"fibia" poems
Heavy black clouds
darken the entire sky
an imposing dictator
now rules the horizons
pertinent
petulant
grinning
seditious clouds
mercilessly grinding
devouring
cotton candy clouds
silky satin clouds.
Bright heady clouds
now smothered, abused
all conceding
they themselves are
now transformed
en bloc!
oh great one
allow me to intercede
so all bow low below
Allow me to bellow
Wasteful wistful wisps
Of white fluffy bits into –
A war cloud!
One that gets respect
A heavy dark full-bloodied cloud
Into a real cloud
A cloud to die for
So gallant brave foot soldiers
beat the war drums with
whittled willow sticks
thunder-bolt strikes that
invoke the terrain spirits
alert the earth sprites
enlighten all mankind
so sombre September skies may
weep woefully
for all the living,
the departed, too.
.
lightning strikes
faces flash-overed
frying
flesh fresh
weeping
unpeeling crawling
exposing
feeble fibia bones
splendid rip raw effect
lightning sheets that reflect
vivid vibrant violence
inflicted on hapless victims.
Therefore ... I propose
simply do not court disaster
Serve but one Lord and Master
Oh menial lowly caste civil clouds
Pay homage to your Ruler
Recognize and realize –
CUMULONIMBUS!
Mar 14, 2014
Mar 14, 2014 at 11:09 PM UTC
the N.S.A. is my friend,
the N.S.A. is my friend,
the N.S.A. is my friend,
detention lasts an hour,
how many times do you think
i'd write the statement?
this is before the dark-web,
before Contraband Anonymous,
oh hell, i can write you Orwell's
1984 in nanoseconds,
about how you should drink and not
ingest hallucinatory drugs,
not least the pharmacist quotient
available...
but prior to... hmm... the N.S.A. is
still my friend, they have the conversations
of the culprits, and Tsar Putin jacking
off to the sound of Apollo 13's mission failure...
and have i the ***** to say it?
i think i do.... unless a Martian descends,
or Jupiter encrusts into a ball of hot
cranium of fire, then we're left with Pluto being
the penultimate ice-ball before
the thing that killed the dinosaurs comes
along in hookah Kiwi haka style
for a fantasia of the Parisian catwalk...
chew wee a mega fibia, aye Scotch,
aye Ben Nervous - mega choo backpacker
and mm, hoo see the Nedtherlands!
and then we all get to nibble on our excited-lower-lip
the French revolved around to hark:
oriental in Romanian: h = r = haaark!
agling to a gagging too.
poetry - you make sounds, you don't
intend to make sense... it's your *******
tongue as a trumpet... what else?!
Jun 15, 2016
Jun 15, 2016 at 9:51 PM UTC
Isn’t this confusing?
To be a hopeless romantic
Searching for your twin flame
Curving the mundane
To find The one whom is equally yoked
I'm Lost and wandering
In what once was
familiar territory
But this open space has
Transformed itself into battle grounds
I'm sparring viciously for one's attention
Because there are women
That are willing to lose their identities
To faces with no name
And are often times too eager to spread
Fibia bones to avoid the vacancy in their beds
And then there's me;
Attracting men
That only latch onto women for therapy
Refusing to take responsibility for their own healing
Claiming a Queen as his property
Because he fails to have control over his own life
and i have learned how to adapt in this chaos
Forcing to close myself off
From the one thing I've wanted so badly
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 5:21 PM UTC
Sick skillin'
Like a villain
Inkin like a saint
For the ***** I be fillin'
My style you just can't taint
I'll tear out ya tibia
Ya fibia
I'm sick of ya
I'll leave you lying ****** muddy
In the streets of lybia
Hungry mother *******
have no trouble getting rid of ya
And if your country had of loved you
Then they would of hidden ya
Before I had a son
I woulda grabbed a gun
Put it to my head
And chased myself to the other side of a darker place
But then I see his face
Reminds that I gotta be a member of the human race
And to find my place
Keep him right so he don't fall from grace
Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 6:14 AM UTC