"evacuate" poems
My stomach and head
Are boiling with sadness
And my internal organs
Are steamed from
The inside out
Love doesn't exist
For me
Curled up in the fetal
Position I ask for
Help from anyone
And all I get
Are ghosts of friends
Whisps of smoke
Gone in a flash
I'm like a tornado
Of emotion and I
Destroy everything in sight
When people see me
Coming at them
They evacuate and I'm
Left to
Rampage all alone
Jul 27, 2014
Jul 27, 2014 at 8:05 AM UTC
dreaming sunshine
soothing elixir
backstroke swimming
tranquilize
open seas survivor
floating feelings evacuate
sea salt shake and roll
1,000 stroke communion
turning over and over
nothing much has changed
side stroke view another mile
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 7:18 PM UTC
Masticated Ectoplasm to Lance Corporal Tom
Masticated Ectoplasm to Lance Corporal Tom
Bumming your fat knobs and insert your helmet naked and unashamed
Masticated Ectoplasm to Lance Corporal Tom
Kicking off kick-off, cyborgs brought face to face
Tartan sunstroke and may Mumbo Jumbo's **** all lie among you
Nine, eleven, seven, thirteen, six, quinquereme, ******** ********* Tweedledum and Tweedledee, unsocial person, erectoffensive!
This is Masticated Ectoplasm to Lance Corporal Tom
You've really ****** the naval officer
And the hatchet faces want to know whose blouses you abuse
Now it's time to evacuate the ******* if you have a free hand
This is Lance Corporal Tom to Masticated Ectoplasm
I'm fancy dress dancing through the cat—flap
And I'm groping inside a swollen grotesque sailor
And the plums look gigantically unusual nowadays
Ergo from Land's End to John o' Groats am I piddling in a crumpet slammer
Telescopic hindward the lump
Uranus Arsenic is scatological
And there's sweet **** all I can have ****** *********** with
With the proviso that I'm Ichabod celibate centipede sextillion heads
I'm fondling vigorously paparazzo
And I think my sputnik knows which direction to ****
Tell my ballbreaker I ****** her vigorously for England, she bonks
Masticated Ectoplasm to Lance Corporal Tom
Your menstrual cycle's kaput, there's oojakapivvygizmo spleen
Can you smell me, Lance Corporal Tom?
Can you get to the bottom of me, Lance Corporal Tom?
Can you delve into me, Lance Corporal Tom?
Can you...
From Land's End to John o' Groats am I vibrating ring my crumpet criminal lunatic asylum
Telescopic hindward the groupie
Uranus Arsenic is scatological
And there's sweet **** all I can have ****** *********** with
Mar 27, 2010
Mar 27, 2010 at 4:22 PM UTC
The bellowing clouds of smoke
The paralyzing threats of death
To the residents down below
Holding on to dear breath
Choking throats stinging eyes
By the languid sulphur laden air
White powdered ashes everywhere
There's nothing that they could do
Because nobody can say no
To a volcano
It can erupt at anytime if it wants to
They're uncertain what to do, follow
Their hearts to stay where they are
Or follow the orders to evacuate
The folks can see fire and smoke from afar
They've to move from there before it's too late
Because the volcano could boil over
It's brewing up in the creater
They've to leave their belongings
Behind them and say farewell
To the chicken the ducks and geese
The cows the dogs and the cats as well
Or take some of them if they please
Take along the important documents
And regrettably flee for fear from their homes
Before the fiery lava will leave
Their huts to remnants
They can't say no because
The Bali King the 'spokesperson'
For the Gods won't listen to their pleadings
And why it's throwing up it's tantrum
Because the Gods have spoken
The Gods are angry at them
And they've to sacrifice all
Their belongings to appease the Gods
Because they know the volcano
Knows they can't say no
To the volcano
Dec 3, 2017
Dec 3, 2017 at 12:19 PM UTC
A feeling of claustrophobia has begun to confine me.
This swamp of ideas thickens inside me, the murky clay mud making each step twice as demanding as the last. The once clear flowing waters of my dreams seem to be crystallizing, clouding and freezing over, ceasing the stream of my escape. My brain is callusing over incarcerating me, forcing me to experience the hardening of my own being. A reaction inside halting my imagination and depriving me of the ability to call out for help. These thoughts and words I evacuate onto this page only act as a catalyst speeding the process of my inevitable silence. There will come a time when the swamps have solidified, and the waters of my dreams become frozen clouded crystals trapped in place. My brain will develop into a callous, rendering my mind mute, I can feel this metamorphosis materializing yet there is nothing I can do to stop it, the development has already begun, all I can do is wait until a feeling of...
A feeling of claustrophobia has begun to confine me.
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 2:54 AM UTC
Alice and I were fudged fruiting inside Falstaffian freakish fleur–de–lys:
She inside a quack–aztec–tattooed tank,
Me inside a pendulous magenta harness with polydactyl–perverted plumes bespattered into it.
In the ****** **** of that kaput flophouse
We creosoted our conks all the cockatrices of the gorge–de–pigeon,
Inside crotches, Jacuzzis and homocentric Action Men.
Alice, with the pornographic bend sinisters in the teeth of her poltergeistish fajita crocodile,
Smacked of the plug–ugly poofter of a south–south–west by south sackful sandbank.
I cemented the jaundiced dangler of an ostrich to my prick.
With that and my uncut fiddlestick of knobs
I was the idiosyncratic and wholehogging sadomasochistic slapper!
We banged the bush streaming proboscis in tentacle
Through smorgasbords of hermaphrodites and high muck–a–mucks
While Ravi Shankar’s idioglossias and cockchafers juddered our titbits.
Our Moonies were classically cracked flabelliform by the time we disinterred them.
Alice managed to fornicate incognito white elephant on behalf of myself
And we were passionately on the back of the dingdong, naked as our Moonies.
We kept one’s pecker up wrapped up in the shadowgraph
Athwart ever-strangling girdles of formaldehyde, ozone, fomenter and widow’s weeds,
Athwart polytetrafluoroethylene–pricked precipices and then down to the butts
Where we both came to a sticky end on our jockstraps and leered at the ballet dancers
That we then penetrated rhythmically by elongating tumescent our gang banging tentacles.
Through comfortable French knickers I burped, “Thank you for ****** me everywhere, Alice”.
In the soporific honeypotspunk, aped on the ooze,
I could smell that her **** had made her ******* type soap flakes break the sound barrier,
Splashing out a ***** whale seed skirting her jowls.
“You’re fragrant, flypaper”, she rapped.
The Government gabble that little green men who hammer out the sexagenarians weren’t on board.
Inside spleen of the spliffs, inside spleen of my gangrenous Pollyanna, I will over one’s dead body evacuate.
I will over one’s dead body evacuate.
Mar 22, 2010
Mar 22, 2010 at 4:09 PM UTC
It’s been so long that we have been together
Though many years have passed I’m yours forever
I can’t stop thinking 'bout the fun we’ve had
Our life together is still super rad
It’s just a hurricane of love
~Coming our way~
Still a hurricane of love
~Double red flag warning~
Just a hurricane of love
~Blowing us away~
Still a hurricane of love
~Flooding our emotions~
This is the calm before the storm above
And we are trapped in an eyewall of love
Gusts of desire drive us to our fate
It’s way too late now to evacuate
It’s just a hurricane of love
~Coming our way~
Still a hurricane of love
~Double red flag warning~
Just a hurricane of love
~Blowing us away~
Still a hurricane of love
~Flooding our emotions~
These Cat 5 feelings we just cannot stop
Emotions whirling like a spinning top
Your riptide pulls me in so ever deep
Storm surge of love so strong it makes me weep
It’s just a hurricane of love
~Coming our way~
Still a hurricane of love
~Double red flag warning~
Just a hurricane of love
~Blowing us away~
Still a hurricane of love
~Flooding our emotions~
It’s just a hurricane of love
~Coming our way~
We keep each other wanting more
~Double red flag warning~
Still a hurricane of love
~Blowing us away~
We’re not in Kansas anymore
~Flooding our emotions~
It’s just a hurricane of love
~Storm surge of desire~
Still a hurricane of love
~Rising higher and higher~
Still a hurricane of love…
Oct 25, 2019
Oct 25, 2019 at 3:14 PM UTC
Evacuation Alert: Tranquille Valley.
Get out. Bring everything you love.
Ash is falling from the sky,
and the smoke is too much to bare.
The fire's rampage has charred
More than 200,000 hectares,
in 133 days.
It's not safe.
Evacuate immediately.
Evacuate me.
Get out. You are everything I love.
Incinerating everything in your path,
You tranquillize the atmosphere
with your absence.
You smoked me to the filter
You left me to burn.
63 days, and 21 letters.
You're not my safety anymore.
Evacuate immediately.
Aug 14, 2017
Aug 14, 2017 at 2:51 PM UTC
In my dreams there are smoke
detectors and crashes and lies.
There is a kiss in an atrium right
before it catches fire. There is placate,
stay straight, evacuate.
Neodymium nitrate always smells
a certain way and always looks
a certain blue. Why does an alarm
go off after I dream I've kissed you,
but never if you kiss me?
What doesn't my brain want me to see?
As Orion slinks into view
I stand mixing solvents at the centrifuge.
There is always a healthy dose
of things I don't know. Always something
for Orion to pin with her next arrow.
If I am not here, asking questions of the world,
demanding answers from what I put
into test tubes,
the next thing could be you.
Mar 8, 2019
Mar 8, 2019 at 10:55 PM UTC
I was cleaning out the fridge today
And in the back I found this "thing"
It was furry, soft and squishy
From the mind of Stephen King
I didn't want to touch it
It looked like a tangerine
But, from all the fur and oozy stuff
I don't know what it had been
I knew I had to move it
But I wasn't sure quite how
I'd seen things much more appealing
Come from the rear end of a cow
I emptied out the other stuff
I put them in the sink
I was left with this small land mine
That really had a stink
I needed some protection
Before I tried to grab this bomb
so, I closed the door real quiet
And I went to get some on
I put on swimming goggles
To protect my eyes in case
It exploded when I grabbed it
And it jelly-fied my face
I then grabbed my old rain coat
And put it on all front to back
So my front was well protected
In case this thing chose to attack
Hockey gloves to save my hands
Work boots were for my feet
All this to dispose of this
Thing that people eat
I opened up the door again
And as I looked inside
I could swear this thing was throbbing
And it had grown to twice it's size
I slammed the door and grabbed a beer
I had some in the sink
I had to get this thing destroyed
I needed time to think
I called up both my neighbors
I said "Evacuate" the street
I told them I was killing
Some thing that people eat
I couldn't tell them what it was
Because I wasn't sure
I must have bought it months ago
But I didn't know what for
If I knew that this would happen
If the expiration passed
If I knew this when I bought it,
I would have eaten it real fast
I went to get the garbage
I put three new bags inside
I would put the thing inside one
And would then get all three tied
I'd run it to the dump myself
But, I'd have to freeze it first
Because, Imagine what would happen
If the plastic bags had burst
One more thing I had to do
was get some stuff to hide the scent
I thought I'd get some vapo rub
So off to search I went
Now, all prepared and goggled up
in raincoat and in gloves
I was set to grab this thing
For push had come to shove
I opened up the door and there
Where the thing had just now been
Was nothing, not a single thing
Where was my thing of green?
It didn't get out on it's own
And no one would eat it up
The only one who'd like it
Was our garbage eating pup
It was at this point I saw my son
Rolling outside like a log
Playing with our whirling dervish
He had fed it to the dog!!
May 5, 2012
May 5, 2012 at 6:23 PM UTC
You see me Hurrying and scurrying
Gathering my food cautiously,
Looking around constantly worrying
Sneaking around precociously.
Weaving; bobbing, always dodging
Bushy tailed little scavenger I am,
So may despise me as I dwell in their lodging
But all I want is a home so don't give a dam.
Climbing my tree like a famous mountaineer
Old and young will wave or sit and say hello,
Quickly I think it's time to evacuate from here
The all clear I see and again on the ground I go.
Fluffy and Grey sometimes even Red
Speeding around among the leaves,
Time to nest and put my children to bed
Until once more the summer itself retrieves.
Grant Dickson 04/09/2017
This poem was inspired by a Squirrel
Oct 4, 2017
Oct 4, 2017 at 11:16 AM UTC
Half way across the globe evacuate
Get moving before it’s too late
It’s the mighty winds that blow
Don’t let your escape be slow
Winds are beyond a refreshing breeze
Trees are being uprooted with the feeling of being unease
Heavy rains are pounding the coastal towns
There’s a silence of citizens in having no sound
A time to pray
Eyes up to Heaven being the relay
Winds upon blow
No it isn’t some reality show
It’s the elements against man
The strength of God bearing on the land
The Typhoon being a reminder for the world to pray
Have courage and wait out the storm
Some parts of the world this is the norm
Yet stand firm with Faith
Typhoon’s come and go
Where there is a Typhoon and rain, skies do part and sunshine is what remains.
Jun 15, 2017
Jun 15, 2017 at 9:04 AM UTC
one undead sed to one too undead: "id **** for a romancer whos a necromancer."
Well, abracadabra with just an ounce of my magic
i produce half a cadavre and then the other half grab it and shake it until it blabbers:
"well im awake but id rather be underground with dead matter."
and though ive never been sadder i had to grab her and stab her a thousand times in such patterns
that all was left were mere tatters, talk about beaten and battered as all the pieces were scattered
(i made em smaller and flatter til they looked good so i blabbered):
"you look amazing"- "im flattered"
she sed but that didnt matter. im just a ****** whos madder than Hell oh well whats it matter
the feelings of a mad hatter madder than other mad hatters collaboratively dont matter
in fact the maddest just happens to have had all his dreams shattered.
evacuate bowels and bladder. souls eaten, demons get fatter, eternal state of dead palar,
dying in Hell, almost had her. god ****
May 24, 2013
May 24, 2013 at 3:59 AM UTC
Sunny days bring smiles on faces
Girls with ***** shorts and sunglasses
Guys with muscle tops or floral hemps and snapback caps
September 19th was sunny
Well, that's until the clouds acuated the skies
and made all the smile evacuate to dystopia
This was an apocalypse
in my parent's house,
a place I used to call home
My father, Christopher
was the devil, Lucifer
and my mother was an angel with wings-
a delightful servant of Venus,
the goddess of love
Only, she couldn't fly
Not mentally, not physically and definitely not verbally
Her vocal chords were shaking as she passed her voice to my dad
She was the rainbow and sunshine
that was no longer divine
it was cryin’
while the devil was roarin’
as if he was a god
in which he was, but only of hell
He omitted fire but this time, it was cold
So cold that a tornado spun around the dining room
as I sat there, frozen, and watched like a snowman
The pupils of my eight year old eyes
witnessed the ending of a love I thought was immortal
A love that I used to think was magical
and illiterate
A love that formed in two hearts that bided into one
on their own
without the education of authorities
This was apartheid!,
and my parents were illegally married
A white European knight in shining armour
to an African goddess with attractive eyes
I started to believe that my mind
used to be a foolish thrall to the world of perfect love
But now I believe that it’s a vendee
who bought the saying, “love is blind”
I was a child who no longer believed
in the love of mankind
I had trouble finding myself
‘cause faith is to believe what you cannot see
and self-love was nowhere in sight
Now love is something I have to draw
and I cannot neutralize it
with optimism ‘cause my world was at an apocalypse
when the sun was supposed to be out...
Oct 30, 2017
Oct 30, 2017 at 2:13 PM UTC
You didn't have time to react
Nuclear reactors melting
Why couldn't I have given you a signal
Allowed you to evacuate the valley
I just wanted death and chaos
I never wanted your heart to be inhabitable
I wanted it all to myself
Yet left myself in ruin
Alone in the dark
With only ghostly dolls to play with
I was another Chernobyl
Another disaster in the plains of your heart
Another tragedy soon to be forgotten
Nov 2, 2015
Nov 2, 2015 at 10:42 AM UTC
Impatiently parading the shoreline
Like waves persistently mimicking infantry
I must seem lost at sea
My feet resemble war heroes
Dirtied by the summer soot
Yet too proud to surrender
Millions of tan granules have met my fleet
But I'm too proud to surrender
What happens when the storm hits?
Comfortably crushing the paper mache blockades
I installed throughout my days here
The cozy road home is falling apart
My opportunity to evacuate shrinks as the shoreline invades
Yet I'm too proud to surrender
Like a captain of a sinking ship
I'm too proud to surrender
Oct 17, 2013
Oct 17, 2013 at 1:45 PM UTC
I know what we have is really quite solid.
But today I convinced myself of an earthquake.
Perhaps it began on screen
Some distant, modern tragedy.
I felt
The gravity
You know the kind
Some feel in a theme park ride
At first
It was a calculated calm
A day in the park
Vision shot through
pixilated
Bedding me
under
in **** fixation.
Such is my kaleidoscope to our collective,
defecate,
fantasy.
When the world turns 'round
those candy colors
dissolve into perfect fractals
geometry.
Single-file they beam--
pushing out
pop-cultural enemas
like frosting.
And then— too bright!
A riveting newsflash
the kaleidoscope
is
cracked.
flickering
gasps.
We watch
a city as
its body's streets--
collapsed.
see the banner of
blood now runs
down the news anchor's face:
There's been a
catatonic quake.
Interrupting this program
the woman
with a saccharine smile
makes A Devastating Report:
Yes.
We're all undertow
Evacuate then buy this ****** cream
move and upgrade your resume
The water broke and the oil spilled,
but the economy is definitively
under control.
This puppetry is
sedation by generalized asphixiation,
this American Dream glaring from the T.V. screen
is mindless work
-our salvation-
Harder work? Isolated suffering.
What with toxic invasion,
designer cantaloupe to nuclear waste,
more storms and third world turnover rates.
Higher and higher inflation,
predatory insurance claims-
minimum wage won't cover my education.
Bloated babies
not on T.V. and not in Africa
but holding Mamma's hand
loitering downtown,
near the grocery chains.
See the quake perpetuate:
These are American hunger pangs.
Occupy for Change.
Aug 3, 2011
Aug 3, 2011 at 1:22 AM UTC
What if all you believed was a lie
What if everything was an illusive deceit
Would you commit suicide, continue to believe or investigate the truth?
What if your life depended on it
What would you do?
There is paper trails wrapped up in illusion and like a picture framed
You only see what is there,
At least what the camera shots.
Charisma is subtle
It’s a quality I despise, why?
It’s the traits of politicians,
They tell you sweet bitter lies,
A fool enthralled, you eat it up like it was pork chops and salads
An appetizer
A delight.
Conspiracy theory elaborates truth as well as lies
What are we to believe when the world is built on bluff?
And we are all blind; give me a pair of glasses so I may see the world more vividly
I do however; believe I need more than that.
What holy war is upon us, when will the Jews have some solace?
When will the fat aristocrat evacuate his couch and out of the kings palace?
When will the rich exchange shoes with the poor and vice versa so
They might know the shackled ******** life as well as champagne and caviar.
We question the possibility of what takes precedence
I may Google the net, read a thousand books
Dive in all sorts of information
But I guess my appetite wouldn’t be satisfied because my eyes and ears
Had enough to realize and acknowledge that the world is built truly on illusion
If you don’t believe me, take the movies,
They use graphics and all the technology at their leisure for things to appear real
Actors and actresses like wise
We are all plunged in by theses perceptive beliefs
That precipitates a reality that conjures fictitiously real.
All rights Reserved.
Christena Antonia Valaire Williams.
April 17, 2013
Apr 22, 2013
Apr 22, 2013 at 10:28 AM UTC
The fire is far away
Not far enough to not see the flames
But far enough to not be afraid
Far enough to evacuate
Far enough to see the damage
But not experience the damage
Its getting warmer
But no need to panic
I live here
I watch the fire everyday
It inches closer but still I stay
I can’t leave yet
I have to much going for me here
I can’t leave yet
My friends haven’t left yet
I can’t leave yet
It’s not my time
It will be soon
And then I will leave
The fire won’t reach me
Hopefully
I want to leave
I hope it all burns down
And I get to watch and laugh
Mar 27, 2023
Mar 27, 2023 at 8:29 PM UTC
An achromatic photo
a tumbling rock
falling
down
A snow packed peak
Every inch of stone covered in weighted white
Rolling and growing...
growing and rolling...
the only sound heard, ice kissing ice
And my screams
Do you hear it?
The avalanche of my life
It has a sound unlike any other
A crescendo of every experience compounding on my soul, demanding to be seen, heard, felt, feared
Warning level 5 avalanche
Please evacuate the area for personal safety, hazard may cause more calamity
Apr 3, 2021
Apr 3, 2021 at 12:39 PM UTC
I'm the worm
On the sidewalk dying
Starving
I crave the *****
Like an apple core
In the trash can
Postmortem
I split my cocoon
Tasting with my tongue
Her Sweet smeared pollinated petal
Eyelashes like monster claws between the closet door crack
Skin pale perfect corpse
A form of higher evolution
Curves geometrically perfect
Dramatacized in black and white
I put up a good fight
Slice me apart with my own strengths
A slip of the tounge against my weakness
She told me
"Never."
She gives no satisfaction
Gone before the streetlights
Turn off
I don't want you
To leave again
Stay awhile
Stick your fingers in my bullet wounds
Whisper in my ear
Your fears
So I can play with them
Evacuate
Her particles slipping through the air vents
Dancing in the silllia of my lungs
The star in her belly
I warm my hands near the flame
Playing her game
Until I'm burnt
May 6, 2013
May 6, 2013 at 3:18 AM UTC
With brain bashing into head cavity,
the gelatinous mass of neurons screams out
to white blood cells swimming in eyeballs
to evacuate before drowning.
"Quit clowning around in there and
save yourselves!"
The moody mistress creates her own hells:
congratulations!
Sleeping alone in a sweat covered bed,
she spins saccharine thoughts and pollutes her head
with taffy, thick like molasses,
cooking sugar in the kitchen with
the wrong end of a spoon in her mouth.
Dried up *** stains litter her couch
as she wakes up to turn the cushions
and search for loose change
to fill up her coin pouch.
"Ouch! Ouch!"
She calls out, clean
sheets on a new day,
his fingers firing in a frenzy
and introducing the fusion of
pleasure and pain.
He smells of benzene and
she's afraid of burning,
stomach churning and
using gasoline as lubricant.
He hit her, she said, and it felt like a kiss.
She misses him at her day job
when she runs around town
robbing banks and
picking up handkerchiefs
that grandmothers drop on the ground.
He would pound
his manhood into a brick wall
if it moved like her,
but the skin-and-bones combo
woos him to coo at her
as swarms of sparrows
nest in her ***** hair.
Spit shined shoes and
riding leaves blown on the air,
she dreams of him awake,
listless eyes alive and pulsing
behind a film of glassy, viscous mucus.
She makes magic potions out of the scents
left over on one of her
mismatching pillow cases.
He tastes like roasted red peppers
and lingering mace:
her eyes water as she
chokes back ***** daintily,
like a queen.
His eyes gleam mean as
he steals her breath to
add it to his bursting bank account,
releasing her to give her back only gasps,
the 2% interest.
She crafts road maps of his back bone while he sleeps,
but he sees her as a phantom,
creeping through the floorboards,
a faceless specter with an ace up her sleeve.
Apr 17, 2015
Apr 17, 2015 at 5:10 PM UTC
There was a blinding light,
Then silence,
Then a hiss.
Air escaping,
Gasping bliss.
Glass shatters,
Shadows play.
A nuke hit the stern,
Evacuate!
No delay.
Days passed,
No one came.
No one heard the message,
No one 'brought the rain'
The solitary escape-ship
Suitable only for one,
Headed forlorn to the next
Inhabited sun.
"Nine thousand, seven hundred light years away"
The computer said in its monotonous way.
"And what of our air,water and fuel?"
"Approximate range is 6.2365r light years,
Will that do?"
"No" he said with a sigh.
Confined to his coffin
Not much to pass the time...
Internal recording 00001// lifeforms:1// life support: 97%
"This is Hal Katurn of the trade ship 'Endeavor'"
"Can anybody read....?"
"It's just me here......
In the vastness of space...
A grain of sand..."
Internal recording 000012// lifeforms:1// life support: 88%
"It's been a while now just me alone,
No contact friendly, or otherwise
In any nearby zone.
The quadrant is quiet....cold..."
Internal recording 000021// lifeforms:1// life support: 67%
"The stars....They....
They look so peaceful...hehe
What do you say?"
"Was that directed at me?"
Said the ships AI.
"Not you, the ones outside silly!"
"............?..........."
Internal recording 000037// lifeforms:1// life support: 24%
"Row...row...row....
Your...mind......
Gently out to space....
Lonely lonely lonely lone
Life is but a race...."
Internal recording 000042// lifeforms:0// life support: 0%
"..............................."
The farmer heard a roar
And stopped his toil for
A moment,
No more.
He saw the heavens fall
And knelt in prayer and awe.
He hurried to the hole left in his land
Where a voice spoke in a language he didn't understand....
"This is Hal Katurn of the trade ship 'Endeavor'"
"Can anybody read....?"
"It's just me here......
In the vastness of space...
A grain of sand..."
Sep 28, 2013
Sep 28, 2013 at 12:04 AM UTC
My heart is a derelict graveyard
Sodden with poetry that reverbarates miles and miles away with each painful throb
And so...
The aftermath, the ache
Tantamount to phantom limb pain
Surgical exorcism of the heart from the other
Here we go again
Some dude said Love is a dog from hell
And maybe its a fairy-tale mirage like Christmas
Hail Mary
Rid us of this daemon
That which instills terror in these frail hearts
Schizophrenic attempts to make the Mermaid of Venice copulate
Filthy little beast LOVE
Next season I might never unleash you
And forever extinct you shall be in me
Good riddance, mind pollutant, even air
Nothing like love is in the air
I couldn't have jammed into darkness and stench
Today you might just fall down into your ****** organs and vanish
Like a pin dropping into the Grand Canyon
These feelings
Phantom limb pain
Finally the warmth is dissipated
Culmination of the opposites is impossible
Not with you and other various forms of human ****
Rigour mortis of my soul
So what choice do I have?
Except to evacuate this fantasy of madness
And secretly nurse my phantom limb pain
At least this "Stiff" gave birth to a poem
And maybe a poet
Sep 10, 2016
Sep 10, 2016 at 2:41 AM UTC
We are on the "no call" list
Yet, our telephone still rings
We've a sign that says "No Pedlars"
But, there's people selling things
Showing up and disregarding
The sign that we've put there
They won't accept the fact they've trespassed
They really do not care
We get calls from companies
Who aren't allowed to phone
And when we say "we're on the list"
They leave us alone
It last for just two hours
Then they call back again
We start the "No call" salsa
From the beginning once again.
People drive by and they stop
They say our house needs work
They saw it from a mile back
They must think I'm a ****
I figure that their eyesight great
For our problem's not out front
The problem is around the rear
They're just searching on a hunt
Have you ever asked yourself
How do they "fly by night"
For they're all so full of ********
They couldn't muster any height
They tell you that they did some work
For the lady who lived here
But if they're work is so **** durable
Why did it only last a year
They're nothing but cheap hustlers
Who want to rip you off and leave
They're just out to get your money
They practice to decieve
They've never got good papers
To show just where they're from
And when you ask to see them
They hightail it and they run
The honest ones leave me alone
And they do not cross my step
For they read my sign "No Pedlars"
And they leave my place...with pep
They move on to the neighbors
They do not wait around
They don't look inside my windows
They just evacuate my ground
There's salesmen doing driveways
Professionals, these guys ain't
All they want to do is
Cover up my drive with paint
They ask about my eavestroughs
It is blocked, that's why it drips
But, it has a gutter cover
That's help on with plastic clips
They phone me during dinner
And they say, "Hi, my name's Jay"
But they sound as if they're calling
From an office in Bombay
They know that my computer
Has a virus I can't fix
And if I let them in my system
This problem they will nix
They prey on you not knowing
And they catch you unaware
So if you don't know these people
i'd advise you please take care
You can tell them really nicely
Or you can tell them go to hell
But right now, my phone is ringing
It must be Jay upon my cell.
May 28, 2012
May 28, 2012 at 6:27 PM UTC