https://www.online-literature.com/forums/blog.php?64727-hack The largest classic literature discussion forum on the Internet. Read Write Teach Share. en Thu, 04 Jun 2026 18:52:41 GMT vBulletin 10 https://www.online-literature.com/forums/images/misc/rss.jpg https://www.online-literature.com/forums/blog.php?64727-hack https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?11200-Regius Fri, 26 Nov 2010 15:49:10 GMT What's the answer to my birth?
When's the time to pierce the earth?

Where's the hand to hold the spade?
At whose feet are empires laid?

Who's the man to dig my grave?
Which is monarch, which the slave? ]]> hack https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?11200-Regius https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?11177-Reply Mon, 15 Nov 2010 03:57:48 GMT Foam spray springs skyward from a ragged wind torn sea, churned to lace by gods more ancient than breath. Foam spray springs skyward
from a ragged wind torn sea,
churned to lace
by gods more ancient
than breath. ]]> hack https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?11177-Reply https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?10874-only-the-silence-remains Wed, 18 Aug 2010 14:59:55 GMT where glacier greets sea the crashing, calving flow gives voice to every storm that added to its stream, replies to each stone overturned by... where glacier greets sea
the crashing, calving flow
gives voice to every storm
that added to its stream,
replies to each stone
overturned by groaning ice,
and rings with echoes
of the shearing squeal of
rock etching rock

then asea,
as centuries bob
in new disquiet,
ice becomes the sea,
and melts into
the depths
of its own
silence ]]> hack https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?10874-only-the-silence-remains https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?10668-Flew-the-Nest Tue, 06 Jul 2010 04:13:16 GMT This morning at about 8 AM the two hummingbird fledglings at the front door left their nest. We have been watching them closely, even before they... This morning at about 8 AM the two hummingbird
fledglings at the front door left their nest. We have been watching them closely, even before they hatched. The serendipity of the placement of the nest, on a chain hanging from a reflective plate at the entryway, has allowed us to peek into the nest at will. The young birds were incredibly tiny when they hatched. They grew steadily at first, then in a short period of about three days, they went through a growth spurt, and they were gone. We are a little sad. I understand that they may reuse the nest so we may get a repeat performance. Now we will watch the feeders to see if they hang around. ]]> hack https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?10668-Flew-the-Nest https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?10646-The-Gospel-According-to-Skeeter-(Book-II) Sat, 03 Jul 2010 05:28:45 GMT Paying the Toll

Skeet and me in the last pew
listenin' to some trash
somethin' bout our savior
and givin' up our cash

We just have two nickles
Skeet says give em one
I tell Skeeter ten percent
is the way I heard it's done

Skeeter says you can't make change
when they pass the plate
so he leaves a nickle
to get us through the gate

I tell Skeet it might be fine
if we was millionaires
Skeeter says be generous
Jesus hangs and stares

____________________________


Monster

it is not safe here
in the park
I think you ought to know

if you've a problem
with the dark
perhaps you'd better go

when there's no moon
it's pretty black
you really must be still

there's a monster
with a sack
and he would do you ill

if he should sense
that you are here
he'll have you in a trice

he'll teach you
what he knows of fear
and it's not very nice

________________________

Soul Searching

Skeet and me search high and wide
looking for a spark
misplaced somewhere years ago
in some awful dark

It's not behind the Walmart
we'd have found it there
not in back of Supercuts
mixed in with swept up hair

Facing all these back doors
that will not let us in
you might think the two of us
invented mortal sin

If Heaven has a back door
you'll find us hiding there
we'll bum rush St. Peter
when he sweeps out angel hair

____________________________

Smokin' Crack and Junk

I read "the art of conversation
is like kinda dead and stuff"
since we have not spoken
I'd like to call your bluff

Yellin' at myself
is not, in itself, enough
if one of us don't answer soon
I'll have another puff

_________________________

Skeeter's War

Skeeter in his underwear
a big ole ugly scar
I ask Skeet where it came from
Skeeter answers "WAR"

Skeeter says a hot one
came rippin' through the floor
of the gunship where he stood
spittin' out the door

It cut through him like butter
butter housing bone
before that hot steel cooled off
ole Skeet was headed home

They patched him up a little
and sent him on his way
where the last forty years went
Skeeter just can't say

And though he's not In Country
and now he's free to roam
anyone who knows him
knows Skeet aint comin' home

_____________________________

Hope[you are warm]

On the pavement
trying not to look up

Into unspoken pity
disgust and fear
of my tribe
that splashes around me
like disrespect
only beyond caring
like spit
with a touch of Hope

Hope, by God, wears shoes
Hope fights the urge
to slip silently by
Hope is not strictly required
to kick my a**

Hope stands so close
that I smell its cloying breath

Even when told to go
Hope remains
Hope clings to me
it is the stench
I will take to my grave
f*** hope

Hope throws a half eaten sandwich at me
now and then
Hope police dogs don't
tear my scrotum

Hope you are warm and dry
as you read this
f*** hope ]]> hack https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?10646-The-Gospel-According-to-Skeeter-(Book-II) https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?10636-The-Gospel-According-to-Skeeter-(Book-I) Thu, 01 Jul 2010 01:21:06 GMT This is
a collection
of some
of my
poems
that deal with
homelessness:
**************************
"...You, stumbling dumb
At night, as pale stars break,
Lift your thin hands for some
Hope, and suffer, and wake..."

Herman Hesse from Lonesome Night
***************************
Distant Thunder

empty, I rose
only a little off
but storming toward crazy

______________________

Mission Statement

The sweet rolls, there, are not too stale,
for folks with ashes in their ale.
You acquire a taste for what's at hand
a sandwich, with a little sand.

I'm determined not to be a jerk
though committed to avoiding work.
Now if they'd tighten up this line
I'd have my soup in double time.

I'm not fit for any trade
and not from drinking lemonade.
If you judge me by what I do
judge not, that ye not be judged too!

________________________________

Pabst Prayer

Let the wizened
be not old.
Help the hungry
flee the cold.

Give us
with that daily bread,
a place to lay
our unwell head

I pray you Lord
to smite them all.
Crush the mighty,
chop the tall.

Spirit me
away from here,
and if you're buying
make mine beer.

_____________________

Goa Way

Me and Skeeter
pickin' locks
for a place to sleep

We came down here
to the docks
on a midnight creep

Maybe we could
stow away
to Goa we would sail

We would go away
to stay
The sea would leave no trail

Skeeter speaks
some Portugee
I could stand there dumb

It's only a dream
I know
I'd go if Skeet would come

________________________

Hairy the Cat

I wish I had the pennies
that I've thrown into the sea.
I'd buy a crust of bread
and we would share it, you and me.

But pennies spent are gone, you say,
and I won't argue that,
though wishes from those pennies bought
me you and this damned cat.

The cat's another mouth to feed
and one more homeless soul,
but he's our comfort in the night
when thunderstorms might roll.

Now, we wear what we own, my dear
and our love fits us fine,
although he's just a little thing,
Hairy's our valentine.

___________________________

In the Lie Berry

Skeeter and I in the stacks
discussing wings and thighs,
Skeeter says Immanuel can't
and I say Skeeter lies

Skeet says wisdom's not knowledge
and science isn't life
he'd be more believable,
except he choked one wife

Skeet's a little crazy
but I don't blame him none
it's hard to keep your sanity
when folks think you're a bum

Skeeter don't wear fancy clothes,
my cast-offs are just fine
we spend near every penny
on jugs of cheap red wine

Skeeter don't need no wine list
I'm his sommelier,
and just between the two of us,
I think ole Skeeter's gay ]]> hack https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?10636-The-Gospel-According-to-Skeeter-(Book-I) https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?10564-The-light-is-green! Fri, 18 Jun 2010 20:00:29 GMT When the Earth and Moon were close as the oceans of their molten blood One and not congealed When stars long dead were newborn One... When the Earth and Moon
were close as the oceans
of their molten blood

One and not congealed

When stars long dead
were newborn

One infinite mind's eye
looked on a nascent world
and permitted a passing conceit
God's reflection, Man

Now if that sorry S.O.B.
would just realize
the light is green ]]> hack https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?10564-The-light-is-green! https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?10512-Breathe-Dammit Tue, 08 Jun 2010 13:44:57 GMT She crossed the narrow frontier
at the elastic border of Heaven
which, as is well known,
expands and contracts with God's every breath

Even a shallow cough balloons to save
countless nearly worthy souls

As she stood, very close,
peering in, as best she could,
God, distracted, cleared His throat
and let her in ]]> hack https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?10512-Breathe-Dammit https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?10446-Across-the-Wide-Missouri Tue, 25 May 2010 15:16:33 GMT Gazing with the morning across a wild river to the lesser shore untrammeled where dire wolves surround an aging short faced bear Straddling... Gazing with the morning
across a wild river
to the lesser shore
untrammeled
where dire wolves
surround an aging
short faced bear

Straddling eden
I crowd the dawn
and wait for men
to rush across the brink
and shape a world
without a place
for wolves and bears ]]> hack https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?10446-Across-the-Wide-Missouri https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?10404-In-a-Taxi-in-Suriname Sat, 15 May 2010 17:19:41 GMT What is your name, brother? I am Jean-Paul. You are named for two good men. Saints, sir. Yes, necessarily dead. Saints, I mean. They are still... What is your name, brother?
I am Jean-Paul.
You are named for two good men.
Saints, sir.
Yes, necessarily dead. Saints, I mean.
They are still as scented death.
Yes sir.
When I was a child, Jean-Paul...
Yes sir.
When I was just a child,
and watched a baby sister die,
I wore Gucci frames.
Donated,
to or by some other saint,
I don't know which.
And though I saw her clear,
through that prism,
she did not know me,
at the end.
It must have been the frames. ]]> hack https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?10404-In-a-Taxi-in-Suriname https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?9777-Hardy-Boys Wed, 27 Jan 2010 18:57:44 GMT So, as I wait for my friend, O.K. his name is Hardeo, there are lots of Hardeos in the world, who's to say. LM was pouring tea and talking about a scar in the desert that she says is supposed to be art but, in her estimation, is not. The old man is gone again and I'm looking at the time and thinking Hardy and Jus could be back any minute. But they are not. LM asks if I want to get high, I politely decline, and she fires up a doobie that smells pretty premium. Not that I would necessarily know. She tells me that the old guy wants to go to the sink hole. I have seen it, it is a pretty impressive hole in the desert, an hour or so up the road to Grand Wash, as I recall. LM said that for all she knew, Grandpa could be headed there now.
She said, "Look in the back of the van, there should be a wood frame backpack there", and there was. She said that he would not leave without it. So, as she drank tea and smoked the fattie, I mostly looked around for local law enforcement, mostly. She said that she was a tatoo artist. And a farmer, I supposed. She did sport inked sleeves from her T-shirt that extended to her fingers, and an ornate half-collar at the back of her neck... ]]> hack https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?9777-Hardy-Boys https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?9701-Medicine-Man Thu, 14 Jan 2010 00:56:50 GMT The old guy whispered in Lisa Marie's ear, it was loud enough for me to identify it as a language I do not comprehend. LM handed me the yellow packet, and said, "He says that you should make a poultice with it." "Divide it into six parts for three applications, it has to be in a cotton wrapping." I am sure I looked at her like she was crazy. She said "He wants you to put it on both ankles, not just the bad one, you can leave them on for no more than two days, but at least one day for each application."
Grandpa must have been very observant. I broke my right ankle almost thirty years ago and it still gives me some trouble, after I abuse it with too much use. I tried to make eye contact with him to express appreciation but he looked away. I told LM to tell him thanks. She said nothing. I put the packet in my back pocket. ]]> hack https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?9701-Medicine-Man https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?9698-The-Jewelers-Fold Wed, 13 Jan 2010 18:17:20 GMT As I spoke to Lisa Marie(LM)the old guy walked away toward the bar ditch along the road. I didn't pay attention to where exactly he disappeared to, but after a few minutes I realized that he was gone. LM and I talked for a while, in vague generalities, about farming and art. When I commented on "Grandpa's" absence, LM told me that he may or may not be back. This was a little disconcerting to me, both her nonchalance and the prospect that the old guy she came with should just disappear. I walked around the van to see if I could see him anywhere. Nope, he was gone.
I asked LM if I should search for him. She replied that if he was coming back it would do no good, and if he wasn't, I would never find him unless he wanted me to. OK, twilight zone moment. While LM and I continued our conversation for the next half hour or so I kept scanning the countryside in the direction into which Grandpa had vanished. As I looked out over the desert LM said "there he is", and I turned to see Grandpa standing only a few feet behind me. He held a handful of weeds, some dried and brittle and some only a little wilted. He walked past without looking at me and, at the opened van door, reached in and withdrew a single stiff yellow sheet of plain paper and, after setting his bundle of greenery on it, he quickly made the seven folds that are characteristic of a jeweler's packet, enclosing the leaves with the final fold. ]]> hack https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?9698-The-Jewelers-Fold https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?9689-Lisa-Marie-(yes-she-was-named-for-THAT-Lisa-Marie) Tue, 12 Jan 2010 05:37:23 GMT Lisa Marie tells me that the old Dude won't tell anybody his name, they just call him Grandpa.
LM (sorry, it's easier) says that Grandpa has worked for them for the last 9 years, and that they only worked part of the year and that this is the part where they don't work. Instead they had decided to come to the Eastern Mojave to see an outdoor art installation here. Having recently accomplished that goal, they decided to come to Gold Butte to see the sinkhole, before heading back home to Washington State via Death Valley.
I asked LM what exactly did they do part of the year. She said that they were farmers. Well, I have known a few farmers, and the ones who come to art installations in their downtime(?)I could count on exactly zero fingers. Maybe that is just the skeptic in me. Anyway, I took that story with a grain of salt. "Miles to go before I sleep"
sorry I must go now,
more later
Hack ]]> hack https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?9689-Lisa-Marie-(yes-she-was-named-for-THAT-Lisa-Marie) https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?9688-Funny-thing-happened-on-the-way-to-the-river Tue, 12 Jan 2010 05:16:17 GMT We never made it to Kohta Circus. When we left the pavement just outside Bunkerville we saw an old man standing outside a VW bus with its engine... We never made it to Kohta Circus. When we left the pavement just outside Bunkerville we saw an old man standing outside a VW bus with its engine cover opened. There were two people on the other side of the 1971 VW. So we stopped to see if they needed help. They needed help. What they needed specifically was a fuel pump. They did not have an extra, and we could not locate one in our belongings. My trusted sidekick, who shall go unnamed, in case there are statutes of limitations in play, as it turns out, knows exactly were to find one, only about an hour away, just about where we started out the day's adventure.
So, we say howdy-do to our new friends, Jus, Lisa Marie (not just Lisa or just Marie) and an unnamed old dude probably 85 or 90, maybe older. The old guy, unnamed like my friend, did not speak English, or for that matter any language but Athabaskan. Jus asks my "friend" if he would be willing to take him to the nearest place that might be of some assistance to him in his hour of need. My friend says," Jus ole buddy, I am your servant", or words to that effect. Within minutes I am left with Lisa Marie and the aforementioned old Dude. Neither of whom know me from the axe murderer that I might appear to be. ]]> hack https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?9688-Funny-thing-happened-on-the-way-to-the-river