#berry
She inhales a huge chunk of the chemically bitter white gram,
Shouts 'I said GOD DAAAAMNMM! GODANM' in the woman’s toilet,
The women snare at her and she beams a grin as she wipes her nostrils clean,
She strolls back to the same uncomfortable silence she had originally left,
A man with a face like a slapped *** and small crabby eyes stares at her,
He lights a cigarette and continues to ask her questions about Mr Wallace,
She angelically takes a sip out of her £5 dollar milkshake,
An announcement storms the room “JACK RABBIT TWIST CONTEST”
She glares at him with an excited smug expression,
The man profusely refuses,
She pulls at the chance and says “I want to dance, and I want to win a trophy”
She centres the room with her bold presence,
Introduces herself and the man to the audience,
Chucky Berry 'You never can tell' dawns the room,
She strikes a mixture of aristocrats dance poses,
He follows along whilst wiggling his legs and arms,
She twirls and moves closer to him,
She spins and rocks the swimmer move,
Thrusting her chest towards him,
He drops into the mash-potato dance
She shakes her *** and struts her feet,
He jiggles into faster swings and sways his hips,
Captivated by her flow and energy,
She becomes entranced by his charisma,
The two intwine like a wreath of flowers,
She devours him with her blood shot eyes
The song comes to an end,
The crowd roar with excitement,
She beams at him with pride,
He shyly smiles and bows down with Mia Wallace
Jun 4, 2021
Jun 4, 2021 at 5:09 AM UTC
it's the end of the world as we know it - time I had some time alone
© 2020 by Mark Toney. All rights reserved.
Mar 24, 2020
Mar 24, 2020 at 12:09 AM UTC
Onwards
stomping against the tufts -
grass
older than me
The knots
of a time long passed
I walk down
I walk down
Stinging kiss
of a nettle leaf against
my knees; unprotected
I walk down
I walk down
Brambles tug
my hair and arms
but I am rewarded
with the crisp tartness
of a berry.
Jan 27, 2020
Jan 27, 2020 at 1:05 AM UTC
We watch from space
Safe in our spaceship
As a small rock planet,
That has orbited it’s star
Over seven and a half billion times –
All those billions of its years –
Is peeled away
And eaten
By that very sun
That gave it birth.
Two and a half billion years before,
This star ran dry of hydrogen
And grew
From yellow dwarf to red giant.
Now, nothing is left of three of its worlds,
All engulfed by flame
As the sun grew
Into a giant ball of death.
All history is gone.
Nothing to show
For countless civilisations
That adorned the third planet.
But oh what’s this?
We spot a tiny spacecraft!
Must reel it in.
Examine it.
It has a name:
“Voyager 1”
Inside: a Golden Disc!
A Golden Record.
We can play it.
Images of hairless bipeds.
Ancestors from that third planet.
Sounds of animals and someone laughing.
Images of bipeds taking sustenance.
And best of all
More sounds
Of something called “Rock Music”:
A being called “Chuck Berry”
“Singing a song” called “Johnny B. Goode”.
For we have feet too
And it makes them tap.
Paul Butters
© PB 12\12\2019.
Dec 12, 2019
Dec 12, 2019 at 2:02 PM UTC
On some mornings
mom would ask
if Kyle and I wanted waffles
these were no ordinary syrup catchers
marbled by deep purple
stuffed with blueberries
When I was born
I was born a blueberry
due to the blue pigmentation
resulting from lack of oxygen
because of my mother’s smaller stature
that day a screaming smurf was brought into the world
and I’ve been getting redder ever since
Above the sink in my dad’s home
is a small purple bowl
handmade with a ceramic stem that broke off years ago
on the inside bottom is an engraving
that simply reads
‘Blue Berries’
but no longer carries fruit
Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 11:02 AM UTC
A sweltering run through the pastoral streets
Past the chemical plant and decrepit machinery
A couple miles trekked for nature's delicious treats
Incardine specks and black dots poke through thick greenery
Step over the ditch into the smokey mud
Stick your hand in carefully, the cost just a little blood
A blackberry picked from the protective thorn
is sweeter than one picked from the grocery store
Jun 29, 2018
Jun 29, 2018 at 1:11 PM UTC
The berries harvest an electric brisk
Channeling fears
Of the roaring seas
Oh how the clouds ran that day
Beside tides of tireless wakes
Spewing from airless lungs
And of dreams
Pouring with laughter
Open toed and gay
A touch to my lips
Provokes my blood to dance
Joining hands with your heart
To the rhythm of your soul
We clasp
As a hymn of whimsical folly
Cheek to cheek
I taste you and all your wonders
Tantalizing every taste bud
Of adventures to come
As your **** latches to my gums
Surviving the swallow
Clinging to the last of our memories
I regret ever consuming you
The after taste of you lingers
Like empty vases scattered from death
Hollow of the red I once held
And the smell I followed
When lost in the dark
I will find you someday
Deep within those woods we wandered
I will pluck you from safety
And we'll plunge into chaos
The chaos of love
Dec 30, 2017
Dec 30, 2017 at 12:06 AM UTC
Sweet Winterberry
Born in a womb of glaciers
Fall on my tongue crisp
Sweet Winterberry
Feel the kiss of the sunshine
As rainwashed is pure
Sweet Winterberry
Plucked and baked into **** pies
Tendrils of warmth blossom
Sep 10, 2017
Sep 10, 2017 at 9:59 AM UTC
Ringing like a bell
Rolling in Hell
Sure was swell
You never could tell.
All along Route 66
Getting his kicks
Strumming and picks
Inventing the first licks.
Absolutely very
Completely necessary
Juicy like a cherry
Sweet as a Berry.
Down on your luck
Things sure can ****
Don't give a flying.....
Just listen to the man, Chuck.
Mar 29, 2017
Mar 29, 2017 at 5:00 AM UTC
They’ll be rockin’ in Heaven
Down St. Peter’s Gate Way.
Chuck Berry passed over,
But he still can play.
True King of Rock,
He’ll live for evermore.
And he’ll keep duck walking,
Along that golden shore.
His guitar keeps twanging,
Wah wah tlang tang tang.
Ya want a Showman?
Chuck’s still yer man.
He died at ninety.
It was very sad.
But now he’s up there,
I’m sure that God is glad.
He’ll love that Rock N Roll Music,
Chuck’s sense of humour too.
A touch of Devil also,
When he sings the blues.
So all you Saints and Angels,
You better move and hurry,
For they all want to dance with
That amazing Chuck Berry.
Paul Butters
Mar 22, 2017
Mar 22, 2017 at 6:10 AM UTC
Hail, Hail, ole Chuck Berry,
I'll write you an obituary,
Baby boomers not so merry,
Hail, Hail, ole Chuck Berry,
His rock'n'roll shall never die,
The legends rock on in the sky,
Now none of us are quite so merry,
Goodbye, bon chance, to ole Chuck Berry,
God speed, you made us all feel merry,
Hail, Hail, ole Chuck Berry....
Mar 20, 2017
Mar 20, 2017 at 1:54 AM UTC
CHUCK BERRY PASSES AWAY A TRUE
LEGEND OF HIS TIME
HE WAS A MUSIC TRAIL BLAZER
HIS PASSING AWAY IS A CRIME
HE WAS THE FOUNDATION OF ROCK AND ROLL
THE GOD FATHER OF RHYTHM AND BLUES
HIS MUSIC HIS MOVES HIS GUITAR
WAS ROCK AND ROLL THROUGH AND THROUGH
MANY A MUSIC LEGEND OF TODAY
WAS INFLUENCED WITH HIS STYLE
ROCK AND ROLL AND CHUCK BERRY
WILL BE WITH US FOR A WHILE
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 10:32 PM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
Sweet embrace choosing like the holy Grail,
Let the rain fall , my soul is not for sale,
Not really fun when you burn in hell,
Demons talking to you like fresh meat in jail,
Citrus feeling minds with all things not from earth,
Drawn to a love no certain than a common worth,
Even since you been a mistake on the day of your birth,
Suicide is something you don't really wanna blurt,
Nearing to the end like do you see a vision?
It was pleasant all before , don't bring any tension,
Envisioning a utopia, when they buried ya,
Riding in a silver Toyota, in a frozen tundra,
If the kitchen knives don't drop,
Dreamt of this your whole life, now you can't stop,
Don't know how I missed this part of agony , it was a tragedy,
It's your face they'll crop,
Red doors open when you see the error of your ways dying like
Obese guy laughing at athletes,
It'll take you two whole lifetimes just to get under my skin and walk
Over me,
But you are below me , I'm more of a man than any ignorant demon would
Ever Portray,
The taste of these and the taste of those will leave me immortal,
I won't die today.
Dec 9, 2016
Dec 9, 2016 at 10:37 AM UTC
It’s a cruel old, desperate world.
Yes it’s a cruel old, desperate world.
Don’t often do the blues,
But you’ll know it when I do.
So hard to be a Reject,
Yes, so very hard.
So lonesome on your own.
You know where I’m going.
Those women do the choosing,
Yes Siree.
They sure do the choosing
And they ain’t picking me.
No passing on my DNA,
The line stops here.
No children will I produce,
Though I ain’t a queer.
Can I say that now?
In this PC world.
Probably not,
But my flag’s unfurled.
Well I warned you all.
These are my blues.
I’d much rather be writing
About some blue suede shoes.
Chuck Berry rocks
I have to say.
Like him I’d rather
Send you smiling
On your way.
These blues are haunting
And full of soul.
I’d rather be uplifting.
That’s my goal.
Paul Butters
Jan 22, 2016
Jan 22, 2016 at 9:05 AM UTC
Questionnaire
How much poison are you willing
to eat for the success of the free
market and global trade? Please
name your preferred poisons.
For the sake of goodness, how much
evil are you willing to do?
Fill in the following blanks
with the names of your favorite
evils and acts of hatred.
What sacrifices are you prepared
to make for culture and civilization?
Please list the monuments, shrines,
and works of art you would
most willingly destroy
In the name of patriotism and
the flag, how much of our beloved
land are you willing to desecrate?
List in the following spaces
the mountains, rivers, towns, farms
you could most readily do without.
State briefly the ideas, ideals, or hopes,
the energy sources, the kinds of security;
for which you would **** a child.
Name, please, the children whom
you would be willing to ****
Jun 20, 2015
Jun 20, 2015 at 11:35 AM UTC
Look It Over
I leave behind even
my walking stick. My knife
is in my pocket, but that
I have forgot. I bring
no car, no cell phone,
no computer, no camera,
no CD player, no fax, no
TV, not even a book. I go
into the woods. I sit down on
a log provided at no cost.
It is the earth I've come to,
the earth itself, sadly
abused by the stupidity
only humans are capable of
but, as ever, itself. Free.
A bargain! Get it while it lasts!
Jun 20, 2015
Jun 20, 2015 at 11:05 AM UTC
The Wild Geese
Horseback on Sunday morning,
harvest over, we taste persimmon
and wild grape, sharp sweet
of summer's end. In time's maze
over fall fields, we name names
that went west from here, names
that rest on graves. We open
a persimmon seed to find the tree
that stands in promise,
pale, in the seed's marrow.
Geese appear high over us,
pass, and the sky closes. Abandon,
as in love or sleep, holds
them to their way, clear,
in the ancient faith: what we need
is here. And we pray, not
for new earth or heaven, but to be
quiet in heart, and in eye
clear. What we need is here.
Apr 23, 2015
Apr 23, 2015 at 8:19 AM UTC
THE PEACE OF WILD THINGS
When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
— Wendell Berry
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 6:32 PM UTC
by Wendell Berry
You will be walking some night
in the comfortable dark of your yard
and suddenly a great light will shine
round about you, and behind you
will be a wall you never saw before.
It will be clear to you suddenly
that you were about to escape,
and that you are guilty: you misread
the complex instructions, you are not
a member, you lost your card
or never had one. And you will know
that they have been there all along,
their eyes on your letters and books,
their hands in your pockets,
their ears wired to your bed.
Though you have done nothing shameful,
they will want you to be ashamed.
They will want you to kneel and weep
and say you should have been like them.
And once you say you are ashamed,
reading the page they hold out to you,
then such light as you have made
in your history will leave you.
They will no longer need to pursue you.
You will pursue them, begging forgiveness.
They will not forgive you.
There is no power against them.
It is only candor that is aloof from them,
only an inward clarity, unashamed,
that they cannot reach. Be ready.
When their light has picked you out
and their questions are asked, say to them:
"I am not ashamed." A sure horizon
will come around you. The heron will begin
his evening flight from the hilltop.
Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 7:13 PM UTC
It’s time for a rhyme
I hear you chime.
It’s time to hit the beat.
We’re ready to dance
Without a glance,
Pick up those Tyger feet.
Those drums do thump,
Dancers grind and bump,
The party’s in full sway.
Don’t feel like strolling,
Just want to be rollin’
In the scattered hay.
Them guitars are twanging
I’m really panging
To twirl you round and round.
Some like to fight;
I’d rather dance all night
To that raucous rebel sound.
Let’s go.
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 1:55 PM UTC