"flyboy" poems
you grow your beard out a little in may and look
like a flyboy in 44 with a soft face, soft mouth
just toughing it out to get home to apple pie and books
the one with the glasses, so to speak.
new, but in a way that says "if i shaved it
i'd be cutting away the memory of every bead
of sweat i shed in the time that this all grew"
and you look at me and god
those are .50 calibre eyes
green as the pacific
clamouring with all the pain and silence
of its little islands.
May 23, 2011
May 23, 2011 at 9:19 PM UTC
Remember that day of the phony "Mission Accomplished"
day, when thinking people viewed him in that jump suit with that extra crouch stuffing, and when your face turned
so red you felt liking ducking under anything available?
Well, here comes my writings about it, READY?...be brave...
be very brave...
You strutted on Lincoln steel;
not knowing what lay behind that thin-lipped-corporate-gah-gah-smile
Offshore a fool's victory you did declare
A vulture's feast you ushered in
as many sulfur dances engulfed both air and skin
What rooster pride you strutted on Lincoln steel,
while bulbs exploded in heated flare
How I remember you took that flight,
with a pseudo-manly-stuffed-buldge you said, "I 'm all right!"
In nightmares I see your faking smiling grin, as houses crashed
and innocent died, as flames created a reddened sky
Halloween-cowboy, flyboy-suit, a monster lurked on Lincoln
steel
And so, bulbs exploded in heated flare to land upon a nothing stare, to land upon a nothing stare,
to land...upon...a...nothing...stare
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 3:59 PM UTC
Waiting…
That seems to be the heart to this problem
Always waiting…
And when the waiting is over
There is more
Waiting…
Patience is a virtue
Mine runs thin
But I know I’ll see him again
I know the moment cannot come soon enough
His trips are long…
And become longer…
And longer…
But I will always wait…
His cause is just
So my waiting is a must
He holds my heart
I gave it to him from the start
He gave his to me
But I don’t have it all
Half he gave to me
The other
To his country
And I am willing to share him
Just because
I love him
He fights for what he believes is right
And I
Will stay by his side
Stay truthful...
Faithful...
Understanding...
Love him unconditionally
A good man he is
With a heart of gold
Flying to save the world
Our love can go the distance
His heart flies for the Air force
But is willing to die
To save you
And I
So I stay here
Waiting…
For the day
He comes back to me
For the day my Flyboy
Is reunited with his Honeybee
Jan 16, 2013
Jan 16, 2013 at 1:03 AM UTC
shaving w/ cold water a brittle lick rings off a 12" celestion perspiration.ocean sounds are spitting on me Seattle is a nominal love .some kind of bounce (they say) a blue zip cripples the skyline little armling lost tumbling errands away like missed alarms
a
flyboy jacket
raking dry lines away from wht you can stuff in your arms like a
jazz beat
wind spins complexcurrents around her wraparounds polarized to the smoke rings huffing from her nostrils on cold bright
morning
breath is a glitch receiving old information incompatible with the peachfuzz burning up with the o-zone
my skinny rocksalt eyes tire of eachother scraping in
the skin tightening over her forehead like a hide drum shrinking in the sun around it's ring
out of place.i stand cocked on the deck of the carrier wanting to
annihilate nations
.murder-saurus
Dec 22, 2016
Dec 22, 2016 at 3:56 AM UTC
When the sky
falls
I'll look down
At broken clouds
And
The fabric of space
Tore like the fray
****
Whose gonna fix!?
I''ll be looked upon
Flyboy!
"Just jump on the moon!
Pull the sky in full
With a pulley
And if it's too heavy
Pull me!"
Who want's to be a
Citiczen of earth
When once white clouds
Are now
Covered in dirt
Since I'm
The only guy with wings
You say,
It's easy to see
Me
I should fly
Reweave strings
But I'm no seamstress
It seems stressful
To have duty
On Call
Due to my
Enclave of feathers
Assorted in perfection
Cleverly positioned
To make light
And lift
I take flight
Even when the wind
Blows away
I'm wieghtless
I've waited a long time
To be accepted
Along time
You denied me
Who wants to befreind
The freak
But now you say
It's my destiny
To save you
But I won't
Will you freak when I deny?
Will you cry
Shout
Scream
In the final moments?
Or own it
Like the fate
You made me taste
As bitter
As the first look you gave
When you saw
My disfigured back
You didn't front
Like you didn't notice
The ugly sight
Which would soon
Be your savior
Sep 30, 2010
Sep 30, 2010 at 1:02 PM UTC
with the gumption of some-
one far wiser in years, you told us
you wanted to fly. Ok, alright.
Sticky fingered and knob-kneed
perched up on the tower of Babel,
kicking the breeze:
"sorry, are you okay?" licking
bruised ankles and knees,
you're still walking, modern day
James Dean.
Oct 1, 2024
Oct 1, 2024 at 8:44 PM UTC