Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
"balthazar" poems
Tossing the pigskin Burrowing and displaying the Ostrich effect All applause for the chairman of the board of trustees And all the spiddle on his back up shirt Mortify them An incomplete pass Rally the troops For unfinished business Shift gears Reread the post script "P.S.  The unzipped flies of store owners trying to replicate the success of their fathers. Piddle about, play with implements of torture, instruments of destruction. Wander in the wilderness, grunt and sigh as your civilized brain rattles. Make way for Plan B, and fill out the forms in triplicate. Fumbling at the controls, emergency landing. The gear shift and crankshaft have given out. Listen to the titillating chatter of the disappointed passengers who all longed for the window seat. Always your's Edmund Balthazar " Take two I could slap you
0
Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 8:59 PM UTC
Thanks Mailman!
it terms of orchestration, wiring latin to english using the latins' alphabet, and advocating a different movement of the knight to the queen in placement, biased on the chequers given the |, it might be that in latin the grammatician would say postponed words were designated the categorisation of adjective if trafficked purely on the right... but in english interpretation of latin, with the surviving alphabet... and the missing burnt out eyes of balthazar seeing written hebrew like king chalres iii seeing cyryllic... what if... what if in terms of | alice decided, through the mirror, that adjectives became nouns and nouns took on the noumenon form of being omni-grammatical in terms of allowances of usage to trans / to transverse? this is how sophistry happens on the “sly:” the crusades... eh eh eh... em em em...i i i i... such eloquence for the proper elocutions before the world actually revolved... it’s called the onomatopoeia of thought... it should sound like it’s scripted... but it’s not scripted... instead it’s a scarred thought that might have sounded an octave above the mezzo; well... at least both of us sung the song... whatever medium was discriminated at less whether that be kareoke (the japanese word for mime) or poetry; anyway... i learned to stutter and think of toes like twinkle twikle litter star... how i wonder what you could articulate with einstein cracking the nursery rhyme for an equation that dazzled everyone in the symphonium of ceaceless ahs and sighs before red october revolved into the futures of the november revolution of '89 / grey november they called it... they gave us treaties for the autobahn in colour... and it turned out to mingle the echo black and the voiced white... in a medium that only desired quies genesis.
0
Nov 23, 2015
Nov 23, 2015 at 9:37 PM UTC
vide cor meum / quies genesis
it terms of orchestration, wiring latin to english using the latins' alphabet, and advocating a different movement of the knight to the queen in placement, biased on the chequers given the |, it might be that in latin the grammatician would say postponed words were designated the categorisation of adjective if trafficked purely on the right... but in english interpretation of latin, with the surviving alphabet... and the missing burnt out eyes of balthazar seeing written hebrew like king chalres iii seeing cyryllic... what if... what if in terms of | alice decided, through the mirror, that adjectives became nouns and nouns took on the noumenon form of being omni-grammatical in terms of allowances of usage to trans / to transverse? this is how sophistry happens on the “sly:” the crusades... eh eh eh... em em em...i i i i... such eloquence for the proper elocutions before the world actually revolved... it’s called the onomatopoeia of thought... it should sound like it’s scripted... but it’s not scripted... instead it’s a scarred thought that might have sounded an octave above the mezzo; well... at least both of us sung the song... whatever medium was discriminated at less whether that be kareoke (the japanese word for mime) or poetry; anyway... i learned to stutter and think of toes like twinkle twikle litter star... how i wonder what you could articulate with einstein cracking the nursery rhyme for an equation that dazzled everyone in the symphonium of ceaceless ahs and sighs before red october revolved into the futures of the november revolution of '89 / grey november they called it... they gave us treaties for the autobahn in colour... and it turned out to mingle the echo black and the voiced white... in a medium that only desired quies genesis.
Continue reading...
26
This pain that's in my heart Runs deep to my soul. In which the devil has taken hold To keep until I ask for it. But I don't want it back. Balthazar can have it For lunch or supper to keep forever more Because hell is better than this. They don't pretend to be devils there Or crush your soul. They do it knowingly And I'd ask for more. I'll take it because this is better Than your sycophantic friendship. I am trapped, imprisoned With hateful people and such sins That god won't recognise. Those angels he delivered have gone rogue. They discovered **** and ethanol. ******* bloodstains and ****** They ask, just beg and plead. But I don't give forgiveness so easily. Get off your knees. You won't be here long. They're taking you down to room 101. I'll see you later, for better or worse And we will see what is gone first. Mind or mouth, Tongue or toes? Arms and legs, Or just your nose?
0
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 10:29 PM UTC
The Devil's inside me
To Where Tyrolean aurochs graze in cools of lapis prairie , I have come, In A Balthazar of star- led zeal, my scarlet hunter flown from urban zodiacs of anxious ports, of ailing townships steaming in their millioned yellow orders, shackled sick beneath the mountain's boot. Through dim grimmiores of softwood press I sleeve, In sympathies of woad to glean the narrative of under_ storey, bourne to earn my Eagle . I chance to know the trip of wind kissed, sinuous on beaufort scales balanced on a fingers edge to turn October into wine.
0
Oct 20, 2017
Oct 20, 2017 at 6:53 PM UTC
Headland
your mouth is open, words settling in your throat like all those memories you’ve shared and all those times you’ve thought about him, and nothing comes out. your tongue is a home for all the things unsaid and your ears a shelter for all the things unheard. there is a black sky— small lights prickle the velvet; bones and flesh and blood lie beneath it and he’s in your arms and you’re home. you wish he knew, you wish he could just take your brain your heart your entire being so he knows it’s real so he knows you love him. and maybe, just for now you forget about everything that holds you back and tell him how much you care because his guitar strings might as well be your heart and it tugs, heavily; as long as you’re together you can do anything, you love and live and everything in between. you’re with him and you are a bird flying because you know that if you leave him, you’ll still come back.
0
Dec 29, 2015
Dec 29, 2015 at 11:06 AM UTC
let's not waste (a peter & balthazar poem)
The final surge of innocence floods A Catalan January night. Candy is caught in prams and hoods Sticky soles kick and fight. The town walks home, on cloud nine With dreams of gifts and fads; My daughter’s hand slips from mine - her friends are not with dads. She'll pour a Scotch and cut some cake To keep the camels warm, As every year the routine rolls, Except the smile that says she knows The last Magi forsook his star. Adéu, forever, to Balthazar.
0
Jan 14, 2019
Jan 14, 2019 at 6:38 AM UTC
The Last King
Hi baby bread O' life so sweet My joy you lay on hay of wheat Hi Mary uptight yet so coy Your eyes soar high and heart so buoy Hi man beside the baby dear Why the' look with so much fear? He's the light of all the lights Sent on earth with Gods delight Let the world sing Gloria Sing his praise hallelujah The king of kings born The might of sin is torn Lo, herdsmen I'm lords messenger A good-news borne I'm due here At Bethlehem in Judea A King of kings' born A king for Israel you own Go, find him on a manger Past fence and pens and cages Beside the Inns' passages Let me greet the three; you sages Seeking Lord for some ages Caspar, Melchior, Balthazar Come follow the guiding star Bring frankincense, myrrh and gold To gift the glory of the lord The journey moves on symphony Will end with Lord's epiphany The king of kings born The might of sin is torn Let’s sing his glory and praise And set smiles on every face Let the world sing Gloria Sing his praise hallelujah The king of kings born The might of sin is torn
0
Dec 21, 2019
Dec 21, 2019 at 5:14 AM UTC
O Baby Bread of Life- A Christmas Gift