"gremlins" poems
At an unknown time of night at our cottage in northern Michigan…
My younger brother and I heard strange noises coming from the beach again…
We looked up at the ceiling and then the window…
As the voices from outside, in a lively allegro…
Grew softer and louder in repeating crescendos…
We skittered out the door and stared in fascination…
For what we saw must have been our imagination…
The door closed with a creak as our feet hit the grass…
It was at that moment we got a look at the mass…
Of stubby foot, hunchback creatures from which the sounds had amassed…
There was about six of them chanting like a choir…
They danced and paraded around our burnt out fire…
As we looked on, we saw our fire raise…
It got brighter as they lifted their hands in waves…
As light betook the blue beach night…
A crowd of colorfully masked gremlins caught us in their sights!
Their feet slowed to a stop and they quieted down…
They stood still as the fire flickered off their weird wooden frowns…
One reached out his hand in a come-here motion…
They seemed to stand and wait with an encouraging notion…
As the fire crackled and the waves tumbled onto the beach…
All I can remember, is for the rest of that summer…
My younger brother and I served as the drummers…
For that quirky marching band of lake sprites…
With which our burnt out fire we’d reignite…
At an unknown time of night at our cottage in northern Michigan…
Oct 1, 2018
Oct 1, 2018 at 8:41 PM UTC
There’s a Devil of a night each year, the night of Mr. Haim!
When the devilish and ghoulie ones come out to play their monster’s game.
And why some would seek to trick or treat on this scary day of dead?
Careful now cause gremlins, trolls …sprites and wolves, will offer up their dread!
Quiet, shush, I hear a pack of creepy-crawly boots…
Ra’atan-Zu and the Boogedy-Boo!
And the skeleton bones, clink…
And the skeleton bones, clink…
The skeleton bones clink.
That crafty-smith of horns and hooves is spying on these kiddies,
As Ra’atan-Zu and the Boogedy-Boo are hunting strays to do their dastardly-ditties.
Quiet, shush, I hear a pack of creepy-crawly boots,
And their costumes, oh-so-foul, the evilest of suits!
And there she is, that little girl who can’t keep up, in a tasty mushroom ensemble.
And the skeleton bones clink in her path to give her quite a tomble!
Ra’atan-Zu and the Boogedy-Boo!
And the skeleton bones, clink…
And the skeleton bones, clink…
The skeleton bones clink.
And Sammy Haim, that smithy-devil, a ***** hoof -igniting ghoul’s desire,
He’s howling out, demanding now, “Put that child to the fire!”
And little does he know, no little bit, not even a small clue,
Neither Ra’atan-Zu nor Boogedy-Boo intend on giving him his due!
For once a year on Halloween they get one night to spaz,
Get down and ***** wild and crazy and play a little jazz!
That little mushroom of a girl will play a tiny fiddle,
Ra’atan-Zu and the Boogedy-Boo, a jazzy duet with child in middle!'
Ra’atan-Zu, Boogedy-Boo and a little girl too as they get down actin’ a spaz! Playin’ all night, howling to the moon and kickin’ out some wicked jazz!
*And the skeleton bones, clink…
And the skeleton bones, clink…
The skeleton bones clink.* *
Jun 6, 2016
Jun 6, 2016 at 6:31 PM UTC
steel
oil
engineering
labor
converge
round a
Rocket 88
dead man’s
curve
prescient
precocious
capitalists
concoct
Edsels
Vegas
Chevelles
leaping
Impalas
leak
oil
staining
every
American
driveway
Pintos
chase
Gremlins
across
The Great Plains
gassing up
at
Rt 66
fillin
stations
scramblin
Midnight
Ramblers
detour to
take refuge
with Goats in
Big Sky
Indian
garages
440
Mustangs
nip
327
Stingrays
and
Mach IV
Cobras
get
snake bit
by Dart
wielding
Mopar
muscle
cars
long fins
chrome bumpers
and round fenders
still get bent in
Havana
but
Motor City is broke
nations outta gas
whole **** country
needs an overhaul
Ike Turner/Jackie Brenston: Rocket 88
Nelson Riddle: Route 66
7/19/13
Oakland
jbm
Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 10:57 AM UTC
Zopiclone is a marvellous
Drug
Take one then get down
Snug
Wake refreshed for another
Day
Keep the gremlins far
Away
The doctor says “You’ll get no
More”
His message now is in
Folklore
Keith Wilson August 2016
Aug 22, 2016
Aug 22, 2016 at 10:36 AM UTC
The last 5 years feel like a numb, confusing blur.
Like I laid myself to sleep for a while.
Like I needed to be dead to the world.
Then one day I suddenly awoke to a longing in my chest.
A feeling I couldn't fight.
A quickening of my breath.
The outside world shone through the cracks and my legs guided me straight outside.
Fresh socks on the grass of spring's early morning dew.
As it soaked through to my feet, I felt alive again.
But who am I now?
And who the hell do I want to be?
What just happened?
And what am I doing here?
I keep blinking to wake up but I'm finally awake.
It feels like I've forgotten everything, I'm trying to remember who I am again.
I've been playing Eurotruck Simulator for 2 days straight.
Mindless driving through virtual country roads.
I've jack-knifed my truck and need to pay the service toll.
Have to deliver this big bag of seed to Hamburg but I'm stuck in the middle of the road.
The traffics piling up and everyone's honking their horns.
This is way too much pressure.
“Don't Worry Baby” By the Beach Boy's plays softly in the background.
But in fact I'm very much worried.
Whether in my online trucking game or the real world it just never seizes.
All I asked for is a day where I'm not incapacitated by my own thoughts.
They're useless, nonsensical pesters that make everything go wrong.
Stupid worry gremlins with bells on their ankles.
The harder you try to ignore them, the louder they love to play.
Until your mind is an orchestra of gremlins beating their feet into your brain.
It's impossible to get anything done when they're dancing away.
What matters is I'm still trying my best.
I'm leaving the house again, changing my old routines.
I even went out past 7pm.
What a real rebel I'm becoming.
Breaking old boundaries takes time but false 'safety' doesn't serve me anymore.
I sat in the pub last week and finally felt 24.
Maybe I'm a little behind compared to everyone else.
But I managed to save my jack-knifed truck and ship the seed to Hamburg, everyone has their own strengths..
Jack of all trades.
Master of none.
But in Eurotruck Simulator I'm No1.
Mar 9, 2023
Mar 9, 2023 at 4:42 PM UTC
she is fine as hell,
doesn't even own a car,
still she's ready to go and I'm ready to roll,
so let's go drive our hearts into tomorrow,
her skin glows more than 24k gold,
use me please babe I can be borrowed,
just please leave the ego,
check your ego at the door,
of perception no deception,
only reflections reflecting us more,
cardinals and directions,
robins and gremlins,
goblins and demons,
land mimes and sea men,
see man she can get any man,
because her skin is pure adrenaline,
she’s the disease she’s the medicine,
she's dark like African and light like Edison,
high in the Hollywood Hills,
swimmin’ in infinity pools,
intent on intent,
and also indecisive in a sense,
in any event at every event,
she shines more than any lame in a designer dress,
because she looks better no matter whatever the attire,
no makeup and sweatpants she's still the best dressed...
The H Trilogy
I just published a new book.
If you could take a moment to check it out,
and even write a review it'd be most appreciated.
All profits go to a charity that prevents ****** assault against children.
So not only are you getting an epic book of poetry,
but you're also supporting a good cause.
Thank you SO much
∆
Here are the links for my new book:
www.amazon.com/dp/B01I4621OE
www.createspace.com/6393238
Jul 6, 2016
Jul 6, 2016 at 3:11 PM UTC
But then that Bronze you would Commercialise
Out of those Hands which reimbursed your Win
Need not be Displayed; For Humble concise
The Best Blown Victory embraces your Skin
Like that Gold-Dresser his Scriptures resume
Though unexpected Prime Tarriff despite
Saw this Next Call for Excitement subsume
For the Corvocado Christ he'll incite
And as for you, to Teeny-Bopps you relate
And Promote your Sport as a Pop-Ear's Rage
With Some at-risk, masturbed and hate
The Artist's Garden stolen for corsage.
There are certain Themes which need no Reform
That if we do, such Gremlins we Transform.
Mar 15, 2013
Mar 15, 2013 at 3:21 AM UTC
I've got yelling, dancing, and partying gremlins inside of me next to you
They and you are good friends who flew the same coop in the same town called "Brown"
And you travel
Forever
Among the stars and the same stars' starlit bars
(Lit additionally by cars' glowing (picture-perfect) flowing headlights - growing ever-closer until all you see is the bright-side of the brightest white slighting the night's slightest, however plentiful they may be, "maybe" sins)
While yelling, dancing, and partying inside of me
Next to them
Feb 16, 2014
Feb 16, 2014 at 6:11 PM UTC
Once I was a Hero,
the Hero of my back yard.
My sword, faith and shield were handy,
kept my face unscarred.
I would fly on wings of ravens,
ride on the backs of beasts,
sleep under the Ice from the west,
rise with the Fire from the east.
I saved many fair maiden,
slew gremlins, ghosts, and goblins,
found ancient treasure from past kings,
ran through numerous gauntlets.
I commanded a battalion of knights,
who would shout my name with pride,
I wonder if my people have missed me,
since the day I grew up and died.
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 1:13 AM UTC
Looking back
years later,
I probably should never
have been on that flight.
Here’s the reasons why……
Shortly after takeoff,
and three cocktails later,
I spied a gremlin hanging out
on Engine Two.
Every time I looked,
smallish with green skin and red lips,
it smiled with an impish grin,
then went about its business
dismantling the cowling.
It seemed like
I was the only one who noticed
the little creature.
Other people were looking out
of the same side of the plane and
nobody was saying or doing anything.
Had they slipped me something?
Was the gin spiked?
Was I hallucinating?
Was God sending me a message?
Needless to say
we landed safely in Bogota
a few hours later.
It was a beautiful vacation!
But on my return flight,
things turned sour.
I was busted
for possession of narcotics,
spent six years in
a Colombian prison,
it wasn’t Heaven.
Like I said,
I probably should have never been on that plane.
Now looking back years later,
I think the gremlin was trying to warn me,
I wished I had taken heed,
given up the thought
of trafficking.
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 1:02 PM UTC
It's 3 am and the gremlins are back again
Whispering in my ear without voices
tapping at my skull wit fingers they do not have.
Silently they complain and chide me, insistent and loud, yet incessantly soundless.
In my mind their wordless cry echoes and reverberates always the same.
They scream for ink and letters like wrathful Aztec gods craving fresh heartsblood
I hear some writers have a muse,
An elegant, gentle guide to lead them through the creative process.
I have my gremlins.
Small and clever, my gremlins are ever restless.
Forever they claw and pull at me.
Impatient, impetuous, never still.
They cry out to me, their demands the same as ever.
In one voice, and that one which makes no sound.
With their single silent scream they all shout...
WRITE THIS DOWN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Sep 3, 2013
Sep 3, 2013 at 8:04 PM UTC
Here they come now!
Giggling up the sidewalk
On their way to my front door!
Masses of costumed gremlins
Tumbling, Pushing, Squirming, screaming bundles of fun.
On their way to my front door.
Sticky faces, Painted faces, Horrid Hairy masks that hide happy faces,
Upturned faces
Grinning ear to ear in anticipation of some goody
Tossed into each sack
On their way to my front door!
Oct 29, 2016
Oct 29, 2016 at 6:33 PM UTC
Life, will take your hands and break every tendon in your fingers
Life, will rip your fingernails off like the 12th ticket in Stop&Shop;'s deli counter line
the cold, dead selects you purchase by the ounce for weekly lunches remind us all
of the patience we practice each day
Patiently waiting in line patiently waiting to buy
He's waiting for her to text back and she is waiting for her heart to attack
She's been hearing the war for years now, gunshot reminders and grenade bombers explode through her bloodstream to haunt any destiny of peace
We want you to be Okay
everyone wants some semblence of comfort but there are needles in my eardrums
the music isn't piercing me anymore
I miss notes and sailboats streaming into me
I know where they are but my fingers are limp
Life will numb your fingers
so when your mother buys you gloves and hats on your birthday
muster the golden mustard stained napkin in your heart and wipe the selfish tears
A piano is unrealistic, that opportunity passed years ago
Be thankful for the very light reflecting off of the silverware, remember
Life will never be simple or fair
you will always be here but wish you are there
Sometimes you will feel like nobody cares
and that's alright
nobody has to care
except for the gremlins that live inside my hair
Dec 8, 2013
Dec 8, 2013 at 10:40 PM UTC
Toadstools and gremlins
Peaches and lemons
Wash, chop, and mix
Together create your fix.
Blood and minced liver
Stirred without a quiver.
Before placing in the oven to bake,
Add in flour, three eggs, and old heartache.
Forgotten promises and toenails
Beaten together with the eyes of two killer whales.
Throw in some chocolate and hash,
And Liar’s Brew is ready in a flash.
Dec 20, 2012
Dec 20, 2012 at 12:53 PM UTC
we were older then. you with your horn-rimmed glasses
sleek as Hermes, resting on your button nose; dazzling.
your eyes were smoldering echoes, far off on a quest for
visions. mine
were nowhere
to be seen.
we poured over volumes of antiquity, blazoned with rich
art. Faustian marvels, leather bound and noble.
we traipsed the gallows of Dry Humors, lording it
over the gremlins of our isolation.
we had not been formally introduced and everything
was formal. we haunted the halls; our school of fish eyes
sparkling; weaving like serpents in the heather on ether.
we roamed the hallowed ground on secret missions
without Love.
then i asked you out. and changed the world.
Jan 16, 2013
Jan 16, 2013 at 1:46 PM UTC
Adversity climbs aboard when least we can afford it
The gremlins of the fools of fate are primed to raid the ship,
Murphy's Law adds substance to the soup's interpretation
And the parasites engage with glee when first, they take a sip.
Resistance at its lowest in the darkest throes of struggle
Endurance at its lowest ebb when caste against the tide,
The secret's in the stance and stare which moulds the way to combat
Determined by the grit and heart and fibre deep inside.
Bad enough to buckle in initial ****** and parry
Bad enough to give concession well before it's due,
Hard enough to muster the support of all and sundry
When corrosion from within is unraveling the glue.
Sleep eludes the tired mind and worry lines occur
The Bank you've used for 30 years has fled,
Your dependents you supported in their time of dire need
Will no longer meet your gaze or keep you fed.
And the crowning factor crushing you is not the battle waged
It is not the lack of energy or will,
The crushing blow which flattens you and leaves you destitute
Is that FAMILY leads the charge to wish you ill!
Marshalg
In support of my dearest, dearest Sister.
12 August 2013
Aug 12, 2013
Aug 12, 2013 at 1:49 AM UTC
Inside my room,
The hot groans
screamed
A merry finishing.
…Lame whine.
Nicer emotions
Lift along
A meekness.
-Idle Wrath
——————————————————————————————————
Another ghost
scared me
Fingers in my hair
meanwhile
more nicotines
falling to make sense.
-Wild Heart
Oct 8, 2011
Oct 8, 2011 at 3:08 PM UTC
I used to be afraid of the monsters in the dark,
of the boogie man,
and the creatures in my closet.
I used to have nightmares of horrifying abominations,
of goblins and gremlins, vampires and werewolves,
And the pain these creatures bring.
But now, I stopped screaming in the dark,
looking under my bed,
and checking my closet every night.
Instead, I have nightmares of people around me,
of causing other’s deaths,
and the hurt that society brings.
When I realized the monsters were inside of us.
Jun 27, 2017
Jun 27, 2017 at 11:34 AM UTC
If you could see the way she looks at you
you would know
But you're busy building walls of doubt
nursung weary what-ifs
like feeding gremlins after midnight
I have this picture of the both of you
You are staring off into your imagination
always just above the horizon
And she is laughing
at something you said
She is looking right at you
smiling honest
Only you can make her laugh like that
Only you
I guess some of us need it spelled out
Our egos need to be reminded
You are not always going to be her favorite everything
You are not the best
But for whatever reason she chose you
Chose you like a raffle ticket
from a barrel full of so much better
You are not a jackpot
she is not a jackpot
but you both have won something
You're both walking away with what you came here for
You break her heart some days
How her eyes sadden
and she does that thing that girls do
you know
when they go
awww but it's pronounced oohh
(Men love that sound)
I see the tremble in her arms
the hesitation to hold your head to her *******
But your signals cross
and you beat yourself up later
for not acting differently
because she might fall in love with you
if you had done things differently
You can't act your way into a relationship
If you're not being yourself
You're being somebody else
and in that case
she's better off with that other guy
It makes me wonder about lightbulbs
and how many people it takes to ***** them in
depending on your occupation
I wonder how many pairs of eyes it takes
to notice what love looks like
Because if you could see the way she looks at you
you would know
and the only thing you might do differently
is continue to be yourself
Apr 27, 2012
Apr 27, 2012 at 7:13 AM UTC
Under hazy violet twilight hum sprites
Performing acrobatics above my head
Eyes fixated on the popcorn ceiling
They sing the body electric
In the cinema between four off-white walls
Under lazy muggy moonlight I hang tight
Watching pixies become gremlins
Eyes chartreuse, bright, and bulging
Scurry down walls and seek refuge beneath me
Becoming the neurotic symphony of aging pipes.
Under fading fluorescent lights I sit upright
Scanning all four corners for my personal bogeyman
Eyes bloodshot, heavy, and weary
Once again close beneath then fortitude of quilted mass
Becoming another night of stuttering slumber.
Mar 31, 2016
Mar 31, 2016 at 5:50 AM UTC
the quiet engine of passing time
produces gremlins in the shadows of morning
they steal the warmth from his cup of coffee
they place landmines on his daily road to perdition
'this is what madness must be like'
he said to himself as the dawn seeped into the room
one tear stained ray of sunshine at a time
because each added moment lighted reveals
more of her damaged face
more of her impossible eyes
her words hurt his ears as she bleeds his strength
she is a peddler of perils
whats your fantasy she cries out
tied to the railroad tracks like a maiden
or walking the long mile with the skeleton key in hand
the key opens all enduring keepsakes
and releases them to crawling thieves
you cannot retain your world for more than
a flickering moment
so you loose faith that it can ever be done
i miss her
and i miss my daughter
but she is a peddler of perils
and she now comes grinning and fast *********
my head full of noise
so my thoughts gather round
like they are at the Battle Of The Alamo
to the necessity of self preservation
and the warm comforting blanket of self interest
manufacture reasons to do what the ***** dictate
but its her goal to see such endeavor
fold under the weight
of her guilt trip
back in the echo box
she quietly shouts into
the acoustic confusion
madly laughing and the ensuing army
of echoes marching in lockstep to her mad mad laugh
of her mad mad laugh
of her mad mad laugh
we spend the day between the
sheets wrestling each others sweaty forms
i miss her
Aug 14, 2013
Aug 14, 2013 at 9:42 PM UTC
You lie asleep on your bed
The monsters wait underneath;
To grab you with their scaly hands.
They smile with their crooked teeth
The gremlins dance in the shadows
As your closed eyes start to dream
They crawl along your room, just
Waiting to pounce; to make you scream
In your slumber, you don't hear,
Fingernails drag across your window
By the bony hands of a hooded figure;
The ghost of a soldier's widow.
Safe and warm in your blanket,
You sleep completely unware
Of the howling trees and tortured wails Carried along by the cold nights air
You rest, immersed in your dream,
You don't hear your floorboards creek
Or smell the stench of a ghouls breath
Or see the sights that would make you shriek
You sleep, all cozy and snug
You think that everything's alright
Oblivious you are to all the creatures
And things that go bump in the night
The sun rises and back into
Their holes and corners they scurry.
You awaken, well rested and fresh
And continue on without a worry.
You'll never know what went on
While you dreamed of happy times
The horrors that once lurked in your room
Wait, hidden, for a chance to strike...
Oct 4, 2014
Oct 4, 2014 at 8:33 AM UTC
About an hour later she slipped
Yuri Andropov into the conversation:
“I have to drop off a blouse at the dry cleaners.”
Suddenly it was May Day &
I’m back in Red Square,
Dwarfed beneath larger than life
Lenin, Engels & Marx mug shots.
Inter-continental ballistic lorry loads
Roll past the reviewing stand, while
Geezer Reds in Ushanka fur hats,
****** on Stoli, reeking of borscht,
Chain-smoke cheap Soviet Belomors.
I share these thoughts, handing
Mrs. Khrushchev the car keys.
Having cowered herself in terror,
Having ducked & covered many
Burial promises & shoe-pound threats,
She gives me a tired babushka smirk.
We are conjugal Cold Warriors,
Both weary now, creeping up on 70,
Skirmishes & brinksmanship behind us.
Tolerant of each other at last;
Lukewarm détente between us.
May 14, 2016
May 14, 2016 at 3:00 PM UTC
Giant, gruff, grinning
it grabs gratuitously
at my body.
Grumpily grappling
onto my arm
and throwing.
I grasp at green air,
I find only the graceless
graininess of gravity.
It, grunting,
grips my insides
and greases the ground
with my grimy gremlins,
my greatest, grueling torment.
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 12:42 PM UTC