushes the snow.

No flakes cry out in pain and question their maker.

No human group seeks recourse for abused snow.

Yet it continues to grace us with its cool presence.

A beauty some southerners, sadly will never know.

http://i239.photobucket.com/albums/ff79/walterodim_photos/snowstreet.jpg

Jon
01-11-2010, 05:55 AM
Insomnia



http://i239.photobucket.com/albums/ff79/walterodim_photos/insomnia-eye1.jpg




"The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak."
HA!
The flesh cannot stop and the spirit is descending faster daily.
"Daily"...what day is it? is it day or night.
God bless the soul that put "AM / PM" on clocks.

I'll just wander the house more. I'll look out of the window. I will see my own reflection as it is night. I will see eyes that see inside of me. Nothing new to see. Just a tired body and a mind that obsesses on the dust bunny in the corner. How long did it take for the bunny to form? I should throw it away...but then what will I ponder next? Perhaps the etymology of the word "face." Do catfish get hairballs?

Maybe I'll read the Bible. That's a good one! God would kill an Nun and give me a wart if I did that! Funny thing that a virus can create a wart. a bump on the skin that grows as long as the person does. I wonder if religion is a virus...the "God Virus."

I wonder what is going on in the basement.

What was that sound?!? Oh yeah, the water softener is recycling. I'll go check anyway. Hmmm....I'll just have a seat on the steps. Look at that ugly spider. I'll check the internet and see what kind she is... a "Marbled orb Weaver." How long will it taker her to weave her sticky trap of a web? ...four hours.

This step I am sitting on is hurting my ass. I think I'll have a snack. That should be good for my weight. Pffft...pounds, ounces, kilograms...who decided to measure Earth's gravity? He must have been one bored S.O.B.
Like me.

Jon
02-14-2010, 09:24 PM
This is my first attempt at a Valentine poem in pure slant rhyme. I find slant rhyme difficult. Does it seem forced?






The Lush



I’m not exactly what I thought I was

You, and your support, showed me I was more

I waxed, but you were the force of my wan

In the cold, you became my warm, soft maud



I had to, through you, once again learn to love

Then I was a souse; drunk on your sweet lush



We began a rocky path as one soul.

With joys a fortune teller could never spouse

Joys great; in which grief painfully was sewn

From our love a superb young man would sprout




Years have gone by; I have leaned on your heart

With such a sturdy, prop; I shall not fall

This world could never do my body or soul harm

Bearing me for years; your repose: my fault.

Hannah
02-19-2010, 12:13 PM
I think it's sweet - and doesn't seem forced at all. But then, I'm not a poet, nor am I knowledgeable or a good judge of these sort of things.

Jon
02-22-2010, 09:26 PM
But you know what you like.

Thank you.

flaggwalkstheline
02-23-2010, 11:45 AM
Interesting poem, to me the slant rhyming felt natural but the meter felt a little stiff, very old fashioned iambic which lends it a certain solidity, I like it regardless:thumbsup: It's very difficult to be sincere without coming off sounding over melodramatic but that poem pulls off the task nicely

Jon
03-01-2010, 07:07 PM
Thank you. I find slant rhyme very awkward.

Jon
03-06-2010, 11:16 PM
Michael Jackson’s other glove


Feeling lonely; a little out of place

Like a gumball in a gravel pit

With no one around to chew it.

Home alone; a vast, empty space



Such silly thoughts run through my mind

When, exactly, does PUSH come to SHOVE?

Where the Hell Michael Jackson’s other glove?

How long would it take to eat a lemon rind?




Yes, I am bored to no end

In a minute; How frequently…

can I lick my left knee?

Quite clear: I need a lady friend

candy
03-07-2010, 05:34 AM
there are some fantastic works in here jon, i was going to quote on each one - however i would have taken up a whole new page:)

Keep up the poems and i will post on them going forwards

**sits and waits for the poems Jon promised me this morning**:couple:

Jon
03-07-2010, 05:54 AM
Mother and Winter Divorce



MARCH!

A command

A strong verb.

Rising forces

Green superb

Life returns

To the North


Spring shows force:

Heavy ice floes

Life to reinforce

Tornados

Germination

Mother and Winter divorce

candy
03-07-2010, 07:34 AM
:clap: and well worth the wait. Its a very strong poem - i like it

flaggwalkstheline
03-07-2010, 03:41 PM
Michael Jackson’s other glove


Feeling lonely; a little out of place

Like a gumball in a gravel pit

With no one around to chew it.

Home alone; a vast, empty space



Such silly thoughts run through my mind

When, exactly, does PUSH come to SHOVE?

Where the Hell Michael Jackson’s other glove?

How long would it take to eat a lemon rind?




Yes, I am bored to no end

In a minute; How frequently…

can I lick my left knee?

Quite clear: I need a lady friend

Oh hell yes, that is a spectacular poem:thumbsup:

Jon
03-08-2010, 10:43 AM
Thank you both!

Jon
04-10-2010, 11:54 PM
The Beach With No Ocean.



Fettered, tattered limbs cry out to be free

Muted voices seek an audience for grievance

A lone “savior” comes from the mighty West

Freedom calls a people with a simple decree


No one told them of freedom’s deep cost

Not just a cost to the mighty, mislead savior

But a cost to the fettered limb and weak voice

No one told them their mighty “savior” was lost


The freed’s brief peace ended by concussion of things profane

The savior seeks to bury its children in the beach with no ocean.

The freed now see the price, the ugly truth, of cruel humanity

The freed see fear, pain and death now in all things mundane


Both love and cruelty

Are products of empathy


http://i239.photobucket.com/albums/ff79/walterodim_photos/desertwar.jpg

Jon
05-23-2010, 02:46 AM
http://i239.photobucket.com/albums/ff79/walterodim_photos/thirdbase.jpg



I see hidden things on people’s faces.

She hates her tight, cramped, fashionable new shoes

The next one hopes there is no lipstick on his collar.

This one dreams of a change; not just new places.


But they judge me harshly too

A balding loser with bills overdue


That one has judged me as a most violent soul.

She fears me because of my heavy metal dress.

Her black boots; a walking advertisement for gun laws

Thank God she offsets it with that baby seal stole


The trio of teen boys think of only getting to third base

The elderly group thinks only of the glorious past

I look in the mirror and see only my crafted mask

I wonder what I would have seen on (Robert) Oppenheimer’s face.

candy
05-23-2010, 03:38 AM
i love it!!:clap:

i think it flows very well

Jon
05-30-2010, 08:16 PM
Thank you.

Jon
07-06-2010, 01:16 AM
Hope the lover of fishermen

A cruel lover we call Hope

Hope… the wish of racers

Perhaps the game will bite

Perhaps the car will finish first

But then we know so much more of Hope

The Gambler may call it “Dope.”

The jilted lover may call it

A way to whine mope.

Or tie a knotted rope
















http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a58/jonbug/VampireFish_02_HookedIV-thumb-608x4.jpg

flaggwalkstheline
07-06-2010, 01:58 PM
why does that fish have human bottom teeth?!?!

(neat poem btw)

Jon
07-06-2010, 02:34 PM
why does that fish have human bottom teeth?!?!

(neat poem btw)



Symbolism of my current predicament. Good eye to catch that.

Jon
08-22-2010, 12:25 PM
Biochemical Beasts of Burden











The heat of passion cannot hope to melt the glacial truth

But as biochemical beasts of burden, we try endlessly

Our words; our actions carry silly, caloric, vein hope

Hope of thwarting the force that gouges fjords in our psyche

You question this? View the topography of the human brain.

Fjords and folds abound as if geologic forces were working overtime.

We feel the euphoric rush and eventually the searing pain.

We then turn to that glacier to sooth the cruel, stinging, heat

Only to find gouges deeper than ever before and a new burn

Love…forever? It is “until I find another” or ’Til death do us part.

For you see, even the strongest love is rent asunder by death.






http://i239.photobucket.com/albums/ff79/walterodim_photos/Fjords.jpg



http://i239.photobucket.com/albums/ff79/walterodim_photos/Brain1.jpg

Jon
10-16-2010, 07:31 AM
A work in progress. Please do not judge too harshly...yet.



The Human Kidney stone


So they say in a loving tone “This too shall pass.”

A famous most phrase we all hear and use

Oversimplified, spoken by the distant observer

Conveniently obscures the snake in the grass


Days, weeks of struggling for breath and normalcy

Normalcy that will never exist again in this life


Then what, I ask you, what shall I do
Fly as a proud Eagle with a broken wing
who can just can keep up with you (and him?)
Or just fall as a sparrow into the mouth of a snake
a snake that resembles you and your new 28 year old man?

Perhaps, as in olden days, i should sacrifice the fatten calf
but then I paid for your Bariatric surgery
When you reached 110 you were gone... not gone with a boyfriend, but... two.

Thank you for comparing these 30 year old men's body's to mine before we were divorced.

I had soooo much self esteem before you took on boyfriends!!!


I reckon, one day, you too shall pass.

Jon
02-13-2011, 08:16 AM
Just some snippets I may use some day...somewhere. Any input or suggestions are most welcome. I am torn on where to take these works or to take bits and pieces and make several works.



The shadows of random acts of kindness are cast only to hide the doubts feeding on my dreams.


Tomorrow looks like yesterday, much like today...wasted time.
Time I could have been..doing what I did yesterday...
preparing to do it again tomorrow.
TO EXIST IS NOT ENOUGH!


If I could get one glimpse into the future
to see a wisp of a reason to persist
a flash of a reason to struggle further
To see a tiny sliver of my shell as it breaks
Then I would know.
Know I was going to get out.
Out for the scramble
Like a jet fighter in a gymnasium.






http://i239.photobucket.com/albums/ff79/walterodim_photos/jetisrael.jpg

Jean
02-13-2011, 11:26 AM
your poem may be depressing, but seeing you post fills all hearts with joy. And this is "a reason to persist".

Jon
02-13-2011, 11:19 PM
Thank you sir.

Roland of Gilead 33
02-14-2011, 01:55 AM
poetry that i love. i'm a bit of a poet myself. though i dunno if i'm any good. if i can find my notebook where i keep them, i'll post some here at some point.

Jon
02-14-2011, 08:48 AM
poetry that i love. i'm a bit of a poet myself. though i dunno if i'm any good. if i can find my notebook where i keep them, i'll post some here at some point.


You simply must. We love variety here. If you cannot find your notebook; start a thread, write a poem, and keep writing. Perhaps then your notebook will show up.

Jean
02-14-2011, 08:50 AM
hear, hear

Roland of Gilead 33
02-14-2011, 08:23 PM
ok, i think i'll look for it tomorrow. for now, i think i'll go & read some more of "W&G" :)


by the way thank you for your encouragment. & my bad spelling. he he. it's actually been awhile since i last wrote anything to be honest, i haven't really had any good idea's as of late, to want to write anything. does anyone here get like that?

Jean
02-15-2011, 01:07 AM
talking about ideas, please look around, you'll see a lot of contests and poetic challenges right here in this section - it abounds in ideas

now, we'll stop hijacking Jon's thread and will hope he will post more poems!

Jon - how about something rhyming this time? Bears love.

LadyHitchhiker
05-18-2011, 05:44 AM
Your words are so painfully elegant and beautiful. Your prose is absolutely vibrant and alive. There is beauty in the darkness, there is beauty in the light, and there is pain in both. I can't tell you how deeply I understand this.

As much as I love all of them and they all have a place in my heart, License is my favorite.... Will write more.. have to go to meeting! :)

LadyHitchhiker
05-18-2011, 08:01 AM
As much as "License" is sheer perfection, I must say that this line is my absolute favorite out of the lyrical beauty of the whole work of art:

"You returned me my license to wish upon a star."

Jon
08-26-2011, 11:54 PM
This is my first work in I think...over a year. I have a few lines in files here and there but this is the only thing close to complete. I do need feedback. I fear I may have lost something. I think my photography has suffered...if my poetry has...I need to know. Thank you.








A LOOK FROM THE OTHER SIDE











I worked so damned hard to get here


Then the father tries to run me away


Does he think it's simple to find a place


A fresh mind, soul and body to disgrace


I scratch her skin; I hit her whore mother


I tear up her room; scratch the furniture


I curse , yell, growl, coo, purr and squeal


I shock, I have their dirty secrets to reveal


Her father keeps asking my name...never!!


How shall I answer? Hitler? Puddin Tane?


Over and over...Father? What's in a name?


You lived a bad life; need someone to blame?


“What is your name, seed of a rotting Hell!”


I giggle. He is getting frustrated, I can tell.


“The Son of Man once cast my crew into swine


At that point they called me vulpine.”


After the Japanese earthquake I was Syncline.”


“Shut up vile creature, you have but one name!”


“Ha! And you, Father have had but one altar boy?”

“Ow! put that crucifix away! That water burns!”

“Father! I will shove that crucifix up your ass!”


“You won't give me your name; we have an impasse.”

“In the name of God almighty I cast you out!”


“Again with the names! Take your decorated cross

“Your incessant incantations, silly water and other dross”

“Just go old man she is all mine now”

“You can feel it in your chest; I win.”


“*Gasp* What the hell are you doing!???


“Just lie down now and I'll vomit on you”


“It will be over. You should know, you old dupe


A Priest would know demons don't like pea soup!”
















http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a58/jonbug/DEMONFIRE.jpg

candy
08-27-2011, 06:07 AM
I like it! (I know like is not the right word)

I like the flow of it, its quite jumpy but it feels like it should be that way. Its very angry - but thats quite reflective at the moment.

A few lines stand out for me
You lived a bad life; need someone to blame?
this resonated with me, more than you would know to be honest.

And then this whole passage, it teems with things hiding between what is said and what is meant

“Again with the names! Take your decorated cross
“You incessant incantations, silly water and other dross”
“Just go old man she is all mine now”

Jon
08-29-2011, 04:14 AM
Thank you. I didn't see those things.

Jon
03-20-2017, 08:38 PM
It has been some time since I wrote anything.

This particular poem is...well, about 1/4 of it was quite forced. I want to get back to writing but I see there will be "pains." I figure a prospector doesn't strike gold om the first swing of the pick. Please forgive me if this sounds forced and a bit trite.




Summer''s Negligence






The roar of snow throwers were your alarm clock


The only poor shovel wielding bastard on your block


Old Man Winter's gems crystallize on your bay widow


Shutter and curse “Do I REALLY need to go?”


Neatly pressed trousers a paltry defense


Maybe you can sue Summer for negligence


Shoveling is thirsty work; grab a gloveful of snow.


Kinda salty...and why in the hell is it yellow?


The growl of plastic scraping on glass with ice in between


Old man winter is again delaying your routine


You ponder, just for a second “Do I REALLY need to see out of my windshield?”


The Old Man's icy, toothless bite blowing at you across an empty field.


An injection of chill; another bone crushing blast


Like on a cold morning, when someone walks by too fast


The high whine of tires as your neighbor's traction flees


Would hypothermia and frost bite be more fun to get if they were STDs?


Your drive way's muffled cries; concrete buried alive


Rock the car back and forth: Reverse: Drive: Reverse: Drive


Damn the Transmission men; full speed ahead!


Take this street? Fools rush in where angels fear to tread


Burnt rubber set in steam. Winter's fragrance, "Share the fantasy." ™


Drive on packed ice or deep snow: between the devil and the deep blue sea



http://i973.photobucket.com/albums/ae214/denny111/burnt%20rubber.jpg

ur2ndbiggestfan
02-02-2019, 08:22 PM
Ode to Aquaman

Aquaman, Aquaman
does whatever an auquaman can
if an aquaman it can do
so can he
I’m telling you
becuzz
he is an aquaman yeah,
he is an aquaman!

He can swim
like a fish
minnows are
his favorite dish
you can win every bet
if you wager
that’s he’s all wet.
becuzz
he is the Aquaman yeah
he is the Aquaman!

On a date
he’s no fun
‘cause all he wants
is to swim in the oshun
he’s as cold as a cod
on the land he is a clod
becuzz
he is the Aquaman yeah,
he is the Aquaman!

He sits on his
watery throne
gnawing on
a whale bone
wishing that
he hadn’t croaked
in another TV show
becuzz his mate
looked good unclothed
she was so hot
was his betrothed
but now he’s just
son of Nicole
becuzz
he is the Aquaman, yeah,
he is the Aquaman!

His main foe
is Dafoe
former friend
and Goblin
said, “Call me Sarge”
if you want
I’ll be in charge
soon
of this watery, though colorful, haunt
so wave goodbye
as you swim away
and maybe we’ll fight
another day
see ya’
Aquaman, yeah
see ‘ya, Aquaman!

Aquaman’s
not done with you
a sequel’s coming
that’s for sure
it’ll cost a fin
maybe more
ten buck’s the price
after four
the sea’ll be as green
as the screen
most of the film’s
shot before
and even though we’re wise
to this franchise
we’ll still let them
out of our fists
our greenbacks prize
becuzz
we love the Aquaman, yeah
we love the Aquaman!

Jon
02-10-2019, 02:15 AM
Aquaman was my favorite as a young boy.

ur2ndbiggestfan
02-10-2019, 04:34 AM
I really liked the movie, although I didn't catch it in 3D. Fortunately, it will have a 3D DVD release, although it won't be the same as on the big screen.

Jean
02-11-2019, 03:16 AM
ur2ndbiggestfan, loved the poem, and tell you what: it would make an awesome, terrific HMRock ballad. Wish I was a composer: hear it in my head, but not nearly distinct enough to write down

ur2ndbiggestfan
02-11-2019, 03:51 AM
Hey, thanks. The tune to the Spiderman theme song is what was going through my head at the time, which I guess is pretty obvious. Maybe Black Sabbath will come out of retirement to do one last song.

Jean
02-12-2019, 10:03 AM
nooooooo, not the Spiderman theme!! Black Sabbath would have sounded definitely closer to what I have in my head http://i91.photobucket.com/albums/k291/mishemplushem/Facilitation/bear_grin.gif (http://s91.photobucket.com/user/mishemplushem/media/Facilitation/bear_grin.gif.html)

Jon
02-18-2019, 03:20 AM
Hmmm...Now I'm hearing it to the tune of Rat Salad AND Electric Funeral. But it seems more like a War Pigs tune. But Jean was right about the whole Sabbath idea.

ur2ndbiggestfan
02-18-2019, 11:17 AM
Well, you asked for it...
Sorta, kinda, maybe, I guess....well, maybe not!

I found this written in a dried brown, flaky color on a scrap of paper inside a waste basket under a garbage can wrapped in a Hefty Bag inside a dumpster in the City Dump at 3:30 in the morning on the witch's sabbath. You don't want to know what I was doing there.

Book Pigs

Slack Babbath

Clec’ters gathered in their masses
Waving phones that are their masters
Little minds that plot flipstruction
The real collector’s feelings they shun
In their eyes dollar signs burning
In hopes of great profits turning
One per buyer makes their teeth grind
Two lettereds’d be such a fine find
Oh Satan yeah

Publishers turn their blind eyes away
These fools are such a damn bore
Why should they care what’s wrong or right?
You can’t buy it anyway if your poor, yeah
These small runs are better than diamond mines
We make them just for fun
Treating readers just like pawns in chess
Wait ‘till their judgment day comes, yeah

Now in darkness page not turning
Ashes where the books’r burning
No more flippers have the power
451 degrees have struck the hour
Book of judgment, clec’ters calling
On their knees the misers crawling
Begging mercies for their sins
The book letter’d ‘A’ spreads its black wings.
Oh Satan yeah