"brainchildren" poems
I remember a time when my brain was flexible, elastic;
like a good rubber band.
we would unwind all of the messy, pulsing coils and stretch them out until they became
one long grey intestine.
we jumped rope with it, and swung through the trees, laughing until our voices surrendered
yet as all intestines will do,
it has become sluggish, bloated with ****
and is wound tighter than a corporate watch
now every conversation is the devils Rubik's cube
and brainchildren don't come from a barren womb
so I've taken to adoption
and thrown em all in the backroom
where they lie cramped in bed
with little to eat, and less to do
Oct 16, 2012
Oct 16, 2012 at 5:24 PM UTC
Progeny of grey sloppy sponge
And hard, dense cranial matter
Sons of electrical pulses and impulses
Daughters of ideas and concepts, half formed
The words and phrases spat out onto pages
The pictures and doodles creeping out
From behind your eyes
The mess behind your all-and-nothing
Viewing optical orbs
Art and trash, poems and junk
These are your brainchildren
Jan 31, 2013
Jan 31, 2013 at 11:04 AM UTC
Sometimes poets make mistakes
On these quite public sites
It causes great dissension
Brings on many fights
This is especially tragic
When the poet is a light
They are then maligned a lot
Their character a blight
What should have been a shining beam
Becomes as dark as night.
I am one such person.
I made a public show.
Partially due to ignorance
Of how internet stuff goes
Yes. I had my lapses.
But now I let the flow
Bless my faithful readers
I wish to bestow
Grace to other poets
Some of whom you know.
But some folk still malign me...
They do so on the low.
This has NOT been gracious.
Actually unfair.
Would YOU like your every deed
And ***** laundry aired?
I don't pretend to love folks here...
I actually care!
But some became a pitfall.
They'd rather be a snare.
Can you take my moccasins
And place your foot in there?
I have NOT been hiding.
Put pride on the shelf.
I have confessed many times
I TOLD ON MYSELF.
But there ARE those unforgiving.
They go around and "warn".
Their modus operandi
Is to cause a hornet's swarm
They don't care who they may hurt
They do a lot of HARM.
If someone is repentant
And has a humble heart
Comes only offering
To love and be a part
Wouldn't it be prudent?
Wouldn't it be smart?
To forget the past transgressions
And get on with our ART?
This does *not apply to PLAGIARISTS*
Those who do not SERVE
They ****** our brainchildren.
RUN DOWN, AND DO NOT SWERVE
If they are unrepentant
THEY GET WHAT THEY DESERVE.
That's it for my sermon.
That's all I have to say.
Let's start writing ***poetry
AND GET ON WITH OUR DAY.***
♡ Catherine
Jan 20, 2017
Jan 20, 2017 at 12:00 PM UTC
click klack click klack click klack click klack
klippity clop klippity clop klippity clop
slap slip slap slip slap slip.
hello and welcome to the machine age
where pink floyd your tour guide
where human beings the laughing stock
on the supposed creature comforts
but in truth dependent on those big and little gadgets
designed by the brainchildren of past and present.
civilization at the mercy of those trappings
envisioned by wunderkinds
that propelled the masses from labor
yet now shackled to technology
far removed from simple existence of yore
when people used horse power
as their chief form of locomotion in the bustling towns
that inexorably spawned metropolises
that birthed towering skyscrapers
leading to potential fiascos by making civilization incumbent on
factories generating gewgaws in tandem with industrial waste.
survival of numerous species
(including that of man/womankind) hangs in the balance
as population explodes beyond
the capacity of planet earth to support
such a burgeoning billions fold burst of **** sapiens
filling every nook and cranny on this third rock from the sun
foisting an inconvenient gory truth
that catastrophe looms ever closer
perching all living organisms ever closer to the brink
of disaster and eventual extinction
unless dramatic measures taken to manage reproduction.
Feb 2, 2018
Feb 2, 2018 at 6:42 PM UTC