#aeroplanes - Hello Poetry

Hallucinating Bureaucracies and auditory Hallucinations : When the voice in your head speaks when you don't want it to, to head's of State not present. I could snuggle in bed if I wanted to, but I've got to orchestrate and reorganize the Clinton dowry. It started outright with trying on a purple, yellow, and blue button down shirt that had Scabies in the sleeve- and now you're all going to know why Mr. and Mrs. Obama don't want to talk to me about potentially increasing livestock traffic across the Americas. I think could practice will follow from such a manure, I mean maneuver. I pick up 10 or so bottles of plastic single-serve water for consumption in my apartheid room. It's awful in here. The gold disappears from the mines, and even the hands I used to work with are blurring up in the twister, and as much as you call or don't call I have no business managing your intentions- only mine. Some barrge of women over thirty. But still there isn't a problem. The river is beginning to flood, and the fishery's stockpile is running low. Maybe we ought to empty out an African mass grave and fill it with blacklists of co-conspirators and then make a drake or a flume out of the narrow walkways between the cities. Then maybe we'll have water to last us through the dry season.------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Where in the world is Sam in Hammond, Can Diego? Forklifting pillars, bribing monkeys, playing with his Mickey Mouse and Michelob, catching the taller, eighteen and up crowd catch the last car riding the rapid drop from Space Mountain through, "It's a Small World After All:" It's a world of laughter a world of tears, it's a world of hopes and a world of fears. There's so much that we share, that it's time we're aware- it's a small world after all." And then he takes the biggest gulp of water into his mouth that I've ever seen the man take, and he puts it in a small cooler that's strapped to the back of his calf, and he swears to me that the aeroplanes are going to come loop around, and when they do their glorious water-landing, he and I, or rather, the both of us, will be saved. Saved, hm? I don't even bother sharing insights or my insides. I quickly flash him the most-pod horrific a tryst that irons down a photo of Egon and I back in the Old City, what was it, Chicago, or something that very much sounded like Chicago. Could be totally awesome and I'll chime in that now is the time when we do our work best. That's all. Intrepid,

0

May 3, 2014

May 3, 2014 at 12:42 PM UTC

martin-narrod

We Spare The Mouse, And No One Must Know

Hallucinating Bureaucracies and auditory Hallucinations : When the voice in your head speaks when you don't want it to, to head's of State not present. I could snuggle in bed if I wanted to, but I've got to orchestrate and reorganize the Clinton dowry. It started outright with trying on a purple, yellow, and blue button down shirt that had Scabies in the sleeve- and now you're all going to know why Mr. and Mrs. Obama don't want to talk to me about potentially increasing livestock traffic across the Americas. I think could practice will follow from such a manure, I mean maneuver. I pick up 10 or so bottles of plastic single-serve water for consumption in my apartheid room. It's awful in here. The gold disappears from the mines, and even the hands I used to work with are blurring up in the twister, and as much as you call or don't call I have no business managing your intentions- only mine. Some barrge of women over thirty. But still there isn't a problem. The river is beginning to flood, and the fishery's stockpile is running low. Maybe we ought to empty out an African mass grave and fill it with blacklists of co-conspirators and then make a drake or a flume out of the narrow walkways between the cities. Then maybe we'll have water to last us through the dry season.------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Where in the world is Sam in Hammond, Can Diego? Forklifting pillars, bribing monkeys, playing with his Mickey Mouse and Michelob, catching the taller, eighteen and up crowd catch the last car riding the rapid drop from Space Mountain through, "It's a Small World After All:" It's a world of laughter a world of tears, it's a world of hopes and a world of fears. There's so much that we share, that it's time we're aware- it's a small world after all." And then he takes the biggest gulp of water into his mouth that I've ever seen the man take, and he puts it in a small cooler that's strapped to the back of his calf, and he swears to me that the aeroplanes are going to come loop around, and when they do their glorious water-landing, he and I, or rather, the both of us, will be saved. Saved, hm? I don't even bother sharing insights or my insides. I quickly flash him the most-pod horrific a tryst that irons down a photo of Egon and I back in the Old City, what was it, Chicago, or something that very much sounded like Chicago. Could be totally awesome and I'll chime in that now is the time when we do our work best. That's all. Intrepid,

3

And There Were Three Late mark Griffon engine Spitfire is sliced apart by German gunfire. Defeat! Spit pilot takes to the silk and bails. He saw his executioner executed. Swift justice handed out by a Tempest. No one said the Salamander was in service. Volksjager peoples’ fighter, for everyone but only flown by the best, killed a Spitfire before a Tempest killed him. Did the **** pilot perish? Unlike the Spit pilot? Eyewitness to his own shoot down. Advanced air war 1945, Armageddon beckons. Enough! Time for a coffee and some biscuits, teen combat pilot dreams aside. I close my book and go to make a brew. No decaf for me. Need my caffeine before I battle the Luftwaffe in turbulent European skies. Shame I’ve no beer! Never mind about being there, seeing history made. German jet genesis, almost mastering state of the art piston engine fighters. Back to my book. At 17 my mates were out chasing girls, I was in the skies.

0

Feb 6, 2018

Feb 6, 2018 at 5:19 PM UTC

nickarmbrister

And There Were Three

And There Were Three Late mark Griffon engine Spitfire is sliced apart by German gunfire. Defeat! Spit pilot takes to the silk and bails. He saw his executioner executed. Swift justice handed out by a Tempest. No one said the Salamander was in service. Volksjager peoples’ fighter, for everyone but only flown by the best, killed a Spitfire before a Tempest killed him. Did the **** pilot perish? Unlike the Spit pilot? Eyewitness to his own shoot down. Advanced air war 1945, Armageddon beckons. Enough! Time for a coffee and some biscuits, teen combat pilot dreams aside. I close my book and go to make a brew. No decaf for me. Need my caffeine before I battle the Luftwaffe in turbulent European skies. Shame I’ve no beer! Never mind about being there, seeing history made. German jet genesis, almost mastering state of the art piston engine fighters. Back to my book. At 17 my mates were out chasing girls, I was in the skies.

5

There were words scribbled in pencil, on a singular piece of paper, I folded into a paper plane... Throwing it from the balcony of my window, I was single never finding love. But I threw my feeling out into the world beyond my reach... I waited for days, but never did my thoughts fly towards me.. they must have statically landed beyond the reach of other hearts.. Wrote within I had penned simply. *"If my heart glides to you and you find my words of merit, let your kisses envelope my wings and glide back to the window of my heart"* Do you realize how far a paper plane laden with emotions can fly, it never sank.. But floated on the breath of loneliness, until it found a window of opportunity. folded words were read upon. Days had ventured past my window until a letter fell though my door.. And with it words. *"Though you flew to me, I found it easier for my words to walk to you doorstep an read my words"* When the walls of trepidation fell, and I saw the mirror of my word I knew that my hart had flown true. You were the wings of my thought and I was the reflection that brought you to my heart.

0

Oct 10, 2017

Oct 10, 2017 at 5:53 PM UTC

poetic-t

When Paper Aeroplanes Fall

There were words scribbled in pencil, on a singular piece of paper, I folded into a paper plane... Throwing it from the balcony of my window, I was single never finding love. But I threw my feeling out into the world beyond my reach... I waited for days, but never did my thoughts fly towards me.. they must have statically landed beyond the reach of other hearts.. Wrote within I had penned simply. *"If my heart glides to you and you find my words of merit, let your kisses envelope my wings and glide back to the window of my heart"* Do you realize how far a paper plane laden with emotions can fly, it never sank.. But floated on the breath of loneliness, until it found a window of opportunity. folded words were read upon. Days had ventured past my window until a letter fell though my door.. And with it words. *"Though you flew to me, I found it easier for my words to walk to you doorstep an read my words"* When the walls of trepidation fell, and I saw the mirror of my word I knew that my hart had flown true. You were the wings of my thought and I was the reflection that brought you to my heart.

27