Check Me INN To Sleep Long And Deep

On-shore intentional,
(prayer)
Mid-week deep thought therapy meditational;
(Dependable incoming waves)
Positive, personal and focused,
(Stay)
Demons of Doubt cast away,
(Strong)
Settling Sea reinvigorates me.
(Tough)
Otis Redding watching the tide
(Disciplined music)
Mature enough to finally be an adult;
(Centered)
Still much of an only-child kid at-heart;
(Safety)
Keeping my head “on the swivel” on the stealth.
(Rebelliously streetwise)
James Baldwin’s “The Fire Next Time”
(Healthy)
Start my day with H2O Green tea,
(detox)
Vitamin and antioxidant augmented;
(Wealthy)
Pay myself first and I need another gig now!
(Banker)
Find a corner as ‘Aunt’ Nashville ‘second Mom’,
Della recommends I pray;
(Spiritual communication)
Alive so long as the sun rises and desires;
(Good habits)
Mama used to say.
(Timeless advises)
It is the calm-before-the-storm…again dammit.
(Cherish downtime)

Earrings

Where I work there is not enough street parking,
The company I work for created a small lot,
Which sits next to the concrete one for the executives.
The bed of the worker’s lot is grey gravel stones.

One chilly autumn morning I backed the car in
Off of the Gowanus Brooklyn street,
I got out against the chill,
Heading to the trunk to retrieve my leather jacket.
That is when something golden and shinny caught my eyes;
I was quick to identify it as jewelry.

Surely they were crushed by tires upon all of those stones!
Still attached to the little plastic thing used to display in stores,
On the reverse side was the price tag.
Even this was not too soiled to clean – I did;
Meaning these earrings hadn’t lain there for very long.

I picked them up,
Their shape reminds me of the sign for infinity;
The measure of time I will care for thee.
For now they adorn my office cubicle.
Showing them to some female coworkers,
“Must belong to ‘Beyonce’ “, one said.
She was referring to the rather stuck-up,
Asian-looking, double-breasted receptionist.
She thinks she is “all that” and is not pleasant.

Often praying and I wish you were here.
I could offer these earrings to you just for fun;
You would reject them as not real gold or second-hand.
“Costume jewelry” is the term I always heard mother use;
I believe you would appreciate it is the good thought that counts!

Knowing your ear lobes are not pierced,
I guess I will save them for you anyway.
When I picked them up,
They reminded me in another new way,
Of the past gifts you’ve sent to me;
All of which fit to the “T”,
Even when personally you had not met me!
And how my ears long for the ring of thy voice.

By Pebble Bay Beach

[With apologies to those who enjoy my poetry (or scorn and mock it) for taking so long between sharing my posts due to working a daily routine which includes helping my eighty-nine year old mum while I learn that New York City is not the place for my future with Nina.
I am on vacation from that world as I post these creative words from that neglected other aspect of my loyal inner self.]

By Pebble Bay Beach

Don’t grow cold on me.
Although in life,
There is war and strife;
Hold onto the cures that might,
Give you peace at night.
Such as me being your man,
Who will more than suffice.

Do not…grow cold on me.
For now almost twice a fortnight,
Upon our collective breast,
This silence is cast against winds
Though they may change directions,
My course is consistent and steady;
Yet, shaken by your sudden surprise absence.
So that when Our Father’s blessing finally comes,
The means to import you and yours;
I will be ready.

Clutch the dreams of your heart.
Even tighter within your fighting fists
Knowing each day we awake;
It carries a blessing and a risk.
A song by Neil Diamond enters my mind,
“Love On The Rocks” lol

Don’t…grow cold on me,
It is embarassing to see!
Allowing me to journey alone like a rudderless boat;
Without word or reason,
When others are gone;
In the disorienting foggy dawns,
That disclaims territory of inevitably changing seasons.

Я Понимаю Это Но Я Люблю Ее

Почти Черный русский на скалах … жизни,
Я сейчас над облаками на мой путь в никуда;
Полет под облаками на высоте 35000 футов.
Убит выезда на меня в последнюю минуту;
Так же, как мой билет подтвердил, что я узнал.
Я хотел бы перейти, из самолета!
Как она могла?

Два года инвестировали время.
Недавно она замолчала и без обновлений,
Был “Огромные разочарован”, что я не получил еще нет.
Но теперь один год с того дня я получил свой паспорт;
Мы могли бы быть установлены, чтобы жарить на берегах Днепра.
Часть меня верит, что она удивит меня,
Будьте в аэропорт, чтобы «собрать» меня.
Принятие желаемого за действительное, я знаю.

Я приезжаю в киевском аэропорту после того, как в настоящее время сонного езды;
Из Москвы SVO выше многих облаков,
Я никогда не думал, что когда-нибудь в «России»;
Это связано с встречи с моим Нины,
Если бы я была посадка betweena.
Мое видео камера готова только в случае, если я определить ее в Борисполе …

Я надеюсь на чудо и взаимных разочарований,
Стрелять некоторые случайные видео на лестнице, я не уверен,
Куда идти дальше в этом аэропорту лабиринт?
Вместо этого я пройти через “паспортный контроль” (ролл “R”),
Претензия моя тяжелые сумки багажа,
Прогуляйтесь по отношению к моей заполнения в корпусе искателя,
Что могло быть, если бы она осталась в Украине?
На данный момент, Один я остался к меланхолии задуматься ..
Я вижу признаков того, что гласит: “Нафтали”.
Она не держит его,
Это моя поездка в неизвестную землю и место для отдыха,
Без нее не так, как мы часто и снова,
Планируемые как в этот день пойдет;
Теперь похищены два полезных странные ребята.

На этот раз любовь была предложена ее первая;
Я ответил, и ни один из его была безответной.
Но я черепаха была слишком медленной, чтобы победить,
Я не знаю, что было сроку или расы!
Теперь осталось подумать, что может-быть.

Все люди, которые не «поддерживать» нашей кампании объединиться раньше,
Должны иметь более активный, чтобы помочь предотвратить этот момент;
Они не сделали и я проклинаю их,
Черт! Деньги руины все, особенно “любят”.
Нина, как ты мог?
Как вы могли бы уезжать?
Один или “одинокий”, как она мило использовал слово неправильно;
Молний за пределами моей комнаты-для-ночь,
Жесткий против янтаря Светофор Украина грома дождь падает.
Он находится в синхронизации с моим новым угрюмым настроением.
У нас обоих есть достаточно “разочарование” сейчас строить заново.

One year AGO to this DAY, she wrote:». сейчас находится в вашем кармане (паспорт) А теперь, нужно поставить вторую свободы -! деньги в другом кармане И потом, вы абсолютно, совершенно свободный человек и что теперь, что план для вас (вчера , я попросил вас об этом по Skype). Когда я буду знать дату вашего визита? буду я встречу тебя в аэропорту? WoW, сегодня мой бывший нетерпением вернулся к меня к вам. WoW скоро мы будете заниматься любовью, я не могу поверить …… И вы можете поверить? Я уже настолько привык, что вы пришли бы никогда. И я помню еще, что вы сказали мне, что мои бабочки вернется ко мне. …
Поцелуи
Нина

”

“See?”

“This garter she magically sent last Fall (2011) still has her scent…”

Comments encouraged if you’d like to share

Spring Eternal Like Pollen On My Car!

“Ship Ahoy!”
My nose itches and annoys.
How sad, “or what” is it?
To have found through,
Modern media means and then to;
Bond with that one special person,
Only to possibly never –
Because of economics,
Ever acquire the means;
To repay her graciousness!
Which she surely could have ignored
And sealed the deal forever more.
I would like to “seal her deal”!
She has my eternal love,
Blessed mutual countenance stay true!

This first spring month of time,
Two years ago;
I’d never heard of her.
Was lost in despair,
Heading for suicidal.
Now I save to marry bridal
What?, You say?
My inspirational flesh will come back;
Like money wherever we dun it from!
Some say “claim her in Jesus’ name!”
No, We carry religion in our hearts,
Just the same.

Now late at night,
After I douse the bed light;
Searching the darkness in my lonely room
Praying, meditating, channeling the formula that,
Will take me fastidiously to her!
Only to fall asleep;
Hours later awakening for work;
With an “Ah-Choo!!”
Watery and dripping eyes;
This time not from my cries.
It is yucky this yellow dust,
And again I feel all the bluer.

“Sad Face King” poetry book excerpt: ‘Footsteps In The Sand’

 

 

Footprints, Footprints in the Sand

Casino structures north in the distance,

I can tell you have been here for instance.

Like a detective I notice your five shoe size,

Also that your stride is so alive!

Imagining you wear a black two-piece,

Ahh, and you’re looking real sweet!

The sands say you also wear Addidas;

Beach walkin’ yet you yearn to be needed.

As I lay here on my towel just chillin’,

I saw your footprint;

It was so thrilling.

Suddenly I felt I knew all about you.

Footprints, footprints in the sands;

Among the many,

Yours stand out so grand.

Footprints, footprints in the sand,

Please stride back this way;

Then I can have the chance to be your man.

Birds echo one another,

The sandy sea breeze;

Suddenly too much for me.

Life in the tides,

Knowing reminders of your visit.

Foamy white caps flowing in,

As together we would splash;

And out again, Uhh!

Footprints, bare footprints in the sand,

We stroll the shore hand-in-hand.

Yes I love!

Having not kicked-up sand in a while,

Footprints tell me I’m going to be your man;

I think to follow them dog hound style.

With the tide of ebb,

Water warm and easily carries me flowing;

Then in rhythm it is gone,

Erasing your traces without knowing.

I had left those cute footprints in the sand,

I had seen you walk by,

As usual I was too shy to say “hi”.

Now upon the boardwalk it is cooler,

Much lonelier as well.

As I see your name again,

Glancing down now from whence we came.

Some of your footprints even the tide cannot wash away,

I know they are the same ones,

Even though now it is hours later in the day.

  “Sad Face King” poetry, available at  https://www.createspace.com/3505160 or via Amazon search.

Buy, please review or comment…very “summertime” verses, in-general.

Kissing-Up

order one today!

  [from my book: “Sad Face King”]   

Not being in the frame of mind to tackle the weightier issues of these days herein, and having composed this romantic verse that is badgering the front of my skull to get out a couple of months ago, I relent and will let it fly.  “Do Not think heavy” mode….

I hear the following as a mid-tempo kind of Isley Brothers, PM Dawn or similar group ballad song for Pop or R&B or Adult Contemporary.  Just one ( almost meaningless in the virtual world)  disclaimer; If you like it and “steal” it to make a hit record or some derivitave thereof, please be kind enough to credit this lonely bachelor of words so that I might continue to have bread on my table and an occasional steak/chicken/fish/lamb shop on my grill. Deal?  Then again, I’m not a song writer, just an oft romantic poet in my wildest dreams.

This came to me while I was asleep, complete with the melody.  Hit me up if you want to hear the music I have in-mind.

Kissing-Up

Conversations entertaining,

She playfully challenges me everyday.

Our situation is maintaining,

Sometimes I don’t know what to say.

So I kiss-up to her,

Even though its not the best thing to do.

I kiss-up to her,

Especially when she tells me, “I love you.”

Intellectual stimulation,

The core of our encounters.

Eventual sensual titillation,

The intensity never flounders;

[Chorus]When I kiss-up to her!

And its not the best policy.

I kiss-up to her,

Even when she says, “You can’t handle me.”

True love takes work,

Eye-to-eye honest communication.

It is so special when you find a soulmate,

Who can help lead you in the right direction!

It won’t always be easy,

And sometimes you might break-up.

If you are to keep the communication,

Each one has to suck-it-up (taking turns).

Mental intercourse taking over,

She is at me again.

It doesn’t have to become an argument,

Our minds have towards each-other to bend.

[Chorus]That’s why I kiss-up to her,

To keep the eventual peaceful feeling!

I kiss-up to her,

The make-up sex is so soothing;

I kiss-up to her,

Though it’s not always the right thing to do,

Kissing-up to her,

Makes our bond so everlasting… [Repeat chorus to the fade]

Saucy Maggie – ode to early spring

[From my book: “Sad Face King”]

You are one confused tree;

Have multiple identities.

Don’t know what you want to be,

Are you a flower or a tree?

Blooming so prettily,

Late in March annually.

A floral bouquet that itches my throat;

Reminding me that allergy time is nigh.

Pelting me with heavy petals as I sit reading.

You are a schitzo-making no sense tree;

Every year I say with money and a chainsaw,

I’d put you out of your lavender, white and ultimately green misery.

After-all, I must clean up after your moods.

Because of so many compliments from passersby,

Oh colorful one, you will maintain.

But when those petals fall and touch ground,

They shrivel-up and turn a rusty brown.

pickhitt: a poem about a tree in my front yard. – I know, I need to”get a life”…LOL