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Childhood Campy Chimera Curtain Call

Arctic bitter dead of winter cold
polar vortex deep freezes each lovely bone
excellent existential prized memory
swimmingly recalls boyhood

listening to drone
of various and sundry
en deer ring fauna
extant amidst greensward,

where imagination hath flown
to imaginary Eden lifting
uber a maize zing ears
cocked towards
Mother Nature's petsmart crafted chorus

flushing out soundcloud
queen of happy campers
with bees zee winged
wonders as they hone

suite tracks unstinting
well crafted aural presentations
intended to entice
a mate opposite jejune

targeting their search
nsync with one or another
favorable counterpart, this buzz zing
destiny could favor a loon

or some other apropos biological entity
(or perchance if desperate to mate) **** sitter
another species including the manifestation
of microbes on the moon

whereat boys and girls bounding,
exclaiming, and yelping
joie de vivre asper when counselors
blow whistle call at high noon
hour of day iz lunch, thence resuming
their made up fun and par lore games
such as knight in shining armor
dashing off to save

damsel in distress signaling
sans SOS and favorite ring tone tune
of potential prince
where young love doth Flickr
oblivious to a similar situation, aye lichen
to avast Marcy's playground

such panoply a prediction
forecast by Doctor Punxatawney Phil
a blue oyster cult meme burr
thus, in lay person terms
six more weeks of winter for 2018 -

so stay warm to stave off feeling offal
bodes ill for species who clamor for warmth -
supposed tell tale shadow
spelt "N+I+L+L"
and remain in hibernation
if opportunities allow,
and be thankful for not bing forced to mill
around seeking warmth
(case in point a street person),

but ye and the big or 'lil
body of warm flesh adjacent to thee
(this day and age -
gender preference a moot factor),

or take stock, stock and barrel,
how other creatures great and small
burrow underground under a hill
or reef amphibians, mammals, reptiles...

instinct can remain 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea
a fictitious place evoked by Jules Verne,...
hm...maybe he might breathe
courtesy of an atavistic gill
who would downplay brouhaha
to avoid any cavil.
Shanath Jul 2017
The heat knocking through the glass,
Shaking the metal,
Our seats impersonating
Our body heat.
I looked out, a brief pause in journey.
The red light tirelessly blinked
Then and now,
Green would be a go.
He was peeling it off,
He asked me, as usual I said no.
One was handed to the man
With an upturned mustache on the front,
I could tell that was his pride.
Three were alined in a plastic bag,
Their fate still undecided.

Gentle but hurried taps on my window,
They had cars to cover
I think now.
Two little kids in ragged clothes,
I wonder is it the dust of the world
Or the filth of a society's failure
That stains their clothes brown,
Their faces black?
One was of the usual age
They're grown up at,
The other, the age
They begin at.
After a brief and short
And "matter of fact" discussion,
Bearing in mind the kids' busy schedule
I wound down the window,
And decided the three bananas' fate.

The grown one just ran to the next car,
Grown you see,
The little one
Yelped in happiness
Of the fruits rejected by me.
Nothing could sound more beautiful
Than the kid's exclamation
"Bananas"
A giggle.

The red turned off.
The driver smiled
Yet every act was but a drop
I could not collect
To fill the desert of doom.
The heat hovered
And hovered,
The heat that turned
Back at my home
Many bananas black
Until they were discarded.
The flies feasted upon,
The gun is pointed
At the kids.
Sometimes blood leaves no stain.
Sometimes the black stains
On bananas are of our souls.
TRAVEL TALES III
The ant, the flies,
The lion, the man,
Who is important?
ConnectHook Apr 2017
Shuffle along, show your ticket, be strong
while investing in spectacle
staid and respectable.
Nu Yawhk can never be wrong.

Shuffle along, bang a simian gong.
Life resembles a Broadway show;
plebes and patricians owe
apples to Empire’s King Kong.

Death joins the throng. In bananas your song
is re-peeled and re-stated
while apes are berated;
the zoo-keeper’s waving. So long.
NaPoWriMo #9

How do I love thee?
Let me count the syllables
In my bad Haiku
Ellie Geneve Dec 2015
Yellow is what I am
happy is what I make you feel.

Use me, then throw me
and you'll trip by my peel.

I'm healthy, I'm sweet,
If in a hurry, I take seconds to eat.

All on my own, I'm a dish
but with peanut butter, I'm delic.

I'm good for your brain
I'm good for your heart

*There's a reason why monkeys are smart.
Ellie Geneve Nov 2015
You told me about this,
But I still liked hot dogs
What was a keyboard doing
running across mountains in the snow?

running away from the unsaid words?
break the vicious cycle!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
of dreaming about you...
eat them burgers and sing them anthems,  blaaah
don't forget to burn them bridges.


but don't burn yourself ...

cuz you're wearing my shirt
Àŧùl Oct 2015
Fact: Bananas have more trade regulations than AK-47s.

Something healthy must be having such ridiculous regulations,
But not the Kalashnikov as it won't be good for trade relations.
But hey, even she dubs me as her loving exclusive AK-47,
'Coz my name is Atul Kaushal - the letters are 4 and 7!
I shoot poetry and spilled is love instead of blood.
My HP Poem #910
©Atul Kaushal
So, okay, are you listening?
Being a monkey means
many things...
Yes!
It also means loving,
not just bananas,
but the people who love
bananas, and monkeys too!

Listen to me in your heart,
pay attention now, person,
and this is gonna be
the best smoothie ever!

Bananas come first, of course,
then yogurt, vanilla, of course,
a BIG spoon of peanut butter..
Yes, really!
Trust me!
Cinnamon to jazz it up,
water to smoothen it...
we are calling this a smoothie
RIGHT?
And for extra-special, maple syrup,
to give it a heavenly touch!

Now cover your ears,
which are almost as sensitive
as mine, and ... Oh!

How do you push the button
with your fingers over your ears!
For the child in every heart, and every child.
©Elisa Maria Argiro
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