For the forty 3rd attempt
Of incline
A forty 3rd question unanswered
Los Angeles requires an accomplishment
As yet the roofs of wealth choir no challenge
Stilled in self wonder the share constants
Water and health in abundance, again
This execution remembers every faculty
Partners and sermons
Cost and boss
The build of document to spend
Little shadows of Washington fend
The framers of a Los Angeles hard at work
During war time
Without end
Preparing the give
Ready for another attack
That steal refuses its sound
Prefer of the city and cities charity
Suggest of intonation
None strate to the cause
America in Los Angeles only lensing past tense
Encampments of abandon
In a day of labor, no notes
No reservation
No surplus
Stevie is no aberration
Many spoiled forty-year-old men
Now live in mama’s basement
Playing video games all night
Sleeping all day while mama does their laundry
And makes their meals
I wake up already tired,
eyes heavy from screens and sleepless nights,
stomachs empty, wallets thinner than dreams,
parents fighting over bills, over nothing,
over everything.
at school, the hallways are battlefields,
words sharper than fists,
hands that shove, mouths that sneer,
judgment like a plague
spreading from locker to locker.
I scroll through images of perfection,
faces carved by filters, bodies built in mirrors,
wondering why I don't look that way,
why I don't feel that way,
why I don't fit at all.
I pull at my skin,
I whisper my names in secret,
I wonder if I should even be here—
this world that tells me
I am too much, or not enough,
so I start cutting.
I was born into a losing hand,
and nobody told me
that I could still bluff my way to something good.
Forty years ago, we said “I do”
You pledged to me, and I pledged to you
And in a fleeting moment’s span,
our journey through life began.
Our friendship over time has grown
Despite the curved balls, life has thrown.
God has His divine magic spun
Uniting our souls into one.
As we have grown closer to Him,
Our love was kept from growing dim.
His love for us makes ours strong
Even at times when things go wrong.
A better wife I could not find
One so affable and kind.
You have been patient with my faults
When my ego itself exalts.
As we start another year
We can do so without fear.
For the one who pilots our ship
He never falters, nor does he slip.
In this world engrossed in sin
May His light shine from within.
So, a soul forlorn and lost
Will be rescued from life’s frost.
Short stubble streaked with gray
A scarred face and eyes that know
Its a decade short of the crisis
But forty is already in tow
Fourteen is yawnful and staring,
Lying around in pyjamas at noon,
Wondering, ‘What to do?’
Then scooping and gulping some sludge
From a tub in the fridge –
Until a parent full of peeves,
aged around forty,
Comes fuming and growling,
Banging and slamming
Until each glooms
In their room.
Fourteen and forty –
Leaving the cleaning-up
For tomorrow.
King Duncan wouldn't allow it
Chin sweat and air conditioning
Sending me into a linguistic shaming spiral
Flavoursome mints and sparkling water
Won't fix this wet nightmare
Telling the steps to SHUT UP
Sock sniffer
Chemical bomb leather shoes
Armpits oceaning
Give me Nigeria
Or the jungle
Where the birds don't sing
My wife has been reading The Return of the Native for ten years
But does owning an AK-47 count as knowledge?
To the bat cave
i feel haunted.
not by ghosts but by you.
everywhere i turn you are there.
sour candies and baby’s breath.
pink roses and backwards caps.
i am haunted by what you were to me,
how it will never be like that again especially.
oh to have that erased.
would it be a waste to have not felt it?
do i regret you?
us?
147 days.
one hundred and forty-seven days.
goodbye.
Forty percent was the chance it would rain,
Which is what my phone app was predicting.
I went for my walk with my eye to the sky,
But the darkening clouds were conflicting.
I had an umbrella which fits in the bag
Where I carry my water for drinking,
So I ambled on, getting further away
And I wondered just what I was thinking.
For, after a mile, rain came barreling down,
Without one little drop as a warning.
My umbrella unfurled, I retraced all my steps,
Cutting short my full exercise morning.
Though my sneakers were dripping, as well as my socks,
I got home with just minimal stressin’
But I have to remember my phone often lies,
Which is really a valuable lesson.
[Not strictly limericks as syllable count is out,
But hey… be a rebel… ignore the rules!]
_______________________________________
I met the young lady from flat forty-five
I told her, “Your beauty makes me feel alive.”
She said, “My name’s Lexi.”
Her voice was SO sexy
My heart beat as though it was in overdrive
She took no persuading to give me a kiss
And then she said, “I bet you want more than this.”
My ardour was stirred
A lot more occurred
And my whole life became an ocean of bliss
The feelings we nurtured in flat forty-five
Instilled in me romance that surely would thrive
She patted my sleeve
And said, “You should leave,
My next client is about due to arrive.”
Downhearted, I made my way down to the street
I felt worse than Bonaparte when he was beat
Until she called down,
“Don’t go off with a frown,
Podiatrists, like me, just do people’s feet”
Well that tipped the scales and put wind in my sails
I rushed up those stairs like a steam train on rails
And soon, side by side
I got me a bride
I also got soft feet with manicured nails
What is that creature who lingers on the ’49 Ford? Asked Boss Hog.
We looked but were not sure until we saw the sniffing junk yard dog.
The red car with rust? The bookkeeper asked, wondering too.
Oh, yes, said Boss Hog. Is that a Faerie from the ocean blue?
I can go ask her I offered, but she flittered fast and away.
So I did not get to find out on that lovely October Monday.
It was a faerie, the junk yard dog said. I saw her filigree wings.
I thought it amazing that he could not only talk, but he sings!
"forty three shades of grey"
being romantic
ally lazy i read
her like a
book of
cliffs
notes
Forty Seven Scars
But Who’s Counting
Miracle Man
3/11/2023
Forty seven scars,
each a telltale sign of some trauma
while traveling the highway of life.
Each has a story to tell
which induces thoughts
I’d sooner not recall again.
But the mind is a complex thing.
Seems visual is connected to recall,
which makes my daily shower,
sometimes, become show and tell think.
Carryover effects is the psychological injury
that some have bequeathed me.
But life is good and God has blessed me
with a high tolerance for pain.
I’m just a Tough Old Bird
who’s seen a few rough days,
Who continues to think, that,
Believing is mile one, on the highway to Becoming.
Tom
Up in the front
They fight and gather
Yip yapping
'Bout the chickens dirty feathers
If you come round back
You can see the behind
But even if facts were presented
They would never find
...fault
Every new member
Tries to locate their spot
But the heifers protest
'Bout what they ain't got
Sun shinning brightly
Pond calling for cool rest
The mature ones are in
While heifers decide the best
...guide
Written by Trudy Schrader on 12-17-2022
I go from positive plus to in the basement negative in forty minutes.
I thought it was going to be okay when Cyrus hugged my legs.
He had a huge grin on his face, he acted like he loved me.
We went to recess. He was a train wreck but gave him many chances.
Easier than trying to corral him because if I tried that I would lose face.
No one can corral him.
I am practically carrying him back inside where he….
Throws scissors, spits in faces, yells and runs around the room.
I feel like I have trekked a mountain and ran a marathon.
It is truly taxing that one child can do this in a mere forty minutes!
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