Tag Archives: Anger

It Should Have Been Six

 

If she would love me I’d feel it forced

If she would love me I’d feel remorse

It should have happened already by now

It should have happened before our vows

 

If I had known it was out of sympathy

If I had known before today she’d be free

It should have been done with feelings of love

It should have been done without feeling shoved

 

If you told me I wouldn’t be grieved

If you told me I would feel deceived

It should have been your responsibility

It should have been six so you were easier to carry

 

© 2011 Michael Yost 06/27

 

I Haven’t Done Anything yet Either

The halls echo softly with children’s cries

Mom lies in her locked hole getting high

Garbage strewn beneath the children’s feet

Refrigerator unplugged with nothing to eat

 

Bulging bellies in America hard to believe

And there’s no one around to care or to grieve

Fly’s in the kid’s eyes are having a feast

Even the roaches deserted with no crumbs to eat

 

© 2011 Michael Yost 06/20

Pete

childrens-portrait-photographer-elliot-jonah-bridge-1

That’s Pete and myself 20 years ago.
Today I walked the rail alone, because Pete had to ride.
It was a beautiful coach and everything;
He always looked his best in his dress blues.

It was a beautiful spring morning then too.
The ground was soft that morning and fruitful;
The worms we got were huge and the trout ate em up.
Almost as big as the ones crawling out from under that tarp.

I brought this picture today to remember important things.
Pete’s sacrifice is obvious and full of meaning.
What’s not so obvious is that
Pete greased the last three feet of that rail.

©2011 Michael Yost 01/14

Pete is everyone’s brother, son and father

up.the.anteater@gmail.com

http://www.booguloo.wordpress.com

I Need to Up Wright

I need to write this today
Waiting to fall in love and play
I need to melt at first sight
And please let it happen tonight

My ache is real and gaining strength
The pendulum blade drops in length
How many failures before my death
Before the blade takes my last breath

Last words written with the fall of night
Then the Queen’s ball only pairs in sight
I see Gwen smile does she wait for me?
No the Prince comes up and I flee

© 2016 Michael Yost 04/10

The Fish WRapper

Terry looked down at his bloody knuckles, “Dammed red heads, who knew that peckerwood was going to hit his head on the cement stairs?” “Well help me put him in the boat and let’s grab some of those cinder blocks.”
Pulling up at 2:30am the brothers parked by the boat ramp. The thermos steam was starting to trail off the cup until you blew on it and then it fogged up the windows. Joe broke the silence, “You didn’t have to kill that kid.” “Joe, that wasn’t a kid or a sixteenth, he was trying to rip us off, and hell I only hit him once.”
Look at that, someone has already put their Bass Master in the water and its only 3am. The State Game and Fishing Officer pulled in, parked and then walked over to talk to the two fellas. “You fellas look new to the area. How are you this morning?”
“Stay calm Terry, whispered Terry.” “Morning Officer, we’re doing OK. We used to come here as kids and it’s our first time back. We sure are looking forward to getting some bass today.”
“Well before you go out let me update you about our little place here. My son runs the bait shop and prints the local rag, “The Fish WRapper”. We’re still a small fishing community here at Liars Cove. You’ve got to be off the lake at 4pm. We’re just big enough to support a State Game and Fishing Officer, but small enough that I have to share an office with my big mouth son Peter, but he prefers to be called Junior.”
“Well this is Terry and I’m Joe. If you don’t mind we’re going to get out on the lake. We’ll catch up some more later this afternoon.”
“That sounds good boys; my name is Officer Michael P Pecker, senior. Oh and junior’s a little sensitive about his red hair and only his friends can call him Peckerwood. Now where is that boy?”

© 2012 Michael Yost 3/13

Walking Around Me

Walking around me their heads close together
Heading toward then running up the red stair
The blue stair just ahead slipping on my tears
Trying to catch them on the red stair without fear

Crossing onto the red stairs my nose bled
I’m trying to get over the things they’d said
My own light flickering starting to fade
Breaking my spirit leaving my edges frayed

Now two more behind me conjuring dread
Spells ringing and bouncing inside my head
Crouching down I jumped to the blue stairs
Scared the witches catching them unawares

Jumping higher than I thought possible
I thought that their flying seemed impossible
I seen them fly solving an aged old question
There wasn’t a saddle they stayed on with suction
© 2016 Michael Yost 03/02

When Will You Fight

 

When are you going to get up and fight
Knowing you’ll be found righteous and right
Laying on the floor sobbing is quite the sight
Get up when you fail show him your spite

Facing the mirror blood flows like he said
Fingers interlaced behind my head
Feeling defeated forehead on the wall
There was a tear sheet, “You Better Call Saul”

© Michael Yost 03/16

May I Wonder Aloud

Like the song, I ask where all the flowers have gone.
Where are the people that were part of my life growing
up as a babe and young boy?
I know the answer; they have slipped away into a memory
I have the memories, deep memories, I should be happy.

Next the teenage years and a lot of the same people are
there; but there’s new ones too. They were priming me
for the new adult life and the first loves of a teen. It was
happy anxiety. Those people and the girls have all slipped
away into memories. I have the memories, deep memories,
I should be happy.

As a young man the 7 seas were going to be my home
and I married a young lady to keep my house. We had one
child and finally four growing up and out of the home.
They all have a mate of their own. Those children raised
me! The wife and I drew apart and the family all slipped
away into memories. I have the memories, deep memories,
I should be happy.

Aging as people do, I found a few friends; the kids were
all far away and I turned to writing as an outlet. Nothing
was ever published, but that didn’t matter; the writing
was for my benefit, no one else’s. One day the Doctor
told me I would soon lose my memories and after a
while I would finally die. So now I write even more of my
memories, so I can remember them; so I should be happy.

 

© 2012 Michael Yost 02/07

 

Tasting Music

They met last month at a U2 concert
Then three shy dates introverting
Both codependants fear of being hurt
Hopes that the other would assert

Their taste in music opened new hope
In unique and sealed envelopes
Invitations stopped plans to elope
Dad watches them through his telescope

Her backyard swings gave hours of pleasure
With limits placed by Dad for leisure
What he’s losing is his own treasure
Hardening her heart with no measure

© 2015 Michael Yost 12/15

Another Tomorrow Today

Senryu Forty Nine

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Live for another tomorrow

Lying about all the yesterdays

No time to confront your sorrow

When today is wasting away

 

Soon it will be today again

Try living in the moment now

Lying about yesterday’s a sin

And to worry about tomorrow

 

© 2015 Michael Yost 02/22

The Curb Can be Cold

Here we are again, once more on the curb
What we own is here, on the lawn, in the “burb”
All were looking and we’d hoped not to disturb
Old friends closed drapes, when Dad’s cries were heard

His job and home gone, no one seemed to care
Once his shotgun was found, he looked for stares
Raising his gun, cops killed him there in his chair
All were looking and we’d hoped not to scare

© 2014 Michael Yost 03/05

A Blank Life

Meth Pipe

 

 

 

 

Tempted by an old addiction
A friend went over the top
Falling into his old routine
Now he’s unable to stop

Triggering deep seated issues
Feelings from so long ago
Getting high rather than crying
Going with the flow

What caused this aberration?
Bringing back the black hole
Stampeding over emotions
Smoke floating over the bowl

The blank in life surrounding
Only memories from the past
Keep coming to the forefront
Torturing tears of the harassed

© 2011 Michael Yost 10/01

 

I remem….

My memories rushing out with the tide
Tears well up bubbling goodbye and cry
Body’s braking and hair is gray
You can feel good times slipping away

The older have lapsed and now devoid
Scattered away with the broken toys
More are slipping and times we enjoyed
The only slap left is being unemployed

© 2014 Michael Yost 04/13

The Mysteries

It’s beyond my comprehension. I really don’t understand what you are trying to convey. I don’t doubt your ability to communicate; I’m beginning to doubt my mental capacity and or development. Surely you of all must understand, given your way of weaving words and abstracts.

I see others all around me falling into your cadence and your vestibules of verbiage; with me being left behind, the brass knocker in my hands, banging at the door of perception. Am I the child in front of the TV still questioning, “Who is the Kaiser and why is he in my Bugs Bunny cartoon”? The mysteries remain.

© 2010 Michael Yost 12/10

Tweaker

meth-043

Busted seams of tattered dreams deeds hidden from the sun
Driven by the dawning twilight, only to be spun
Twitter tweakers face aglow, nursing a warm beer
Sweaty fingered Razor tweeting, “McKenzie needs a lift here”

Last lick bindle prick, reflection surrounds the spoon
Shifting stance, shoulder glance, hiding from the moon
Rubbing thread bare Ruby Rigid swollen with desire
Live for today, never stay, time will soon expire

© 2010 Michael Yost 11/09

Favorite Things

Water boarding prisoners and pulling off nails
Beating their backs with my cat o nine tails
Brown human packages tied up with strings
These are a few of my favorite things

Shaving their heads with nicked and dulling razors
Zapping their soft spots with high voltage Taser’s
Lemon and lime juice make paper cuts sting
These are a few of my favorite things

Girls in cammies with cameras that flashes
Piling up prisoners not covering their asses
Some didn’t make it and wished for some wings
These are a few of my favorite things

When the trials start
When the prisons close
When I’m feeling sad
I simply remember my favorite things
And then I don’t feel so bad

© 2011 Michael Yost

Pete

childrens-portrait-photographer-elliot-jonah-bridge-1.jpg

That’s Pete and myself 20 years ago.
Today I walked the rail alone, because Pete had to ride.
It was a beautiful coach and everything;
He always looked his best in his dress blues.

It was a beautiful spring morning then too.
The ground was soft that morning and fruitful;
The worms we got were huge and the trout ate em up.
Almost as big as the ones crawling out from under that tarp.

I brought this picture today to remember important things.
Pete’s sacrifice is obvious and full of meaning.
What’s not so obvious is that
Pete greased the last three feet of that rail.
© 2011 Michael Yost 04/23

Pete could be everyone’s brother, son and father

booguloo@live.com
booguloo.wordpress.com

Teach Your Children

Once tangled up in an addicted existence
Kept my family hostage, but at a distance
Now they’re gone, done with coexistence
Not by mine, but with their insistence

I’m blessed by most with conversation
Texting mostly with a short duration
I’m not complaining now, it’s still a relation
It’s a new life for all, dealing with isolation

© 2011 Michael Yost 07/09

Dissolving Fears

Being alone is, one of my greatest fears.
Not having a sweet lady, very near.
Someone to talk, to let words fill the air.
Instead of writing, about this despair.

Alone again in, a cheerful crowded room.
Wandering around, seems to be my doom.
A single light glows, as I scan for a date.
Could this be the one, as it’s getting late?

Mutual eyes meeting, the room getting bright.
Approaching slowly, as to not give fright.
Talking to her true, she made it quite clear.
This may be the one, dissolving the fears.

© 2011 Michael Yost 06/09

Dazing Phrasing

The feelings are real but are only my feelings
Just as most of my thoughts are just as fleeting
Only do they matter if they become some actions
And then to only mean something to some factions

Trying to sort out what really matters to me
But feelings and thoughts sometimes get the better of me
Most of the time they lead to no actions
End up just being some sort of distractions

To some I know this makes perfect sense
And to others becoming much too intense
And yet to some others really weird
Find that talking to me is something to be feared

So finding out what really matters to me
May be something I’ll never really see
So if you see me walking around in a daze
It’s just me feeling and thinking of a phrase

© 2011 Michael Yost 06/20

A Broken Bone

There you sit up high on your throne

Playing with your suitors by throwing a bone

I stood alone letting it fly by

Watching the weakest ones start to cry

 

Two of your suitors gnawed the bone in half

As I still stood alone and started to laugh

The price the winners paid left them bloody

Limping up the stairs ugly and muddy

 

As the Queen’s champion I blocked their sway

Only one man can pass by me this way

Two are stronger than one they spoke aloud

They took me down quickly and pleased the crowd

 

Now there’s two champions one on either side

No bones thrown now since the Queen’s satisfied

Covered with rotten food the Queen let me live

Showing her satisfaction for what I once did

 

© 2013 Michael Yost 02/16

The Fish WRapper

Terry looked down at his bloody knuckles, “Dammed red heads, who knew that peckerwood was going to hit his head on the cement stairs?” “Well help me put him in the boat and let’s grab some of those cinder blocks.”
Pulling up at 2:30am the brothers parked by the boat ramp. The thermos steam was starting to trail off the cup until you blew on it and then it fogged up the windows. Joe broke the silence, “You didn’t have to kill that kid.” “Joe, that wasn’t a kid or a sixteenth, he was trying to rip us off, and hell I only hit him once.”
Look at that, someone has already put their Bass Master in the water and its only 3am. The State Game and Fishing Officer pulled in, parked and then walked over to talk to the two fellas. “You fellas look new to the area. How are you this morning?”
“Stay calm Terry, whispered Terry.” “Morning Officer, we’re doing OK. We used to come here as kids and it’s our first time back. We sure are looking forward to getting some bass today.”
“Well before you go out let me update you about our little place here. My son runs the bait shop and prints the local rag, “The Fish WRapper”. We’re still a small fishing community here at Liar’s Cove. You’ve got to be off the lake at 4pm. We’re just big enough to support a State Game and Fishing Officer, but small enough that I have to share an office with my big mouth son Peter, but he prefers to be called Junior.”
“Well this is Terry and I’m Joe. If you don’t mind we’re going to get out on the lake. We’ll catch up some more later this afternoon.”
“That sounds good boys; my name is Officer Michael P Pecker, senior. Oh and junior’s a little sensitive about his red hair and only his friends can call him Peckerwood. Now where is that boy?”

© 2012 Michael Yost 03/13

To be continued?

Rapin…..Slivers

Sledge hammer’s slivers busting blisters
My cell mates bust on my sister
Breaking rocks forever troubles my wife
Feels like I’m going backwards serving life

I used to know who I was back then
It’s wasting time guessing where I am
Salvation was with bloody sheepskins
Now His blood washes away our sins

Kneeling on pebbles for attention
Seeking His help with silent ascension
Opening our eyes where we survive
Praising His name and forgetting lies

© 2015 Michael Yost 09/24

May I Wonder Aloud?

Like the song, I ask where all the flowers have gone.

Where are the people that were part of my life growing

up as a babe and young boy?

I know the answer; they have slipped away into a memory

I have the memories, deep memories, I should be happy.

 

Next the teenage years and a lot of the same people are

there; but there’s new ones too. They were priming me

 for the new adult life and the first loves of a teen.  It was

happy anxiety.  Those people and the girls have all slipped

away into memories.  I have the memories, deep memories,

I should be happy.

 

As a young man the 7 seas were going to be my home

and I married a young lady to keep my house. We had one

child and finally four growing up and out of the home. 

Three have wives and husband of their own. Those children raised

me!  The wife and I drew apart and the family all slipped

away into memories. I have the memories, deep memories,  

I should be happy.

 

Aging as people do, I found a few friends; the kids were

all far away and I turned to writing as an outlet. Nothing

was ever published, but that didn’t matter; the writing

was for my benefit, no one else’s. One day the Doctor

told me I would soon lose my memories and after a

while I would finally die. So now I write even more of my

memories, so I can remember them; so I should be happy.

 

 

© 2012 Michael Yost 2/7

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The First Sin

Nothing can ever hide my flames
Winds bow down keeping away the rains
I do flap in the winds of regret
Asking will I ever pay my debt

Sins overwhelm my forgiveness
My sincerity is not conscious
Laughing aloud at my lack of faith
Hoping He rests instead on day eight

One more day to gain my faithfulness
Recognizing how hard I Acquiesce
She’s mine and the first woman named Eve
Now our sins cause us to leave and griEve

© 2015 Michael Yost 08/21