litlcheckeddie

Acoustic guitars, banjos, fiddles, mandolins Stringed instruments singing out their southern melodies The clangy plucks and picks And accented stories yipping out of the cowboy hat hinged-boot wearing artists The scent of hay barrels, mud, sweat, beer, and barbeques Dogs and cats chasing each other, Weaving through the audience Just as the pig-tailed betties run after the freckled high water boys. And while the music blares out of the big ol' speakers, A metronome of claps and stomps harmonizes the tune The click, clack, yeehaws, and twanks blast out to the crowd Creating the honky-tonk soundtrack of their homeland

His back is straight and sturdy. She stands there anxious. His strong hands form bubbles over the black and white keys. Sweat rolls down her waiting face. At the touch of one key his mind is devoured in a brilliant peaceful symphony. The first sound is played through the blasting speakers and she is in a state of euphoria. His heartbeat is slow and steady as the notes, intervals, and perfect octaves flow out of him more easily than breathing. She is surrounded by pushy moshers and screaming people and she can't help but join in. In deep concentration, his eyes close and his body moves with the sound. Singing at the top of her lungs,

Nine o'clock figure in satin sheets Oh my God this hurts like hell She's always going through my head I had that dream again where I was lost for good in outer space Living on radio sound I will find out how it all went so wrong I swear it's not me; it's just what I used to know And everything you touch in me is yours A waking nightmare that is only worse when I am sleeping She's always going through my head Red eye glare from the balcony It's not as cold out here but come quick I am losing feeling Take a breather, let your air out Wear a black hat baby, I'll check you out I'm gonna send a little rain to pour down on you She's

Ice pops and moon beams Exhale in a chilly stratosphere Balloons sail down Broadway Rose colored sunglasses Stingy banana milk shakes The smoky aura consuming every crevice Losing time, blinking, cellophane Breathing deep jubilant memories Cowboy harmony geetar – kidnapping.

     She's always just standing there staring.  She wears a taunting and mysterious grin.  Like a small child watching the Ferris wheel lights go round and round, she watches the people of the cafeteria.  Her peers, classmates, those people whom she has grown up with since elementary school – Yet, with all of the familiar faces she sees, none of them know her.  Like an invisible breeze that wisps stray hairs around, she creeps through the lunchroom taking in everything she sees.  She walks up behind people, not joining in their conversations, but just listening for the sake of feeling included.  Though one may think that she is desperate for

     The whistle is blown.  Recess has officially begun.  The 30 minutes of freedom from the long and treacherous 5th grade school day was finally here.  A time to let loose, a time for hyperactive 9 year olds to create pure mayhem!  The playground equipment was always bare.  The only occupants were the stinky kids who peed their pants the first day of school and whose reputations since had never improved.  They were and would always be the pee-pee pants kids.  Joining them on the splinter producing wooden playground were the babyish kids – the kids whose ideas of recess involved growling and barking like little woodland creatures while

Down to the stone That is holding onto the wood, The wood that frames this place That I reside in. I wish I could take that stone. Watch the tumbling siding, Catch the wood shavings in the palm of my hand, And swim through the ruble. And through the perfect demolition, I would only grab two pieces of the contents. Two metal scraps, That our lips have touched. After placing them in my torn jean pockets, Tears would unreasonably fall to the ground, As I would turn to obtain something more. Digging through the debris, I would try to search for it Then I would fail And realize, you never gave me anything All memories of you Ha

A little sway With a bit of giggles She has lost herself Strength and power In a bold stance And he waits Staring into the mirror Seeing the true color She shrugs away her current state Planning carefully How to make it work He looks up A few unknown steps A blur of a silhouette She is in warm arms Tight embrace A soft smile peering back His heart beating faster The scent of smoke With wondering eyes Her world stopping Lost in a moment Intoxicated by the aura Their lips meet

A rocky, unknown, holy ground when invaded, makes for the most perfect banana split. A comforting rustling of awakened leaves, plays a brilliant symphony for the stars to tango with. The loud ticking of a clock that usually interrupts thoughts, can't be heard while the darkening walls disappear in philosophical vibrancy. The symbolic meaning so sought after is bluntly apparent, Sundays are meant for banana seats and starting anew.