"boeing" poems
it's night now
and events have stopped.
Stillness evades the froth of evening
calm leather moves none under the fabric.
This home -- older than our world -- flushed
with wisdom -- flushed with glee -- flushed
with the violent storm of transience and
correction -- eyesight jiggled and adjusted
for new intentions -- meaning frisked for
rocks on a Boeing --
it's night now
and events have stopped.
you have stopped.
I have stopped.
Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 2:53 PM UTC
A pale yellow butterfly weaves in-between the legs of Plai-Jum Pui.
In the middle of the Thai jungle the hard sun beating down,
it tempts this angelic beast with its life.
Trusting in an elephant not to step on you,
Rocking back and forth on the bones of his back.
I guess I've done the same.
A Boeing jet, double decker.
Five hundred and twenty five people balancing on its wings.
The turbulence cradles us back to sleep,
finding motherly comfort in the foreign flight attendants reassuring words.
Having faith in aluminum sheets,
we all drift back to sleep.
A knock on the door and a call from the neighbor,
complaints of boundaries being resisted and property abused.
Fences acting as a seam to a fiery feud.
Guardian of their own selfish wills.
The worst war is fought from within,
a fight with your own kin.
A naive creature is spared its life,
confiding in the unsure and unreliable.
lacking trust for each other,
and burdening these winged seraphs and mothers.
The assumed minor species rely on one another,
having no need for metal protection and a religious buffer.
Nov 20, 2012
Nov 20, 2012 at 3:45 PM UTC
I was born on a leap year
Right before the Millenium
A family of five in Mexico were stabbed
Six days before I arrived
And in the same month
(But half the days)
That Rusty won the first NASCAR race
In Japan
Call me a Scorpio, I don't mind
I was born in the year of the rat
And the zodiac says that fire's my element
But I always liked my time spent in water
Pearl is to the ancients
What Topaz is today
Though neither value much
To the people on the Boeing 747
Or the Ilyushin Il-76 cargo plane
That killed 349 people
With the force of their collision
When you look up the day
That I came to be known
As another member of the living
They'll tell you all about the fatal, terrible crash
That I was too young to remember or even witness
Being born in the '90's earns me
No extra respect
No reverent awe
No special treatment
I was born too late for the long-haired peace
Disco and drugs
A John Hughes-like high school
And only my parents got away with
Sweat pants and leg warmers
Or turtleneck sweaters
I am just another 96 baby
But they don't make them like us
Anymore
Aug 28, 2013
Aug 28, 2013 at 11:54 PM UTC
on the last night
of the june breeze
that i spent tucked
between your hips
and my home
i heard
almost as faint
as a wing flutter
your tongue unfurled
the sounds of your streets
against my ear.
pavement hard but
sweet as a plum liquor
spelled out avenues that
have become rose pastures.
hoods that have
grown thick in themselves
with petals stained
of red rich violence
cross brown bones
but those bullets
bear no color.
taxi swift
yet city street thick
buzzing the sounds
of a place with half
the people
yet twice the traffic.
the kind of
tuesday twelve fifteen traffic
that i never understood
but you made action
where you lost sense.
dropped clips into the alleys
where the cops
wouldn't go
and pierced a limb
or two on the way.
cheeks filled with
with sticky bliss
bashed the demure
of downtown
cause the magnificent mile
ain't got ish
to the brick backbones
of them cook county temples
tourist tend to
trip past.
on my last night
here with you
i want to do
nothing more than wash
the windy city out of me
before state lines
baptize my view
of your anatomy.
pipe my gums
with this Crest
and brush your
taste out of me.
see big cities
have stained my tongue before.
new york is still in there
and i ain't even been there
in years.
i've caught tears
streamlining down
the crest of my cheek
at the taste
of chips of bay ridge
in my teeth.
so why don't
you just get lost?
the lingering lisp of your
shoreline sure does
last a tad
past welcomed.
matter of fact,
a tad past passed
two ticks before
your beach sands
sank my hips.
your lips have learned
too well
the outline of
my spine poured
against your banks boy.
so no thanks boy.
i don't want your tee shirt.
i don't need your silhouette
sketched in my memory
let alone my key chain.
and you keep saying
i'll be back
but i'll believe that
when i'm 30,000 ft up
straddling your boarder
by boeing.
Sep 6, 2012
Sep 6, 2012 at 10:39 PM UTC
Boeing 777
MH17
17/7/14.
“ Most of the passengers had no race,
But today they gained a nationality.
Today, we are united in grieve. “
Tragedy struck again,
One strike after another,
One blow after another.
Today, we lost 295 people,
Out of a grand total of 7.046 billion people.
To an individual,
The figures may mean nothing,
Comparatively.
But as a nation,
This was a hard one to accept.
How do you digest the fact that
295 people lost their future,
Overnight.
How do you digest the fact that
295 people are gone just like that.
How do you accept the fact that
Your country is falling apart,
Slowly,
But surely.
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 11:54 AM UTC
Aqua, bright fresh water
we oft get in the Malaysian Airlines
but not in the MH 370
where art Thou?
where are you all now?
when people and media around the world
bow in your case somehow
still hope you are all alive
i knew that you made that one big dive
right to the bottom of the ocean
all those inspectors are still saying
we can hear your phones are still ringing
my heart, my body and soul
knew: you all are not whole
anymore, but you were just freezing in the cool
do not make me a fool
that big birdie right to the bottom
with that rapid speed
as if to a large concrete
MH 370 you are now in freezing coolest water
know, that we all still bother
between air-intro space
or salted water filled ground
with the deepest bound
no matter what, we still care about you all
what only matters how long have you been suffering
in that suffocating small space between those walls
we all heard you sing
whatever Thy Response, i do understand Thee
no matter what, it's Thy divine decision
oh Lord, that suffocating air on the bottom of the Indian Ocean
how they were suffocated altogether suffered
and that only 2500 km away from Perth
but i trust Thee Lord, Thou hath Thy own reason
whatever may be Thy divine decision and Thy precision
may all passengers be altogether in greatest peace and ease
may they all really be released and now Rest In Peace....
© Sylvia Frances Chan
AD.Saturday 22nd March 2014~~at 3.09 hrs a.m.~~
ADDED Notes:
Since 11th March this MH 370 has disappeared from the radar navigation~~since then I had watched each hour of every day TV journals~~~till today they have found the wreck~~~the chinese in Beijing announced the news today~~
CORRECTED on Monday AD. 24th March 2014 21.12 hrs. pm~~ Malaysia too has announced this news, that they have found the wreck TODAY 24th March at 2500 km away from PERTH, West-Australia at the bottom of the Indian Ocean~~~~~~~~
Mar 21, 2014
Mar 21, 2014 at 7:55 PM UTC
Lawrence Hall
[email protected]
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Beowulf and the Danish Passport Officer
From a recently discovered manuscript
The clapped-out Boeing wheezed to the gate
The ground crew jumped name-tags rattling
And swiftly moored the shining ocean-bird
Behind his plastic shield a Danish official watched
The travelers approach their passports raised
He stood peeking down at the naughty selfie
His girlfriend sent to his bold smart-phone
Shaking his rubber stamp he spoke:
“What is the purpose of your visit?
Business, or pleasure? Hwaet! I’ve stood
At this same gate longer than you know
Keeping our gift shops free from British footer hooligans
No commoner carries such fine matching luggage
Unless his Rolex and his boyish good looks
Are lies You! Tell me your name
And your home address and your email!
The quicker the better I’m off-duty in ten minutes.”
Beowulf answered him Unlocking his smart-phone:
“We are the Geats the mighty, mighty Geats!
Men who follow Malmo FF Malmo FF the great!
And we have come seeking Parken Stadium
Greatest of all stadia Its shining seats polished
By cheering generations of fat-full footer fans
We have come to cheer Malmo FF
While they whup up on Dansk Boldspil Union
Instruct us, watchman Where is the stadium
But first, where is the beer?”
The worthy officer
Answered him boldly:
“A true fan knows
The difference between fighting on the field
And puking in the stands and keeps that knowledge clear
In his beery brain I believe your babbling
Go forward, credit cards and all on into Denmark
Spend your money! Our exchange rate is generous!
And then go home bearing our love while we bear your money.”
(Stamp, stamp, stamp) “Tram stop to the left
Taxis to the right”
(Scholars everywhere will regret that here the burnt and torn manuscript breaks off.)
Oct 4, 2021
Oct 4, 2021 at 9:10 AM UTC
Swirl devil wind,
reek dusty havoc.
A mustang watches.
Silly hermit crab,
try on a new home,
a Budlight can.
Longacres racetrack,
ghost horses called to post
by Boeing trumpets.
I would decoupage
our love.
Life for art's sake.
My hanging fucshia
attracts a humming bird.
The nectar's on me.
Feb 26, 2012
Feb 26, 2012 at 12:16 PM UTC
That day after his birthday
my mind is tormented
by all those white walls
just like that long stare
cooled to bottles and blicks
so my mind is tormented
by all those long hours
thinking, re-thinking intoxicated
like wooden doors shed
to sit in the paint again, I bet
my mind is tormented
by all those minutes concentrated
like the Boeing's departure
penetrated
my heart is in deep torture
my soul deteriorated
three days have elapsed
since the last rainbow I detected
up above so many coloured impressions
memories coming to the surface,
many tawny reflections
all kinds of delightful expressions
darling, my mind is still tormented,
never stories told, no secrets ever unfolded
while driving homewards in silence
quite sad reminiscence
the rainbow on my right hand
on the horizon
is still a bright coloured band
but will soon be oblivion
like this partition....
© Sylvia Frances Chan
28th February 2014
23.55 hrs.p.m.WETime
Feb 28, 2014
Feb 28, 2014 at 5:50 PM UTC
The 787 Dreamliners
tickets sold but not going
Would you really get aboard
a plane whose name is "Boing"?
Because of counterfeit parts
There are no Dreamliner flights
There is also a new rumour
That the crew is scared of heights
There are only a few airports
Where the Dreamliner resides
The rest have too short runways
Though they all are extra wide
I am sure that in the future
They will resolve the growing pains
And that the Boeing 787
Will fly high above the "planes"
Jan 17, 2013
Jan 17, 2013 at 5:01 PM UTC
*I'm planning to cross the ocean
I'm planning a swim under the sun
I'm planning to hit and follow the road
I'm planning to lift all my load
I'm planning to endure the hurt
I'm planning to fix my heart
I'm planning to tightly embrace
Water my faith and bloom in grace
I'm planning to give it another try
Even if it might as well make me cry
I'm planning to osculate again
And walk with you in the rain
I'm planning to forgive that day
Even if it still feels like yesterday
I'm planning to get up and get going
On a train, yatch or a boeing
I'm planning to lift myself from down
And instantly leave this town
Pulling my socks,tightening my laces
'Cause I'm planning on going places
There's a peace I seem not to have
I'm planning to find it, and to love
I'm planning to write another chapter
One that ends with happily ever after*
Jun 19, 2015
Jun 19, 2015 at 1:59 AM UTC
Blown glass heartbeat,
With an extension cord, the vibrations are distancing themselves,
Between macabre and *** luck and **** luck- And affection-
Are heirlooms cry of antique tears.
San Francisco Chronicle:
“Boeing kidnaps…”
And my soul bottled up in an hour layover heist.
Boeing adult-naps.
Texas.
Texas.
Texas.
Amarillo beehive hair across the aisle, smoke and honey.
It stings my tongue, kisses my lungs, legs-crossed on the highest rung.
The Miller High Life-esque, reclining on a quarter moon.
Here we are, patience and mercy.
Here we are patience.
Here we are.
Here.
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 5:45 PM UTC
Where'd you come from?
where are you going?
tell me lover,
are you lonely
the seas are cruel
as time go by
the waves roll and crash
on an infinite time
maybe a parallel place
where we go to meditate
is where you've come from
the east or west
show no restraint
from blowing us away in a Boeing
to being so gentle and dear
Like mothers milk
the queen of the sea arises and provides
her life giving love and so it flows
the queen of the sea goes where she goes
I'd still like to know
Where'd she come from?
Feb 21, 2015
Feb 21, 2015 at 1:36 AM UTC
Aniu,
dostałem słuchy na temat grafiki - nie jestem Surrealist'ą z poprzedniego wieku (tzn. dwudziestego), to już mineło... może i też miałbym pozory sfobody by skrytką zza popularną sztuką miałbym brać jakiegoś malarza na front jak by to było wydanie Ortodoksji zwane Penguin Publishing House, ale wolałbym mieć pod uwage geneze, tzn. kompromis braku koloru i tą nadrentą komplikacje modernizacji na tle "programming" szyfrem komputera - a ten kompromis? szyfr chemika... wiem że to może brzmić zbyt contra idei ładnego obrazka czy tez ikonoklazm'u wedle sukcesu sprzedarzy książki - ale jak orginał to orginał, bez kiszeczki, bo kto tak naprawde chce pokazać tważ niechaj pokarze ją niż maske pierw - wiec myśle o notatkach z sfer chemii w goły-trakt poezji. przesyłam jeden przykład, trzymam notatki inne takrze gotowe, ale to jeden przykład; nie chce sie chować pod skórą innych artystycznych wybryków - szczegółowo poza gruntem orginału pisma jako malunek pierw, a pismo po (ksiązka to nie Boeing 747: obraz pierw a dzwięk po - tzn. dzwięk pierw, a obraz po) - a więc i też skreślam zaufanie co do piękna malowidła jako przeciw tego samego niby ambasador'a dającego ochrone pod tytułem: brzydastwo wiersza konieczne; wole by jedno z drugim miało zaufanie, czy też wpomnienie obojga na począt i na koniec: na trasie wątpień i zarysów warte twarzy w publicznym miejscu poza oh ah ah oh galerii. a więc zakończe - inne e.g. prześle jutro - ten jako prolog w temacie: o co mi chodzi.
Mateusz.
p.s. oczywiście ominołem ę czasem, lecz jest zachowane w przykładach głębin - ale to nazwe proto-ortografia Polaka poza Polską, takie potrzebne lustro w Angielskim 's - czyli liczby mnogej co nawet tłumacz by powiedział: sprechen Deutsche?
Jul 10, 2016
Jul 10, 2016 at 10:32 PM UTC
Just know that:
I have done all aspects of investigations,
I don't just increase the world's populations,
But am always my mother's inspirations.
Little did you know that:
I know myself am out of laziness,
I know my nature even when in sickness,
My strength is more than my weaknesses,
Don't enter into my life with your own craziness.
Just remember that:
I dropped the formality,
Now came to the reality,
Treating life with sincerity,
Which wasn't my normality.
Always know that:
I know where am going,
Knowing well what am doing,
Feel free if you're joining,
Coz you can't be my Boeing.
I can take myself far without miracles,
Only that you have always been an obstacle,
I can be driving my visions,
At the same time standing on my missions.
Who are you to judge my ambitions?
©Alin Nur Jr
Apr 5, 2019
Apr 5, 2019 at 2:11 AM UTC
I remember the setting Carolina sun,
Fluorescent fuchsia medallion
Sitting on the landing strips at RDU, like an observant child
Making sense of our tamed world,
And counting the aluminum birds as they flee to altitudes that
Offer an illusion of freedom.
Fast forward an hour,
Zoom in on seat F, in row 18 on an ascending Boeing 747,
Almost perpendicular to Earth
And my thighs are clenched instinctively, the nervous muscle quivering,
Trying to make its own rhythm against the quaking of the craft.
Irrational fears are countered by irrational ticks.
Will you falter o’ mighty mechanical fowl?
I prayed to the wings that kept me afloat.
Not too high, Icarus, or we’ll all go down –
The pull of hubris becoming a failing harness.
The great bird began its passive decent,
A feather in the breeze.
And my worries were left at
Higher levels,
And the glittering skyline that I had been dreaming of for half of my life
Suddenly becomes near.
I consider reaching my hand through the double-pane Plexiglas oval,
To caress the jagged silhouette as it wears the sun’s dying rays like a stolen diamond ring,
To pinch with the tips of my fingers
An unsuspecting toy car and place it on a highway leading to
Somewhere else.
But time is an avalanche,
Gaining momentum quicker and quicker --
The toy cars become real,
Life-size.
And the people in them are not dolls,
But engineers, junkies, biologists, tourists,
And (soon) me.
And sometimes (only when this town gets tedious
Or the sun is lounging on the horizon,
Taking a hazy summer bath)
I (can’t help but) remember.
Aug 11, 2013
Aug 11, 2013 at 5:30 PM UTC
*I want to wake up with you'n my arms
Everyday till I kiss the world goodbye
I wish to kiss you till I hurt my gums
And holding you so tight the reason you cry
I want you to be my breath till my death
The reason I look forward to the roller coaster
So that It's you I hold each time I hold my breath
In doldrums to ultimately be my bolster
I hope you to be the company in my honeymoon boeing
The reason I give love, faith and trust another chance
The one who'll never get up and get going
Without a reason, goodbye or even just a back glance
I want you to be the cloud that finally pours the rain
To cleanse all my tears and wash away the pain*
Aug 24, 2015
Aug 24, 2015 at 5:53 PM UTC
boeing 747-700x
they say that size doesn't matter
but i disagree with them
and say they're full of ****
size DOES matter
this is why i fly my jet
a boeing 747-700x
my baby is f8cking huge
a touch under 280ft long
i can carry hundreds of people
all around the world
flying in luxury in my jet
served by **** air hostesses
with bruce dickenson my co-pilot
take it from me size does matter
and yes my jet is big and black
Jan 15, 2018
Jan 15, 2018 at 6:57 PM UTC
it's not the first time that a Bristol Belvedere
(type 192) helicopter flew over my
house...
am i right in thinking
i'm somehow associated
with the army?
ah **** for amusement's sake,
have a funny thought
(cognitively speaking
funny via mere thought
you're into sit-down comedy,
appropriately suggestive
as a delusion - but funny as **** -
pardon my french -
on a rocker with dell boy over 'ere,
mm mange tout, mange tout -
mon rz too, mon ż too -
honestly, check my search engine
IP address statistics,
most of them begin with:
polish diacritical z / s / c / e / a / n / o / l);
actually the Bristol Belvedere
is debatable... it might as well have
been a Boeing CH-47 Chinook.
May 3, 2016
May 3, 2016 at 11:05 AM UTC
I miss the things I never
did, the ferry ride I never
took, the brittle cold that
sunk to the depths of my
toes and the sushi place
down the street from my
house. You can whisper
that I'm doing the same
thing but I miss the leaves
at EDCC and the rain,
quality frozen yogurt
and the front row at
Loews Theater, I miss
the sound of my wheels
privy to the Boeing freeway
You can whisper that I'm feeling
the same way but I miss things I
don't recognize, the drive past
the lighthouse and the neighbor
who had music too loud, the
shy cashier at Fred Meyer
and also their apple
display that was
aesthetically
pleasing.
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 12:29 PM UTC
What did the world have to say
On this bright and clear mocking May day?
The day that physically mimicks 9/11.
Do you remember that fateful morning where so many went to heaven?
The plotters death was marked this very day
After it was announced that a group of SEALS took him away.
I'm not sure its a good thing to be happy of his demise.
I've been asking the same question all day...why?
I'll tell you why:
I remeber being a little girl standing by the TV,
Watching the planes and buildings on the screen.
One.
It seems to be some kinda accident..
Two.
Its a terrorist attack, isn't it?
I saw that 747 bank left and drive hard
Into the side of that building that blew out tiny shards
Of glass and fire raining from above,
Along with the paperwork and the terrorists love.
Shocked cries from the street and gasps filled the air
Manhattan was on display and the whole world stared.
Then awhile later at 9:03 a.m.,
The shock and horrid pictures were played over again.
As another Boeing flew through the side.
We were all wondering.."How many have died?"
Cries filled the air as one building
P
L
U
M
M
E
T
E
D
To the ground.
And the screach of hot metal was the only sound
Ashes and smoke hung over the city like plague,
Not letting us in on how many lives it had claimed.
I vividly remember watching people fall through the sky.
Not taking death by fire but instead...
Suicude...
Then we watched as another fell story by story.
And when the air finally cleared, there was nothing more to see.
T L E U B T H D E Y B A D
H I S R B E A A E R O S
E P O F B L T M V E D Y
Soon unearthed a cross and an American Flag.
This country became stronger with every tear that fell from her eye.
We soon set off into the hills of the desert with one mission: Osama dies
It may have taken 10 years but we found you hiding like a coward.
I hope you got the death you so rightly deserved.
Just remember: America is not perfect at all.
But we stood as one nation under god on that day in the fall.
This whole country rejoiced when the news was said,
Obama came on the screen and said "Osama is dead"
If you hit us first, we'll hit you harder.
We won't stop until we've finished what you've started.
May 15, 2011
May 15, 2011 at 8:11 PM UTC
i can't believe we only managed to
re-enter plato's dream of a society,
being recited by pauper lovers,
for need of acceptance, but no aerodynamics!
bring me the boeing and i'll bring
the thistles of the **** thing being aired
among curled-up turtles and hedgehogs,
flap flap! **** spot the seagull
or the copper-head of a churchill shat on
by a pigeon for a good-luck testimony!
and i was wearing my underwear
if you cared to mind; religious schools
forgot the 1960s drug revolution, they were
teaching a concern of sniffing glue...
**** me... glue?! with all that wine!
what an oddity.
Mar 22, 2016
Mar 22, 2016 at 7:23 PM UTC
Those pillow fights
Set my soul high like boeing 777 flight
When you hug me tight
My heart burdens turn light
With you in my arms
I'm confident like Navy SEALs with their arms
You are my lucky charm
On rough days,
your thoughts get me going like a tram
Remember that day I got you ******
My day was totally eclipsed
It was restored when we kissed
Now you know why I call you Peace!
Sep 5, 2018
Sep 5, 2018 at 2:38 PM UTC
Last night I stood atop the North tower,
And as I gazed down from the roof,
I hallucinated a Boeing hurtling,
I saw it collide and felt the impact,
Soon I saw and heard the fear.
The fear vibrated downwards,
It was a nightmare of old memories,
It was a fear of odd memories,
Of memories that I never had,
A nightmare with open eyes.
Sep 12, 2017
Sep 12, 2017 at 7:14 AM UTC