Category Archives: online poetry

We are here, what now?

We Are Here. What Now?
 

The fire in my belly is lit
I don’t use an alarm clock
I’m up before six
with dreams so big you’d think I was a kid
anxious to meet and play with friends

The gleam in my eye is bright
from the dark, a focused light
projecting visions from inside my mind
straight to your heart
illuminating the places you try to hide

They can’t take away or frustrate
the day you stake your claim to fate
For God’s sake, the ache,
this has to be a mistake
there’s no way that Life is such a waste

Beautiful creations clean you
Renews the used and abused
and brings to bloom the fruit needed to prove
that you can choose
without fearing what there is to lose

Choices are Life’s crossroads
designed with many ways to go:
stay where you are or dare into the unknown.
Both are risks that will show
you choose to live over growing fat and old

Should we continue to be absurd
to flog a dead horse with cotton candy words
to bring sandwiches to banquets for the birds
or can we allow the truth to be heard:
You can either live in the past or have a future

Words We Don’t Know

Words We Don’t Know

The words come and go
But the soul knows
There’s so much more we could say

Love comes and goes
But our heart knows
there will soon be better days

Some friends come and go
But in the end
we know that real friends were made

Life can often be slow
but, oh, time goes
and we always love again

We find we must use
words we don’t know
as our muse dances and sways

When toe to toe
with those holding our soul
we pay through the nose for our trade

Our work always grow
but often we’re shown
our best effort is still clay

Flying Crabs

Flying Crabs

by Thadd Presley

When my mother took her children to the beach
we had the most fun while flying kites high out of reach.
So high and fast they’d fly, soaring above the water
that when  they came down, it was really no bother

For my oldest brother would put them back in the air again.
It was he who discovered the night-time sandy friends.
At dusk the little crabs would come out  in droves.
We caught a bucket full  and took them home

My mother let us keep some because they were small
but did she know what we were planning? no not at all.
The morning came and we took straight to our kites,
latched onto the string, and then put them in flight

The kite hoisted them high into the sky and with stalky eyes
they viewed the world , as the only crabs to ever fly.
Finally they would gather the courage and drop back to the sea
When my mother caught, she broke our kites, and grounded us for two weeks

So we are Here. What Now?

So We Are Here. What Now?

by Thadd Presley

The fire in my belly is lit
I don’t use an alarm clock
I’m up before six
with dreams so big you’d think I was a kid
anxious to meet and play with friends

The gleam in my eye is bright
from the dark, a focused light
projecting visions from inside my mind
straight to your heart
illuminating the places you try to hide

They can’t take away or frustrate
the day you stake your claim to fate
For God’s sake, the ache,
this has to be a mistake
there’s no way that Life is such a waste

Beautiful creations clean you
Renews the used and abused
and brings to bloom the fruit needed to prove
that you can choose
without fearing what there is to lose

Choices are Life’s crossroads
designed with two ways to go:
stay where you are or dare into the unknown.
Both are risks that will show
you choose today over growing fat and old

Should we continue to be absurd
flog a dead horse with cotton candy words
bring sandwiches to banquets to feed the birds
or can we allow the truth to be heard:
You can either relive the past or have a future.

Four Liverpudlian Scoucers

 

I’ve been thinking about the Beatles over the last week. They had so many lessons and good things to teach those who wanted to listen. Not many bands really try to promote their understanding of the world. Instead, it seems today that bands look for something popular and take that on as a way to show their music is relevant.

Obviously, the Beatles were more than just a band. As writers and poets and representatives of peace they gave more to this world than mere song. I often wonder what John Lennon thought about the book “On the Road” written by Jack Kerouac in 1957 or Allen Ginsberg’s “Howl” published around the same time. William S. Burroughs published Naked Lunch a few years later, but it was also one of the books contributing to The Beat Generation and could have had something to do with the way John thought about the world.

Did John Lennon fall under the spell of the Beat Writers? I don’t like to think so. I believe he was a kindred spirit to the Beat Writers and his ideas were his own, even if his music came after. I think that if nothing was published in the 1950, John Lennon and George Harrison would have been more or less the same people.

Two Beatles Remain

Four Liverpudlian Scoucers

Sadly, two Beatles have passed away
It’s said that two remain
But, even to this day
some’re not sure if Paul’s the same

Like lyrics scribbled on a crumpled page
Intact and translated from a bygone age
There’s simplicity in the beautiful way
Their words still convey what they’re meant to say.

They’ll always be bright, shining examples
on the vast landscape of burning albums
no longer cryptic symbols of things invisible
But ancient fables and parables made simple

 

 

“Reality leaves a lot to the imagination.”
― John Lennon

“It’s being here now that’s important. There’s no past and there’s no future. Time is a very misleading thing. All there is ever, is the now. We can gain experience from the past, but we can’t relive it; and we can hope for the future, but we don’t know if there is one.”
― George Harrison

“I say in speeches that a plausible mission of artists is to make people appreciate being alive at least a little bit. I am then asked if I know of any artists who pulled that off. I reply, ‘The Beatles did’.”
― Kurt Vonnegut, Timequake

“I declare that The Beatles are mutants. Prototypes of evolutionary agents sent by God, endowed with a mysterious power to create a new human species, a young race of laughing freemen.”
― Timothy Leary

The Nights I Write

“The Nights I Write”

by Thadd Presley

Sitting near the window, under the moon, in the light I write
Harvesting thoughts that form from dreams during the nights, I write

It has been a pleasure to write about their lives, an undertaking of soul
As it happens, their fictitious life’s design illuminates the nights I write

Dark characters die too soon only to be born alive again to sin
and hide in the shadows or the dens to survive the nights I write

The village where I create my men and the wives they so love
comes ever so close to disaster within the darkness on the nights I write

The men cry, “Thadd, why dost thou do ill and evil to us men.”
I have learned they deplore their days and despise the nights I write.

Fighting Spirits for Lyrics

Fighting Spirits for Lyrics

I’ve been writing a few lyrics down.
Although, good words have yet to be written,
I’m not getting up, I’m not quittin.
So long as I remain sittin,

I’ll find the perfect letters
and cram them together,
so they’ll be just a little better
than the first time around.

When the words make a familiar sound
forming the beginning of a simple lyric.
I’ll quietly draw nearer to hear it:
the voice of that wandering spirit.

I’ve no reason to fear it.
It’s volunteered every appearance
and engineered an experience so coherent
that I like when visits my piece of ground.

Inked Life

In this style of poetry, I use the same words to create the first and second parts of each stanza. So lines 1 and 2 use the same words as 3 and 4.

Inked Life

Pages grown from vision
Novel becomes inked life
Grown from novel vision
inked life becomes pages

Writing brings character
There is always blood drawn
Blood always brings writing
Character is drawn there

Writers survive the night
Each word is immortal
The night is immortal
Writer’s survive each word

Pink Floyd’s “Mother” (Donald Trump version)

One of my first parody’s added to Fiction Weekly. It is inspired by the one and only Donald J. Trump running for president.  As I edit this post a few month after first publishing it, I realize there is only 34 days until the election.  What will happen?  Will all of our nightmares come true?

We shall see.

To the tune of Pink Floyd’s: “Mother”

Mother do you think Trump’ll drop the bomb?
Mother do you think Trump’ll like this song?
Mother do you think they’ll try to break Trump’s balls?
Mother should Trump build the wall?
Mother should Trump run for president?
Mother should Trump trust the government?
Mother will he put me in the firing line?
Mother our we really dying?

Hush now baby, baby, don’t you cry.
Trump’s gonna make all your nightmares come true.
Trump’s gonna put all his fears into you.
Trump’s gonna keep you right here under his wing.
He wont let you fly, but he might let you leave.
Trump will keep the USA cozy and warm.
Ooooh baby ooooh baby oooooh baby,
Of course Trump’ll help to build the wall.

Mother do you think he’s good enough — for the GOP?
Mother do you think he’s dangerous — to the GOP?
Mother will he tear our little world apart?
Mother will he break our hearts?

Hush now baby, baby don’t you cry.
Trump’s gonna check out all your girlfriends for you.
Trump wont let anyone dirty get through.
Trump’s gonna wait up until you get in.
Trump will always find out where you’ve been.
Trump’s gonna keep the USA healthy and clean.
Ooooh baby oooh baby oooh baby,
You’ll always be the GOP to me.

Trump, does it need to be so high?

________________________________________

Sorry, it couldn’t be helped. I have a problem and I blame it on Weird Al.

@therealdonaldtrump

#donaldtrump

The Fall by Thadd Presley

The Fall

 

by Thadd Presley

He glanced over the edge, not knowing that below
his emptiness was the truth. He’d always been alone.
He looked across the desert trying to imagine his fall.
The beautiful, blue horizon reminded him that love wasn’t all.
Many times over the last year, when love came near
he embraced the future, saying he could face all of his fears
about coming out and letting his family know
tell them who he wanted to love, so he could let his love be shown.
He’s already heard the hurtful words. They all cut deep, to the bone.
How could tear his family apart and destroy his childhood home?
Feelings of loss, betrayal, remorse, and disgust
were made worse by the thoughts of abandonment and distrust.

How? – he asked himself. How could you do this to them?
They love you!! God, you’re nothing but filthy fucking trash.
This selfishness will ruin everything you touch,
and turn your families life into dust and ash.

They all see through you! It’s obvious what you are.
Why would they be surprised to hear it repeated in your voice?
They’ve said it themselves.  “He’s always been a blip on my Gaydar.”
“God didn’t make him a fag, being that way is his own choice.”

His uncle told his dad on his eleventh Christmas. “He’s a damn fancy boy.”
An Ass-tronant, a Butt-Pirate, a Bum-hole Engineer,
A Fudge packer, a stinking cockstar, I bet you’re really embarrassed by him.
A Fairy, a flamer, for a son. You know his momma turned him queer.

He’s a limp wristed, Jobby Jabber, a butt rustling-shit stabber
A girly boy, Nancy Man, fancy-pants, Cock-struction worker
A Browine King, Anus Assassin,and faggot ass dick grabber
Even his Dad called him a shit smelling Goober Jerker.

His mother found out on her own.
There  was nothing to hide. He couldn’t have lied if I tried.
His mother had knew since day one.
But when he admitted it,  she actually looked surprised.

We are through with you, she said, but you know I love you.
I want you to be happy, son, but going against God and nature is not the way
You’re dad doesn’t want you here anymore!
He’s tried for so long, but his heart, you know We can’t make that mistake!

And now you want to turn me away?
You’d really turn me out?
You’ve known this longer than anyone.
I thought I could count on you to help them love me.
But it’s too late. Everything has wilted and gone dreadfully wrong.
I never wanted this sadness to come bacl, but the end has come and gone past.
Love has no end, but how long can hate last?

He glanced over the edge, not knowing that below
his emptiness was the truth. He’d always been alone.
He looked across the desert trying to imagine his fall.
The beautiful, blue horizon reminded him that love wasn’t all.