"beasties" poems
the rude gesture when one seeks the inelegant simplicity of
no words;
no words
suffice to say,
magnitude of some offenses requires physicality;
a physicality that injures nothing but the
surrounding atmosphere of
its pride
for it’s pride
that goeth before the fall,
the pursuit of dishonor and dishonoring,
given that,
it shames the giver as much if not more so
dishonor
for words are our truest masters
I'd rather you gave a round shout out of
**** you,
for as the parents say these days
use your words
rather than show me your
nail chewed runty midfielder
ah, words...I do so love them beasties
May 8, 2018
May 8, 2018 at 1:00 PM UTC
The tavern roof was smokey
with a pall of blueish ash.
The juke box was a- booming
as it played "The Monster Mash".
A giant puffed a burning witch
whilst smoke rings he exhaled....
While victims of our neighbor,
Vlad...on stakes were all impaled.
The Faceless Man was grinning...
from ear to missing ear.
The hanged man turned his twisted neck
to sip a mug of beer.
The Headless Horseman shouted
for an aspirin or three.
He popped them down his gullet
where his head was meant to be.
The zombies waited tables
and the werewolf tended bar.
Mothra was the carhop
and took orders car to car.
Godzilla worked the griddle
and served burgers ala carte.
Dracula complained about the steak
caught in his heart.
Ghosts and ghouls were dancing
with abandon on the stage
While cyborgs did "the robot"
'cause they thought it was the rage.
The mummy came unraveled
as we took him for a "spin"
As Frankenstein played tuba
to contribute to the din.
Igor brought "the monster"
and then Freddie brought his claw.
Jason brought his butcher knife
and his buddy from "The Saw".
The guillotine was working
and the raven refereed
So nevermore would pardons
be
allowed to intercede.
The pendulum was swinging
to the beating of my heart.
I hoped that I would wake up soon...
then did so...with a START!
Halloween is coming. So, I guess
I should prepare.
Watch out for bars with men from Mars...
'cause BEASTIES party there!
Oct 23, 2017
Oct 23, 2017 at 6:45 AM UTC
"There are animals in the road"
the traffic reporter said
"We're not told what they are
find another route instead"
And so I got to wondering
though I wasn't going that way
what the mystery beasties were
that were on the road that day
Were they a herd of wildebeeste
who took a wrong turn on the veldt
or perhaps a wayward mule train
delivering some sacks of spelt
Maybe a team of trainee reindeer
diverted from the North Pole
or a bunch of llamas from Peru
that fell through a wormhole
Or bears, or wolves, or lions
could be zebras or kangaroos
surely not beached aquatic mammals
or elephants trumpeting the blues
Exotic beasts seemed unlikely though
it was more likely cattle or sheep
though it could have been migrating badgers
moving goalposts somewhere safe to keep
Cynthia Pauline Jones, 27/10/13
Mar 18, 2014
Mar 18, 2014 at 8:36 AM UTC
.
Watching the rise and the fall of a kingdom
Walls once rebuilt again tumble the ground
Allowing the beasties free reign in the village
Bellowing out o’er the wickedest sound
Pacing the streets, seeking out bits of garbage
Leaving their stains on the innocent few
Leering in windows where children are hiding
Tender young things and so easy to chew
Thieves in the night lurk about come the morning
Stealing the sun at the break of the dawn
Drinking of sewage a’ flow in the gutters
Checking off names as the many are gone
Peering ‘round corners, down alleys, in shadows
Seeking the favor of all who do grieve
Laughing in spite of the torment now growing
Licking their lips in the hope you believe
Roaming in groups so the followed outnumber
Say what you will for the king does not hear
Lost in his throne made of mirrors that flatter
Shivering, cowering, caving to fear
Deaf to the villagers asking for reason
Blind to the pillage befalling this land
Dumb, well I guess that just goes without saying
Nary a care what the people demand
Feasting on turkey, potatoes and gravy
Raising a glass to the enemy proud
Taking a stand against those who support him
Locking the front doors while yelling aloud
***“Carry your torches, your pitchforks, your honor
It matters not for this evil shall win
Even when gone there are echoes of anger
Lingering on till they come back again
Give them your all, what you’ve poured your heart into
Down on your knees, bow to them one and all
Step over rock and the piles of rubble
This castle will stand even when the walls fall
Shout all you like as no change is forthcoming
Accept it or flee, you think I give a ****
When you are gone many more will replace you
Now pass those peas and a slice of that ham”***
So roam the beasties, their teeth ever sharpened
Fanning the flames as so many are burned
Tearing apart what the people envisioned
Silly to think that they somehow had learned
Nothing so happy with no ever after
Always the same, it will happen again
But unlike some other long winded stories
Sadly in this I can not say “the end”
Watching the rise and the fall of a kingdom
Walls once rebuilt again tumble the ground
Thankfully I can peruse from a distance
Witnessing all without hanging around
Jul 8, 2016
Jul 8, 2016 at 9:25 AM UTC
Dance me down to the railroad tracks
Where we used to walk at night and
Test God (or at least the trains) to prove
That we were young, strong, beautiful,
Alive and deserved to be so. We’d
Wait until the stars fled from our eyes
And the rickety planks under our feet
Quaked in fear of stronger demons.
Our ears pricked like risky rabbits,
Our feet stamping instinctively, wanting
To run, to burrow under, to be gone
From danger and the smell of smoke.
But we were no lapine cowards, we had
No fear of rattling tracks. Holding hands,
We’d stand our ground until the whistle
Screamed blood and fire and death at us.
We’d roar heart and lightning and life
Right back, blinded by that light on the
Black grill. Shining in our eyes, we’d
Realize that even immortal beasties
Can go blind looking at God’s face.
We pushed each other back beyond
The deadly track on either side. My
Eyes grew wide every time we tumbled
Backward onto safer things. Watching
Your fall was like sunrise, and I swear
When we tasted heaven, you had wings.
Feb 3, 2011
Feb 3, 2011 at 6:40 PM UTC
D
r
i
p
D
r
i
p
D
r
o
p
This safe little bubble
is about to
P O P!
You better watch out,
or the beasties will get you
They’ll dig in their teeth and you’ll
S C R E A M
No one, no one, no one can hear you SCREAM!!!!
Isn’t it so sad?
You cry, but no one sees the saltwater sorrow streaking your face
and they just can’t hear the sound of your heart
thudding to a sudden stop
as your body goes numb
Blissful numb, can you stay in the dark?
“No, no, no!”
The voice attacks and digs electric probes into your chest
ZAP!
“Wake up!”
ZAP!!
“Wake up!”
ZAP!!!
“Please, please, please, wake up!”
But I’m in so much pain,
you try to say
Can’t you see this is easier than trying to stay?
Oh, no, I didn’t want to hurt you this way!
Fresh tears f
a
l
l
d r i p p i n g on the floor like the blood just did
Your blood, keeping you warm and alive and feeling and hurting
and you didn’t want to feel anymore
So you forgot that you had a heart and soul
You forgot that you hold so many hearts in your hands
You forgot that someone still cares
You forgot that someone still needs you there
You forgot
how to
breathe.
The machine breathes for you as you open your eyes
The golden sunlight pokes through the blinds
Highlighting the face of the one who holds you dear
Fast asleep, but face still screaming fear
And you realize why you still live:
You still hold someone’s heart in your hands,
and you must never, ever let it fall
and shatter against the cold concrete
Where chalk lines told you where to jump
Where the neighbor’s dog died after you pulled his crushed body out of the road
Where a fresh first kiss shocked your heart, and more followed after
And where you tried not to cry as you said one more goodbye
How long ago was that, that last goodbye?
Hello and goodbye,
you suddenly start to cry
The sunlight lights up the opening eyes
Of the one you hold dear
The one whose heart you still hold
Oh, you’re so glad
to say hello.
“I’m here.”
Mar 9, 2016
Mar 9, 2016 at 7:23 AM UTC
Lunch!
Diminutive organic beasties.
The beings not of humankind.
They love them or they hate them.
You can never over rate them.
Not really Belgian.
But make some Flemish (phlegmish).
Rather sick.
Those sprouts from Brussels.
I say yummy.
The swede is not from Sweden but yo ** **
I love it so.
Turnips, so very lush as long as not boiled to mush.
Roasted is much better.
With butter and pepper.
Forget the meat.
Forget the spuds.
Bring me in a platter of veg.
With piping hot gravy.
Maybe I'm so cheap to feed.
Because I need no meat.
Not a vegetarian.
Just love veggies for my tea.
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Dec 23, 2013
Dec 23, 2013 at 2:58 PM UTC
Welcome home, beasties
Welcome back to the rooms
that you've carved into the hollows of my brain.
Welcome home, beasties
I've missed the sounds
of you screaming and stomping.
Welcome home, beasties
I'm glad to welcome you back
to the thin water slides of my veins.
Welcome back, beasties
Did you learn the definition
of sarcasm while you were away?
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 1:45 PM UTC
Are you not what i always wanted ?
if so, i am thankless and crib death mysterious.
i am ****** and clarity
if you are not to be
what's mine.
you are confounding compounded. a rough in the smooth crime.
a jinx in my saving grace... and a loon.
if it be so, that we cannot connect
then let me set my sparrows to arrowheads
and fell the beasties of my wayward
skylarking -
so they may know a noble death in mid-flight
where the downward
and the Midnight are -
eyes, still chirping absurd love
at your dissonance
with cold
blessings.
but give me this.
keep my hands in your robbery.
intertwine my fingers to lay prints
on whatever you stole from god.
let me share the fall
and the fault
so that we may yet share
a single living
Sting.
elsewise,
the ruin and the peck
is only your wound
chirping
and my song is mute
as a victim
in a flock
of ill.
or a grain of hope
in a scarecrow's
eye.
Jun 28, 2014
Jun 28, 2014 at 12:56 PM UTC
6:45
the silence is deafening...
It hurts my ears...
Not the chirp of a bird
or a single uttered word
have quelmed my fears
i long for the amorous growl
and i wish the lonely howl
would entertain my head...
the blankness is blinding
theres no colors for finding
what the hell are colors?
I vaguely remember, like the others
when i used to see, i remember not much
but i remember the beasties, like foxes and such
prancing before my eyes in seductive dance
and they played my eyes into a wondrous trance.
i let their paws set to wander
let their smiles grow fonder
and dizzy my eyes until i came
to and they were gone. The blankness is the same.
What's this?! A sound?!
Has it come?! Have i found?!
I answer the text with a simple "el oh el"
push the send button and say what the hell.
6:46
the silence is deafening...
Jun 3, 2012
Jun 3, 2012 at 2:29 AM UTC
What might we find if there were no lessons needing
learning,
no bait to not wait for ever to be
re
alized in the blink of an eye,
likka polish, a gloss
light flash active
pop
The shining being more subtile than any beast, eh?
You gnowad eyemean, o yew don'.
Once more, book of life with us in it, as words
and nada mas,
reconciled via bluetooth, keys to kingdoms
flow from my finger tips,
knocks are-were an swered swern sworn in a-mode, e-mode
zero-mode
ah, modern linguistics link us back the Burns and
wee beasties makom plans,
happy natal day misstress riddell
"'Tis done!" says Jove; so ends my story
Aug 13, 2020
Aug 13, 2020 at 5:54 PM UTC
My space ship ran out of control.
Hit planet Earth and made a hole.
Found myself in a forest.
Little beasties running free.
Some of the last ones left I'm told.
My comrades from space told me, or at least that's what I think they said.
Heard crazy monkeys making echoing sounds.
I started walking across the forest floor.
Walked and walked and walked some more.
I got to a clearing.
There I found a war of a peculiar kind, a little unfamiliar.
Strange creatures wearing weird clothes.
Looking a little like space folks in the highest fashion trends.
Very bright and colourful within their PPE.
Walked a little further henceforth, encountered death.
Thousands of poorly beings, awaiting **** or cure.
I wasn't sure what on earth was going on.
Got to too close and now I'm one.
A sickly being sneezed at me.
Covered me in other unmentionable body fluids.
Now although I'm feeling rather ill.
Had to get back to my spaceship while still I could.
A couple of hours of rapid repair.
Fired her up away from there.
Ebola became universal.
(C) LIVVI
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 4:56 AM UTC
Noah Saved The Day!
And so the wind and rain they blew.
Combination of cold and wet.
Noah,
Man of bible fame.
Scratched his head.
Somewhat bereft,
For he was left.
With animals only a few.
Those he found.
Were stuck in the zoo.
Built his ark to keep keep them safe.
From deluge of unholy storm.
Went to try and rescue them .
But the warders would not let him in.
They had the keys.
But, would not free.
The beasts from their sorry burden.
Instead sweet Noah scratched his head.
Oh what is he to do.
Had a thought in a fleeting moment in time.
That he'd save me and you.
The loathsome beasts.
He loved not much.
Decided in his heart of hearts.
That man needed a second chance.
Could not find no other men to come along.
All at work or not at home.
So off he went to his house.
Where he did find,
Tiny his pet mouse.
Also found his budgerigar.
Put the two beasties in his car.
And drove off to his luxurious yacht.
Laugh out loud.
As that it was not.
Just a junk made out of driftwood.
With barnacles on it's bottom.
Set sail onto the seven seas.
As he left dockside.
He saw you and me.
Changed his course.
Back to the dockside.
Picked us both up.
Off we went for the ride.
And still we drift.
Me and you,
Noah, the mouse and the budgerigar.
Last vision seen a floating car!
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Dec 15, 2013
Dec 15, 2013 at 6:54 AM UTC
I have always loved the darkest tales,
those Grimm stories of old.
Lives not lived lightly.
Lives in despair.
The constant desire for gold.
Lost in the forest.
Locked in a turret.
Left behind on the road.
Abandoned to all the
Wild Beasties there,
Witches, Ogres and Toads.
What becomes of those innocent babes
as each tale unfolds?
Some end up happy.
Some end up dead.
Some we shall never know.
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 9:57 AM UTC
#1
All the little beasties
Writing to-and-fro
Playing with symbologies
Like veggies in a row
Thinking their importantcy
Of self is Oh! so So!
Building meals with condiments
(but where'd the sandwich go?)
#2
Most things do not want to rhyme.
Take, for example, Space, and Time.
They do not have a common syntax,
Only a parallax entrusted
To one another
Like home-fries at the Waffle House,
Smothered and splattered and covered... Encrusted.
Jan 22, 2011
Jan 22, 2011 at 8:20 PM UTC
Yesterday
I found
an old water-damaged,
hand-calligraphied,
framed prayer
in a second hand shop.
I stopped
dead in my tracks
when I saw it.
It immediately
took me back
to my younger days,
when Dad would read me Poe.
And now it hangs
over my cabin-bed
& brings me
some measure of comfort.
"From ghoulies and ghosties,
and long-leggetied beasties,
and things that go bump in the night,
Good Lord deliver us"
Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 10:13 AM UTC
The word Friendship is hard, painful, mean and not fair
But if you treat it with care then the word friendship is the lullaby that sings you to sleep it can be a poll when your bout to mold but its not a fairytale that can be told because no on can see it but you.
One minute you look into their eyes you see hope and dreams that are at float.
I can’t explain friendship in any language or act
For a fact I know that a friend brings
Pain into your heart
It stabs you over and over again like a dart it cuts it open in half you cry your alone but why keep hanging on for just another cut why stay there when there is only a rock in your girlfriends heart
How you wish to go back wishing bigger and laughing louder pretending like you don’t give a **** or being beasties for the whole world to see
How can someone’s eyes have love and care but behind them there scared and untruthful.
You can’t delete the memories, you cant forgot the time they were there when no on else was or being that person who kept loving you back and forth.
And when they call your name you smile even thou it doesn’t reach those tearing eyes and how easy it can be to trust them and believe again.
If a tear goes down that cheek or your heart is a water creek then why hold on to the memories why not delete the last part of them.
The answer you were trying to find is not that easy to seek.
Because deleting theses memories would just make the memories bleak and cold and set to stone.
Cutting my hart ripping it apart is not a game I would like to compete in. you can stab me hurt me and be untruthful towards me but the thing that makes keep holding on is why you leave a tear in my heart. Every time you rip my heart apart with those hands every time you leave a scar you always leave a tear because leaving is not as easy as you want it to be . it never seems like there still there but when I ask you the question why keep holding on why do you clutch your heart and say I’m never going to leave because there is a tear a cut and scar left on my heart for me to remember the times we stayed up and cried the days were we laughter till we died the deals the future was speeding by and the only thing we had left of each other is my ripping dripping soul that sings my favorite lullaby my girlfriends heart.
May 26, 2012
May 26, 2012 at 8:48 AM UTC
burning rain forests
wild animals with shrinking space to live
growing air pollution
smog in major cities
more than 3,5 million deaths
due to respiratory diseases
global warming
new insects and other beasties
in the formerly cooler regions
extreme hurricanes rainstorms heatwaves
excessive use of fertilizers by agro-industries
bees are dying
blossoms are left unpollinated
biodiversity is in a flat spin
deserts keep growing globally
fossile fuels are still polluting the air
curious dolphins die in the water of the Thames
after so far hundreds of thousands died of Covid-19
it is high time to see the larger picture
to comprehend interactive phenomena
the pandemic brought earth a little recovery time
the waters have cleared
you can actually see fish in the canals of Venice
satellite pictures show clear air over metropolises
suggesting: the new normality after the pandemic
must be significantly different from the old one
do we really need hundreds of thousands to die?
does it need a virus for us to understand
that we need a different relationship to nature?!!
May 18, 2020
May 18, 2020 at 2:22 PM UTC
Beasties in cages.
Dried up minds
conspiring
newfound finds
of old disillusions.
Unknown sorrow
from silent
retributions.
If only these tears
were just dreams
instead of the women,
and little children's,
stabbing schemes.
Lock you up
for another day,
tomorrow's struggles
unending.
Sleep doesn't cure all
of the mockery bending
the very walls of your cage
young beastie.
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 12:51 AM UTC
in days of old the poets told there poems with in a book
for all the world to see so they could take a look
they would tell of beauty and tigers burning bright
and of lots of beasties roaming through the night
they would tell of daffodils sat upon a hill
hosting close together sitting very still
there poems they are rememered and with us till this day
the poets from the past will never go away
they will stay forever till the end of time
the poets from the past who gave us there rhyme.
Apr 7, 2010
Apr 7, 2010 at 8:38 AM UTC
.
There behind the thicket
where the beasties come to play
Lurking in the underbrush
and thorny mass decay
Drooling on the pathway
when the blood begins to seep
Eating pieces of your heart,
the fears they long to reap
Carving out a warning
in the dark archaic stone
Arches built of victims,
weathered vestibules of bone
Gathered neath the shadows
falling bleak the universe
Twisted, barely visible
the message fills the curse
***Dare not seek what leads the eyes,
upon this sanctuary tread
None shall live to hear the cries,
echoes fall among the dead
Follow forth illumined way
truth to be your wandered path
Lead with kindness on display
or face the wicked aftermath***
There behind the thicket
where the beasties come to play
It’s best this evening to beware
and look the other way
Jun 20, 2016
Jun 20, 2016 at 9:57 AM UTC
Sent for our amusement, pleasuring admiration,
our funny bones, and galore (glory) of creation,
Texas squirrels are nuts, like crazy,chasing each other ,
up trees, across the wide expanse of the backyard,
where’s the Davy Crockett sharpshooters when
you really need them? (1)
now that baby rabbit, fearless or stupid, insists on
running on our deck, looking for applause for his skinny
legs hopping neath the chaise lounges, at any ole time,
guess this ain’t the love poem you were expecting,
then again you’d be wrong again and agin, but the
grandkids going, going, gone and applause muted
anyway, one of these days gonna stop and chat with
these two species, what they’re thinking about, the
human menagerie, its depleted numbers, wherefore
and why, did the reduction of the human stockyard,
emboldened them to occupy territory they’d otherwise
shy away, hear what they say, gonna make a good poem
p.s. the avians yap and caw 24 hrs a day, presumptuous beasties noisy
_____________________________________________________________
(1) “In fact there wouldn't be a Texas if it weren't for squirrel stew. Don't condemn the idea of stewing your squirrel problems away. That's right! Davy Crockett and his Tennessee sharpshooters wouldn't have reached puberty if it were not for squirrel stew. Besides, what do you think they ate on the long trip from Tennessee to the Alamo? Enchiladas? Nope! You guessed it--squirrel stew.”
https://aggie-horticulture.tamu.edu/plantanswers/recipes/squirrel.html
Jun 17, 2020
Jun 17, 2020 at 8:48 AM UTC
Real world, real war
in the spirit realm, breathing
leaven disemboweled,
yes yes yes
gaseous we beasties,
mobs
and congregating misinfirmed
conforming to the mould,
black and green
up up up morpheme ob
serve
some body from the edge in
piercing ever-with points of
everish means to ends,
tat-too too you, Dr. Joyce Brothers,
my boy's
real TV Glenda,
good witch of the west, who goaded us
past understanding
Thalidomide,
when we cried, for Miss Sherri's baby,
as in my future then, my daughter
Natalie, would cry, for baby
Jessica, who really did
fall into a well…
--- same size well head as we had at 120 Oak
--- I just noticed, meandering past
wondering if I cried, when my baby sister,
Peggy, died, in late '49? -- no, '50.
Cancer, of the sort fallout causes, we later learned.
Obtuse, to use the oft idle word
to mean to-ward or
a-gain-st
t'use the expression for compression, squeezing
water from a stone,
breaking marrow from the bone, listen
to the fire,
feel the story keep us warm,
long nights,
with only little dancing candle flames,
to emphasize the phases -- moons,
and moons, mensal mental clockish
I will if you will go go go rhythms
of the falling rain,
swishing wishes to know…
will you still love me,
tomorrow?
Dec 17, 2020
Dec 17, 2020 at 1:45 PM UTC
0
00O00
0 0
0 0
##########
Fire in the hills !
(Passion in the heart )
••
She told me she loved me !
GOOD FOR YOU
I replied
••
**** YOU !
She said
//
BUT I THOUGHT YOU LOVED ME !
//
NOT WHEN YOU INSULT ME !
//
SUPERFICIAL !
YOU ARE SO SUPERFICIAL !
///
We became good friends because of that
//
//
In the quiet resolve to simply die in shame
///
In the manner of Wilde Beasties
eating each other raw
//
We die
•
Ah sweet child
In the beginning
Love is there
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 1:57 PM UTC
remember robbie burns and the poetry he wrote
all around his head his poetry would float
all the little beasties that he would write about
a master of his craft of that there is no doubt
he kept us entertained and gave his poems some fun
this famous scottish man who is scotlands son
we sing auld lang syne a song that is renown
in each and every city in each in every town
so celebrate the man when it is burns night
this lovel;y man from scotland that brought us such delight
Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 1:55 PM UTC