& Remember to give credit to the author~!



Mine is:

ANNABELLE LEE

Author: Edgar Allan Poe

It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea;
But we loved with a love that was more than love -
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsman came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulcher
In this kingdom by the sea.
The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me
Yes! that was the reason
(as all men know, In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we
Of many far wiser than we
And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.
For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride,
In the sepulcher there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea.

Here I sit, all confounded
The Cops say that my home's surrounded
I didn't do it, I swear it's true
I'm not the one that did this all to you

There they go, using the horn
Loud as hell, and it's just morn
They say I've got till they count to ten
Will I ever see my friends again??

They are mistaken, it can't be me,
I don't live at 113
Across the street- he's over there
He's the guy stealing underwear.

They throw in smoke, can't they read?
Now they're shooting, I start to bleed
Only a fleshwound, stay on the floor
I wasn't the pervert at her door.

He's over there again I say
Why won't they just go away?
He's the panty thief, not me, I think
Damn, they just shot up my sink.

He comes over to look-see
Why they are shooting at me
Catch him now, he's there, it's HIM
Damn, my future's looking grim.

He walks away, back to his house
Catch that greasy, ugly louse
A cop looks over, and what's he see?
The Perv has enetered 113.
It's there he says, across the street
The shooting stops, I've wet my feet.

They walk across, then knock, and grab
While I thought about a slab
at the ER, no, down in The Morgue
That nasty place where they take The Borg.

They haul his sorry butt to jail,
lights are flashing,sirens wail
But what of me, I scream, I shout
Why're all my windows shot out?

Who's gonna fix it all I ask
The Chief says Sorry, Not our task
You stupid A$$, can't you delve,
that your good 'ol BOYS shot up 112?

LEGAL DISCLAIMER* Real street addresses were used in this story, but no names were used because the "Freedom of Information Act" sheet was also shot up. Any similarity between the pervert at 113,and any other person, alive or dead, is purely coincidental. Sully was treated and released on the scene, but his porn collection, and a box of donuts were confiscated by the Elwood Police Department.
Barney Fife, Sheriff at Large

Written by: ME.

The "N" Word
In this modern day world
We seem to consume
The "N" word of hate
The slave word for doom

This word has been drenched
In red from our blood
It enslaved us like swine
Chain dragged through the mud

How fast we forget
Those lynch mobs and scars
The burnings and beatings
Those hot branding bars

Our freedom was taken
Our humanity stole
We were just that "N" word
No body no soul

Our women were raped
Some men were castrated
Black children were sold
Our race was degraded

With the crack of a whip
This word was yelled out
With each break in our necks
The rope showed know doubt

We were hunted like prey
Then put on the block
We were branded as slaves
With a chain brace and lock

This "N" word was use
To take guilt out of blame
Because it made us inhuman
To be killed with no shame

Yet after all of those years
Of that suffering pain
The use of this word
Has weaken our brain

We throw it around
Like a word with no past
But history lives on
From the shadow it cast

It's now part of our language
In every sentence we say
It shows off our ignorance
In a sorry sad way

There's no other culture
And no other race
That would embrace such a slur
Or welcome disgrace

Yet we as Black people
Have done so for years
Our dignity lost
Without feelings or tears

It's part of the reason
We will never excel
Or out-live our slums
And Ghetto-ish hell


Written by Thickumz22~me~lol

September

Tonight there must be people who are getting what they want.
I let my oars fall into the water.
Good for them. Good for them, getting what they want.

The night is so still that I forget to breathe.
The dark air is getting colder. Birds are leaving.

Tonight there are people getting just what they need.

The air is so still that it seems to stop my heart.
I remember you in a photograph
taken this time of some year. You were leaning against
a half-shed tree, standing in the leaves the tree had lost.

When I finally exhale it takes forever to be over.

Tonight, there are people who are so happy,
that they have forgotten to worry about tomorrow.

Somewhere, people have entirely forgotten about tomorrow.
My hand trails in the water.
I should not have dropped those oars. Such a soft wind.

Jennifer Michael Hecht

(just one in a long list favorites)

One of my favorites......

Hope is the Thing With Feathers
Emily Dickinson

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

On the Subject of Doctors


I like to see doctors cough.
What kind of human being
would grab all your money
just when you're down?
I'm not saying they enjoy this:
"Sorry, Mr. Rodriguez, that's it,
no hope! You might as well
hand over your wallet." Hell no,
they'd rather be playing golf
and swapping jokes about our feet.


Some of them smoke marijuana
and are alcoholics, and their moral
turpitude is famous: who gets to see
most sex organs in the world? Not
poets. With the hours they keep
they need drugs more than anyone.
Germ city, there's no hope
looking down those fire-engine throats.
They're bound to get sick themselves
sometime; and I happen to be there
myself in a high fever
taking my plastic medicine seriously
with the doctors, who are dying.

James Tate

One of my favorite from childhood that brings back memories and makes me long for the days of the chalk-white arrows...



Where the Sidewalk Ends
by Shel Silverstein

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.

there once was man ,
from nan-tuck it ...

The Weary Blues
by Langston Hughes


Droning a drowsy syncopated tune,
Rocking back and forth to a mellow croon,
I heard a Negro play.
Down on Lenox Avenue the other night
By the pale dull pallor of an old gas light
He did a lazy sway . . .
He did a lazy sway . . .
To the tune o' those Weary Blues.
With his ebony hands on each ivory key
He made that poor piano moan with melody.
O Blues!
Swaying to and fro on his rickety stool
He played that sad raggy tune like a musical fool.
Sweet Blues!
Coming from a black man's soul.
O Blues!
In a deep song voice with a melancholy tone
I heard that Negro sing, that old piano moan--
"Ain't got nobody in all this world,
Ain't got nobody but ma self.
I's gwine to quit ma frownin'
And put ma troubles on the shelf."

Thump, thump, thump, went his foot on the floor.
He played a few chords then he sang some more--
"I got the Weary Blues
And I can't be satisfied.
Got the Weary Blues
And can't be satisfied--
I ain't happy no mo'
And I wish that I had died."
And far into the night he crooned that tune.
The stars went out and so did the moon.
The singer stopped playing and went to bed
While the Weary Blues echoed through his head.
He slept like a rock or a man that's dead.

"The Weary Blues
by Langston Hughes"
That just sounds Cool!

Thanks

Dark storm clouds enter my mind
I can't run nor hide
I've tried wishing away these dark memories of mine
But the darkness closes in around me

I know I have the strength, I know I'm stronger than this
I know my mother won't want me to quit
I miss my mother so very much
But I know she would want me to choose my own path in life

I must not dwell on the past for very much longer
If I keep myself in the past
I will never get to enjoy my life as a human being should

I see the dark clouds have not moved on
I see no sunshine in my mind
I hear no laugher ringing in my ears
But I can and will change my future

I will come out of my shell
And I will enjoy what life I have left
I will thank my mother for the life she has given me
I will thank my father for everything he has done for me
I will thank my aunts and uncles for being there for me
But mostly I will thank my nana for looking after me

Written by me

Robert Burns, Red Red Rose


O my Luve's like a red, red rose
That's newly sprung in June;
O my Luve's like the melodie
That's sweetly played in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry:

Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi' the sun;
I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o' life shall run.

And fare thee weel, my only Luve,
And fare thee weel awhile!
And I will come again, my Luve,
Tho' it ware ten thousand mile

If You Forget Me

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.

Pablo Neruda

I soooo love Pablo Neruda ... he and Hafiz write passionate magic ...

Thank you for posting this (((K)))

I Want to Breathe
by James Laughlin

I want to breathe you in

I'm not talking about
perfume or even the sweet odour

of your skin but of the
air itself I want to share

your air inhaling what you
exhale I'd like to be that

close two of us breathing
each other as one as that.

Amazing I just wrote a poem with that very first line...hmmm I guess I will have to do some readjusting LOL

Langton is just cool prosonified...

Sex All Days.1-12.by (d4tc)

Nice choice. I like Poe.