Happy Birthday Poet You Will Be 55

How to Join	Member's Area	Private Library	Search	Sanctuary		Login
Main Forums	Discussion	Tech Talk	Mature Content	Archives	A home without a wall, Our haven without ends, A circle we all call Our Family of Friends!

D.Lester Young
Senior Member

since 2001-12-08

Posts 1219
Austin, Tx

0 posted 2002-04-24 11:41 PM

Is this a poem probably not, but it is frustration with a voice that some might enjoy. It changes in tone and thought, in my weakness I write this.

I am getting away from it all
A weekend in paradise
Where my magic wheels
Will whistle with the wind
Going in what ever direction a whim goes

I will ride the heavens in the arms of an angel
She will bless me like no other in the sweat of baptism
My wings will carry beyond endurance
To exceed the outer limits of my eroticism

My road will lay bare years of frustrations
The relax the inner soul in the birth of his inheritance
To finally break free of the bindings of commitments
A party that will invite the road to join him

But alas a children memory comes back to haunt
Like parties that never were
Surprises that were never shared
In the deaf laughter’s of memories

My work dictates my presence
On the weekend for a command performance of imprisonment
For the vacation of four days succumbs to two
Just leaving enough time to go to the bathroom

It okay Tuesday will still be your birthday they exclaim
You can take your day
But leaving me with no plans
No thanks I said I rather work in pain
Remembering the sweat of my dream
As cars go off line

Maintenance is the cry
We have to get things done
So on a Sunday I will get trained on a tool
Leaving my mind in paradise
In how lucky I am to have no choice on how to use it

So how does a poet enjoy his birthday at fifty five
In fantasies of words creating paradise inside him
Knowing the chance of things happening
Lies in a surprise party
That year’s ago faded
As the only card I will get will say
Happy Birthday from Mercedes Benz

Yes heavenly father grant me my fifty five wishes
Let me own a piece of land along the Israel Palestine border
At 55 meter wide and 550 meters long
Half in each land
I would plant the flowers of peace
Using the labor of all the religions
To build a paradise in Gomorrah
Were the purity would not allow no bloodshed

The newspapers and the median of communication would be liberated
They would light the sky with truths
Printing what every the public wanted to hear or question
To leave them to decide the fate of humanity
Not an Editor chained and muted to the power
Let there be a free thought section fifty five times a year

My way of accounting
Would make companies legally accountable
To all their actions
Salaries of executives would hinder
On their accomplishments
Performance of their actions
Would be paid in future installments
Fifty five months after departing

Let fifty five babies a year be born
Every year to each different religion
Free of bigotry and hate
So that fifty five years from now
We can encircle an area
In the prayers of all the languages

Yes this is it the beginning of the end
As my words fade away to dust
Awaiting the day at Sixty Five
In which I might have to retire
To get heck out of here
And raise a little …
Imagination

Things I might ask for when I get Sixty Five

It would be nice to have insurance on a item with the maximum dollar amount insured for. So a poor man could really compare his rate to a rich one or another policy. They have computers don’t they.

That there would we a law that would limit how much we can tax a tax, that once taxed at a given amount they have the decency to take the tax off the last amount. For example at 25 per cent federal, 5 per cent state, 4 per cent possible other agencies we then have to pay an excise tax and pay a 9 per cent sales tax on top of it. I must have missed something in math class for my savings is taxed without inflation. Anywhere else this would be loan sharking.

That my dreams would increase my space of 55 meter wide to 5500 meters long and that the flowers would reach Jerusalem, the international city of hope.

Now you see why my birthdays bleed away my dreams of futile messages.

PS: My mom, brother, and sis still claim me in all my weakness and my strengths, as someone above.

Email me if you want a critique on or off line at davelyoung1@hotmail.com
D.Lester Young (04/24/02)
Tuscaloosa, AL
Copyright © D.Lester Young (White Eagle poetry) http://www.authorsden.com/visit/author.asp?AuthorID=5012

suthern

Member Seraphic

since 1999-07-29

Posts 20723
Louisiana

1 posted 2002-04-25 01:14 PM

I don't often offer any critique... no, make that something I NEVER do. *S* But I really enjoyed your poem, only to become distracted by the addition of what you'd ask for at 65. To go from unbigoted babies to taxes loses a lot of the power.

From the plans that went awry to the wishes spoken so eloquently, this is wonderful. *S*

I would plant the flowers of peace
Using the labor of all the religions
To build a paradise in Gomorrah
Were the purity would not allow no bloodshed

With wishes like these, I send my fervent hope you blow out every candle. *S* Happy 55th! *S*

[This message has been edited by suthern (04-25-2002 01:17 PM).]

D.Lester Young
Senior Member

since 2001-12-08

Posts 1219
Austin, Tx

2 posted 2002-04-25 08:01 PM

Yes I probably lose the poem at times for it changes as live does. I added a verse after what happened today.

Imaginating things like miracles
That can happen overnight
Like going into work so mad
That your air conditioner overloads
As you hear how things have magically changed
So you can have the whole weekend off
And now have to reinvent your schedule
With a smile that might be a little mischievous
For now have reason to work in happiness
Thank you Star you are a good workplace
And thank the stars above
For my prayers for the flight of adventure

Yes life is strange and thanks for your genuine comments they were heavenly sent.

	⇧ top of page ⇧
All times are ET (US). All dates are in Year-Month-Day format.