Words We Don’t Know

Words We Don’t Know

Words come and go
But the soul knows
There’s much more we could say

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

Friends come and go
But in the end
We know that real friends stay

Life can often be slow
But, where does time go
Once we learn how to play?

We sometimes sow
Words we don’t know
As our muse dances and sways

Standing toe to toe
With the thing holding our soul
We relive every mistake we made

Our work always grows
Most often we’re shown
That our best effort is only 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

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

 

 

 




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.

 

The Guide

The Guide

by Thadd Presley

Perhaps; and I say this in case,
You’ve never been to, seen, or heard of the place
And, if not, just perhaps, you’d still like to go
You can get there still, by following someone who knows.

And who knows the way, and how to get there, please tell?
It’s not the one who only heard of The WAY and says all will be well.
Is there a single path? The only answer is no.
Is there a pleasant route? There’s only one way to know.

You must follow your heart, through the thoughtless crowd
And cover your ears to the loud distractions that abound.
There’ll be people pushing and friends holding you down.
They’ll see in your eyes, if you’ve got a route planned out.

And once they see that you know the way,
They’ll ask you for directions to that wonderful place.
Perhaps, just perhaps, you’ll take the extra time
To not just tell them the distance, but become their to guide.

Little Cactus

Little Cactus

In a crumbling fence
Among these lost ruins
The little plant lives

The sand is so timeless
Where it waits for a drink
Sun comes up, night draws on
and it never shrinks

Only millimeters high
So strong and so stout
It survives it’s long life
On little of nothing… wholly without

Friends: A Poem

Another poem from my poetry collection. I didn’t win the billion dollar jackpot last night, sadly. I’m not bothered by it though because I’m super-duper lucky just to be me. Thank you all for the visits and for reading my stories and poetry. Today, we received the 41st country to the site: a visit from Dublin, Ireland.  I consider all of you my friends, so here is a poem about friendship.

 

Friends

Held by a string
the only real thing
that keeps us from going
completely insane

Is having those friends
who won’t let you down
and help us to find
all that we’ve found.

Friends give their hand
they help us to stand
and find the best way
to higher dry land.

Not a common theme,
It’s not what you think,
Friend’s aren’t the way
you’ve seen on TV.

Some are far, far away
in towns, countries, and states.
They love us for us
and see through our mistakes.

The Circus Came To Town

When I was a child, I did something terrible by not speaking up when I should have. I saw something so frightening, I was too afraid to report it. I couldn’t even tell my parents about it. It has haunted me throughout my entire life and I have been seeing her face more and more lately.

Now as an adult, I live everyday with my cowardice, knowing that I allowed the unspeakable to continue. I can never take it back, I will never live it down, but I must try to get it out of my head somehow.

 

The Circus Came to Town

by Thadd Presley

Damp, dark,
a clank, a spark
a white light,
so bright
my eyes
shut tight.

It was years before,
when I was only a boy
a circus came to town
with elephants and joy

A tent
so large
all the people in town
could come right in
and look at the clowns.

In my delight, I got lost
For my family I looked
and down a dark hallway,
I saw a little girl was took.

A thick curtain fell down,
and covered the way.
I didn’t see anything
But I heard the man say.

“Come one, come all,
Gather around ya’ll.
See the beautiful Chinese
and the Japanese dolls”

But this girl I then saw
was so skinny, so thin,
with long, blond hair
she was locked up tight
a chain under her chin.

She was scarred and so young.
She spoke up quickly,
she whispered:
“Get out of here! RUN!!!”

Her eyes were so wide,
from the shock of my sight
she shook in her cage,
and her necklace of chains

“RUN!!” She cried,
“they’ll be back again!”
Afraid for my life,
Finally I did.

I stand here now
Before the world
To tell of that place,
those chains,
and that girl.