"armband" poems
The strike of the rainbow warriors
After a few hours in the dark cages of horror we suddenly see a sharp light in the sky of evil. The golden goddess notices another ship coming towards the devils spike city.
At that moment the orange and black pirates run towards their ships in dock and sound a long dark horn of terror. The golden goddess notices a large rainbow type ship sailing in firing laser rays at the pirates vessels of evil.
The ship sets into the dock of spike city while some remaining pirates get cut down and captured with blue laser nets of torture. Our eyes open with horror when rainbow type creatures with bows and arrows jump out of the ship and circle our cages of horror.
A few of the black pirate in the purple bushes try and shoot the rainbow warriors but get cut down with their laser fast arrows. The commander of the rainbow warriors suddenly jumps down from the ship and lifts up the cages with power and ease while the warriors round up the captured pirates.
I comfort a shaking luitent megs while the commander shakes our hands before releasing the other golden warriors from their dark cage. The horses bow their heads towards the commander while the golden goddess looks with hope in her beaten heart.
All of a sudden two rainbow warriors march out a swearing and aggressive woman holding a long jagged sword and pirates armband. The rainbow warriors quickly zap her evil body and hold her down tightly . The golden goddess goes over for a better look while her long tongue of nails cuts of a warriors head off with ease.
The rainbow warriors chop her evil tongue off with a swipe of the rainbow sword before pinning her to the cold ground. two of the warriors then begin to peel her black dress of horror off while other rainbow braves flock around.
A curious golden goddess peeps though for a better look while the warriors are undoing her small black studded bra of terror. The goddess looks on with a smile and twinkle while she screams in anger at her ******* bouncing in the dark cold night.
All of a sudden the commander comes inside the circle of torture and begins removing her devilish red ******* while the warriors cheer and scream. The golden goddess looks on with a content smile while the warriors chop her body up into bit with their glowing swords.
After a few minutes the rest of the pirates are shot and executed with laser bouts while we all sit watch with open mouths of horror. The commander then takes us aboard the rainbow ship of safety while the pirates come back to evil spike city with four more pirate ships of torture.
We all sail across the red evil sea towards a big large rainbow in the glowing yellow sky whilst being followed by two black pirate ships. Once we reach through the rainbows end we begin to notice the water turning bright pink and the pirate ships turning back towards the red river of horror.
A relived golden goddess turns towards her army and smiles while we we all jump about on the rainbow ship of safety. I hold luitent megs tight in my arms while the green moon sets across the blue landscape in the distance.
written by wayne mockler
ownership and copyright wayne mockler
Apr 25, 2020
Apr 25, 2020 at 2:34 PM UTC
Where is death today?
Busily hiding the bodies,
Or hunched beside a car loosening wheel bolts,
Placing a dark hand over a traffic light,
Squeezing the shotgun trigger,
Or strapped in a wheelchair
Disguised as a patient and wheeling rapidly around the hospital wards,
Removing the soap.
Or maybe cycling down the motorway
The large black cloak neatly bundled into the waistband
Right trouser leg tucked into a black sock
A bone poking out the toe
The Reaper strapped to the bicycle crossbar
Blade hanging to the rear
But not obscuring the red reflector
Wearing Kevlar gloves when handling the scythe
And Vis a Vest neatly tied with a bow
At the very least a reflective armband.
Or possibly fixing a puncture on his way to my home...Bad form then
On arrival should I greet with “Come in, you look perished! ”
Discuss the weather as a distraction
I could offer new socks
Like every interview this might not go well.
Jun 4, 2017
Jun 4, 2017 at 7:50 PM UTC
Not a day in your life, war have your eyes witnessed
You lay safe, secure, in your ignorant pocket of peace
But their memories play before your eyes and their nightmare dance on your eyelids
The chop of the fan blades remind you of the planes, menacing overhead and dropping fire from the sky
The popping of kernels from the microwave wring forth panic-- Duck! They’re shooting! Duck for cover, you fool!
The book, it merely fell, but was it truly a book? Or was it the boom of an artillery cannon?
Screams of glee mingle into screams of pain. Your best friend, why don’t you reach out and save him? He’s only a few yards away. He’s in such pain, don’t let him die alone. Don’t let him die like this. Don’t let him die.
Stepping in the puddles makes your skin crawl. You remember their blackened skin, rotted flesh. You step out of the water quickly.
The open water is calm. Peaceful. Under the surface you can see them, the submarines. You move away from the shoreline.
Your friend, hugging you from behind-- it’s their hand, just their hand. There was never a knife. They are your friend. Or are they?
The memories. They’re not yours. Whose are they? Why do they tremble like tenor in your mind, ingrained in your DNA?
The blood on your hands is not there, open your eyes!
The jungle, the desert, the forest, the wasteland. You’re not there, you were never there.
The blood on your hands is not there, open your eyes!
Now the dark, it's suffocating. This is not your world of cracking rawhide and dirt. You were not there, this is not your reality. That white jacket should not make your breath hitch! That burning cross should not terrorize you so!
Now the dark, it's suffocating. This is not your world of fabric stars and canvas trucks. You were not there, this is not your reality. That red armband should not make your breath hitch! That fire should not terrorize you so!
Not a day in your life has this world brought its ugly head to look you dead in the eye and breath upon you, noxious breath liquefying your lungs and dissolving your eyes.
You are safe-- that blood on your hands is not real-- you are safe-- this is not your reality-- how it terrorizes you so!
These memories are not your own.
These memories are not your own.
These memories are not your own.
They are theirs, their memories, and you see them every time you close your eyes.
These memories are not your own.
These memories are not your own.
These memories are not your own.
They are not yours and they never will be.
Dec 30, 2016
Dec 30, 2016 at 3:42 PM UTC
I washed my hair for the first time in three weeks and
learned to stop walking on tiptoes
I am the bitter taste at the back of your throat.
Some nights, I turn on every light in the house and sit awake picking skin
from my chapped lips
I am full-circle and puncture wounds.
I wanted to be the girl to wear her heart on her sleeve but
my armband was embroidered with a ********
I was misinformed. Romanticised.
There isn't romance in 4am shudders, in skin stuck to the teal sofa or the sweat between my
shoulder blades. In yellow stained fingers nicotine or black stained lungs tar.
For protection, I tried pouring a ring of salt - and found myself
sitting cross-legged on the floor
rubbing salt into my wounds
No ritual can protect me from myself.
Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 12:07 PM UTC
Glorious hills,
Hall of fame.
Cheap thrills,
God of the Game.
How did I get here?
Shipwrecked boat,
Undiscovered land.
Sore throat,
Parched and bland.
It came from above,
Woken by the sun.
By the sight of a dove,
My training begun.
I fought beasts,
I ran till I could run no more,
I challenged chiefs,
I won the war.
My ordeal had not ended,
It had literally just begun.
My road was not apprehended,
By myself or anyone.
I surfed waves,
I braved the whirlpool.
I plunged into the ocean caves,
To recover the infamous jewel.
I climbed the mountain,
Silent and still.
At the peak lay a fountain,
Ready to spill.
The water enlightened me,
I was ready to fight.
Nothing could stop me,
As I flew into the night.
At long last I was home,
Captain's armband.
In this very stadium dome,
I will create history by my very own hand.
Aug 15, 2018
Aug 15, 2018 at 9:05 AM UTC
The queen of the coffee house
Sips away at her hot drink,
Looking quite royal as she banters
With her equally regal girlfriend.
She sports a Greek goddess armband
And the dress of a Spanish gypsy.
The queen of the coffee house
Wears a pendant of gold
Which rests halfway between
Her belly button and her chin,
Nestled neatly among
Curly locks of sunshine.
The queen of the coffee house
Reclines on hillsides at sunset,
Stretched across Persian linens,
Eating pomegranates and vines of grapes,
Whispering sonnets into the wind,
And strumming French folk tunes on an antique ukulele.
Actually, the queen of the coffee house
Appears to be a business major,
With such words as “stock” and “invest”
And “income” and “finance”
Bleeding across the room from her table.
So much for the whole gypsy thing.
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 10:47 PM UTC
I am in mourning.
I am regularly in tears.
I mourn the death of freedom
That we thought we had for years.
I mourn the death of patriotism
In an America once so great.
It has been replaced with bigotry,
Overtly replaced by hate.
I mourn the death of my country
That I used to be so proud of.
IT has been slapped int he face
By a storm troopers’ mailed glove.
I mourn the advent of cultism
Where due process is a crime.
I am so sad to see this land
Step back seven decades in time.
I wear a black armband now
To signal the loss of leadership.
Our land had taken up the cause
Of letting rights to equality slip.
I have lost almost all my serenity,
My sadness interrupts my sleep.
I try hard to rise above this fear
But the hatred runs too deep.
We have suffered fools before
In the office of our President.
We had so many years of madness
To picket, protest and resent.
But this time there is open hatred
For well over half our population.
I bow my head and cry out loud
For this dark time in our poor nation.
Nov 11, 2016
Nov 11, 2016 at 2:45 PM UTC
A sink bucket
Today I forgot to buy milk, black coffee in the morning it is so
easy to remember the past it shines like jewels lost.
It was the winter of 1964, it was dark my brother carried
a big sink bucket and I a smaller one, we were on our way to
the coal depot to- if we found a hole in the fence- to steal coal.
We were caught by a man who wore an armband of the new
people in command and they were taking no nonsense from
anyone least of all seven years old thieves.
I have often seen that you put a uniform on someone who
who never had power and they behave like little ****** sprats.
On the way home with two empty buckets we came across
a wooden fence that had partially fallen down we took as many
planks as we could carry and had a warm Christmas Eve
Jun 20, 2017
Jun 20, 2017 at 4:54 AM UTC