"coaled" poems
I can see, in your sea
what I threw, went right through
your lack of class, so get to class
you flea, you flee
fear will show, fear the show
for busted acts, four battle ax
an eerie moan, an eerily mown
level plane, yet too plain
so start the rite, so start to write
your words to savor, you worried saver
and this I saw, and with this saw
cut to sear, seek the seer
a spirit pryed, an unleashed pride
giant gorilla, stealthy guerrilla
so send the pros, we speak in prose
you leave your prince, you leave your prints
simple minds racked, simply mind wracked
so slow your roll, know your role
kneel and pray, kneel you prey
you maid from Rome, you'remade to roam
with worn sole, with warn soul
spirit's cold, under coaled
start the fire, weapons fire
send the horde, send the ******
forget the gaffe, remember the gaff
speed for the gate, speed is the gait
if death feign, or if death fain
let you pass, or may you pass
Jan 29, 2011
Jan 29, 2011 at 5:56 PM UTC
When I dance the outer realm seems to disappear.
What once was is no longer a fear.
Flames dance on my body as my body intertwines with fire.
Making passion, displaying love, exposed desire.
Heat rising, keep dancing to the beautiful song.
Burnt hair and char coaled fingertips, this is where I belong.
Underneath the midnight light.
Ickarus taught me to take flight.
Fueling my fire takes more than one match.
With needle and thread he made a patch.
Blindfolded we played with fire.
Love made me this lair.
-Kelly Tibbets
May 13, 2010
May 13, 2010 at 9:14 PM UTC
The floor howled
in the last
lazy binge
of bronzy sun
before I broke free
to go running
the two miles
to the hospital
in Georgetown
where Dad was.
As I ran, I thought of
The Wreck
of the Old 97
which played on
the car radio
when Dad
drove us back
from the
Charles Town
racetrack
where I kept losing
the same $20
while Dad
placed exactas
and trifectas
to win
dinner money.
Turn it up
turn it up and listen
as the Old 97
engine over-coaled
and waving
with heat
races beyond rule
a bright streak
down the hill
down, always down.
The Icarus myth -
the father disappears
while the son melts
in the exploding face
of a memory.
Oct 24, 2018
Oct 24, 2018 at 12:39 PM UTC
The metal x said "Thou shall not pass"
Neon yellow gloves pointed to the sky,
warning who was watching, when they
were hit they flew far and fast (20 feet)
Embedded in the rubber that hits the road,
are what seem to be the remains of a toad,
but they are not, not at all,
they were the dangerous daffodil.
I guess his hate governor must of broke, or
he must have felt the power of engine,
so he closed his eyes inhaled that **** or
maybe the forced move pumped his adrenaline.
What ever the case, there was not a witness and we know no flower whisperers
The stalks fresh with Spring agility could not stand the weight and snapped crisper.
then burnt back bacon char coaled on the grill, so far this is a measure of his ill, will.
We have nothing but WIDE TIRE tracks to go by and too bad he is the only one, for sure
and at the end of the month he will live here, Nevermore, Nevermore, Never ever more.
Apr 11, 2013
Apr 11, 2013 at 11:53 PM UTC
The timid frozen morning air awakens from sounds of screams and metal car frames...cracking.
The cool lit night star air flashes from the fire burned tires and frigid numbed souls...cursing.
The smoky dust filled air sees tears of hate and bloodied stained floors....of fate.
The cloudy misty saturated air hears bullets striking and lifeless bodies....collapsing.
OH WHERE...have the spirit filled airs, the glittering filled airs, that hozhóogo air gone to?
The green-bluish water feels the sluggish toxic sludge and forgotten people...mitering.
Pure white solid crystals wrap around the intoxicated body, it's courage slowly....mystifying.
The red rock's seeping water blindly poisons the youthful smile and secretly kills...a-mourning.
The raging brown foamed water rushes by the pallet walled hogan and the shivering lil feet...mesmerizing.
OH WHERE...have the dew dressed holy ones, the chanting waters, the life healing and growing waters....gone?
The blowing fine dust creeps through the window seals, witnessing punches to her face and kicks to her chest.
Them dark black coaled rock mesas spot fields below of slow deathed and sugar-filled....people-a-mess.
Round red sun brazen rocks are embraced, by the abandoned lost wondering child...lil-one parentless.
Darkened mountain soil sees the people a-mess, looking up, seeking guidance of hope...restless.
OH WHERE...have the lightning bolted peaks, the strong holy ridges, them keepers of home gone to?
Water drenches the Earth Mother, Winds rage from our Sky Father,
Lights of the Star People shimmer brightly,
Rocky cliff faces begin to shake violently...
"Here We Are!"
The first ones and holy people yell mightingly,
"HERE WE ARRRREEE !!!!!"
Feb 24, 2018
Feb 24, 2018 at 12:48 PM UTC