"cackle" poems
A horror movie scene as the heroine escapes.
Everything is still besides her convalescing breath and the distant, chasing wind.
Not a noise is heard except the fall leave's rattle and the birch wood's moaning bark in the moonlight.
Her body slouches into the protection of a lone shed, and shrouds itself in the aroma of cut grass.
A tense brow relieves and tired eyes close, thankful to receive the momentary peace.
A possible misstep turns the wary peace on end with the jagged cut of broken leaves. The once relieved brow now concedes surprise as wild eyes are cast towards an opaque barricade.
Sly pieces of garden equipment leash a weathered jacket in place as she attempts to stand.
A cackle is heard, a shriek undone.
To spite the brittle wood, the formulaic jump-scare-skeleton-hand bursts through the shed's solicitous walls, set to declare the last of a weary soul as his own.
The wind catches up and spearheads any hole it can find.
It begins whistling around the dim room like a tornado elated to havoc behind a castle's walls.
The tree bark howls, the leaves, now delight.
We learn there is no reprieve for a begging champion.
The camera backs out of the splintered hole, and pans over a silhouetted forest to face the waning moon.
The hero succumbs with muted screams to a gore far below and out of frame.
Our only closure, a black screen, with bright white letters, slowly scrolling up.
The end.
Jul 24, 2018
Jul 24, 2018 at 10:52 PM UTC
There's something deeply satisfying
In decimating a piece of runaway tissue
With a healthy jet of ****
I stand towering above it
As it clings stealthily to the ceramics
And
cackle
as
I
reduce
it
to
mush.
It bleeds yellow.
I feel no remorse.
Perhaps that's why
If the world were ruled by women
There'd be less war.
Dec 30, 2011
Dec 30, 2011 at 7:16 PM UTC
Oh, the witches, they cackle;
Oh, the witches, they fly!
Soaring through the starry night sky
With their long cloaks flapping
And their black cats yowling
The witches are a-fly tonight.
Mar 10, 2016
Mar 10, 2016 at 7:37 AM UTC
When the wind blows from the front,
You'll feel the nostalgia,
Hear the hustle and bustle of fishermen,
Crunching cockle shells under their boots,
Smell the sweet smelling tobacco from pipes,
The toil and hardwork heavy in the air.
Knocking you from the moment,
A faked tan man with a chihuahua,
Hear the cackle of faked laughter,
Clattering of stilletto heels upon cobbles,
Smell the alcohol laced ***** spilling from mouths,
The fruits of labour heavy in the air.
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 3:24 PM UTC
Her warm words wash over me like a dope fiend daze... other voices boorishly buzz a cackle cacophony. At best they are the background noise of your existence.
bit players (endless layers) as she comes my way
**Your body pixilates in an ******* focus**, it bends, projects all else slowly into your frame, the deja vu of ****** tunnel vision. I struggle to speak as I stand before you.
All others condemned, reduced to extras in a celluloid daydream
they are arrayed for your adornment
set pieces that surround you in the cinema that is your daily divine saunter
body sacramental (those around you incidental) as she walks away
The subtext, the reflex, the ambivalent, ambient lighting
means nothing without you
**my arc, my carnal ******
any other epilogue is dystopian
cdh
Jan 12, 2019
Jan 12, 2019 at 5:25 AM UTC
******* mischief misconstrued by me?
Love,
Held together like glue by me
I built this with my own hands
Now watch me cackle with glee
As I hold you over a fire
Like a beloved pet bird!
Fry now absurd lust,
Burn now: we never held trust
I never liked the feel of your hand
Paper and sand,
Throbbing adrenal glands
Proclaiming my fall -
I loved you, is all
I ******* loved you like a saint
I burnt for you at the stake
If I could give you my organs I would
I'd surrender all but my soul if I could
Love love me darling
Love love me so
Bleed, bleed these seeds
Of desire that grow
Sustain me darling
Tell me I'm your girl
Need need you sweetheart
In this forsaken world
I offered my heart on a stick like a lollipop
Just one more year and we could open up shop
We'd have enough,
You'd make me yours
Then I'll do your washing and
I'll sweep all your floors
My heart beats darling
I wish for you now
Sow these seeds with your wicked plough
I NEED you handsome,
Do you love me now?
Do you love me if I bend down and take being milked down like a cow?
Cow, sow darling, I'd be them all
Every barnyard animal, I'd do a four legged crawl
Do you love me now?
Do you love me now?
If I lay down to the floor and pray without a priest,
Will you give me a thought,
Jot my name down at least?
If I was holy as Mary
Sweet as a bud
Would you love me then
Though I act like your ****
Would you kiss me dear, would you hold me near
This trash, abandoned receptacle,
This can, ******* hopeless: perpetual. . .
I'd do anything for you
Watch me moan, pine and weep
I'd be anything for you
Go without food, love, sleep
Go without a brain to sustain, and I'll sacrifice my time
I'll shut up to all men
I'd scrub holes for every dime
I'd be like your mother
Or hope to aspire
Do you love me now?
Do you love me now?
Do you love me now?
Do you love me now?
Do you love me if I bend down and take to being milked like a cow?
Jan 9, 2014
Jan 9, 2014 at 6:37 PM UTC
I’d kissed neon once before;
It scolded when it shouldn’t
And took half of what I
Owned.
I’d kissed neon again;
Come a night with, “Dylan,”
And ***** when the beer
Went dry.
And I’d kiss neon forever;
Come a’grayed hair’s gossip,
Words ‘bout our first night,
And, “we,”
We’d cackle on our backs, jubilant.
Aug 7, 2015
Aug 7, 2015 at 9:28 AM UTC
i hear her
crackle and her
cackle and her
clomping and
her stomping and
i feel her
silver hair and
her
rotten
air
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 6:39 PM UTC
Camping in the Blue Ridge Mountains
was the greatest day of my life
It was my birthday
I brought a suitcase
and my favorite dame
and hiked 2 miles UP^^^^^^^^
laughing all the way
UP ^^^^^in the Ozarks
Medics were shooting steroids in my ****
BUT, never been more in love
with a man who injects grief in my veins
Dwelling in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains
sensed his vibe
Yes, Jesus I feel you here
held en el Rio Grande con mis mejor amigos
drooling in the hot springs
Taos has called our names
********* the rocky sand that is below me
I find a coin from New Zealand,
in turn, losing my evil eye earring
an offering to spirit's stream
a pair of desert lizards
we desire to get frisky and be alone
we shine silver glitter under a moonlit glow
witches cackle and curanderos
hide behind coyote cries and cacti
looking to each other with faces expressing,
"What should do we do?"
I guess allow them to do their thing
humans need ceremonies too
Feb 11, 2019
Feb 11, 2019 at 1:36 AM UTC
I prefer her
Over the bucket list
Her soft sweet voice
Over the deafening roar
The warmth of her unexpected touch
To the sting of the frigid wind
Hours waiting
Over the free-fall
The view into her blue eyes
Better than all of God’s green Earth
The relationship
Dwarfs the experience
Her smile followed by the laugh
To the cackle of the fat man on my back
Resting in peace facing the sun
Instead of flying alone into the ground
Sharing a drink full of germs
To scraping the dirt when I land
She is exhilarating
But more trustworthy than the fabric and strings
I prefer her
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 10:05 PM UTC
What would you miss the most
if you had to leave this life
the book asked.
I’d miss you
your big brown eyes
your comforting smile
your big heart
your laugh
the tone of your voice
and the way you say, “You know?”
when you’re on an enthusiastic roll
your lively spirit
your yummy omelets with bits of stewed tomatoes
your relationship with the divine
the deepness
of connection we have
our conversations
telling you about my ****** afternoon
and watching you really listen to me
the way you cackle when we watch our favorite comedy
watching you quilt
your touch
your luscious lips
talking to you when we’ve just awakened
and the way your voice is soft and innocent
speaking our gratitude about our lives together
sharing our pain
being able to weep with you
when I am discouraged
or get inspired by something
how your eyes sparkle when I do so
the way you love our cats
caring for you
you caring for me..
Just to list a few
Jul 1, 2019
Jul 1, 2019 at 7:23 AM UTC
my eyes
tongues of desire
a soft gauze
upon drenched red silk
stigmata
a river of marrow
flower of blood
creel of moist honey
hold not yourself apart
I kiss your wound
bell moon
crescent ravine, dark tears
like a spay of stars
arched spine
your raised ****
like scrambled eggs
curves to the heavens
a steep canyon aching
weeps blue darkness
legs wide in souls shadowed grove
tattooed pistols and knives
pierced by my autograph
for every letter, scimitars plunge
jeweled ******** ringed
sweet tarnished petal
gashed mouth; flower de luce
memories that burn
blotted like an eye in ink
to fly winged *******
your face
hieroglyphic of weird
crimson smear; cackle
with feet below hell
wanting to live
like fire in the sky
hot witch riding a broom handle *****
scummed mouth
the world soul destroyed paradise
and your form
hideous kisses
falling red ribbons
i am puddled;
a runny yolk
shameless for your open hollows
Dec 23, 2018
Dec 23, 2018 at 12:13 PM UTC
Grieving the death of yesterday,
and the fearful beginning of a new today,
Sits the mourning dove,
perched upon its pine tree palace.
The call of the sorrowful dove;
a soft, songful lament against the dawn's awakening.
Beneath the blue jay's ballad,
countered by the crow's cackle.
The mourning of the fallen, unknown to the world.
The mourning of the lost and forgotten.
Not singing, not chirping;
Just grieving.
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 10:02 PM UTC
I decided to be nostalgic
And flip on the Fresh Prince.
The "gentle" comedy cheers me up,
But then again, laughter is infectious.
I'm on a marathon now
With this show on reruns.
Watching every episode
Until one...
You watch a sitcom and expect
To chuckle and cackle along with the audience.
You expect your heart to be lifted
Out of whatever darker place you've been.
You don't expect it to hit so close to home
That your throat closes up
And your lungs burn with the need to breathe
But you can't
Because suddenly where there was the sound
Of deep throated guffaws,
Of bellyaching mirth,
Is only uncontrollable weeping and sobs
You never knew a sitcom could draw.
Will: I didn't need him then, I don't need him now.
Philip: Will...
*Will: No, you know what, Uncle Phil? I'ma get through college without him, I'ma get a great job without him, I'ma marry me a beautiful honey, and I'ma have me a whole bunch of kids. I'ma be a better father than he ever was, and I sure as hell don't need him for that, 'cause there ain't a **** thing he could ever teach me about how to love my kids!*
[long pause]
Will: [breaks down] How come he don't want me, man?
That echo in my soul:
How come she don't want me, man?
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 6:54 PM UTC
TO AFRIKA, THE POWERFUL GIANT WHO IS BOUND, TEARS AT HER OWN FLESH AND CAN NOT SEE HER OWN BEAUTY
How long shall we grind our teeth?
As old man's bones crack to the beat
Of their picks digging white man gold in black man land
Afrika mama, you soul is sold
Vuka Afrika Mama
Ikati lilele eziko
As vultures tap dance on your corrugated iron roof
Hyenas point and cackle baring sharpened tooth
All the while you slumbered
They shackled you and tore your treasure asunder
Now is the time to break free
Clear those scales from your eyes so you can see
How long shall we cry these crocodile tears?
As the swollen belly babies, eyes filled with fear
Watch the queen who bore them, cowered in the corner, face to the ground
Battered by the head of the household, asserting his authority
No mercy to be found
Zijonge Afrika mama
Ubone ubuhle bakho
They lied and said your ebony skin wasn't beautiful
At all cost remain dutiful
Head bowed, queen uncrowned
All the while you doubt yourself
There are those who eye and pillage your riches
May our united voice bring you to your senses
Lest you find yourself stripped naked, while balancing on fences
Jun 21, 2014
Jun 21, 2014 at 2:42 AM UTC
I'm standing
The winds of time swirl
Around my body
Soon to be a corpse
My cackle awakes me
And as I turn to face
Your hate
I'm grabbed
Put upon the stake
Tied with the human's weapon
And that's it...
And whilst the oak wood burns
I conjure my thoughts
Breathe in
And burn..............
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 10:37 AM UTC
the sun beats
loose fence stakes into
the ground
and I kiss each ray
as if it were
my own child
the sky rains down
a corpse of butterflied
snow
its wings—
a brace
to bend my
broken legs straight
my love
begins to crawl
setting the dry
snow aflame
burning patterns
in the mandala
snowfall
sun’s flame
whips its invisible
lion
snow lets the
growl pass through
and my bones
cackle
setting straight
the image of
sunny snowfall
this sunday
morning
Jan 21, 2018
Jan 21, 2018 at 10:20 AM UTC
The Crickets cackle “crisp,”
With an only interruption, being I,
Atop dust, whisper and
Desert highway.
I’d tell you if I were running,
But I’m not quite sure, not yet,
Leaving the Coyote to eat,
Respite, and devoured,
The singing Crickets,
A’howl later,
To deliver answers unimpeded.
I have a faint memory –
A snake’s grip promised, via hand and
Crystal contingency,
“Wiser,” once bestowed, the mystic;
An epic complete, atop 17 years of thunder,
Steel stained crimson,
Street stained whimper
And forever remaining,
“Under-construction.”
Symbolic a more relevant scaffold,
½ bamboo and the other steel, the tower,
Note ‘fore me, it’s only purpose –
Elsewhere, and anonymous,
While I tap my belly to some
Melody we’d once enjoyed;
Maybe something by, “Coltrane,”
Or maybe not; but music we’d both
Recognize and reminisce too.
It’s an awkward alchemy of sorts,
As the Crickets, post-mortem,
Persist if only to chirp, and the Coyote mulls.
When the dust continues to cake.
When the whisper finds newer ears.
When interrupt’s abrupt, erupts,
Pacifies and interrupts again;
My precious distraction –
An amnesia loyal in away from, “then.”
Somewhere beyond, “there,”
And onward, “anew.”
Dec 17, 2015
Dec 17, 2015 at 4:17 PM UTC
I thought I could do it.
You picked me up in the same car we made so many memories in this summer.
The same car that creaks when you shut the door.
The same car that seats are too low and I have to strain my neck to see over the dashboard.
The same car I decided I was in love with you in.
It was bittersweet.
I thought i'd be okay.
I thought it'd be easy.
We were supposed to sit in awkward silence
and turn up the radio until we got to her house and I could break from the tension.
But instead you were charming and you made cackle.
And you got behind the wheel and drove like you owned the road.
The wind howled through the open windows and I was in the most blissful state of mind.
I never told you how much I loved to just watch you drive.
I could sit for hours in that very passenger seat and just watch the road disappear under the tires.
You got out of the car and walked into the gas station and the first thing I thought to myself was
**** **** **** **** **** ****
That familiar feeling in my heart began to sweep over my soul and course through my veins.
I breathed in the scent of gasoline and cinnamon.
I glided my fingers across the soft leather of the steering wheel and sat back and thought of how
I fit so perfectly in that seat.
Like it was made for me.
Like you were made for me.
You glided effortlessly into the car and cranked the engine.
It roared to life
and chills danced up my spine.
I couldn't face you.
I couldn't look in your eyes.
Because I knew if I did I would be hooked again.
I knew your deep brown eyes would seep into me and cause me to shiver.
So I stared out the window and watched the world pass me by.
Mindless small talk kept me busy from thinking about how incredibly not over you I was.
I'm incredibly not over you.
I miss you.
And that car.
And the sweat spots on our backs from the sun and the leather.
It was bitter sweet.
And as soon as you dropped me off my breathing returned to normal
and the feeling in my finger tips came back.
As I watched your taillights fade into the distance I ****** in the cold night air,
and turned to the sky, hoping to fill the void in my stomach with the stars.
As much as I hate to admit,
I'm yours.
I'm still yours.
I'm still incredibly yours.
Jan 25, 2013
Jan 25, 2013 at 12:27 AM UTC
The television blares, it blinks, it shakes
A cup falls out of the cabinet, it flies, it jumps
They shatter.
Someone's banging on the door, they scream, they holler
She's laughing in your ear, a witch-like cackle
Ha-ha-ha That's all she's says, that's all she does
You keep your head facing forward, don't dare to look around
It's all madness, the footsteps on the ground
Who's creeping down the stairs, you didn't have guests
Who opened the window, who made such a mess?
The laughing
The constant laughing like chimes, it intensifies
Cold sweat, warm tears,
Your body is paralyzed in face of your greatest fears
Do it! Punch a wall, kick a desk!
But sweetie, there is no time for rest.
We must go, we must hurry!
They're almost here!
Who? You feel dizzy. Not another surprise please, I beg you, not another.
The room starts spinning, the ceiling circles you like a volchar.
The small man, with the elf-like features, he's tugging your arm
He's pulling you, as she laughs with such insanity your stomach churns.
Who are these people, what is this hell
A piercing scream is released into the air,
You believe it was your own, but with all the creatures yelling in your ear, you can't be certain.
The noises crank up, the objects fly off the walls
The TV changes from loud channel to channel, from voices to white noise
This is the worst, this is the peak
But suddenly it all stops with a screech.
The tv is in its place, normal channel, normal news
All the items are in their spot, all organized, all unused
There is no laughing. There is no man. There are no footsteps. There is no pulling hand.
But it was all there. You know it was.
Silence. Eery silence.
Now you're left in the confusion of your own mind.
But perhaps you've been there the whole time.
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 11:02 PM UTC
The chains have become a part of me, as I lost count of all the years. Endless minutes passed me by, hands to clumsy to catch my tears.
I can't help but know deep inside, that my soul just wastes away. Confined in this solitude, where I was forever put to stay.
Every story has a witch, whose ugly cackle can make you shake. Evil that can't easily be defeated, by true love or a wooden stake.
Shadows watch me while I sleep, and whisper that I must stay. Hope seems to dim now, with each passing day.
A prince was supposed to rescue me, but age has now set in. Youth has faded beyond the years, the signs of time carved into skin.
Fairy tales did me in, I realized as I step closer towards the drop. Beautifully poised I finally took that leap, knowing it's the only way to make it stop.
Jan 25, 2016
Jan 25, 2016 at 9:05 PM UTC
I look at him
HE’S ANNOYED
So then I touch him
HE’S ANNOYED
I talk to him
HE’S ANNOYED
So then I ask him questions
HE’S ANNOYED
I laugh
HE’S ANNOYED
So then I cackle
HE’S ANNOYED
I make a noise, P-O-P!
HE’S ANNOYED
So then I scream
Then he screams too
I read him this poem
THEN HE’S REALLY ANNOYED
Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 12:31 AM UTC
Cups runneth over
and over
& over
from absinthe to zinfandel.
Men & women parade the streets
with whimsical abandoned
swaying bodies
smiling,
like they just got laid--
or are about to.
******* bathrooms roar
while marijuana balconies cackle--
even the folks staying in
have their music turned up
so nobody can hear them *******
Barefoot indulgence
and tropical dresses flowing
in the midnight air--
even the cops don't care,
this is business.
Every whoop and hollar
is a dollar in their pocket.
Each vehicle blaires
a different song
chaos to the ears
becomes rhythm
for the body-
shots don't need to be in glasses,
grinding is the traditional greeting.
The young come for the atmosphere,
the older for the work release...
everyone is reckless on the weekend,
all the bars runneth over
and over
& over.
A ritualistic hedonism
leads to a collective sleep
that slowly, slowly
overtakes us all
as we slowly fade,
for a few hours until
Cups runneth over again
and over
& over
from absinthe to zinfandel.
Jun 9, 2012
Jun 9, 2012 at 7:16 AM UTC
I’d thrown back my head and let out
that cackle
But I didn’t realize that that candelabra
The lit one
was so close
And my head went
Bosh!
Sponto jumped up
Arms raised and ready
Ready to clobber me
And Hilary
To my left looked at me and screamed
Immobile except for her face stretched by
distress and fear
I’d watched that horrendous
De Niro version of Frankenstein that afternoon
And everyone was screaming at the monster
I remembered those scenes now
And I understood
I stamped out my burning head quickly
Before I got hit
I learned a lesson that day.
The spot of hair, you know
Never did grow back right.
Nov 9, 2018
Nov 9, 2018 at 5:48 PM UTC
Listen to my heart beat
For I cannot hear the sound.
Listen to the rhythm
As water pulls me down.
Listen for my call
For I cannot breathe.
Listen for the cackle
As the fire continues to seethe.
Listen for the silence
For that is our new beginning.
Jul 20, 2014
Jul 20, 2014 at 6:19 PM UTC