"amock" poems
I saw joy today,
she was peeking out
from behind yonder's wall.
A passing fancy,
a snowball's chance in hell.
Give me
what you got
then move along.
Hush now,
don't say a word,
quit ***** footin' around,
get to the heart
of the matter,
lay it on me,
don't hold
nothing back.
Unfolding
as it should,
a divine plan
run amock...
God soldiers on
casting shame
on this ball-and-chain.
So pass the peas
and pop the corn,
kick your shoes off
and rest your mind
in the palms
of your hands.
Lean back
and gobble
the grapes
Spill the wine
along the way,
it's only
a bridge
heading
nowhere fast.
A slippery slope
sliding into
a fresh new suit,
no shackles
for bangles.
Take the free ride
with the price
of admission,
pay attention now,
that's the ticket.
Easy boy whoa,
whoa boy
easy now,
whoa boy whoa.
© 2013
Mar 3, 2013
Mar 3, 2013 at 7:57 PM UTC
From dust we come to dust shall we return
Ain't nowhere to hide ,nowhere to run.
Decades spent in building a whole human.
Only to disintegrate into grains of sand a million.
The ******* Waters of the ocean confined
By the intertwined fibers of the tissue fine.
Now Running amock like a colt in a meadow
With a beastlike agile motion
Yet finding its way back to the ocean.
Alas! Its Time to pay back the loan shark
The energy you borrowed from the universe so dark.
Like a quintessential burglar with some nerve.
You pilfer an ounce of that magical verve
To stow it away into memories of the sapiens by whom you were loved.
And To your ideals shall they endeavor to serve.
Dec 2, 2016
Dec 2, 2016 at 5:14 AM UTC
been a bit
detached lately
burns and cuts
running amock
waking up
face down
on the couch
reaching out
my eyes
wide closed
my hand
grabs yours
it's light
now leaving
barely seeing
dry heaving
after water
instant *****
fragmented memories
almost gone
don't
do
the digging
smoking
****
fading
out
no doubts.
Oct 26, 2014
Oct 26, 2014 at 11:06 PM UTC
I walked and walked as Basil played
bouncing towards the rushing waves.
I don't think he had seen the sea and expected to walk upon its sheen.
Such simple pleasure with his stick, his spirit free as he runs to me.
Three days on he has settled now, no sheep to tempt him to run amock.
His coat as white as the driven snow yet fear sometimes is all he shows.
Travellers long since gone, did this lurcher so much harm.
From Ruthin now to seaside town his luck has changed he's found a home.
His foster mum gave him a chance knowing one day I'd come along.
I wonder does he think in Welsh? As he runs in circles as he plays.
Wales it seems doth rule today as a soul seemed to call out to me!
This time a Gypsy of a different kind triggered something in my mind.
I don't know why or maybe I do was it Karma of spirit? Or a simple truth?
For a day swathed with memories made and smiles abound as night closes in.
Tomorrow it may have been a dream, or dawn may bring better things.
Stranger still I can't explain today I just saw good in things.
Good when for so long I'd known was the pain and cruelty that others cause.
Yet in simple words and very few, and a dogs heart I saw through.
I saw a Something I can't explain and I want it now every day.
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 9:12 PM UTC
Flightless owl
Who knows the dark corners
Of night sky like the back of his hand
His protruding eyes no longer shine
To keep this darkness aglow
Ah Sky, this mourning widow
The evil surges through her blood
And removes each star like a brushstroke
Only to leave scars all around her body
This life is poor, ******
A burning hell with no flames, no light
To keep this mess together tight!
Darkness speaks, and the owl sees.
tragedy occurs out of hand
And out of place
With no good hands to keep it safe
With no trace to track
This world runs amock
Oh this pain never ends.
And sky cries ever louder..
Tina RSH ©
Aug 16, 2017
Aug 16, 2017 at 9:11 AM UTC
Some say the sonnets a dead form ¦ on yellowed pages and booklets torn,
Pentarchy shed and slain, replaced ¦ by memes I'm bicc, dat boi, he based
In synaptic pools, and neural spools, ¦ with cool *** claws, and digital jewels;
we set as one, booked up our sole ¦ while tindr/grindr take their toll
On sultry pages cast to withered dust ¦ while leaves left golden crust,
the muttered lines unbound escape ¦ to Tengri's starry 'voided gape
I think I am, I am I think, ¦ with wink and shirk and nod and drink
and cough, we splutter NoStros verse ¦ as fiery Gaia suffers curse
But then again, who are but we? ¦ a single sound, a drop in sea,
a dangling solace sharp in key, ¦ a lonesome sold for wired fee
When finally, undone we are ¦ our freedom sold, our chains bizzarre;
I'm caught between two planes that part ¦ a Second Life, and First (too dark)
So when again we sit and talk ¦ and fill the space with idle balk;
I'll notice parts of you I've missed ¦ and seek a comfort long dismissed
So when again we meet and stray ¦ to thoughts of hidden brevity;
I'm happy knowing it's just me ¦ Unhappiness my major key.
So finally, I'll try again ¦ to feel the pain, the roots and then
Pretty Pimpin? Scrimpin' life amock¦ Sat at home with screen and sock.
Dec 27, 2017
Dec 27, 2017 at 5:59 AM UTC
A bad man's running his mouth,
talking of God and all sorts of things,
saying justice comes to tear down
all the sins and evils of this world,
claims he knows it,
oh, he knows it,
he claims he'd bring down
all those wretched souls
and hand them some accountability;
ah yes, a bad man's running,
running away,
jumping through hoops
trying so **** hard to hide
from justice,
mmhm,
cause a bad man's running his mouth,
running away from the wrongs he condemned
mere hours ago,
talking about how much he hates
a man like that,
a man like him,
and how much he'd love to show them,
show them,
show them how to be a bad man like him
and masquerade as equity and virtue,
talk a load of croc and take the plunge
with a face so unlike
these marauders,
or so he says,
he always says,
always littering the world with his voice,
his mumbled, garbled,
running mouth;
he wants to tell you
that he'd take his knife to a man
who dared to try you,
feel you,
oh, he says,
as he takes what he wants on his own.
A bad man's running,
running amock in this silent town,
disregarding good deeds,
taking it upon himself
to play the Janus.
Nov 5, 2018
Nov 5, 2018 at 9:49 PM UTC