Re: From the family to the present
Acheick wrote:purpleflower wrote:Progress of the Senses by Heather Ricciardi (second gen.)
Lawyers smile and walk by with their ties pointing loudly
at their cocks.
Great poem and I love the way it flows. The above is my favorite line.
I especially like the stanzas endings, "I know what I know."
Re: From the family to the present
Day wrote:Acheick wrote:purpleflower wrote:Progress of the Senses by Heather Ricciardi (second gen.)
Lawyers smile and walk by with their ties pointing loudly
at their cocks.
Great poem and I love the way it flows. The above is my favorite line.
I especially like the stanzas endings, "I know what I know."
Not a lot by the sounds of it.
Love & God Bless
Max
max wrote:I see that the mutual appreciation society is out in force again!
I have never come across so many teachers’ pets. apple polishers and butt lickers in all my life.
Love Max
Tell you what Max, just so you don't feel left out, you can kiss, or bite, my ass. Take your pick.
Luv Day
max wrote:I see that the mutual appreciation society is out in force again!
I have never come across so many teachers’ pets. apple polishers and butt lickers in all my life.
Love Max
Max - you're a real downer, that's why.
Day wrote:max wrote:I see that the mutual appreciation society is out in force again!
I have never come across so many teachers’ pets. apple polishers and butt lickers in all my life.
Love Max
Tell you what Max, just so you don't feel left out, you can kiss, or bite, my ass. Take your pick.
Luv Day
Thanks for the offer,depends on what size it is and if it's firm and round?
Love & God Bless
Max
Acheick wrote:max wrote:I see that the mutual appreciation society is out in force again!
I have never come across so many teachers’ pets. apple polishers and butt lickers in all my life.
Love Max
Max - you're a real downer, that's why.
I was just saying that it seems that everyone appears to think that this is the next Byron, Keats etc.
Nothing wrong in trying, it shows a sense of individuality, but that does not mean that you all have to agree with everything and start the praise be's.
Still I give them 9 out of 10 for trying.
Love & God Bless
Max
Day wrote:max wrote:I see that the mutual appreciation society is out in force again!
I have never come across so many teachers’ pets. apple polishers and butt lickers in all my life.
Love Max
Tell you what Max, just so you don't feel left out, you can kiss, or bite, my ass. Take your pick.
Luv Day
I forgot, perhaps you could post a photograph of your bottom or ass on this site?
That way I could see it for myself and decide accordingly.
You could hold a copy of the today’s Newspaper next to it so I know it’s a recent shot!
I do not think that anyone here would be offended.
I came across a picture of a Nazi yesterday that someone (they know who they are) posted here, so by comparison a picture of your bottom would be a welcome relief!
I wait in anticipation and would take your word that it was yours.
Someone once said that a sense of humor is the ability to see the funny side of a serious situation, and to laugh at things when they’re not the way they ought to be.
Love & God Bless You
Max
Re: Soooo Disappointed!!
Day wrote:Cookie wrote:COME ON!!!
This thread is for the P.O.E.T.R.Y. inclined!!
Well Day if you were to stop talking about your ass and get off it and write some, then we might all be able to enjoy (or not) what you have to offer!
Love & God Bless
Max
Re: Soooo Disappointed!!
max wrote:Day wrote:Cookie wrote:COME ON!!!
This thread is for the P.O.E.T.R.Y. inclined!!
Well Day if you were to stop talking about your ass and get off it and write some, then we might all be able to enjoy (or not) what you have to offer!
Love & God Bless
Max
Look, Max, maybe you should try being a lover, not a figher, then you might win a round or two.
I was the one who wanted to keep this for poetry. Shame on you for picking on Day. This one is for Day.
Cheers, Day! :wink:
The Way Life Turns Out
By Cookie
The way that it seems life turns out
Is not always so fair
Nor does it flow the way we plan
Even when mapped out with care
There are misunderstandings
Life’s not always played by rules
It leaves us gasping, high and dry
And feeling like such fools
You can try and give your best
Make something normal grand
Then have it thrown back in your face
Or snap like rubber bands
Although some things that make up life
Feel petty and so small
Sometimes you find that something rare
That makes it worth it all
I see your sense of humor
The banter has tickled me this morning so much, I had to shoot some pix of my own ass. Its too bad that I have an appointment that keeps me from figuring out how to send it.
Max, you're not that funny, but thanks for trying. The intimidation factor must be overwhelming. You sell all of these fine poets short when you make the comparison to those dead guys. Our potential is infinite. We are still breathing. Remember that Jesus didn't even see the full potential of his work on this earth. Your brand of short-sightedness perpetuates itself. Like your mama may have said, "if you keep making that face it will freeze that way".
When the world's coming down I relax it
With my ass in his face, my man smacks it
I live my life free
And I write poetry
And I don't super-size, I just MAX it.[/img]
max wrote: I was just saying that it seems that everyone appears to think that this is the next Byron, Keats etc. Nothing wrong in trying, it shows a sense of individuality, but that does not mean that you all have to agree with everything and start the praise be's.
Max, are you saying something like Picasso sucks becuase his art isn't like Rembrant. ;-)
No one is making a claim to fame.
But then, who's to say we're not amazing.
It's all about expressions
By Cookie
I think I’m crazy, a little unwell.
I’m tired of thinking, tired as hell.
I just don’t know if I can make it
Another day I’d have to fake it.
I’d rather be crazy and happy
Than sane and sad.
Re: I see your sense of humor
purpleflower wrote:The banter has tickled me this morning so much, I had to shoot some pix of my own ass. Its too bad that I have an appointment that keeps me from figuring out how to send it.
Max, you're not that funny, but thanks for trying. The intimidation factor must be overwhelming. You sell all of these fine poets short when you make the comparison to those dead guys. Our potential is infinite. We are still breathing. Remember that Jesus didn't even see the full potential of his work on this earth. Your brand of short-sightedness perpetuates itself. Like your mama may have said, "if you keep making that face it will freeze that way".
When the world's coming down I relax it
With my ass in his face, my man smacks it
I live my life free
And I write poetry
And I don't super-size, I just MAX it.[/img]
Shame about the appointment but I wait with baited breath for your photographic efforts.
Did you use a wide-angle lens!
I suppose you could not find a Newspaper either!
Intimidation, fine posts, infinite well they’re all news to me I must have been looking in the wrong places so pardon me.
Your poem if you wish to call it that, shows promise, coming along nicely keep it up, if you pardon the pun.
It sounds like you enjoy spanking.
As you know bad boys get bottom marks!
Love & God Bless
Max
Cookie wrote:max wrote: I was just saying that it seems that everyone appears to think that this is the next Byron, Keats etc. Nothing wrong in trying, it shows a sense of individuality, but that does not mean that you all have to agree with everything and start the praise be's.
Max, are you saying something like Picasso sucks becuase his art isn't like Rembrant. ;-)
No one is making a claim to fame.
But then, who's to say we're not amazing.
It's all about expressions
By Cookie
I think I’m crazy, a little unwell.
I’m tired of thinking, tired as hell.
I just don’t know if I can make it
Another day I’d have to fake it.
I’d rather be crazy and happy
Than sane and sad.
Well you said it in your poem better than I ever could!
Talk about an own goal!
Have you ever thought of entering the X Factor?
Love & God Bless
Max
the abortion topic hasn't been exterminated yet
If it is ok with the group, I'd like to get back to the subject of abortion.
Breathe by Heather Ricciardi
The first one would have been a coke baby,
small and ugly in a huge, hard world. Its first premature
breaths spent screaming about how cold it is and how it wants
another cigarette. Its daddy
would have been absent, divorced from reality, but not
from the first wife and mother. Ice, glass,
methodical decomposition, one inhale at a time. Just breathe.
Bill collectors didn’t get it. NO MONEY.
There’s no money in any wallet around. I got strong-armed
into the ghetto. I was mugged by the idea
of freedom, yet I could not so much as afford a pregnancy test
let alone an abortion. Why, freedom?
Pity is a useful resource in desperate times, not self-pity,
but sympathies of near-strangers. Those relatives who’ve wondered
how your life is going, but do not hear from you
because, like the bill collectors, they don’t get it.
I breathe and ask my mom for some cash.
This is no place for a baby.
I breathe knowing that the air will reach
the lungs of that child in the last few moments before the knife
severs the tie that bound my life with its own. Just breathe.
I wondered as I endured those cuts why the docs had failed
to mention that I would be awake during the procedure.
Happy birthday to me.
The second one would have been withered, worried,
unwanted. By the time I was to turn another year older
the same amoeba of a man had bankrupted me. My lifestyle
was different, but his remained intact through the storms. His wife
hated me, but I know that I did her a favor.
He was already a shitty father.
I wanted to do the same favor for myself, but all I could do
was breathe through the slight nausea and infinite tiredness.
He was volatile. I was pregnant again…breathe.
Secretly my friend and I made the appointment.
Then on a sad Saturday morning I wept as I called a cab.
Happy birthday to me.
My friend didn’t show up,
rang me to say that she had spoken to the bastard
who was determined that I bear his child. I hated them.
I would that they were the ones to die instead of this innocent
inside my belly. I could never kill them enough, though.
A sacrifice had to be made for the sake of what miniscule grain
of rightness existed in my life at the moment.
The kindly doctor comforted me, knocked me out, did the deed,
and sent me home…alone.
I read in the paper a few weeks later that the same, understanding doctor
had been charged with molestation of his patients. 30 of them.
My shame excused him,
besides, I was only there to murder my child.
The third one could have been severely damaged.
Brain damage, spinal damage, mutation was my fear.
I was exposed to high doses of anesthesia one week
before the test came back positive.
Happy birthday to me.
My lover was afraid so I suggested that he breathe.
If there is a god, he is SICK I felt like a mafia hit-man.
Why? I would have loved this baby.
My new doctor explained the possibilities. If I carry to term
my baby might be fucked up.
The truth was not what I wanted to hear. It was not wrong
or right. It just was.
I had to decide if I was woman enough to deal with a child, damned
to perpetual mental youth or worse.
The truth, again, was not right nor wrong.
My lover never judged me, only put his arms around me and breathed.
I still wanted my baby back. My biology warrants such.
Yet who I am at this time justifies vigilant birth control
by timing. Time is the teller of right and wrong.
Relativity is the key.
A balance is struck between the two as the universe
circulates, and all I can do is just breathe.
________________________________________________--
Can humans realize that death is a certain part of life and is not to be feared? Life is absolutely valuable, in fact it gains interest as you live it consciously. Whatever choice you make, whatever action you take, do it mindfully. There is no such thing as right or wrong, good or bad. These are just labels we use to denote the opposing forces of the universe that keep it in balance. If your leanings are to the side of death and distruction it is because that is the station of you life at the time. Destroy or build-up, but do it with awareness.
Re: the abortion topic hasn't been exterminated yet
purpleflower wrote:If it is ok with the group, I'd like to get back to the subject of abortion.
Breathe by Heather Ricciardi
The first one would have been a coke baby,
small and ugly in a huge, hard world. Its first premature
breaths spent screaming about how cold it is and how it wants
another cigarette. Its daddy
would have been absent, divorced from reality, but not
from the first wife and mother. Ice, glass,
methodical decomposition, one inhale at a time. Just breathe.
Bill collectors didn’t get it. NO MONEY.
There’s no money in any wallet around. I got strong-armed
into the ghetto. I was mugged by the idea
of freedom, yet I could not so much as afford a pregnancy test
let alone an abortion. Why, freedom?
Pity is a useful resource in desperate times, not self-pity,
but sympathies of near-strangers. Those relatives who’ve wondered
how your life is going, but do not hear from you
because, like the bill collectors, they don’t get it.
I breathe and ask my mom for some cash.
This is no place for a baby.
I breathe knowing that the air will reach
the lungs of that child in the last few moments before the knife
severs the tie that bound my life with its own. Just breathe.
I wondered as I endured those cuts why the docs had failed
to mention that I would be awake during the procedure.
Happy birthday to me.
The second one would have been withered, worried,
unwanted. By the time I was to turn another year older
the same amoeba of a man had bankrupted me. My lifestyle
was different, but his remained intact through the storms. His wife
hated me, but I know that I did her a favor.
He was already a shitty father.
I wanted to do the same favor for myself, but all I could do
was breathe through the slight nausea and infinite tiredness.
He was volatile. I was pregnant again…breathe.
Secretly my friend and I made the appointment.
Then on a sad Saturday morning I wept as I called a cab.
Happy birthday to me.
My friend didn’t show up,
rang me to say that she had spoken to the bastard
who was determined that I bear his child. I hated them.
I would that they were the ones to die instead of this innocent
inside my belly. I could never kill them enough, though.
A sacrifice had to be made for the sake of what miniscule grain
of rightness existed in my life at the moment.
The kindly doctor comforted me, knocked me out, did the deed,
and sent me home…alone.
I read in the paper a few weeks later that the same, understanding doctor
had been charged with molestation of his patients. 30 of them.
My shame excused him,
besides, I was only there to murder my child.
The third one could have been severely damaged.
Brain damage, spinal damage, mutation was my fear.
I was exposed to high doses of anesthesia one week
before the test came back positive.
Happy birthday to me.
My lover was afraid so I suggested that he breathe.
If there is a god, he is SICK I felt like a mafia hit-man.
Why? I would have loved this baby.
My new doctor explained the possibilities. If I carry to term
my baby might be **** up.
The truth was not what I wanted to hear. It was not wrong
or right. It just was.
I had to decide if I was woman enough to deal with a child, damned
to perpetual mental youth or worse.
The truth, again, was not right nor wrong.
My lover never judged me, only put his arms around me and breathed.
I still wanted my baby back. My biology warrants such.
Yet who I am at this time justifies vigilant birth control
by timing. Time is the teller of right and wrong.
Relativity is the key.
A balance is struck between the two as the universe
circulates, and all I can do is just breathe.
________________________________________________--
Can humans realize that death is a certain part of life and is not to be feared? Life is absolutely valuable, in fact it gains interest as you live it consciously. Whatever choice you make, whatever action you take, do it mindfully. There is no such thing as right or wrong, good or bad. These are just labels we use to denote the opposing forces of the universe that keep it in balance. If your leanings are to the side of death and distruction it is because that is the station of you life at the time. Destroy or build-up, but do it with awareness.
Very nice but I think you are in the wong section.
Any news on the photographs?
Love & God Bless
Max
max wrote:Cookie wrote:
It's all about expressions
By Cookie
I think I’m crazy, a little unwell.
I’m tired of thinking, tired as hell.
I just don’t know if I can make it
Another day I’d have to fake it.
I’d rather be crazy and happy
Than sane and sad.
Well you said it in your poem better than I ever could!
Talk about an own goal!
Have you ever thought of entering the X Factor?
Love & God Bless
Max
I don't feel like I have to enlighten a stranger I am liking less and less of my current state of mind, but i feel you should know I wrote this while IN The Family several years ago.
