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Feb 2010 · 1.0k
~Equilibrium ♥
--They race to reset
splintered bones.

Society changed
humanity's war.
Revolution breeds-a stand up
death.
A martyr's enchantment
spins-on the rim
of risked inspiration.

Moral power balances
on a thin wire as this one man
war continues...
Feb 2010 · 1.4k
~®ubbe® Bands
Eternity wheezed,displaying its shortness of breath.Orange orbs whizzed in its' originalpath of vision due to a completelack of oxygen.Stirring stars shot rubber bands at each otheracross the universe. TWANG!Comets were slung like spitballs. Black holespainted each others nails whitewhile biting into a crunchy planet like a Dorito.®Salt of the earth was lost in dank darkness.An Mp3 player came crashing through the stratospherewhile playing my favorite song."Sitting in the morning sun,I'll be sitting when the evening comes,watching the ships roll in, and I watch themroll away again".
Song referenced is "Sitting on the Dock of the Bay" by
The late, great Otis ®edding...
(Did you know that Otis died like one month before
his hit song hit the airwaves?)
"Poor Otis dead and gone,
left me here to sing his song,
pretty little girl with the red dress on,
poor Otis dead and gone."
The Doo®s-
The Soft Pa®ade
.Daylight rolls off sequestered petals of the rose,dewdrops smile with guilt in their teeth.Shoulders of the road bend, aching withasphalt arthritis.A blind dog crossed the autobahn at high noon,kidneys and intestines criss and cross the double yellow line-like skull and cross-bones. Fur knocks down butterfliesas archangels drop a line into the river Styx."Come sail away!", I heard one say as a small fish escapedthe wrath of hook-in-mouth hell. Amen!Goodbye jolly roger. That has to hurt.I've always said,"Peeling paint only looks good to the professionaltrying to make a buck repainting." Honestly.Yet, a bucket full of fragrant flopping fishsits out back of an abortion clinic,( or was that fish?)while only static played on every FM station.The world wasn't prepared forMozart's misery.
Feb 2010 · 696
~Nothing to Do With Dying
.Asleep and unknown,fat brushed ash adheres toblind, bleating teeth;as the hovering world hangs-the mighty boats rise and fallwith the longing tide.Mountains rise with the respectto music, while electrical nightmarescelebrate light stained forgiveness,where hard, heavy tongues bindan entire generation. The tappingsoul forest's eternal beat, heavilywooded with pine and cedar,chips away at the teenager's stonedeyes. Bus stops stand like tombstonesfor those standing alone, runs its' icy fingersup and down the neck of perfect strangers;sending one long chilllike the spines of a sea urchin.Now! Psychotherapy is the new world's one hour sport.So, there's a broken creation of transparent things,plastic things, opaque things; and your precious Xanax tabs. My blackened bus lungs long to sing sailor songs of skyscrapers and simple melodies of old. With your rolled-up sleeves burning, you take note of the poor antstender feet as they carry their own dead off ofthe blistered path, where your neighbors perfectthe art of growing appleswithout trees, which has nothing to do with dying.
Feb 2010 · 1.5k
~Macaroni Mind ♥
.Paralyzing memoriesdiscovered a milliondeep pockets inmy mind fromwhich to pouncelike a purple panther,or a compressed clown in a music box at anygiven time. Doubtseparates black light from sun, solidifyingshadows too afraidto leave the securityof the wall, anchoredin frozen, motionlesssafety. Relax, relax!Set the shadows a-blaze. Forget the oldcurtains, the carpet,just burn the shadowsdown. DOWN! JUSTBURN THEM! DOWN!We all fell. The shadowsand I slithered to the burn-ing floor along with theshadows as my macaronimind came to a rolling boil.My memories marched offin single file.File byfile.
Feb 2010 · 821
~Obsidian Eyes ♥
. . .  '  'Snared in a stateof oxyoblivion.Obsidian eyesblink in the dark.BLINK!Just knowing that myflesh should be tasted,just knowing I'm wasted,I probably should be pre-basted.BLINK!Just like a juicy ham on a spit, counter- clockwise I turn.I TURN. My flesh isabout to burn! BLINK!She's spun mein her web Momma,I won't be coming home.. . .  '  '
An Ode to the Black Widow...
.It's a fragile mortal wonder                                             10    looking patiently seduced,                                           11    perhaps there's a new love                                             3    behind the light silk door.                                               3Emotions just past familiar,                                             13    her demons calming God--                                            13    Lo! behold a live death.                                                  14Stones inside the serpent                                                   15    fight willingly; preparing to                                             15    become the pearls and pain of birth.                         15    Adam & Eve, Cain & Abel?                                          mineWhere wind drawn warnings                                            17    are embraced in safe glory.                                           17Where desperate pretty chords     became one enchanted evening.                                  18+19    Desperate despair grinds in     corners, beneath the standing bed.                             20+21Holding onto old feelings they believed    once mattered; prayer asks what happened.            22+23    The sound of creation crashed at their feet.             23There's power warning angels, putting family     before vanity.  Push the reborn button                      24     to be shrouded in steel. Hide the history                   25     of money before they feed.                                              25Feeble middle fingers shall rise in anger,                         26     and dance the digitized dance                                          26     on warm summer nights.                                                    26Swee­t red poppies pound and explode                              27+me     on the countryside                                                      ­           27     with their bursting blooms of hope.                           (mine)Observe the windows of boredom,                                       28     open the pages of an unread book.                                  29+meVacant apologies transforms the dignity                            30     of a king into a wasteland of                                                 30     moth and brick. The loser is the fool.                                                            ­         me
I used the 1st 30 lines from Bathsheba's
WORD POOL from here at HP,
(*when put into a word processor)
and this is the poem I came up with.
The numbers after each line are
corespondent to the line I got
the words from.
Where it says "me", I embellished a tad.
Feb 2010 · 727
~When Death Feared Life
.Just look past these oldtrees, these cold windows;where slow days creep-- like sea turtles among billowy cloudsplaying the apostrophes!Take me back to thelittle green placewhere that small housefelt so alive like skin.Where we smoked our cigarettes and dragged the muddy river. Moments seemed moretender in the bare face of love back when the world was warm. Oh! but that was all once upon a time--when death feared life..
*This poem was created using
the top 5 lines
of Zach Gomes WORDS
from here on Hello Poetry.
.
Bleeding ripe woman,
wet naked stone;
honey rock dries--
fast star bone.
Dead memories change
just like laid,
wants fly open--
soul sky parade.
Sea moon dreams,
daddy heard stars--
known little face;
death drives cars.

________


Rainy days wash--
brick looking mud,
blank reality strings
dry midsummer blood.
Dog's child minds--
revolution spreads wings,
***** molten other
fraught angel sings.
Corner ocean waves--
milk sounds morbid,
freeing minnow slaves
gritty condor kid.

______
___

Catch passing eclipse--
my suicidal dream!
Kissing dying lips,
conscience eagles' scream.
Roots stop barely--
silver burdened rhyme;
river's metal tracks
help God remind.
Lofty smokeless breeze--
bird's echo box.
Ice burg floating,
saturates frozen socks.

__*____

Rings pulled strangers
silk blossoms singing--
remembering ancient maps
deep words bringing.
Canon pirates' soup
dreamer's record stalkin',
river's whole amount--
dead man walkin'.
Instant scattered corona
clenching eagle drowning;
rubber slamming secrets--
reading Robert Browning.



.
.Her adjectives were littlemore than colorful trinkets that splashdark light, even on Sunday mornings therewas no rest for the wicked. My earsrejected the multi-colored grotesque barrageof hateful verbiage crammed in therewith every other simple sentence that you couldprobably see long stains left behindlike a fatal battle scar. Her mother was just as evil--I'm surprised my wife even made it to puberty. I supposeshe wanted a carbon copy just in case of an emergency,because she practiced clenching old mens' esophagus' with herice cold eyes; much, much colder than any sea on the moon;Tranquility must have been banned from her cartographers budget.Her words were like old moon rocks she'd hurl at passers bywith her catapult like tongue and even swifter *******. Always aiming at the frontal cortex. Her harsh textured words would kickand claw their way down ravaged ear canals like three ******* catsin an Italian gondola slowly floating down the over saturated streets.It usually irked me beyond comprehension when she would bring outthe sickly sweetened, over ripe verbal ammunition to pry and beg mefor more cigarette money. I'd give her the money with my favorite feined grin which bought me sacred time and to watch her walk away..
Feb 2010 · 1.6k
~Air Guitar ♥
.

Seems that I'm spending
most of my time down at the Karaoke King.
Under more normal circumstances
I wouldn't even say a thing.(But...)

I need to invest some more time in me
or I'll never become a star,
because I've sunk a pretty penny
just pimpin' out my car.

And this Mississippi mud
is even bogging down my truck,
and if I don't keep it rockin'
I may never get unstuck.

Success always comes from hard, hard work
it never comes to you from afar.
Would you please remind me tonight
to change the strings on my air guitar?

And I've been too tired to dance
with my own silhouette.
I just want a house out in the country,
and a brand new black Corvette.

My future's slowly rising,
it shouldn't take me long.
You see, this stage has been my home
and this here's my new song!

I need to invest some more time in me
or I'll never become a star,
because I've sunk a pretty penny 
 just pimpin' out my car.

And this Mississippi mud
is even boggin' down my truck,
and if I don't keep it rockin'
I may never get unstuck.

Wont you help me,
please; won't you help me?
Because I want to be a star.

Just do me a favor and remind me tonight
to change the strings on my air guitar.
Please do me a favor and remind me tonight...
to change the strings on my air guitar.






.
Feb 2010 · 1.6k
~Schizophrenic Detour
He took a schizophrenic detour
by taking candy
from a bleeding stranger.

The beast in the machine
steers the planets, pinwheel galaxies
whirl on their own collision course through space --

as city sewers
whisper your name
the black thawing streets
will ****** narcotics
into the blind man's hand,
as another addict screams ****
for tastes of yesterdays'
dreamscape. . .
Feb 2010 · 1.0k
~Stone Cold Al Capone ♥♥
.As I sat here all alone,I thought about 'ol Al Capone.So I got some water to fill my gun--and I commenced to shooting everyone.The bullets dripped off of their faces and hair.Bullet casings were scattered-- everywhere.Oh, how silentthe sirens would wail,just like the waggingof a puppy dog's tail.I was shootin' from the streetfrom my safety zonefrom my long, black Lincoln--I was Al Capone.Somehow, somebody got a hold of my gun,and I'm tellin' ya, I ain't no fool.No copper is ever gonna take me alive--so I ran and I jumped in my pool..
This was inspired by lyrics from Queen's song titled "Stone Cold Crazy"
A lyric inside the song said,"Shooting people that I meet with my rubber water Tommy gun." Al Capone's name was also mentioned.
.
I am the man that's she's drivin' wild,
but Mona Lisa never smiled
as an adult or a younger child--

She was wild as the wind
on the western plains;
could run much faster than the driven rains.

Trains ran through her with whistles blowin',
you couldn't tell if she were comin' or goin'.
She'd clip rose stems and arrange them in a vase--
still...I never seen a smile alight on her face.

I'd spit out a joke,
her smile wasn't half.
I felt I lived
to make this girl laugh.

So I pulled out my brush
and asked her to sit for awhile.
She looked so pretty in her paint by number smile.

still... Mona Lisa never smiled.
.Times fly--Leaving calculating clocks behind.Tell me sir,What did you think you'd find?Hour by hourThe old man's losing his mind.After breaking every bone in the butterfly,No persuasion remained in his muddy blue eye.The ruddy questions grew from who, how, or why.He gave no solace after removing its' wing,Claims he just wanted to hear the bird sing.Then he removed each leg one by one--And he watched it flopping in the morning sun.Then he kissed his wifeThat's been dead for five years.He wiped away all of her falling tears.He asked politely if he could have this one dance,And he held out his hand, then he peed his pants--The demons made their way, screeching through his brain.The butterfly laid there, could use a little a pill for pain.Still, the old man stared as his life went down the drain.Then he seen two human-sized butterflies--Uncoiled their' fuzzy tongues and they poked out both his eyes.They broke the mans' legs and then they snapped his back.The old man died of a massive heart attack...I never believed the old man that day,Until he up and flew away--(singing...)"We don't need no education.  We don't need no...""Are you feeling O.K.?...Time to go. (beep, beep) Time to go...Are you..."Is there anybody out there?"
These lines of thought down below and up above
come from Pink Floyd from off of "The Wall"album. (*circa 1979)
______________________________________________

""We don't need no education.
  We don't need..."

"Are you feeling O.K.?...Time to go. (beep, beep) Time to go...Are you...

"Is there anybody out there?"
.I don't dream of Aphrodite.
My small muscles not too mighty.
Who should tell me how I should feel?
Winter days have feathers flighty.

Where can I find some time to steal?
Another green organic meal!
My life goes on disorganized.
It fills my soul with zip and zeal.

Find gold touching Midas' eyes.
Atlas shrugs just before he dies;
And Ayn Rand ran to Xanadu.
My echo waits for your replies.

Then outer space starts out as blue--
Jupiter spins on axis true.
Dark side of moon. Oh! What a view!
But I still want to be with you..
Feb 2010 · 800
~Darkness Subdivided ♥♥
.
These wrought iron dreams
won't bend in the wind anymore.
Unleashed immortal magick mimics death
within the hazy orb of crystal,
while the wizard stands motionless in the corner.

Darkness subdivided as his metamorphosis neared
completion.His dark black wings dried slowly
in the diffused moonlight.
My hands trembled as blood curdled up
the grimacing face of the moon,
an ungodly scream sent shock waves through
the unmolested silence.I left
the room.My unraveled nerves recoiled
at the touch of darkness.
The wizard pointed at me as I asked--
if I could continue the dream..
.Well, there's another idea that died in your mouth!Are you still waiting for eyes to see beyond the little door?What is behind it?An open shoe box full of your poetry?There's cliches clothed in their Sunday finest.Shiny shoes and a red bow-tie.To escape naked into the streets inthe middle of an uncomfortable conversation,only to find that your cigarette was lit and wasbackward in your lips.You screamed for the fire department andyour father just laughed.Just when the dust on your wine bottlewas finally at its thickest,someone entered the roomand polished it off.Pardon my smile, butyou are so funny!Did you cry asyour insect collectionwas flying away?Lace up your shoes,because I double checked your closetand there ain't no bears in there.And, yeah. I'd quit smoking if I were you..
.
Nectar from a knee-**** reaction
ran across my lips like
rusted railroad tracks out in the country.

I dove from the road when I heard the rubber
nervously grabbing for the asphalt below it.

She sure left in a hurry!

She took alot of time with her.
Mine!

(Just because...)
I told her about these,
and I told her of those.
I guess that's why she
had broken my nose.

She just rolled up her window,
and she drove away...
Back to a city that
has nothing to say.

And Silence of the
Lambs has nothing on her,
her tail-light escape
was lost in a blur.

Still, the joke'll be on her
by the end of the day
when her momma and daddy
take the T-Bird away.

Fun, fun...
Feb 2010 · 730
~Soft Moon Baby ♥
.
She was a soft moon baby,
she cried an easy golden light,
where Bach bled blue beneath
a brass bed full of stars.

Remember the mornings when even death felt small?

The pain in your little white eyes
comes from the little white lies
which the winter wind refused to sweep away.

Yet you left the French doors to your soul
standing wide open.
"Were you born in a barn?
But her smile sure makes living easy,
and December seems so ancient
on the African plain.

Chaos simmered slowly
on her sweet apricot lips, as a lion
catches rain from her native tongue.

Cat bones dot the desert while their
souls are off hunting alone.
Life is life and on the run--where the mellow
milky moonlight crashed on the midnight sun..
Feb 2010 · 836
~Symphonies of Light
.
Exposed to the starlight,
stripped bare by the moonlight.

It is a conscious stream
of those living the dream,
unfolds me origamically
with every beam.

These tears on my face--

I cannot hide.
Where time and space
eventually collide.

They pry open my soul
exposing a sweet sunshower.
They strip me to bone
within the hour.

I fall like Icarus,
where my wings have failed.
My feet land firm on Neptune
yes!--

the moon and stars hath prevailed.

Where symphonies of light
will do what they'll do.
As for me--

What a view! What a view!
















.
Feb 2010 · 1.2k
~Not as Deep ♥
.

I thought that you loved me body and soul--

I thought,"Finally I made the grade."
I thought that you cared for me
deeper than deep,

just not as deep as your blade.





This was inspired by Sabrina Plight's poem called, "Depends on the Eyes" and my reaction to it.




.
_
We woke to the sound of China cracking,
and curtain rods hitting the floor.
Daddy arose and he seen the light,
the **** was red-hot on the door.

He woke momma in a terrible fright,
we three kids were asleep down the hall.
When the hall lights began to flicker,
our lives were all that he saw.

Questions lit and burned out,
I don't remember calling 911.
Life was rushing fast before our eyes,
burning out like a cold setting sun.

It sounded like runaway freight trains,
a rolling thunder down the hall.
On a track leading to dominoes
that were not quite ready to fall.

They heard us children shrieking,
you know we were scared to death!
"Everyone get down to your knees!"
Was death's artist drawing their last breath?

Daddy wet a towel and he turned the blazing ****,
realizing our screams were no more.
He dashed through high flames down the hall,
and he kicked in our bedroom door.

Frozen and huddled in the corner,
behind our new bunk beds.
Daddy heard us  praying real fast
with a Pokemon blanket over our heads.

Daddy picked up the sobbing twins,
and I told him that I could run.
The fire must have reached daddy's .45,
I heard bullets fire from a gun.

Then a new skylight appeared up above,
the room reeked of daddy's singed hair.
It then began to rain inside,
we knew that a crew was out there.

The front door then burst open wide,
and in came a laser light show.
Narrow beams of light danced upon the smoke,
showing them the way to go.

The policeman sat his wife in a cruiser,
and daddy walked out of the dream.
The children climbed onto the fire truck,
I heard an oxygen mask muffled scream.
*Please plan an escape route with your family, and plan where you'll meet if this does happen to you.
If you plan a place to meet, firemen won't lose their lives looking for someone who's already outside!
~Mark

The title I chose for this refers to the American dream: house ownership, and what-not.
Feb 2010 · 1.9k
~One of These Days
.

One of these days
she will love me--

One of these days
she'll call...

One of these days
she won't pull away.

She's gonna let me kick that darned ball.

Because I'm gonna run
out of Xanax,
and her sign
will say that she's in.

One of these days
I'm going to kick that darned ball.
One of these days--

I will win.

There's times I love that red headed girl,
and my Beagle thinks he can fly.
One of these days I'm gonna kick that darned ball--

Does she really want see to 'ol Chuck cry?

One of my friends is covered in dirt,
in town I am known as a clown.
One of these days you will know me by name--

My friend Linus, he calls me Charlie Brown.
Feb 2010 · 1.5k
~Naked & Wet ♥
.
He suspended her
from the lowest branch
of the tree.

Naked and wet.

plump--
reddened cheeks
from the kiss of the sun.

once bitten--

the whole city
flipped over



-and it snowed...


nickles and dimes!
Someone asked me to tell them what I was thinking when I wrote this. I was thinking about when Eve bit that apple and it flipped the world on it's ear. The poem is actually speaking of inside of a snow globe. The nickles and dimes when the city flipped, come from loose change dropped in the sewers and on the sidewalks.
Feb 2010 · 600
~The Kyphosis Tree
.
The chase commenced
as a full moon rose,
life to death is
how it goes.

One last tree
before the cliff stole pride,
no stopping the beast,
they all died.

Tonight the
pipe is passed
and they'll dance for rain...

It was raining buffalo
before the belching train.

Tracks ran over the kyphosis tree
so gnarled in the full moon's light.
Over time it's been forgotten,
her roots became parched,
her trunk was suppressed.

God resurrect the kyphosis tree...




.
Kyphosis (Greek - kyphos, a ****), also called hunchback, is a common condition of a curvature of the upper spine.

This is about how the Indians would chase herds of buffalo to the edges of cliffs and the buffalo would fall to their death. Also inspired by the song, "Great White Buffalo" by Ted Nugent.
Feb 2010 · 615
~Somebody Like You
.
Yeah, whoa! I must be out of my mind!
I've been running for miles just to make it on time.
Yeah, who do you think that you are?
Making me chase after you, but never getting that far.
Yeah, whoa! I must be out of my mind.
But, why must I fall in love with you tonight?

Yeah, your gravitational pull used to pull me along,
but tonight it's just impaling our song.
Whoa! We'd go...

Chorus:

Round and around
on this ride we call life.
Up and down, girl, Hey! We're out of sight!
And we can do anything that we want to do,
because nothing else matters when I'm with
somebody like you. (somebody like you)


Eighteen- I was out of my mind.
Nineteen, just another simple rhyme.
To do anything that we wanted to.
We'd play hide and seek, and I could never find you.
Yeah, then we pretended to have this all figured out.
It's like one, two, three, four.
L O V E
Whoa! We'd go

Chorus:

Round and around
on this ride we call life.
Up and down, girl, Hey! We're out of sight!
And we can do anything that we want to do,
because nothing else matters when I'm with
somebody like you. (somebody like you)

Yeah, now we're in our twenties
and we're still loving life.
Seems we're driving in the fast lane
just trying to get it right.

Whoa! Yeah! We must be out of our minds.
Always looking for trouble, but somehow staying alright.
Yeah whoa! Was I out of my mind
to look for somebody like you?
And yeah, we'd go...

Chorus:

Round and around
on this ride we call life.
Up and down, girl, Hey! We're out of sight!
And we can do anything that we want to do,
because nothing else matters when I'm with
somebody like you. (somebody like you)
Feb 2010 · 545
~The Stage Ain't the Play
.
     The path of least resistance
keeps me writing toward the madness,
     and slandering all the poets
still dredging ancient sadness.

When we stroke the simple minds
     of the massive multitude,
we'll slay the lonely dragons
      of fear and solitude.

    Let's save the poetry
before our thoughts just go black blind..
    Don't let that 'ol intruder
steal the darkness from your mind.
    (Steal the darkness from your mind...)

     As the four winds dry
the ink out of your soul,
     you just stand there crystal clear.

Where sparks, arcs
    and butterflies start flying.
I hear an old lady cry,
    perfecting the art of dying.

    Open your eyes,
here's your last chance.
    Perfect your art or
take your stance.

I will take you away
    because the stage ain't the play...

    Let me take you away,
because the stage ain't the play.

Let's run away,
   because the stage ain't the play.




.
Feb 2010 · 647
~In My Mind
.


In my mind I pull a blank--


The blank  comes  from a  
piece of paper, like point blank
from the barrel of your gun.

My platinum crucifix starts to twist.
It warmed slowly against my chest,
while sunbeams turns into starlight
on the popcorn ceiling--


I just pulled another blank!






.
.
This is a
collaboration between Christopher Glyn John Smith
& redbarchettadrive


I gave her warm wine and flowers,
and she gave me her hand,
and she led me down into
the promised land.

She gave me skin so soft
that felt of the purest silk.
A touch that was tender,
she tasted of honey and milk.

She was my heaven on earth
with such warm copper skin.
Was I just dreamin'?
Was this all a sin?

She is the girl
the girl in my dreams
She keeps me alive
The girl in my dreams

We've kissed once or twice,
subliminally silenced the screams,
but while I'm combing her hair,
she just rocks and she sings...

She sang, give me your life
And I will give you my soul
Give me all of your love
And I will grant you your goal

So, I gave her my life,
then to me it occurs
that she's jumped back into my mind
and she laid down hers.

I gave her warm wine and flowers,
and she gave me her hand,
and she led me down into
the promised land.

She gave me skin so soft
that felt of the purest silk.
A touch that was tender,
she tasted of honey and milk.

She is the girl
The girl in my dreams
She keeps me alive
The girl in my dreams

We've kissed once or twice,
subliminally silenced the screams,
but while I'm combing her hair,
she just rocks and she sings...

She sang, give me your life
And I will give you my soul
Give me all of your love
And I will grant you your goal

So, I gave her my life,
then to me it occurs
that she's jumped back into my mind
and she laid down hers.
*A collaboration between Christopher Glyn John Smith
& redbarchettadrive.
Feb 2010 · 835
~A Pirate's Ballad ♥
.
The sails, the wind the deep blue sea...
Life untethered is the life for me--
War is brutal upon the raging swells
the clashing sword and cannonball...
we pray against a bitter wind
the tattered sails, they rise and fall...
Rare to touch the earth below our feet
to always heed the sirens call...
The smell of death on salty air
their final dance in this aquatic realm...
Liquid dreamers hoard their take
while whiskey eyed captains clench their helm...
Sailing through the Isle of Whyte
shattering its' mirrored waters...
taking all the gold we can find
to raise our sails and daughters...
The goblets of gold we raise each night
are toasts to leaving Rome...
We'll make new trails across old wakes,
we'll crash through seas of foam...
You can take pirates off the sea
but it will always be their home...
A pirate ballad I wrote December 22nd, 2009 on my daughter's birthday.
Feb 2010 · 2.0k
~Corona Borealis
.
His hormones rage as
she bathes in the setting sun.

Hollywood tan lines-



Beauty--

and the beast beneath the

Corona Borealis.







.
I ♥ Tennessee
Feb 2010 · 470
~A 2-5-5 Senryu ♥
.


~friendship-

-no water required
it sails on pure trust~


.
Feb 2010 · 1.0k
~Swallowed Me Whole ♥♥
.
The mouth of death
opened wide
and swallowed me whole.

It's oblong eyes
tongues my bones
clean.

A slumping bouquet of dead
chrysanthemum stare
through the crooked
screen.

I can hear the
rumble of an aromatic
acid bath,
grumbling, tumbling,
as I'm fumbling for
my lighter inside this
suicidal psychopath.

The squeaky swing
in the yard sways
as I'm going
down frowning
like a cosmic clown.

So as
I'm remembering
a memorable memory,
the devil's on the loose.

( Suddenly I slip and slide
in his sloshing stomach juice.)

I do the back-stroke
'til my eyeballs are gone,
the bile I am mixed with
is as green as my lawn.

With one last chance,
I nailed up a poster and protested.
Then I climbed back out
before I was totally digested.

What does he think?
That I am a fool?
Besides, I have a test
this morning at school.






.
.

I've got a problem,
one eye is shut and
my mouth is in the
middle of my face.

My nose leans to
the right while
the children in
the corner mock.

The brush
paints an ear
where there once
was none.

I look like I'm missing
a chromosome. X,y, or z-
It's a little bit of you,
and certain parts of me.




.
My son Chris said the first line and I ran with it.
.sweet cherry blossomlosing their power to clingpaints an old man's sky.
Feb 2010 · 883
~Suicidal Sanctuary ♥
.Hand me your hand, my child;please don't be wary.You will feel right at homein our suicidal sanctuary.Here bleeds ****** Bobbywho chose the northern bridge.Over there is Moldy Maggie, locked herself inside a fridge.The birds and bonessing for those drowning in the sea,this sector is preservedfor the carotid artery.Bathtubs and toasters,oh, what a joke!Can't stand the singed hair,can't handle the smoke.Yes, we have a pool.I won't swear that it's true.We keep it filled upwith  idiots...like you..
Feb 2010 · 2.4k
~10,000 Balloons ♥♥
.

~The sting of reality hits me square on the chin,
and these four cold walls keep closing in.
I'm gonna leave this old town,
I wanna leave it today.
Give me ten thousand balloons
and I'll fly away.

Over these crumbling chimneys,
and these sun cracked tiles.
Beyond the sea of heartache
and those faking their smiles.

I'd surely leave tonight,
I don't even care if the sky is gray.
Give me ten thousand balloons
and I'll fly away.~





.
Feb 2010 · 1.1k
~In the Puddles ♥
.
thunderstorms and rainbows-


a delicate rose in bloom
pools on brick and daffodils--

sunshine lighting my room

red knee highs and a cotton dress
a beggar bums some cash--

the answers to life are in the puddles
it's up to you to make the splash.




.
.
Now, lil' Jack Horner
go sit in yer corner-
the anger in here's growin' fat.

You need not fight me
to help to drown misery-
I'm always willing to drink to that!.
This was a reply I gave to jack horner here at Hello Poetry on his poem named "Tanked".
A must read!!!
.
She said that nothing makes the softest pillows--

Illusions get locked behind doors
in the dissolving sand castles,
to narrowly escape on the thin dangling threads of summer starlight.

Atlantis wants to surface and touch her hand--
To feel the warmth that rises to the surface of her olive skin.
As soft as the sea where the wind doesn't blow--

Until each baby blue eye mimics the sky.

She fluffed up her pillow and  she
disappeared.



.
Feb 2010 · 1.5k
~Moon Rocks ♥
-
I see Neptune
spinning in
her big blue eyes.

I see her
desire burn
every time
that
she tries.

She tries
so hard,
you can see it
in her face.

I moon-beam
with pride
just like
outer space.

I couldn't be
more happy
than a toad
on a paddy.

She moon-rocks
my world
when
she calls me daddy.





.
Feb 2010 · 698
~Oz on the Brain ♥
.This is the OzI've come to know,the one in my brainbeneath six feet of snow.The one that smellslike burnt raw umber,that rumbles like sewageand woke me from slumber.From a place in my past,where I've sat down and wept.From a deep, dark cornerwhere all my secrets are kept.And I feel more alivewith every secret I tell,I'm not lion,nor Miss Dorothy as well.Nor am I the Tinmanas I take another ganderat the rivers below methat slowly meander.Through the bowels of a citythat's there just because.It bleeds in my dreams,this place I call Oz.From the moment I woke upwhen my feet hit the gravel,I chose the high road;this brick road that I travel.Is this the partwhere I click my heels?Because you really, really  don'tknow how this feels.It all came to meon a mid-winter's night,while a city that sleptwas all covered in white.Tap, tap, tap. . .it rapped on in my dreams.Oh! the slamming of windows,the millions of screams.I feel I've slept a thousand years,wrapped in wrong, circled with flaws.A mere hallucination,then I saw the sign:Hey everybody-Welcome to Oz!
Feb 2010 · 883
~His Morbid Distraction
.
She is
his morbid distraction.
She's the bullet in his gun
and she's looking for some action.

More than death she longs
to become his blessed bride,
the two will become one
the day she steps inside.

And she gets very tired
walking through the Arctic rains,
but she will pick up speed
when she's running through his veins.

She is
his morbid distraction.
She's the bullet in his gun
and she's looking for some action.





.
Lyrics? What say you?
Feb 2010 · 1.7k
~Ah! Lethargic Genius ♥
.
I am part soul,
I'm here for a kiss.
I grasp at her stars'
photosynthesis.

My long lost Atlantis,
a rose from dead seas.
She shows me the doors,
but hands me no keys.

I'm the fallen columns
all scattered about.
"Twenty thousand leagues!"
I heard someone shout.

She's my chipped chiseled stone
below the mucked mire
that leads me beyond
Calcutta's cold fire.

Ah! Lethargic genius,
there's gathering birds
where dogs lap at the *****
we mistook for your words.

She hides in my veins
while it's raining outside.
She's my universal
osmosis suicide.

She really is...






.
Place any copyright info or notes related to this poem in this section. Optional.
Feb 2010 · 518
~Beautiful Purpose ♥
~Death reminds me
of a certain summer day,
a mother's smile-

like a father
you've never known.

Like rain racing
down a foggy window pane,
or a child's pain passing
with a kiss.

Like:
just realizing
the butterfly's beautiful
purpose before
being hit
by a windshield.

Death is not
always black,
sometimes
it's blood red;
or just a mental
hesitation.

A hiccup
in the chasm of time.
A demise of
thought-
or

is it?

Just another invitation
for the stars
to fall with the rain,
to dance on your grave-
to wash away
the silver moon.

Until memories of
that one
summer day comes flooding
back to fill in that empty
six foot hole.




.
.Like echoes of April through Aphrodite's smilesoftly draped over sleepy mountains,waking with dew laden apple blossomsin a bright white field.The sun opened one eye and quicklyflooded the valley with light.The caves of ice began to melt soon to becomea clear rushing stream.The mist, slowly liftingand thesilence has just passed away . . . . . . . . . .For a moment in time the sun and the moonhesitated against the pale blue morning sky.Within the reach of a naked eye, Jupiter loomed.Fish filled the blossoming stream and all swamin the same direction.Time could have been standing still andthere would not have been anybody to complain.The scent of fresh apple blossoms whispered upon the air.I could hear panda playing bamboo flutes.Then I could hear people hustling and bustling.The sound of stainless steel objects seemed toslam into the concrete with a scattering,shocking force.Then I heardmy doctor speak firmly,"Clear."~
Feb 2010 · 2.7k
~Wrought Iron Murder
-
Shaping molten sin into wrought iron ******.
Rusted rivet's sparks sail down the spiral staircase
and scatters like fireflies on the stone.
Guitars scream as they lead the band to slaughter,
thinking they own the streets like Al Capone.

Molten metallic music with a razors edge
mollifies the faithful like mutton to the ledge.
Mayhem ensues with a sonic boom as
bolts of rock & roll illuminate the room.

We're heading toward a revolution,
we always heard you wanted one.
They bought the lie of evolution,
burnt their skin waiting for the Son.

It's just a heavy metal observation,
you allowed the lyrics to take their toll.
Today we see the damage is done,
the insane have unhinged their soul.
Feb 2010 · 1.3k
~Prick
. She's a top-hat autocrat, inamber wavesof grain,singing whiskey lullabies-As young girls comes of ageanother flower dies.3 a.m. pencilsprickfamous strangers;the waitress in theblack stockingsstill believesshe's lost some timebomb ticking somewhere.A starving dog,unblinking-barked at my shoes..
Feb 2010 · 1.0k
~Burdens ♥
.

She gazed upon †he grea† expanse,
sof† sand hid small †oes on her fee†.
A deser† daisy gen†ly caressed her hands,
†he sunshine made her day comple†e.

She walked alone on this beautiful day.
This li††le angel had jus† †urned seven.
†o ga†her her momma a fresh bouque†,
for some reason has lef† her for Heaven.

Each flower was burdened with a clump of dir†,
I wi†nessed the swee†es† †hing †oday.
I had cried and wiped †ears on my shir†,
when my mind said †o jus† walk away.

"Daddy, can Jesus le† her come ou† †o play?
How do you answer a young girl of seven?
"Jus† like we did †he o†her day."
"We can, when we ge† †o Heaven."




.
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