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Rachel Lyle Aug 2014
They are poking at me,
with three-pronged pitches,
from up above iron-clad

gates. Hooves are clacking,
*** cheeks slapping,
as they hop up and down

on my gate. As they bounce,
I spot some light;
A heavenly, holy glow.

I reach out towards it
from beneath my gated ceiling
amongst the ******* crushing toes.
Rachel Lyle Jul 2015
He will return the years the locust has eaten.
Rachel Lyle Aug 2014
Great Goethe he did say,
that if just about thirty,
one should pack up; time to call it quits.
You're old news, dusty and *****;
now move on, and out of this place.

Here I sit, four over twenty,
and worried for me,
also my honey,
t minus four, to thir-ty.

Sure I don't know of him,
but of me, I know plenty,
and bless it, I've played the cards right.
Made my lists- thrice,
and compiled new notes as they hit me:

I haven't self-judged,
I do what I love,
and not for the fame or the boast.

Okay, that's a lie.
Hell I'd probably take a good bribe,
but I do what I love,
and I've made my list thrice,
yet here I sit, four and twenty.
Rachel Lyle Feb 2015
I used to have a hard time writing poetry.
Even in word searches,
The words would scare me.
They had fangs
And blood eyes
Things to make a stomach curl.
They wanted my id,
Desired my world.

They wanted to know me,
Inside and out.
They wanted to hear
My innards and outs.
They wanted me to write
A pretty little poem,
They wanted to hear
A haiku- or a string me
With thorns.

They wanted to know
How I was a liar-
How I hadn't a mother,
Barely a father.
They wanted to know
How I was neither Catholic
Nor saint-
They wanted to know
I wanted my taint

Touched by many men
Maybe a girl,
They wanted to know
I hadn't a soul.
That I wasn't pretty and pink.
How I'd never loved.
How I thought they all rejects
******* on thumbs.

They wanted to know I hated them all-
They wanted to know,
I am a loser
I am a fake-
They wanted to know,
They could all make impressions,
On a tormented girls soul.
Sting of consciousness...

Trying to channel the girl I used to be.
Rachel Lyle Dec 2014
I think of you in the morning,
I think of you at noon.
Think of you in the daytime,
I can see you in my room.

I watch you disappearing,
Slowly dissipating away,
Underneath the streetlight-
Now an abandoned bay.

I remember you in fine times,
Neglecting to recall the poor.
I'll dream of you forever.

If only it could be more.
Rachel Lyle Oct 2014
I love you Jesus,
I love you.
Here I am broken,
Defeated, but,
I love you.
Taking all of my strength,
All of my being, not to
Call you-
To find you;
**** it,
I love you.
Rachel Lyle Jan 2015
My intestines are growling
For you in the other room with your sweet head
Resting on another borrowed cradle.
My eyes used to burn for you,
Acid teardrop rains
In springtime despite life ablaze.
Freud would say it was ****** in my ****
Phase- Like the moon we wax and wane.
It's not a reliable guide for me,
At any given moment I wax and wane
Because I like to eat hearts out to feel less insane.
If I could ever get a hold of you,
Green child in the next room,
I'd savor you in little bits for lost times
The little bits I've lived and missed.
I'd cover you in honey
Wrap you up in gold
Keep you in a crystal vase
So no one else could hold,
Your dainty neck in vice grips they'd never be as bold.
Yes, you pretty baby in the other room,
Although I'd never tell
I'm hoping you will stay with me
I'd hate to lose your smell.
Rachel Lyle Jul 2014
What word is this,
where we question any child's protection?
Rachel Lyle Dec 2014
Teen angst inside,
but not for long; slowly slipping away.
Home again, home again,

And excuse me, you other fools,
but I can't put my finger, precisely on this matter,
for often I feel,
it is all spiraling, lop-sided and out of control.

Continuously propelled in a forward matter,
tattered, worn - beaten - battered.
Here as an adult, it is all terribly lackluster.
Yes, sometimes, yes sometimes, I feel we are the silly ones.

We do this and that;
We're all-together righteous.
Got all the answers,
and just who is it that can stop us?

Those other foolish adults?
Cold, torn, and battered?
Ha, I think not,
Push 'em over, they're really all that's the matter.
Rachel Lyle Jan 2015
Slivers of metals hang from her undone mouth
Wide and open,
(She used to be so ***** down south)
But now all I see are golden tokens in her mouth

To take her away to where the air is more airy,
Where she plans on gaining
A cellulose type, of invisible form
(God, I wonder if she still remembers Jerry?)

Saw him down at the tavern, just the other day
Paying his respects is all I can guess-
He was whooping and hollering
Pretending to smack the old girl's ***

(God, I hope she has brought plenty of gold
For let's face it, she's no Mary)
But I fear even with a mouth like hers, you shan't yield

And never will the once sweet child be able to tarry .
Rachel Lyle Dec 2014
I can pump out a poem a minute,
Like its formed by molding fire,
Amazingly, however-
The feeling still remains,
It is continuously sour.
Rachel Lyle Jan 2015
Inside of me I'd like to write pretty poetry
The kind that makes parents proud,
Calling out the cavalry, send in the national guards:
My girl right here has spinach in them veins, I'm here to testify!

Up I stick my nose
Quietly I shake my head,
For pretty words I cannot muster
Feelings better left unsaid.

Last night I saw my friend grazing in the mall
I scurried fast away from her
Darting by the wall.
Amongst the dirt and cobweb silk

Is where I poured my sweets
Finally I could take a breath
Finally I could sleep.
Without pointless niceties and cuteness

I felt my breathing lessen,
Cool and steady waves rushed over me
Right then I took my vow:
Never do the small talk route, you're better off in hell.

On this orb I cannot live
Listening to your chatter
Of sweetest words, kindest thoughts
Let's cut the ******* banter.
Rachel Lyle Dec 2014
I tell you people I've never met,
all of my problems,
deepest darkest secrets.

Although they are encoded,
I can tell I like you all fine,
because I can't even tell friends or families

highlights in my deepest, darkest, demise.
Rachel Lyle Mar 2015
What would I be
If the words ever left,
Me to be muted
Dull and flattened?

What would I do
Should my actions cease,
Mattering for mere sake
Busy work at lightening pace?

Where would I rest
Should I get caught in current,
A pointless swim uphill
Tumultuous and torrent?

How could I live
Without you by my side?
Cold clammy hands,
It would be a pointless ride.
I cannot help but to want to write a poem every time I log-in. There is a lot of learning left to be had even after we become "adults".
Rachel Lyle Jul 2014
Has it always been this way?
What has been will
Questions in the
Head, series of
Questions in the
Head, millions of
Questions in the head.
Repeat X insert your number here.
Rachel Lyle Jul 2014
Now when the empty creeps inside-
I cannot escape it.
It's ravaged,
And- silly I,
I think I can eat it.

But it is nothing; how can I eat it?

There must be a way.
I can taste it some days;
Thick and slimy on my tongue.
Down in my belly.
"How did it get down there?" I wonder.
"I never took it whole."

"A bit here and there." It replies.
It is-so-consuming.
"How did it become this way?"

I've been growing." The voice replies,
as it slurps along.
title inspired by Extraordinary by Liz Phair; think it works nicely with this piece.
Rachel Lyle Aug 2014
Well aren't we all the same
when you get far enough away?
If one took a selfie,
of a selfie,
of a selfie,
well you wouldn't be able to say
if it were Aunt Judy or
Mary Jane.

But we're all familiar
with Confusion
felt while hollering
for Tom, ****, or Joe Shmo
at the blue-light district,
smack dab in the midst
of Small-Town USA;
only for Tom to turn as
tawny-skinned Toney,
and **** to Jane
and Joe into that sister whom
you can't recall a name.

So, aren't we all
just about the same?
Rachel Lyle Jan 2015
In the end I am not sure who is justified?
Seems as though it is mere mortals bounding with pride.
Stabbing with words,
Brandishing wounds,
Of a yester-year, never to heal-
Get in the last stab.

Oh, pride, pride,
Ultimate sin from which we came-
Not weeping vaginas,
(But with men's pride ,
Hurt like an infant bumped on the head)
I feel it’s the same.
Men is inclusive of women in this little tidbit.
Rachel Lyle Jul 2015
I've got two more weeks
But I'm burnt
Crispy and fried
Belly full of resin
Stomach full of rye
And I think that I can do it
But sometimes I screech and cry
I've got two more ******* weeks
At least I can try
Rachel Lyle Jul 2014
I pass the cat tails on the side;
She's been mentioning them lately.
I think if I remember,
I'll stop and pluck them, very quaintly.

I enter the house- one warm hug, one indifferent.
Oh, have I done it now?
Was it because I lost my cool?
I say hello, make cute faces.
Still, she is distant.
I sigh, retreat, worry about the other.
We load up. I pack stuff. And then I remember-
Oh yes!
The cat tails on the side!

I pull over unannounced; she calls me crazy.
I leap and bound over the ditch while snapping at the baby-
"Hush now, I'll be right back,
Just got to get this one.
Oh, okay. You'll have one too. Just wait a minute, ***!"

I'm light and playful,
Revealing to them the prize.
They giggle with glee.
Big eyes looking up at me.
I hop back in, buckle up, set the rear-view just right.
I intermittently glance back,
Seeing wondrous delight.

But then the one, not so distant, begins to pluck and pull.
"Momma" the other calls to me, "She has taken a turn!"
I do not let it bother me, still relishing in their glee.
"It's okay baby, just let her be."

I love to have the windows down on these warm summer nights,
But when I roll them down this time, it is all very far from right.
The cat tails whirl.
Pieces stir, big chunks in my mouth.
I dry out, ******* up, trying to see what's left of the day.
The singular furs, they pierce me now.
I cannot see ahead.
Luckily were almost home,
And it is time for bed.
Rachel Lyle Jul 2014
Shame down deep within my pits-
It bubbles and oozes;
Makes me squirm,
When i'm the odd thing out.
the freak.
When objectified.
Another's admiration?

It is a mask i must wear, willingly-
The fools they never saw.
Torture was not so, foreseen to their own kind,
the ones whose...
appearances are only masks.

But i cannot take it off.
It singes and sears my skin.
i look down,
and against, and-
It is ugly under there.
i must keep it on now.

It bubbles and it oozes;
Percolating until it seeps into my organs,
Diffusing until it is my existence,
Craving for its equilibrium, but-
i cannot take it all, or off, or...
What is there to do?

Riot in the square.
Rachel Lyle Jul 2014
I glode through the crystal blue,
with my salamander skin.
Human flesh peeled away with the air,
remaining there behind.

Transforming into my rubbery,
Blubbery, frolicking fun-suit,
I dipped.
I doved, and splashed.

Surfacing for air, but then,
right back under again.
Emerged as an underwater princess.
Seaweed ripples in my hair,
and pearls illuminating a laffy-taffy,
salt-water tail.

Back then I was perfect,
Perfect enough for center stage at the piazza.
They'd stop, and gawk, and stare.
Back then, consumed enough not to care.
Rachel Lyle Jan 2015
And I cannot think of anything else that I'd much rather do,
Than to sit here like a school girl and wail,
But after so many years of packing it in,
I cannot master the spell.

Watching kung-fu in your room
Watching you play ball in the 9th grade
Watching miniscule beads of sweat roll down
Watching your sweet charades-

But I am sick of watching, sitting, waiting,
Waiting for a chance.
None of this is worth the pain-
**** Sweet Romance.

Every word I write
Every scream I cry
Everything an essence of you.
What a terrible way to die

In shooting wells
In shifting spells
I heard the death bells chime.
What a shame I'll still carry, to a lingering grave of mine.

Now you're lost forevermore,
But you always really were-
Unobtainable I told you!
How silly to ask me why.

Who would have thought that this would be
The way it would come to pass.
Would I have changed a minute of it?
Well for that I haven't a guess.

Would I have chosen this path
Of tidal waves and volcanic flare?
Hah, well if nothing else,
I'll have plenty pretty poetry lined across my shelf.
Love stinks.
Rachel Lyle May 2015
I have fears like the hundred year
Swarm of locus in my breast
Bundled up tight and lurching
Through my voice endless breaks
Sobs beneath smiles
Smiles under clenched teeth

I have sorrows like Noah in the belly
Of a ferocious beast
Flopping and sinking in bile
Turning green with stench
Of salted tears
And gangrenous wounds

I have two feet that push forward
And eyes to pinpoint light
Hands to guide me
And a God on my side
I feel I've yet a hard plight
Rachel Lyle May 2015
I am beginning to hate the male species
From where did they come?
Where it is acceptable to think a woman dumb?
That she shouldn't have the answers
That she ought to be sweet-
Rearing children, never barren,  
Incessantly caring
Wake-up I want to shout!
Open your eyes and see.
Just because I have breast that are tender,
And a ****** that is moist.
Makes me no less your equivalent
Or dare say more so.
I needn't always wear a smile
Strong-willed doesn't ensure a wretch.
Oh, I won't find a mate if I go on this way?
An old hag I shall be then
At least I'll keep my ****** two cents
Rachel Lyle Feb 2015
I'll cradle your little head, if only for tonight
If only inside of these sanatorium walls dripping with disease
and with bleach, I'll count every finger,
learn every fold, memorize your face,
which one day I shan't hold.
Because I am broken; crazy as a loon;
because I am dysfunction lost inside the moon.
Here on planet Earth I just do not belong-
From my womb you came, but to them you belong.
And just know sweet child that I tried my very best,
Crooning every love song that I have ever known
Jam your image into me for nights when I feel alone
But little baby I am broken and there is nothing that I know to do-
Look for me a lifetime from now, on the dark side of the moon.
PLEASE READ! If you feel moved speak about this subject to others or repost...anything if you agree. This is a poem inspired by witnessing the tragedy of drug addiction. DRUGS ARE SAD NOT BAD!
Rachel Lyle Jan 2015
Breaking through polyurethane
I glance the sea-
Blue and vast,
I play make-believe
In a cloud with you beside of me.

We are mummified,
Dead inside, you and I.
Wrapped up in cotton and silk
Amongst last night's soured milk
We set each other free-

We understand each other,
You and me, to lay here forever
With soured milk
In a sarcophagus
By the sea.
Rachel Lyle Jul 2015
There is madness in the words
Scattered upon our bed,
While you sit in the other room
Mesmerized, practically dead.
Your eyes are glued wide open
Your mouth it is sewn tight shut,
I cannot help but whine inside
Whilst you look at ****.
There is madness in my head
A certain fragility in my pride
Confusion and exclusion creeping up my side.
There once was a story that my mother read to me
I think that I have lost that now
I never liked playing tea,
Or listening to fairy tales
Or playing make-believe.
I do not give a **** my dear
what you think of me.
And I think this is how I like it,
And I think this is where I want to be,
Sitting in my bed
Quiet as can be.
And if you weren't in there right now
I wouldn't need to cry,
And if you weren't a traitor
Maybe I could fly.
But you clipped my wings time and time again
You left me out to dry,
Ripped my limbs from ball and socket
Left me empty, blackened, dried.
And I am used again ,used again
Tattered as can be,
And I will give again, give again
Hoping you will stay with me.
I tried to send you letters
I tried to keep you mine.
I'd let you rip my nail beds out
If you would just go back in time
But I am asking for a miracle
I am asking for too much
So I will be a good little girl now
Whilst I choke on my own punch.
Rachel Lyle Oct 2014
I hate everyone now;
I just want to save her.
Im such a baby sometimes; that's okay. SAVE THE WORLD. LOVE > DRUGS (love not drugs)
Rachel Lyle Aug 2014
As an adult,
there is no hope.
Let's go back.
Rachel Lyle May 2015
I am neutral as neutral comes
And no I'm not defeated
And no I've not gone dumb

I've got the neutrality of the ocean
The serene of a morning dew
Watch me glisten as I escape you
Rachel Lyle Jul 2015
There is so much beauty
That never did take flight
There is a sense of wonder
In deep mysterious nights,
Listening to the old sage speak
I feel my heart take flight,
Through music chords
Shiny shores
Velvety delight,
Encapsulates me
And I dream
Forever in a spell,
If only I could stay right here
I would do very well
Rachel Lyle Dec 2014
I'll never hold an ounce of it,
HP is my ultimate shrine.
To reflect on my bad times,
Recollect the fine times,
Store away all the stops between.

As long as the internet never fails us,
These memories are archived

In megabyte, fleeting time.
Title stolen from my favorite Purity Ring song. They are Canadian, and I know not what genre, but I encourage everyone to take a YouTube listen. They are divine!
Rachel Lyle Dec 2014
Ghost Number One:
where have you gone?
What has become of me-
is broken flesh,
drug addiction is SAD, not bad.
Rachel Lyle Apr 2015
At night when alone
I must find the patron
Find the ways to cope
While being
Just me and the world
Inside with my thoughts
Saddened and maddened
Me and my thoughts
Do not know right
From the left
Back from the front
Or any in between
Me and my thoughts
Far from serene
And I envy the others
Who sit back
Silly simple things
No thoughts of the mother
Broken with shame
Afraid of her name
The babies with bellies
From hunger
The men shot on site
Afraid of their brothers
The world gone to ****
I'm scared of it all
If I were strong
Yes richer
I'd like to think
I'd stop every bit of it all
Halt the nasty
In tracks
Screeching to a halt
Stop the famine
And the bad men
And just save all
I like to think these things
But then I think
Thinking isn't right
Do I need to calm down?
Do I need to take flight?
See I don’t really know
But I do know one thing
This world is ****
And I'm just a pawn
Who really

Can't solve ****
Rachel Lyle Jul 2014
My third eye has been clogged,
**** you.
Now you're merely
an optical illusion.

I'd just like to reinerate
that while I'm falling
like a child,
eating like a glutton,
prancing like a twit,
my blessed third eye
is clogged,
cannot see,
is blinded,
sewn shut.

So it is you who is disillusioned royalty,
Kind Tut.
Truth is,
You are merely a mut.
***** ****.
Rachel Lyle Feb 2015
He looked like my beau
What's a girl to do?
He looked like my beau
Back when he was brand-new.
A pretty shiny toy to sit upon my shelf
Debonair and charming
Sophisticated air
Became rather stagnant
Sickeningly sweet
Fruit flies on pears

He looked like my beau
What was I to do?
He looked like my beau
Back when I was brand-new.
Back when I was a pretty thing
Sitting upon his shelf
Back when I was a ***-kitten
With a dainty meek purr
Yes back in our glory days
We both had quite the lure
Rachel Lyle Jan 2015
Full disclosure is to come, in case it was hard to tell,
My bluest blues turn to black,
I've wallowed in myself.

Until an unexpected evening,
Whilst going through the mail,
I came across an excerpt, hand not hard to tell.

"What do you want from this wonderful, wild life?"
Melting deep inside of me
Artic chunks took another dip,

Lightening the colors-
Blackest Black, fade
Crystal Blue now mere ice chips.

What do I want from this wonderful,
Wild life?
Well with that thought I felt empowered

Felt my senses rise-
Shivers down nerve endings,
Pure and electrified.

What I want from this life is much too long to view;
But with that thought, it is all I need-
Start myself anew.
I love my Grandmother. We have the strangest but most wonderful of connections. My only regret was that it took me nearly 22 years to discover it. <3
Rachel Lyle Jan 2015
Ten years I've loved you,
Nine years to know it was love.
Eighty times I've dreamt our dreams,
The ones I'd never tell.

Five times I've kissed you,
Many more we've sexed,
And I cannot fathom the times I've taken,
I've lost without regret,

Allotments I've allowed,
Blueprints for times too hard to bare.
Your gait, the weight, the way you talk,
Lips as soft as air-

Couldn't I just stay forever relishing in your stare?
But it is all just a rouge,
A spell, a curse, a bruised -
Heart, ego, spirit too.

You've left me feeling *****,
You've left me feeling numb-
How can it be I who must walk on with such regret?
Going through stages one through five infernally.

My fantasies, my delusions,
Call it what you will,
But facts are she is pregnant now,
Time for you to foot the bill.
Rachel Lyle Jan 2015
Love songs.
Yep, they do me in.
Idealistic and wrapped-up in melody-
Took me right down to the grave,
As I lay neutral, in my new bed,
I think to myself:
Cannot this ******* just put the dirt over my head?
Then I think I'll be warmer-
Yes, perhaps, maybe then,
My ice cold heart will train,
It will mold,
Easy, Breezy,
As it was intended to be.
I don't think that even a good burial could soften-up this old ticker. :) I'm really sweet where it counts..I swear it's so.
Rachel Lyle Jul 2014
Females are truly *******,
Then wonder why I'm a *****.
Being a ***** is all in perspective, but there is almost not doubt in my mind that most females are *******.
Rachel Lyle Jul 2014
Red Frost on my tips;
Safer there than my hips.
It peels away.
Then I spot it there,
the Green from before.

Green is everywhere, so common.

Wait! No!
Banish that thought-
Retched and cruel.
Green is life, it is everywhere too.
The beauty it gives,
But here I will stay, Red Frost, for all of damnation.
Rachel Lyle Feb 2015
My body is a hollow shell
An exoskeleton that does me well
This skin, these bones
Provide contour
Could I really ask for more?
Is it wrong to feel divide
Between my body and my eyes?
A prisoner trapped in a well
Summoned here to there,
Eternal hell.
It makes me do things rather strange
While inside screams are not contained-
Yet my body it does not allow
A single peep from its hollow shell.
Rachel Lyle Feb 2015
In volcanic rifts
There is life
With each breath
There is air

As the tears fall
So does rain
In the dew
We are there

Giving each song
As the birds wake our soul
We sing to the fish
Nestled deep down below

In the wind
We are wild
Spotting fairies
A child

Runs in the summer
Close by her mother
Boys follow bears
Girls brushing hair

While willows speak
To elders
Clouds part to
Glistening fur

Of rabbits in boroughs
And families in town
Pink necked flamingos
Enchanters in gown

We reach for the sky
Leaves branching high
With thunder we growl
Hungry for mother
Rachel Lyle Mar 2015
I stood up today
Put up a fight
Slapped on my boxing gloves
Straightened upright
Arched my shoulders back
With so much devotion
I socked it to you
No hints of emotion
Were shared
With your hungry heart-
It wanted a bite
Yet couldn't even start
No more shall I be prey
To a hungry heart
Like you, untamed-
No, I'll slap on my gloves
Call it a night
Draw back a fist
Sock it to you right
Leaving a hole
In your hungry heart
Hoping no more
A hungry heart to bite
Breaking an addiction is a powerful feeling. We should learn to get high off of accomplishments rather than feelings. Measurable goals are where it is at, :)
Rachel Lyle Oct 2014
Sometimes I write,
Sometimes I don't-
Funny how
that goes.
and I just sit around have the DEEPEST of thoughts (please note the sarcasm) hehe*
Rachel Lyle Aug 2014
There stalks a fierce tiger
just outside of my door.
Audible are the steps;
yes, just outside of my door.
A shapeless shape shifts
pass my window, onward-
to my door.
Creaking and splitting
of the wood is heard,
just outside my back door.

Padded feet are of no safety,
Mr. Tiger Outside My Back Door;
for my treacherous fortress
is made of cheap wood
intended to split and to fray-
and, lookey!
I nailed you that way.

But woe,
As I open the back door,
I am presented with alley-cat kitten,
indeed, wounded by my back door.
Oh, enter sweet kitten;
I never meant you any harm.
Gushing apologies without aprehension.

The young cat yawns;
bites my heart out,
fulfilling his mission.
Rachel Lyle Aug 2014
Sometimes I start out with greatest of intentions-
to recreate the Odyssey
or inspire social justice.
To make political change,
teaching all my name;
but then somehow in my fevor,
my pen, my lobes, falanges  
fail me now,
have given up on me,
and finally I'm left,
with just enough for me.
Rachel Lyle Jul 2014
Blast it!
We've put our eggs
in the wrong basket,
and now Little Liberty has dropped them.

She's dropped them.
She's dropped them!
She certainly did,
She dropped them!

Each egg splits, cracks, breaks,
all despite Liberty's bleeding
colors. Faded, young
hatching prematurely;
before their time.

Liberty heard her love-
boyish ruckus in The Bush.
Hurriedly she did run;
giving all her aide.
Unfortunately, careless Liberty did not see:
All our eggs are handled irresponsibly.

Soon after little Liberty's Bush date,
she saw what she could only surmount to fate:
Poster slapped to said Holy Tree,
plastered with Allah's face.
Hating those jihadist anyway,
Ignorant Liberty unloaded her bounty-
upon the sacred man's face.  

It took a while
till Liberty thought,
looking down,
but by then,
we all thought it all too late.
But ,Little Liberty being supreme,
(totally Grade A,)
finally remembered to put the lid down.
Ah, now that should seal our fate,
her reasoning as she bounced and pranced away.

But just before she reached her people,
her sickness burst,
her pride was shook,
she couldn't show her face.
Afraid of what her people might say-
she reopened said lid, state of panic
flipped the basket promptly 'round.
All the little eggs crumbling to the ground.

Babies dispersed;
Children burnt and broken;
not to mention all the vital yolk;
nasty stuff and what a mess-
now onward to face my people.

But all is well;
she gives her spiel
about the alleged evil-doers.
People line-up,
ready to give their last;
service, duty, and loyalty too
all for Little Miss Liberty.

Quite the siren, ain't she?
I had to write something after listening to NPR this morning; I heard a brief snippet of the story of a young Afghan civilian, on fire, running for his life. God Bless the USA.
Rachel Lyle Jan 2015
I believe in a red hot fireball
Standing still
Or orbiting too hurriedly to tell.

I am standing here in amazement
Of a fiery ball
Worshipping it as it nurtures-

Hate to see it fall.
I don't like things too complicated;
Just me and my pretty ball

Light years away from me
And a blessing in itself its true,
For I'd admit its fuel

Douse it upon my head.
Yes, smother me in flames
So my little fireball and I can be one and of the same.
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