I LOVE GETTING OLD by NudeCreationsDotCom, literature
Literature
I LOVE GETTING OLD
+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+ To be added to or subtracted from this free "TAD'S JTK.CA POETRY" emailing list, please email your request to Tad@NudistPoet.com +-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+ Dear Earthlings, "I'M LOVING GETTING OLD" by JTK.CA I'm loving getting old. So many things in my life have fallen into place and are settled now. Why on earth would I want to struggle to attain these blessings all over again? I've got more stuff to achieve. Leave the previous struggles behind; learn from them, but leave them behind. School is one thing I am sooooooooo glad is over. It's such a relie...
You used to be a hippy
Such a liberal man
A beatles
And bob dylan fan
Raised your fist against vietnam.
Until you found love.Wedding bells mean money bro
You love this girl to death and so
You needed cash
You quit the hash
Shaved your beard
Became what you feared.Behind your desk
You corporate suit
You feed your kids
You bear the fruit
From nine to five you live a lie
But your still alive
When you see their eyesBecause all the signs
All the ideals
Mean nothing compared to their laughs and squeels.You serve a higher purpose
Your old friends won't see
Your highest ideal
Is family.
For Mendell-November 15, 1991This was the time the student enjoyed most. Lessons were over and the Elder was weary from the weight of the day. They settled down in the shadow of the ancient oak at the top of the hill. It was early autumn and the scent of harvest was on the wind.
It is time for me to go, said the Elder. My job is done.
Go? said the Student. Where, why? There is so much more to learn so much I do not know.
The time has come for change and change I must for change is the greatest challenge. The challenge for you is to discover what you do not know and to find your own answers to the questions that surroun...
It's Sunday evening
I sit here with a deep cup of tea
It's green tea with roasted rice
Sweetened with monk fruit
It's a deep and warm cup
I had thought of having a Biscoff with it
But decided to just have the tea
Earlier, I fell asleep
I napped for about 2 1/2 hours
I recall an odd dream
Cleaning urine stains
Out of a sink/fish tank
At some anonymous house
Or apartment
Odd
I was woken this morning by my friend Pete
Calling to tell me that Dave Cousins had died
Very sad to hear
I saw him and talked to him many times
Mostly with the Strawbs
Fond memories
Fascinating, complex guy
Once he told me that if I ever
Found myself in England
To please come visit & stay with him
He said that if he wasn't home
He'd be over at the local pub
And gave me his address and phone number
Lovely of him
I caught a new documentary
about Band Aid & Live Aid
I missed the first 15 minutes or so
It was part 1 of several on CNN
Pretty well done
Trying to figure out
Poverty solutions
I was telling my
The Need
I want.
I lie on cushions of leather and lace, and
I want.
I sit here in comfort of this
High-backed seventeenth-century Chesterfield
Smoking sweet Cuban cigars and
Sipping rich Oriental teas.
I stare blindly into
The burning hearth.
This yearning heart.
Phantom shadows of laughter
Pitter-patter across
The walls and ceiling.
I am a man of misery and wealth,
Jealous of the men of empty pockets
And children.
These glasses that frame my sight
Are of the color gold, not rose.
Old paintings adorn my walls whose
Time-worn canvases I would gladly rend
For a cheap Kodak of a family.
When seen by society, I am
A man of no needs.
But I want.
gw
I see a new doctor
A few hours later he calls me
And the price of hope rises once againAlready I was living beyond my meansFor this, I had to be alone
For the privilege
The honor
Of sitting here, rocking back and forth on the floor
\"Afraid, afraid, afraid, afraid, afraid...\"I am not being ironic
The heart must find a way
To press back out what presses in against itEverything I see makes me cry
A blue sky crowning a cheshire cat smile
In a portrait of Michael
Blue eyes shining brightly
In a photo of Derek by the creek
The blue-green of the sea
That calls out to me
Every time I walk along the cliffsIt was on those walks, I think
That my ca...
I want to go back, I want to go back to when things were simple, I want to go back when one was content just being with someone, I want to go back to when Life carefree, fun and your biggest fear was failing a test, I want to go back to when hand holding meant the world to you, I want to go back
to the time when things were simple, I want to go back to when you didn't have to worry about who you were with and what they may have done the night before ...back when things just made sense and life was simple...I want to go back, I want to go back I want to go back to when I could see my friends everyday and things didn't get in the way, so how...
things i learned:girlfriends get jealous when you talk to their boyfriends
sometimes boyfriends go by other names, like \'special friend.\'
that makes me think of retarded kids in short yellow buses
with seat belts, because they are \'special.\'you can drive all night in a straight line,
taking naps in between little towns like \"my anus\" and \"keen city\"
where the prison population is greater than the outpatient population.
everyone is an outpatient waiting to be let in,
codependency shackling wrist to ankle in pharmaceutical shape,
all the colors of the rainbow, even camouflage.over the rainbow, no over the rain-boy, dripping
tears,
sw...
The Crumbs of My Youth by apathetic-progressio, literature
Literature
The Crumbs of My Youth
I dragged my eyes open one morning:
probably revealing that I was in bed,
that it was dark, that it was . . .
I\'m not sure; that was then
Things were not the same when I opened my eyes;
it has taken me time to realizeThings look different, I don\'t feel the same;
I can\'t put my finger on how or when,
but when I force my eyes open -
sear my retina with the halogens of truth -
I see the breadcrumbs my youth leftSometimes I close my eyes and travel down Memory Lane -
eating and trampling the trail of crumbs -,
walking under the dark and threatening sky toward a tunnel
I have entered it many times, this tunnel, searching for that cliché ligh...
the sun doesn't feel so warm
through these tinted windows
as it did
last sunday.the breeze isn't so tender
and soft
as it seemed
before the seasons changed.now we're closing the windows at night
and dodging acorns on our walks
bundled up in sweaters, we complain
"it's cold"when just yesterday it was far too warm.just when i need your arms around me
just when i want you here
you tell me, subconsiously,
'we will never be that way'.so come out of the show with two body gaurds
finding a new ride home
there are so many thoughts behind my words
but my reason for sharing them is gonedon't try to interpret, what you dont know.i'm going now
going g...
Although i may not be there,
i will always be here,
Waiting for the stimuli,
To act non-chalant,
I care about the memory,
i'm only for the feelings,
Although i am far away,
i see you as clear as day,
through the mists of memory you play,
i remember little else of that day,
hot dogs and guitars,
a flash of green,
and red playing on your face.
Finally I'm nearing the end of the race
Where the nice ones finish last,
Always thinking about you and me
And our memories in the past:When I first set my eyes on you,
My feelings were quite unsure;
Never would I thought
Of having a love so deep and so pure.
Many of times I wanted to approach you
And for once give these thoughts a try.
I always wanted to tell you how I feel
But always been much too shy.We soon came to know each other,
Our friendship grew so strong;
Everything was going for the best
As if nothing would ever go wrong.
Then from the distance
A face soon came to appear,
Suddenly coming to be beside you
With intentions so very ...
Dancing in the Shadows by bobitchka-west, literature
Literature
Dancing in the Shadows
Featureless sea
Of Gap baby tees
Old Navy Sweats and
Brand new 70's band tee shirtsPushing, shoving, running
To get to, the last place
They want to beTall, short, medium who cares
They all hold their heads high
If you pretend to be better
Soon you will beNone of them can look at me
So far down the social ladder
Because I'm to busy having fun
That I can't find it in me to careIn my guys T-shirt and wrangler knockoffs
What a fasion faux pax
What do I care?I am dancing
With the shadows of your problems
And your worst fearsThat someone will see
That you used to be
Down here with meDancing in the shadows
Half asleep on the bed;
The suns setting.
And I feel I'm done.
Is there something I'm missing?I have no more tears in me.
Stare up at the ceiling;
As my past surrounds me.
I won't let myself go!Keep avoiding the important issues;
I can't see anyone understanding.
Time I'll continue to miss use;
Feel the cold coming in my window.Stomach turning with the taste of cigarettes;
So alone in this room.
Keep Saying I have no regrets;
I just let the music keep playing.
A blind man misses the sun by foxthepoet, literature
Literature
A blind man misses the sun
Tracing small town streets
she inches along in the shadows
filling thoughts between left turns
and Long Island Iced Teas
the barkeep serves me my regular
and I can't keep these hands
from paper confessionsthere are as many miles between us
as days until I see you again
only patience or a Visa ATM could shorten either
but late night phone calls beneath starlight
don't require oil changes
and the days, well,
the days I use to cover pages in chicken scratch
to pave the way back to my front doorI miss you like a blind man misses the sun
can feel it on his skin
but can't reach out and see its believers
glowing their convictions for us to seethe...
Young Man
Written in answer to “Old Man” by Neil Young.
Young man look at my life,
You are a lot like I was.
Young man look at my life,
You are a lot like I was.
Young man look at my life,
Sixty four
and there's still much more
Live with my love in a paradise
That makes me think I’m blessed.
Lessons learned, so little a cost,
Give you things
that can't be lost.
Like a friend that won't get forgot
Rolling home to you.
Young man look at my life,
You are a lot like I was.
I found someone to love me
the whole day through
Ah, one look in my eyes
and you can tell that's true.
Lullabies, look in my eyes,
Still around the same old town.
It means that much to me
Does it mean that much to you.
I've been first and last
Look at how the time went past.
But I'm not alone at last.
Rolling home to you.
Young man look at my life,
You are a lot like I was.
I found someone to love me
the whole day through
Ah, one look in my eyes
and you can tell that's true.
Young man look at my life,
You are a lot
It's less crush
than curiosity
since I can't feel
the Sydney sun
setting me aflame
in days of iridescent skin.I don't recall
sweat
on your soft brow
or discomfort in your skin
just
the pervasive silence
of a man alone with heavier things
than birthday cake
(gentle contemplation at dusk).Some part of you
whispers prayers in the wind on secular afternoons,
in footfalls
dashed across busy highways.
Some part believes in salvationfor both of us.
It's getting late, baby. by vintage-vandalism, literature
Literature
It's getting late, baby.
Is it too early
to say, "I love you"?
It is only 10 o'clock
and words have faded into shadow.And suddenly, it gets colder.
You're busy-
I'm fine
again.
Complexity
drips from chapped lips,
the handle needs turning.
Shower of instigation crash against porcelain:
I'm ready to break.Wait.
I'm lying.Its number 20, if I remember correctly.I'm getting tangled in game wires,
packed with misconceived notions
and
guilt.
Stop tripping me,
I don't travel too well.Whipped cream, black clouds my view;
Its just a bug.
Squash.
The biscuit crumbles. Am i allowed
to miss your vo...
The message is in the words.Some of you will think,
You understand what I mean.I smile with happiness,
Even when I'm sad,
I smile when I'm mad.This world doesn't understand what I am,
No one see the real me,
Nobody understands who I am,
You only see what you wish to see.I've not met anyone who just lets me be me,
I've yet to met someone, who see what I really am,
You spent so long seeing what you want to see,
Hearing what you want to hear, I spent so long hiding,
Spent far too long pretending to be someone I'm not.I'm not the person that's always as calm as a summer's day,
I'm this person who has a storm locked up inside,
Why must I hide w...
sometimes i wish i could see things differently
i wish id take life more gently
then id go about things more intently
yet evidently that wasnt meant to be me
i wasnt meant to civilize
revolutionize
i just like to open up the eyes
surprise and modernize literature
people will realize that poetry is not scripture
and i will not go off painting pictures
on some corner on the block
because the clocks tick-tocking
time is blocking my path
mocking my deepest wrath
rock my foundations
and i drop in shock at the unlocked doors
of gullibility
and i see me
and through me-serenity
everything that i cant be
i am no referee
no natures aborigine im not ...
JOHN CHRISTIAN ESPINOLA by superfluidmessdreams, literature
Literature
JOHN CHRISTIAN ESPINOLA
That guy got me looking at him for n times last thursday.I can hardly believe how innocent-looking he is all the time.He's just so perfect...His smile.His eyes.His thoughts on things...I just cant help but appreciate him.But there us something that we share...our past.We share the same past...our reflections shattered to the point of being so helpless and distraught.Our thoghts in life have reduced to negativityIn the silence of our understanding we contemplate on our livesGetting caught on a lineOr not coming back again.
A grey proposal
With a twist of lime
A Swedish car driving
In the pitch black night
A silent whisper gently
stroking your chin
A hand touching
shakes me from within
A sweaty leather seat
with red blood stains
A soft cry out
echoing through the rain.
And the weather today will be 60 degrees at the low points and about 83 at the high, Blared the radio alarm clock. As you can see here, Boston is going to get a nasty bit of rain later in the wee-
A large hand came slamming down on the off button, silencing the clock.
Augh, shouldnt have had that last beer. Ryan kicked off the sheets and rolled out of his bed. He made his was across the room to his computer, and flipped the monitor on. Wiping his sleepy eves, he clicked on the small bitcomet screen at the bottom right of his screen.
Mission impossible 3 is 70% done!, the window announced.
Hurry it up will you, He said to his com...