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C Mahood Jun 2018
An airship for me to share.

I wish I had an airship,
And flew up into the sky.
I’d wave to all the people,
They’d wave back as I flew by.

I wish a had my airship,
Nestled high up  in the clouds,
Away from pointing fingers,
Nasty jokes, and lots of crowds.

I would take my airship,
Over mountains to the sea,
Find a quiet place above the waves
With only room for me.

I wish I had an airship
That made my problems go away
Maybe someday I’ll be free,
But maybe not today.

I wish I had an airship,
To help me make a friend.
But only one who really cares,
Not one that will pretend.

If I had myself an airship,
What would everybody say?
Would they want to get to know me,
Or miss me when I’m away?

I will have the greatest airship,
With a massive big balloon.
I will save up all my pennies,
I’m sure I could Buy one soon.

When I buy my airship
I will fly it past my school.
When the kids look out window,
They will finally think im cool.

I just really want and airship,
To see how freedom feels.
And not to always be stuck inside
My Annoying chair with wheels.

I wish I had an airship
So everyone could see
I’m not just a boy in a wheelchair,
There is so much more to me.

Until I get my airship,
I will keep it in my head.
At least in there I’m Always free,
To dream and look ahead.

I wish I had an airship
So everybody knew,
I’m not that different after all,
I’m just the same as you.
The telex caster flickers on
and the chap from the BBC, states
the last of the balloons are erected
we are ready for lift off

Slowly the land pulls away from the earth
time to rule Britannica most glorious
going where the winds takes us
and where we land, we will take as ours

Using only sound weapons
and the whispers of cold winds
we are so ready to take seizers
for this is airship Britain, full of lunatics

All don their red jackets
men, women and even children
no more muskets or marching
for this land is made for fighting

We are the now the Kunstprodukt
so ready for war, and so wanting
ready to take back what we have lost
this is battle of airship Britain

Only the elite will attire in black
for they are the ******* warriors
and they will jump into action
before we land, and play dangerously

We will rule where the wind takes us
for Britain is not on the map
and soon we float over to you
and land on your ****** lap


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris

By NeonSolaris
© 2012 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)
Kastoori Barua May 2016
A stately airship gliding
Over the mysteries of the skies,
I am the smoke trail
That you have left
At your wake.
Evanescent as I am,
Would you really exist
If I had not followed you
Wouldn’t you have been lost,
In the colors of the evening skies,
If I had not pursued?
Lottie Jun 2016
I had a dream once, my darling. About you and I, adrift in the sky.
For hours we'd dance and dance, your eyes glowing and growing, dancing, enhancing,
With each spin, each laugh as the hours turned to days turned to a lifetime.
We would stop our waltz only to kiss; long and lasting and promising.
A kiss that would power our airship, would end all wars, would cease my tears.
A kiss that would cure my fears.
mj cusson Nov 2012
The quest through skies,
Is as the quaking ground,
So hard to bare.

Firstly the sun must rise.
And then you must: Westward bound.
The quest through skies.

Toward the sun, the airship flies.
Despite the troubling winds and echoing sounds.
So hard to bare.

Daunting shrieks and eerie cries.
Baring until the North star at night is found.
The quest through skies.

Instead of your worthless demise,
You must set the airship on hard ground.
So hard to bare.

And the quest is complete, a great prize.
Had you looked all around.
The quest through skies,
So hard to bare.
Once upon a time there was a person
He was walking along
He met the full burning moon
Rolling slowly twoards him
Crushing the stones and houses by the wayside.
She shut his eyes from the glare.
He drew his dagger
And stabbed and stabbed and stabbed.
The cry that quit the moon's wounds
Circled the earth.
The moon shrank, like a punctured airship,
Shrank, shrank, smaller, smaller,
Till it was nothing
But a silk handkerchief, torn,
And wet as tears.
The person picked it up. He walked on
Into moonless night
Carrying his strange trophy.
A C Leuavacant Jun 2014
It was at one time
Many fine days or years ago
Near a place I had known well
Somewhere I had long since
Deemed as 'a place to be'
It was there
That I first met Dwell.  
I had waited there all night
for any such sign
of a slow sunrise
That seemed at the time
Like it would never come  
So there I sat by myself
On a grassy heap
Recently dampened
By the passing morning dew
Trickling through the grass
And overpassing my eyes.
It was sometime in late June
Just as midsummer's day
Had passed away  
I Alone in the countryside
Just as the vague light
of early morning
had passed through the sky
Unsure of whether  
It would turn into something more
Or just slouch back into more night
And I remember
Remember feeling so uncertain
Of what was going to happen next
It felt like a divine crossroad
Two paths
with two equally likely roads
And ways to go.
'On the one hand' I said to myself
'If the sun is doomed not to rise
I could become the king
Who all would despise'
For I had and always will be
A man of the night
A dark towered figure
passing through black corners
That could be me in royal robes.
And I laughed to myself
It certainly had got to
that stage of the night.
But alas there it was
Unmistakably clear
The golden curl of sunlight
Passing through the clouds
Just sunrise
No dark kingdoms for me
No
Just the prize of morning
a small reward for
Surviving the night alone again.

And It was just then
That I heard the first sign  
A clip, a stumble and a low drone
as I peered up
What a sight met my eyes
Out of nowhere it seemed
Something
That I had never ever seen before
High in the sky
Almost touching the sun
It was old Dwell's Zeppelin
Of course
But I had no idea of that
back then.
As it came closer I stood up
A black frame traced with letters
It Contrasted well
with the indigo sky
And I must admit
That even I in my wisdom
And lessons of earth
could not hold back my fear.
But I would not run
I just sat and watched as it fell
Fell down down down
And landed in a nearby lake.
I could read it now
If I squinted my eyes
'Dwell and Co'
It read
'Traveling tailors
Workers of wind
Magicians of sea
And loyal dream makers'.

Before too long
When the clouds all had passed
I heard a click
from the Zeppelin's door
And then a splash
And upon seeing it open wide
I decided to take a look
At that thing in the lake.
I stood by it's edge
And watched.

And then
Down by the lake  
Out of nowhere
An old wooden bridge did appear
From nothing
like some unrehearsed magic trick
Connecting the zeppelin
To where I stood
I almost fell over as I looked at it
Old rotten wood
with dusty lit lanterns along
And just then a figure stepped out
Dark and small
walking towards me
His face catching the light
Not ancient, not young
With a dumb happy smile
He approached me
eyes covered
with those low flight goggles
He wore on his eyes
'It's oh so nice to finally
Meet you my friend!
Your thoughts
they have touched us
And we cannot pretend
That we're not intrigued
So let me welcome you here
There's no need to hide
Please come on with me
And I'll show you inside'
He brandished his hand
And waved me towards
The bridge that had just arrived
And I was confused
By his confusing words
Who in the world
Did he think I was?
'Its nice to meet you too and You're ever so kind'
I responded to him
'But oh can you please
explain what's going on?
I don't want to be mean
But this is the only
floating bridge zeppelin
that I've ever seen'
He chuckled and chortled and said
'Dually received
We'll tell you inside
Of how much you've achieved'
So intrigued as I was
I followed him onto that old bridge
And across the blue lake
And approached the old door
Of that monstrous thing
towering high.
And as the man turned to step inside and out of the light
He stopped for a moment
He looked at me and said
'Don't worry my friend
things are about to get better
Oh and I forgot
The name Is Magician Pepper'
I was still in a daze
And didn't say much
But stepped inside after Mr Pepper.

Inside was different story
And again my eyes
could hardly believe what I saw
Walls of gold
floors of silver
All laced with jewels
Made up the interior
Of an old style living room
Cozy and neat
Magician Pepper announced
that he would go inform Dwell
Of my arrival
He exited the room
And he left me alone
To stumble around this paradise

'What a place'
I thought to myself
As I looked around
And counted the sights
From the shining carpet
To the amber chandelier
And as I had my back turned
Eyes fixed on that glowing red fire
That had previously
Not been seen
A noise behind me
Came shuffling through
And one deeply toned voice
Said  'I knew it was true'
I turned and there he stood
The one who I knew
Would make all ok.
He stood at the base
Of a staircase
That had not been present a moment ago.
Magician Pepper at his Side
And a small white dog by his feet
A tall man was he
With short dark hair at his sides
And Green sparkling eyes.
He was one of a kind alright
Just one look at him
Made you stop caring
made me stop caring
About irregularities
And Zeppelins
It just made me want to
Just go on
Go on and flourish.
He raised his lips
And carried on as before
And I listened right up
'I know this is a strange vision to appear
But once I heard that you were so near
I just need to stop and meet you
In the flesh
You're an interesting Man
I must confess
My name Is Dwell
Of Dwell and Co.
This is my Zeppelin
And my dog Kato
Yes, I'm so sorry
You're probably so confused
Of what exactly
It is that we do!
Well we are dream makers
The swappers  
The tradesmen of dreams
We listen to thoughts
And answer your pleas'
Now I at this time was taken aback
For what on earth did he mean
'I'm sorry'
I said
'And it's just that you
you're a dream maker?
That cannot be true'
Dwell just smiled and gestured
To come up those grand stairs.
Apparently my views were tainted
I knew they were
I had not been the same
For a while now.
Times may be strange
But maybe Dwell will help me
Hopefully.

At the top of that staircase
Was an oblong door
Hung swift with Golden bolts
Dwell swung it forwards
To reveal it's heart
The control room
The centre
Full of Buttons and knobs
and fancy machines
Stood all along
'It really does sound like a lie'
Said he
'This is but the cockpit of dreams
For what I do is
answer the screams
I travel from world to world my friend
Time to time
You must have known there's more out there
Are you not that way inclined?
With a press of this button'
And he gestured at three
'We'll zap up away
And who knows where we'll be?'
My ears were on fire
But believe him I did
'Is it all for fun?
or do you make a few quid'
Pepper really laughed now at this
And Dwell stood as he slowly unfurled
'Most people main doubt is us leaving the world.
But you seem quite eager
Quite keen to help
Seems like you're better
Than anyone else'
And I did smile at him
And I did understand

He told me all he knew
We sat there
Sat there all morning
And all I did was listen
To big tales of travelling men
And the barriers
Of trans-dimensional travel
That he Dwell had overcome
To enable his ship
To cross between worlds
And as Dwell finished
I knew what he wanted
And I started to Grin
'Please Mr Dwell, when can I move in.

I can't tell you the feeling
as Dwell pressed
one of the buttons three
We sped into the air
and were gone
Like a flash
I was unaware
of why I was so ready for it
Like an Albatross soring
above the clouds
We rose
Higher
And higher
A spinning around us
Rocked our bones
And it was then
That me
With Dwell
With Pepper
And the small dog Kato
Vanished from the sky.

I sat all around me
as the wind rose
The thick smoke of city
That filled the streets
But that was no city
I had ever seen
And As we swooped down low
I looked down
And saw the concrete metropolis
Of another world.
A worse of world than my own
For streets lined with cannons
And fire lit roads
I didn't know why
We had come to this place
'Do not fear'
Said Dwell
'This is but an echo of hell
Our destination lies
somewhere above
But what is travel without some
Things we don't love.'
And all through the day we flew and flew
With pops and bangs
And splutters and coughs
Through fields and through oceans
Past winds and villages
We swung down like a beauty
And me myself
Could feel the tap tap
From Dwell's magnificent brain
And as it grew faster
I know we would stopping soon
And sure enough
Soon we started to descend
On a small hill top above
A valley of low hung grass
And Dwell said
'This is the place'.
And I peered out at the grass
As Magician Pepper
Gestured to walking downstairs.

The hill had a light of mossy green
And all around
the wind was unchanged
As we disembarked
The sun shone so bright
Lighting up the beautiful day
Of coloured poppies
And daffodils
Of the now high up sun
In the light of maturing day
And I asked Dwell
'Why does the sun still stay so high in the sky
When worlds and nights and days have passed by?'
'Tis a strange thing indeed'
Replied he
As he he strolled through
The exquisite view
'It must be a trick
Or a practical joke'
And he gave me a wink
Before Pepper spoke
'Ah yes indeed, you see
It's just an illusion.
The sun protects good and evil
And prevents their fusion'
I did not fully understand
But what had I not
On that day.

A small wooden cottage stood
Not far away
And Dwell in his day shirt
Led us the way
Always smiling and never a frown
And I noticed all of a sudden
How happy i'd been
All day with Dwell
With these mystical friends
Alone with the nature
And hard pressed old world

The wooden door
Of the wooden hut
Stood a little ajar
And Magician Pepper
Pulled it open to show
A small frail old table
With a white table cloth
He pulled it outside
As me and Dwell watched
The sun on our necks
And grass at our feet
As Kato ran and jumped
in the field.
The table was laid
And we all sat down
And looked around
All around at the sights
Of that beautiful world
In a daze I still was
And Pepper brought out
Plates of hot and cold lunch
Meats and salads
And all things good
Hot jugs of milk
And fresh honey from bees
We sat there all day it felt
Discussing the day and our lives
And I swear
In that moment
I felt as if
Nothing could do me wrong
And I was the king
I oh so longed to be
Just to be here
Sitting with Dwell
And his team
I momentarily forgot
About the dark pit
Of my normal life
The losses I had
The dreams that I'd missed
At this time we were here
And I was king
Of this high mountain top.

And the day wondered on
And the sun started to fall
And as Dwell looked up
He almost shed a tear
As he said
'Oh such great fun we've had
On this day
But the time has indeed come
To be on our way
For the burning got sun
Is just an hourglass
And we cannot return once
It's fully passed'
So we all packed away
Our wonderful lunch
And put it all back
Into that small wooden hut
And walked all the way back
Through the now orange field
Slowly loosing light
With the progress of the dying sun.
And Pepper drove Dwell's airship
Back into the sky
And up up so high.
Before long we were back where
Soaring through worlds
Mountains and rivers
All now in the dying sun
'I do hope
you've enjoyed your day with us'
Said Dwell with a small little sigh
'It's such a shame that we must say goodbye
But we've got to keep moving and changing the world
For that is just what we do'
and it brought a tear to my
As I looked down Finally
As the sun touched
the horizon line
And I could see the lake
Where we had started.

As we landed I felt hollowed out
Hollowed out but happy
And the Bridge was there now
Pepper, Dwell and Kato
Followed me on it
And as I reached the end
Dwell took my hand
And shook it firmly in his
'What a fine day
What a lovely day
Don't worry my friend it will all be ok
For pain may hit you
And break you in two
But as long as you look up
And dream of this day
Nothing of pain
Will ever stay'
'One last question'
I said with a turn
'Anything, said Dwell'
'Your ship talks of dreams
And happiness making
But why on earth
Does it say you are tailors?'
Dwell made a laugh
and started to walk away
Pepper shook my hand
Kato gave me a bark
'Well as you know
We are the makers of dreams
The lighters of light
And stoppers of screams
It sounds so grand'
laughs old Master Dwell
'But we do fix clothes as well'
And with that
They left
And I watched as the door closed
The Zeppelin took flight
And soon was gone.
And I stared at where
It just had been
Just me
Quite alone
In the now utter darkness

and I returned up the path
Back to the grassy heap
Where the dew had now dried
I sat back down
And looked up at the moon.
I think I must have
waited up all night once more
I waited for Dwell
Even though I knew
he would not return
My day had passed
My time was up

Days passed
Then weeks
Months and years
I was a better man than
I once had been
And now every night
I stare into the sky
And think back to that day
That changed my life
And I wonder if it was real
Or just an illusion
An illusion like the lying sun
Or that Day with Dwell
And Magician Pepper
I've told the tale many times
since then
The Tale of
Dwell's infinite Paradise
I realise it is quite long.
My attempt at an 'epic' style poem.
Julie Grenness Jan 2017
Here I am, off on a trip,
Do I travel on an new airship?
Or do a take a train, not so hip?
Or do I drive my vintage car?
Or is this trip too far?
No, like Icarus the star,
I'll grow wings, better than the car,
So, no automobiles, planes or trains,
No bus, but my wings, that's plain!
Feedback welcome.
Carlo C Gomez Jul 2023
Grey skies
flying moor
storm in a teacup
gas cell 4
the clock hands are matchsticks
...
The letting go of everything
in hopes of trimming the airship
this seat is no longer taken
...
In love with a bad idea
the zeppelin and the magnetism
closing in beyond the minimum safe distance
...
Dim blue flame
a psalm of survival:
days and peoples and places
are transatlantic numbers
crawling from the wreckage
the clock hands are matchsticks
vhcgjhf Jul 2015
Jailed with all the other squawking birds
confined, it never flew and barely grew
& never knew the mimicry of words

sanguine, foul molting cockatoo in the corner
lowered, bloodied, the lowliest in a pecking order
his owner's a loner, a collector of tinged newsprint
entombed in brick & mortar - nomad minus footprint

and his birds, perched across wooden dowels
proceeded to empty their millet'd bowels
onto sheets of unfinished poetry
correctivewhiteoutmisery

so, he, being miserly, wouldn't shell out the reader's fee
to the greedy posthumous publishing company, yet
another relic in a mortuary of literacy

he was just another faceless, bearded bard
and with the old coffee grounds
he would discard
piling mounds of compost, broken bound
his compositions decomposing in the attic
warbling hiss, winding tape spool. ghosts
searching for signals amongst the static

he awaited revision of his works
ill, amidst the scattered ruins
red ink, gold leaf & carets^


he, impetuous, slumped further into his doldrums
though, all public grievances were withdrawn
crass, he prattled on to his dolorous birds
still oblivious to his defunct words

He lied dormant, comatose
in the 3rd degree infirmary

there was once a pretty lass
who could exhume the pristine
glass contents of his tinsel'd tomb
His malady, he once named Gamine
lived in a stretched-white canvas room
she eyed his burnt pile of vile-dirge verse
as mayflys & junebugs, & smoggy dirigibles
fluttered gently out of her empty purse

she grew on him like a cancer
for she was God's embellishment
pallid and perfect, and he cursed
her love as it ebbed and flowed
her aureole glowed, safely stowed
in an airship's overhead compartment

she was flying home for
there was no other answer
Michael DeVoe Apr 2016
Her kite strings are caught on a gill
She’s refusing to let go
Grains of sand have formed to hands
And are trying to hold her toe

                                No dad it’s not that
                                It’s an airship bound for Mars
                               With hands out the window
                               Waving king-sized candy bars

No son surely that’s not right
It must be a school bus full of children
With coloring pages
Half-way to all the way filled in
      
                                Dad don’t be silly
                                It’s Harold and his Purple Crayon
                                But he fell out of his balloon
                                And is trying to draw the ground

Oh no, will he make it
                                 I don’t know
I do hope he will
                                 I do think so

That’s good son
I’d hate to see him fall
                                I know dad
                                Wouldn’t we all

But you’re sure those aren’t whales
Floating through the skies
Because it sure does look like it
                                Dad!  Whales aren’t that size

                                Besides even if they were
                                What would whales be doing up there
Well, I mean they are just clouds
                                Not if you try real hard, I swear

                                                     Silly little humans there on the sand
                                                      Humphr­y, surely they’re little bugs
A collection of poems by me is available on Amazon
Where She Left Me - Michael DeVoe
http://goo.gl/5x3Tae
N Paul Mar 2018
Burning face as you
Fly off with my airship.
Diesel scorches moist lungs
Dark nostrils flare.
Raised eyes behold, dreamlike:
Your silhouette 'gainst the blushing pearl of a yawning sky.
Soundlessly you vanish beyond canopies and ken-o'-man.
Dawn slips expertly among shimmering trees to greet me with love.
"WHERE IS MY AIRSHIP!"

...

Cicadas tense to pour into a silence
Stretching like an open gullet.
Ravindra Kumar Jun 2013
Standing silent close to Kaveri reach,
Watching vary fountain which night please,
In middle blossom of unsteady plant,
Being indulge with various vision haunt.
Along the beauty dissolve my offer,
I was infatuated in love indescribable manner.

No sooner than that music flow,
All at once water sparks glow.
By ogle display confirmed pair deadly pact rest.
And put hands tide round each waist.
Within period merely couple a day,
Agree to run both on single way.

A soaring airship disturbed our pleasure
Harshly snatched her looks from arms mine forever.
There were cloudy sky near those mountain
Violent storm too approached drain out plane.
How sad was thee trip to B'lore shine,
Made vanish present as fairy tale genuine.

Perhaps, none accounts definite what would happen,
Rare enjoys life replete, many fade uncertain.
It is pre-determines every lot before hence.
The man has skilled accustom structure accordance.
While an individual's regular purity convinced Him,
Only may trial complete his crack courteous whim.

Love and *** known as supplement,
Any be effective prior in adherent,
Just satisfaction of obstinate body illustrate ***,
But love is lasting long till universe.
If a man bounds with sensual lore,
Ne'er gets limit, well! I am sure.

My love touch pride of wide majesty,
Doesn't need tedious effort advent sanctity.
Let proper close destiny matter jollifying.
Yet I shall preserve idol always undying.
Neither time could decay nor death blot,
Thy name will survive period breathes little art.
An autobiographical poem based on practical understanding of love.
it is a tangled affair
too many people talking at once

it is a messy affair
paint smudges and runs

eventually all comes clear
one having the final say on board

predictions come and disappear
quickly as the local planes

sometimes heard
not seen
here

there is a small airfield up along
the coast

once the airship came
we drove to watch

it go over

heavy

days of our life

james

days of our lives
david badgerow Mar 2015
last night when the mothership came
i slept in the trees full of night sounds and shadows
and my hair unwrapped in the wind
deciphering ancient scrolls on my eyelids

she hovered like a vulture in a clean open sky
and i awoke shivering as she swooped down
platooning over the riverbank
and i stood with my arms outstretched
at the edge of the bubbling water pit

for light years until snot icicles grew gray on my face
cringing under the great vacuum sky
and now fog whitens into morning and
i am enveloped in sun-silence
as the last three stars still flash like cities of the future

the smell of grain becomes tweezers in my nostrils
and the sun is a giant roaring furnace
burning a sense of adventure in my southern boy blood
the memory of big pale nutless creatures wearing zoot suits
escaping into the abyss from the green dawn in their classy airship

meanwhile my hairless face being polished by the wind
blind drunk on dew and awaiting salvation
lips pulling away from big white teeth and pink gums
in high song and shrill laughter
a naked schizoid of the morning warped and ****-crazy
silently dancing beckoning the universe with
telekinetic strength to bring another cosmic storm

because i am double minded in this transformed version
of myself and i will ride the electric tidal wave created
by our sweaty kiss like the sound of a trumpet
being blown as triumphant and far away as a lightning strike

i have learned to control the magic manipulate
particles in empty space and i'll ride this
luminescent rowboat under the charcoal sky
into infinity
Billy White Mar 2016
Jailed with all the other squawking birds
confined, it never flew and barely grew
& never knew the mimicry of words

sanguine, foul molting cockatoo in the corner
lowered, bloodied, the lowliest in a pecking order
his owner's a loner, a collector of tinged newsprint
entombed in brick & mortar - nomad minus footprint

and his birds, perched across wooden dowels
proceeded to empty their millet'd bowels
onto sheets of unfinished poetry
correctivewhiteoutmisery

so, he, being miserly, wouldn't shell out the reader's fee
to the greedy posthumous publishing company, yet
another relic in a mortuary of literacy

he was just another faceless, bearded bard
and with the old coffee grounds
he would discard
piling mounds of compost, broken bound
his compositions decomposing in the attic
warbling hiss, winding tape spool. ghosts
searching for signals amongst the static

he awaited revision of his works
ill, amidst the scattered ruins
red ink, gold leaf & carets^


he, impetuous, slumped further into his doldrums
though, all public grievances were withdrawn
crass, he prattled on to his dolorous birds
still oblivious to his defunct words

He lied dormant, comatose
in the 3rd degree infirmary

there was once a pretty lass
who could exhume the pristine
glass contents of his tinsel'd tomb
His malady, he once named Gamine
lived in a stretched-white canvas room
she eyed his burnt pile of vile-dirge verse
as mayflys & junebugs, & smoggy dirigibles
fluttered gently out of her empty purse

she grew on him like a cancer
for she was God's embellishment
pallid and perfect, and he cursed
her love as it ebbed and flowed
her aureole glowed, safely stowed
in an airship's overhead compartment

she was flying home for
there was no other answer
Stu Harley May 2019
upon
the airship wingspan
where
the yellow beak
herring gulls
drift
in nautical miles
and
touch the fingertips of
ocean waves
without
fear or doubt
but
rejoice in it
with
constant jubilee
where
they dwell
in
peace harmony
and
kinship
above water
above land
oh
heavenly father
praise God
Gaurav May 2018
Have you felt the tug on your nerves
Felt the constant ringing in your ears
Your hands jerking like a jelly bowl
And your forehead twisted like a wet rope
The feeling is immense
Its so deep its raw and intense
Those nagging tounges and blabbering lips
Can make you proclaim the right to ****
You twitch to maim and destory
That lingering itch to crack open a skull and enjoy

The cribber party is one of a kind
They are a mouthful and one ******* mind
Cute little dolls can be pin poked
But can the trolls ever be roped?
Hung by a nooze so tight
Given a chance you might even enjoy the sight.

Your friends out of devil's pocket may ignore you
The blueticks on your messages may avoid you
The boss will pick on you like a cheese *******
And the world will conspire and deride and jack you up.

Dont lose calm
Coz sanity once gone will give you a ****..
Your tallest of the four fingers
May be your motto for forever
You might pull of a crazy mind coup
On those pestering sons of cockroach

In the end
Its your nerves of steel that soldier on
Like an overloaded bridge under strain they hold on
Like an airship in turbulence you will ride it through
Some days are gloomy, some mornings can be sweet
Dont you let go, march on...
For there's a right to obey and a right to ****
Crazy office gossips and constant nagging made write this
Star Gazer Feb 2016
She
Rigid airships,
the way she made her hair flip,
this girl was remarkable,
the kind of face that could spark a tool,
nothing loss of impeccable.

When she winked,
titanic sized ships would sink,
and when she smiled,
people would drown themselves in the Nile.

She was the kind of light,
that you keep on at night,
the curves that made dogs bark in delight.

She was nothing short of perfect,
floating into the sky,
leaving everything she knew behind,
and that was when I saw the sign.

She was like a rigid airship,
the kind of girl that if the air was a guy she'd make the air-strip,
But all she had to do was a hair flip,
and I would have given her my life.

She was remarkable.
The kind of girl that the word beautiful,
was made for.
Ripudaman Singh Mar 2018
When suddenly life feels bleak
And memories and hopes start to leak
I can't help but wonder
What would happen until I go under

Would I get my happily ever after?
Would I get to hear her tinkling laughter?
Would someone go that extra mile
Just to make me smile?

If I wanted to share my fears
Would someone lend an ear?
A little insecure
Humour is my shield
When I feel like hiding
I wield rather than yield

My friend wrote a poem for me
That moved me to tears
I'll keep it safe
And treasure it for years

I'm a hoarder by nature
Cause I worry for the future
What if one morning
Memories start to get misty without warning
Now that I'm on this airship
Have to take precautions so I don't slip

Riches never really tempted me
It's the memories that matter
A gold pouch or a photograph?
I'd choose the latter

I want to leave a mark
Like Noah's Arc
Something to remember me by
I hope people don't call me 'that guy'

My parents' love I can't forget
Especially my mother's
I wouldn't be the person I am
If it wasn't for her

If I die
And don't get to say goodbye
Would my loved ones weep?
Would my memories in their heart keep?

I fear
That people would cheer
After all,
Who even wanted me here?

I wonder who will stay by my side
Till I'm old enough for dentures
But to those who do stay
Thank you for this adventure
JB Claywell Jun 2019
In this bluest blue
of the first morning venture
I can hear a helicopter
or a C-130 from the airbase nearby.
Yet, despite my squinting, I cannot see it.

I avert my gaze from the sky,
moving it to my front lawn
just in time to invade the dog’s privacy
as she performs her morning necessaries.

The skyward sounds intensify,
I attempt to find their source once more.
Still unable to locate said airship,
allowing my eyes to follow instructions given by my ears,
I spy a hawk riding the thermals,
perhaps looking for a rabbit to invite over for breakfast.

Able to still hear the warbird or rescue chopper,
my imagination stirs these sounds,
the vision of that sleek, hunting raptor.

How tiny his goggles, his helmet.

How deftly the hawk fires rockets from under his wings
while strafing the rabbit village with his machine guns.
They scatter
as the burrows that nested them warmly, safely in the autumn are destroyed
in flying debris and fireball.

Breakfast is served,
our thunderhawk dives to inspect the results
of his latest scrambling mission.

The dog and I weep softly as Taps plays for fallen lapin infantry.

Our own breakfast is griddling,
we turn our backs to this  morning’s madness.

The omelettes are ready,
the bread,
baked,
pulled from the oven,
the coffee is hot.  

Like rabbits we retreat
to safer quarters.

*
-JBClaywell
© P&ZPublications 2019
Abraham Esang Oct 2017
FIELD MARSHAL AT THE COMBAT FRONT
By Abraham Esang

The Field Marshal popped in with a brand new red beret
Down to the carcass-ripped front where the combat was;
Alongside with an affectionate General by his noble right hand
He established his path in the direction of the No man’s land,
Afterward a Resilient excellence Lieutenant General there they found,
And a Major General as well, to take them about.

Passing through the trench, their heads bow low,
In the direction of the attentive foe
They advanced through the dusk and the dust stink
Till the Lieutenant General muttered, “one-three-stance gulch!”
And the General repeated “one-three-stance gulch!”
And Field marshal responded-Not in gulch
“Okay, I notice it. “One-three-stance gulch!”

Once more they trooped with watchful pace,
Trailing on where the Lieutenant led
Across the damp and the gunk as well,
Till they popped into a different lateral.
They rested there in the slush and drench,
And the major general muttered “one-two-stance gulch!”
And the General repeated, “one-two-stance gulch!”
And Field Marshal nodded; “one-two-stance gulch!”

Still, as they went across marsh akin to *****
Till they popped into a neat and comfortable gulley
Good mimicry from airship
Where soldiers mounted their guns for firing command
And the Lieutenant General muttered “one-one-stance gulch!”
And the General repeated “one-one-stance gulch!”
And the Field Marshal muttered, “Okay, I notice.
How distant is the foe?”
And the affectionate General the Field Marshal questioned, questioned he,
“How distant is the foe?”
And the Lieutenant inhaled in a lower tune,
“How distant is the foe?”

The quietness placed in tons and piles
And the Lieutenant General whispered, “Just nowhere near.”
And the Major General whispered, “Just nowhere near.”
And the affectionate General repeated, “Just nowhere near.”
“Just nowhere near!” the Field Marshal swore,
“Why in god name are we muttering?”
And the Major General said in a gentle growl,
“Why in god name are we muttering?”
“Muttering?” the reverberation roar;
And the Lieutenant General muttered, “I am freezing.”
I Know Things Mar 2017
The ship still sails,
The towers forever high,
And that airship still sails through the sky.
Guess what it is about.
Xxvi+ marriage  anniversary (mine)
recalls first disastrous
date with future missus
approximately waltzing
matt tilde two dozen
plus years ago

Tex Mex Connection
201 E Walnut Street
North Wales, Pennsylvania, 19454
every entree included beans
maybe refried or otherwise

effectively laid siege
mine delicate constitution
quickly felt bloated
ready to explode
ala Hindenburg Airship

rushed out restaurant
like bat out of hell
twofold purpose accomplished
desperately needed
to eliminate gaseous buildup

airing banal courtesy
yours truly as kapellmeister
aired rendition, viz Die Fledermaus
for sphincter muscle
hence, faster than Usain Bolt

dashed out front door
plus needed to tap MAC
inadequate wallet stash cash
thus, aye hightailed to nearest ATM,
or rather courtesy ****** explosion

blasted lovely gaseous body
analogously, effectively, gravity free
whizzing, whirring, whining balloon
a bit far afield
incidental bank woe

gastrointestinal directive resolved
forced effort taxed derriere
all told alight propulsion
natural gas fueled
lovely bones within flash

far surpassing long held
Guinness Book world's record
******* the ripper former
flatulence champion claimed,
nonetheless I safely landed far

from madding crowd
analogous pulling pin
out hand grenade
gluteus maximus burnt to crisp
necessitated immediate diversion

local drug store
purchased preparation H
discreetly patted, palmed, pacified
scorched cheeky ***
suffered first-degree burns

hemorrhoid cream balm
alleviated buttuck blasts fallout
quickly reunited with my gal
slightly concerned about whereabouts
related personal anecdote

tuckus thru remains of
otherwise humdrum hours
concluding asinine antics,
where approximately

half past monkey's ***
driving lass back home
found me exerting effort suppressing
recurring rumblies in domain tumbly.

Posterior script:
the above account
unsolicited plug for satisfied patron
asper jumpstarting behind the times
buttuck blaster beastie boy.
Norbert Tasev Oct 2021
Many times he loves himself, maybe that’s why he couldn’t really learn to compare! Excited by juicy, unusual avant-garde evenings; when Papageno balances a wide lake and dreams of a Parrot tool! The porcelain face is all accidental, but its eliminable, repairable flaws aboard the crackling planks are as appealing as the everyday genre boundaries of self-love! It can only be in its own element if it is different at all costs!
 
At the suggestion of lightweight, affordable careers, the luxuriously unusual appearances that soon set in motion follow a sure-paved path of caressing blindly, congratulating them on the even bigger buck sneezes of millions of ***-licking choirs! As a delightful, redeeming good news, there is a cheap pink icing on this earth, and with its stiletto heels, it will run over itself! It offers a palatable pleasure on her superstitious blood-red lips, but only on stage!
 
As a new, succulent, bright star, the momentary, comet-lights of success linger; and if you come across a beautifying lie everywhere, you can easily imagine yourself as talented! He is still constantly expected to show Eve's bombing body with selfish exhibitionism from night to night — he can deliberately give up real happiness that can be found; guiltily, he is already smoothing his marching-thick makeup into an ashy baby's mouth, listening to his self-indulgent mood to splatter his reputation on the unnecessary drive-hunt of the tabloid media! You would love to be disgusted by yourself!
 
His design is now, even at the peak of his career, flying his airship to an ever-increasing momentum; enjoys being able to take advantage of everyone! "That's the reality of selling yourself like a *******-****** every day!

— The End —