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5368. NuPlanetOne - 11/17/2004 8:14:14 PM
Ulgine,
..hmmm…why is that? I’m pretty sure I’m just an ordinary coward.
5369. NuPlanetOne - 11/17/2004 8:16:49 PM
And Where Are You?
Looking through slats in a window
There is no need to go out there
I know how the sun feels on my back
I know where the paths lead to
I have walked each one and every track
Each footprint, each promise along the way
Every beginning I marched to in hope
That brought me home each day
Looks quietly into the room
Like regrets at dusk with shoulders shrugged
Like babies seldom rocked or held
Left to fend and never hugged, peering
Back at me. All staring back at me
These former attempts, failures
Are these the ghosts I was warned about?
I know how bright it is at noon
I know why I took this or that direction
But I am safe now.
Oh, and that memory, there, now wandering off
Yes, looking back over its shoulder
With a smirk, a scoff, a vengeful wave
Oh, it has grown much older and how I gave
My life to it. And always first to return
First on the porch, first one peeking in
As if that wayward sin could bang on the shutters
But it lunges and threatens, it mutters
I know what it will tell me
And you are hardly ever there, never there
And why is that? Will the pain devour me?
If I search through the slats and find you
Will they all, each one come smashing in
Come crashing in and throw you at my feet!
Will my destruction become complete?
Will it all swarm, will I spiral down the hole?
I know how tranquil it is at the shore
But I will not go out there
Cont….
5370. NuPlanetOne - 11/17/2004 8:17:10 PM And this late in the day when they gather
All these thoughts, these ghouls outside my window
I would rather, sometimes, just let them in
And drink, and bravely take them on
And let them scream and although it can make
Me cower and seem like it will consume me
I would be done with it. Or I will have lost
I know how inspiring the stars are at night
But I dare not unlock that door
So, it is what I have become. A captive
And although I may sneak out in secret
I am invisible and can’t touch a thing
And these thoughts that follow me, that sting
Me sharply should I forget, should I let
Myself feel at ease, how quick they bring
Me home, surround me, and force me in
I once knew how the world once felt
But I can’t go out there.
5371. NuPlanetOne - 11/17/2004 8:21:48 PM
Certainly that is the song of a coward?
5372. Ulgine Barrows - 11/20/2004 8:52:43 AM No, it just sounds jaded and full of regret.
Who of us wouldn't do differently the 2nd time around?
I know where the paths lead to
I have walked each one and every track
That rings untrue. You can't possibly have. Just like Patti Smith can't possibly
Everything I've done, I've done for you
Some of it was for herself.
I like to march along in the hope that everything will stay static, but it never happens.
That last part #5370
And although I may sneak out in secret
I am invisible and can’t touch a thing
Har, reminds me of posting here on the Mote.
I'm invisible but
it doesn't touch
my day-to-day,
you're all a million miles away
5373. Ulgine Barrows - 11/20/2004 11:07:26 AM I am a backseat driver from America
They drive to the left on Falls Road
The man at the wheel's name is Seamus
We pass a child on the corner he knows
And Seamus says, Now, what chance has that kid got?
And I say from the back, I don't know.
He says, There's barbed wire at all of these exits . . .
And there ain't no place in Belfast for that kid to go.
It's a hard life
It's a hard life
It's a very hard life
It's a hard life wherever you go
If we poison our children with hatred
then, the hard life is all that they'll know
And there ain't no place in (Belfast) for
these kids to go
(Chicago)
(This world)
A cafeteria line in Chicago
The fat man in front of me
Is calling black people trash to his children
he's the only trash here I see
And I'm thinking this man wears a white hood
in the night when his children should sleep
But, they slip to their window and they see him
And they think that white hood's all they need
I was a child in the sixties
dreams could be held through TV
With Disney, and Cronkite, and Martin Luther
Oh, I believed, I believed . . I BELIEVED
Now, I am the backseat driver from America
I am not at the wheel of control
I am guilty, I am war, and I am the root of all evil
Lord, and I can't drive on the left side of the road
Nanci Griffith
It's a Hard Life Wherever You Go
5374. NuPlanetOne - 11/23/2004 8:18:11 PM Ulgine
well. I guess that saying I know where all paths lead would be a proclamation of omniscience, no…..it is the paths I have taken to which I claim intimate knowledge of. As I also admit that my only real knowledge is of things behind me, these are my captors. I guess I am saying that I know of the world, and the beauty and hope it once held for me, but my fear of it now…exaggerated by the ghosts of my past…….endear me to self preservation. That, and a broken heart and perhaps even self pity keep the hero in my little saga from choosing new paths or doing more than asking the walls, ‘where are you?’
5375. Ulgine Barrows - 11/26/2004 8:42:28 AM Late for the sky,
go left where you would have gone right,
right where you would have gone left,
and it will be different. 5376. wonkers2 - 12/3/2004 5:00:51 AM Wal-Mart was a Favorite of Mine
Wal-Mart was a favorite of mine
Until I went to the store the last time
and tried to return a cheesy $10 Chinese knock-off for
the
first time
And discovered that the store manager was a moron after
standing in a
long line.
I've decided nearly everything bad I've read about Wal-Mart
is true
for the first time.
5377. Ulgine Barrows - 12/3/2004 9:56:13 AM that was funny.
Boycott WalMart
They're nothing but hot farts
Sam's rolling over in his grave
Made in China
Is all I can find-a
Sam's "buy USA" edict won't behave
Boycott WalMart
They haven't got the right parts
Made a half-world away
5378. wonkers2 - 12/5/2004 5:04:08 PM Very good. Somebody should start a Wal-Mart poetry contest. 5379. Ulgine Barrows - 12/9/2004 12:23:54 PM You first. 5380. RickNelson - 12/19/2004 5:43:54 PM Walmart: EAT ME!
It went up fast, I live by the box,
though, once I went and saw Joe
Cotton weave, when I need socks
but, this box sells blended toe.
There used to be Jenny on the corner,
Her wares found along many a mainstreet,
sold off to pay the bank, and coroner,
The locals bend over for the boss, mistreat.
When hours they need, and health care to endure
they find Walmart's galore to end their faith,
end their desire, finalizing hope for verdure,
closing the town mind, to look for the Wraith.
Rickster,
Dec.,2004
5381. wonkers2 - 12/19/2004 6:10:24 PM Not bad! 5382. RickNelson - 12/19/2004 6:20:08 PM Thanks wonk.
I really like the lyrics above.
I miss the poetry. I nursed my daughter and son when they got extended cases of a cold. Then my wife got it, then I got it. Then my daughter got something or the same again. I was very busy keeping things clean and feeding the ill. Good thing I have this self-employment schedule. I love being home with Jacob all day, working a bit in the late afternoon and early evening. This is a fab life.
Best to all, and to all a great day. 5383. wonkers2 - 12/19/2004 10:05:52 PM R.I.P. Schrade
There once was a fine company called Shrade
Whose craftsmen in Ellenville fine knives made.
Until along came Wal-Mart and said
In China we got knock-offs hard to tell from a Schrade.
And now Wal-Mart sells only cheesy knock-offs instead of good Schrades.
The Schrade line at Wal-Mart has been replaced by "Winchester" knives made in China. R.I.P. Schrade.
The Schrade plant shut its doors in July 2004, ending the employment of 260 Schrade craftsmen. On October 26, 2004, the assets of Imperial Schrade were sold at public bankruptch auction, closing the books on 100 years of manufacturing fine knives in Ellenville, New York. Taylor Cutlery bought the rights to the Schrade name. 5384. Ulgine Barrows - 12/20/2004 7:21:48 AM I went to WalMart
I'm sorry
I was my own cashier
and they didn't pay me
Union people
I saw lots of stuff
On the aisles
That made me wonder
Who thought it would sell
Circus, circus
If I could light a fire better
I wouldn't venture in their doors
I checked myself
out of there.
5385. alistairconnor - 12/20/2004 2:01:11 PM I checked myself
out of there.
very powerful image, for me. Loony bin.
Perhaps I should try a Mal-Wart poem. A universal phenomenon. 5386. alistairconnor - 12/20/2004 2:02:05 PM Just spotted this :
Pissing in a river, watching it rise
Piss me a river, piss me a river
I pissed a river over you 5387. RickNelson - 12/25/2004 4:57:42 PM This is from today's "Poetry Daily":
A Winter Night in the North of Ireland
When surly winter ‘gins to blaw,
An robe himself wi’ frost and snaw;
See roun’ the ingle, in a raw,
The rural folks
Sit down and pass the time awa,
In cracks and jokes.
The grey haired couple cozey sit,
Weel pleased to hear the youngsters’ wit;
The guidman maks and coals the split,
And mends the fire,
And snuffs and smokes as he thinks fit,
Like ony squire.
The bleezin fire o’ sod and peet,
Gars some sit back, and ithers sweat,
And thaws the amaist frozen feet
O’ rustic Will,
Wha’ scoured the muirs, through snaw and sleet,
His e’e to fill.
The winsome matron at the wheel,
Wi’ canny e’e keeks at the chiel
She thinks wad fit her Jenny weel;
An sighs to see
Her careless smile, her heart o’ steel,
And scornfu’ e’e.
The waefu’ cause she needna spier,
Why Will, wi’ a’ his weel got gear,
Meets nae return but aye a sneer,
Frae foolish Jean,
For she remembers wi’ a tear,
Wha comes between.
Their cotter’s son, a canny blade,
Right skilfu’ in the wooin trade,
Set a’ his gins, and gript the maid
Fair by the heart;
Nor frae him could they keep the jade,
Wi’ a’ their art.
The rustic smokes, and talks o’ lear,
Or how folk may mak muckle mair,
By risin early, takin care,
An spendin nane;
Nor fails to please the runkled pair,
Into the bane.
They talk o’ houses, lan’ and kye,
When this ane calves, an that ane’s dry,
And how folk’s hurried, that maun buy
Baith milk an’ butter;
For plash o’ tea, it’s waur than whye, –
It’s but het water.
CONT.,
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