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country boyThey had me 'cross a barrel with my shorts up in the air.
I was lookin' at the crickets and I said I didn't care.
They moved to come in closer, then I turned and gave 'em hell,
And that's the last time anyone's come 'round here to buy or sell.
Ma an' Pa came runnin' with a pitchfork an' a gun,
But before the time they got there, them ole scoundrels took to runnin'.
One 'un was a banker and the other talked some law.
Don't think we'll see those scurvy varmints 'round these parts no mo'.
Got a way of livin' and these hills they din't come cheap,
But I'll lie here an' I'll die here 'stead a doin' it on the street.
My Granddad was a gunner in the War to End All Wars
An' I don't believe we'll see no law dogs 'round these parts no mo'.
I'm gonna keep it goin' with my cousins and my girl.
There ain't a lovin' better place in this ole spinnin' world.
There ain't a place I'd rather be than here amongst the trees.
And on days when I'm out with the dogs this world belongs to me.
copyright J. Shid
Artists And CrowsPOET:
"...So my mushy feelings are way off base,
Even though to express them
Is why I write in the first place?"
We want paying people to read it.
And by 'people' I mean non-riff-raff,
Like every member of my hand-picked staff.
Ah, here's Bentley now!
Did you pick up my cleaning? There's a dear!
Bit of a twinge, could you rub me right here?
Now, what were you saying?
Oh yes, sentimentality is such a bore, isn't it?"
I killed your cat
With a baseball bat,
Relieved myself, thanks,
In your car's gas tank.
Now I'm training
To laugh at people
And to look at porn
In the old church steeple.
Is THAT more in keeping with your desires?"
I respect a need for conformity
With a modern tint,
And that everyone's writing must be just like mine,
And yet COMPLETELY different--
Oh, goodness, yes--
'Else IT DOESN'T GET IN PRINT!
Don't be trite and sentimental.
Be brutal, be real, take chances;
For me to read it it must be occiden
Laughter on The WindI found that creek where we used to go,
Walked that bridge that we used to know
And listened to the wind.
I imagined our talk.
I could see your walk,
Could hear our voices on the wind.
Sharing stories, sharing dreams,
How nothing is as it ever seems
And heard your laughter on the wind
We all knew one of us would go,
Or three or five--how many is it now?
Leaving ashes and secrets in the wind.
I miss you darlings, each and every one,
When I hike in the rain or walk in the sun,
And listen for you on the wind.
But at every ending we begin.
A new life finds us yet again,
And there will always be the wind.
copyright J. Shidler 05-04-2010
use with permission
Red And WhiteSometimes when I write
I say exactly what is real.
I think about it for a night
As scars are opened and others heal,
But in my fantasies,
Not with the bloody tracks of steel
Of long a yesteryear
And crimson rivulets on skin of white.
Words may cut in subtle ways,
Like shuriken, they take to flight.
The sharpest things I wield
Perhaps remind us how to feel;
But bring us to our knees,
And maybe that's not right,
To throw them past your sword and shield
When you long to travel light.
But you respond with pillowed wings
And plumage falling through the air.
I'm lost in all your down,
Falling backwards on this ocean stair,
Feathers clotting in open wounds.
I reach out but you just let me drown.
The emerald sea swirls bloody brown
With windblown tufts of red and white.
copyright J. Shidler, 05-03-2010
use with permission
The RoverI wish I knew her heart.
It's like walking in the dark
Or sleeping with the curtains drawn
And no clocks to chime their marks.
Sometimes I think I'm there
And need no words to know she cares.
Then I realize that I'm miles away
And that I might as well be neverwhere.
And so I stitch another graft
Onto a heart that holds me trapped
In the aether of the netherworld
Afraid to hear her laugh.
And yet this modern tragedy
Keeps the poet alive in me.
Perhaps the next line will explain it all
And then we both will see
They say that time will tell,
That everything will gel,
But they also say that good intentions
Pave the way to hell.
I know the region well.
I've wined and dined among the elves,
Been through the gates of heaven,
And lived to tell fantastic tales
That few will understand.
I'm known to stand and face the world,
Cast off and let my sails unfurl
Like Sinbad or Ulysses,
And yet when it really matters
I'm frightened by a girl.
But I must say not forever
And I'm known to not
Red Letter Day - Prologue
So here I am, writing.
I’m writing, I’m writing – just as you told me to.
I’m writing, I’m writing, I’m writing.
Have you ever noticed that when the sun goes down, this flat changes? It does. The walls are white during the day and lingering brown at night. During the day, I’m with you and the light from outside paints the walls that heavenly color. But when that sun goes down, the demons wake and I’m alone again, even though you’re just a room away.
Somehow it seems less threatening tonight, and I think it’s because you’ve given me an assignment to try and fight off the darkness. You gave me a stack of papers and a pen and told me to write everything that comes to mind.
It’s a strange feeling to have complete freedom. These empty pages are mine to do whatever I please – I could even wipe my ass with them – but they’re also terribly intimidating. The blank page has always been a nemesis of man. It&
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^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More