"invader" poems
I am a nerd:
* DnD
* Harry Potter
* Lord of the Rings
* WoW
* Anime
* Reading
* Video Games
* Comic book heroes
* Science
* Math
* Hunger games
* Steampunk
* Disney!!!
* Futurama
* Star Wars
* Doctor Who
* Breaking Bad
* Archer
* 90's Cartoons
* Invader Zim
I am a Metal head \m/
* Nightwish
* Sabaton
* Ozzy Osbourne
* Iron Maiden
* Epica
* Van Canto
* Dealian
* Hammerfall
* DragonForce
I love my life:
* My love
* My family
* My Job as a preschool teacher
* having fun
This is who I am and I don't care if any one thinks of me!
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 12:19 AM UTC
This harbour was made by art and force.
And called Kingstown and afterwards Dun Laoghaire.
And holds the sea behind its barrier
less than five miles from my house.
Lord be with us say the makers of a nation.
Lord look down say the builders of a harbour.
They came and cut a shape out of ocean
and left stone to close around their labour.
Officers and their wives promenaded
on this spot once and saw with their own eyes
the opulent horizon and obedient skies
which nine tenths of the law provided.
And frigates with thirty-six guns, cruising
the outer edges of influence, could idle
and enter here and catch the tide of
empire and arrogance and the Irish Sea rising
and rising through a century of storms
and cormorants and moonlight the whole length of this coast,
while an ocean forgot an empire and the armed
ships under it changed: to slime **** and cold salt and rust.
City of shadows and of the gradual
capitulations to the last invader
this is the final one: signed in water
and witnessed in granite and ugly bronze and gun-metal.
And by me. I am your citizen: composed of
your fictions, your compromise, I am
a part of your story and its outcome.
And ready to record its contradictions.
6.5k
Surveillance is the cornerstone to my dictatorship
Over your life
I hold you firmly with my invader's grip
To create strife
To spread fear among the vigilant citizens
And make you feel like you're not fitting in
It's all part of my devious plan
To trap you in my surveillance van
I've got owls perched in trees
And satellites floating in space
Pictures make the world freeze
So I can see your pretty face
I start to drone on and on
Your indifferent mouth yawns
You spy on the clock
Waiting for me to stop
You stare through me
The way I stare into your house
Hell is 200 degrees
When you find your lovely spouse
She doesn't have my pictures
She hasn't read your scripture
I must've gotten my information wrong
I thought my surveillance was strong
My mistakes rule me with an iron fist
And they throw me in prison
I thought I could live in surveillance bliss
But this isn't the life I envisioned
Oct 11, 2017
Oct 11, 2017 at 5:55 AM UTC
What Dr. Lector devours with fava beans, inside rots. Too much Chianti?
Not likely. Likely, not enough
but there has been much else. Still,
no amounts warranting any shy example of overload. Mild splurges,
done in high style equal
nothing in comparison to toxic
baths taken in industrial grindstone
mortors. And the payback?
Walking papers and abdominal lump.
Poke it and choke on acid reflux. Pop
more pills to keep it down. Downers
prescribed on more downers.
Feeling down? Have another downer.
What else can we do? Your MRI's
and ultrasound, unsound, do not
come with flag from foreign invader,
claiming this new territory for king.
So, blame it on the offal.
Blame it all on the offal for not
having guts and glory
to fight off its own infection.
And eat your chicken livers.
Jan 31, 2016
Jan 31, 2016 at 1:21 PM UTC
Ma Jalouse, Mon Unique, Mon Ultime
Sais-tu ce que Lord Invader, Sam Manning
Cyril Monrose, Charlie Parker, Louis Armstrong
Jack Sneed et Ernest Rangling
Sans oublier Blue Glaze Mento Band et Phil Madison ?
Et je m'arrête là pour l'instant,
Sais-tu ce qu'ils ont en commun ?
Eh bien vois-tu, ce sont tous mes ombres.
Tu ne pourras jamais me comprendre
Si tu ne les comprends pas
Et si tu ne sais pas ce que représentent pour moi
La mangouste et le raccoon.
De même que pour te comprendre il faut avoir lu tout Dostoievski
Pour me comprendre il faut avoir écouté tout Sly Mongoose
Car peut être n'as-tu vu en moi qu'aria et boléro, symphonie et concerto
Alors je t'explique : pour comprendre, n'essaie pas de philosopher
Lève-toi et bouge tout simplement et tu toucheras l 'essence
C'est du folklore, c'est du reggae, c 'est du mento, c'est du calypso, c'est du jazz,
C'est instrumental ou c'est vocal
C'est moi, mes ascendances et descendances.
Sly Mongoose c'est mes Frères Karamasov
Smerdiakov, Aliocha, Ivan et Dmitri
C'est mon Idiot, mon prince Lev Mychkine
C'est mon Joueur, mon Alexei Ivanovitch
Mon Rêve d'un Homme Ridicule
Et Raskolnikov errant dans la nuit dans Crime et Châtiment.
Sly Mongoose c'est l'histoire d'une mangouste maline
Qui a baptisé la fille du pasteur
De son eau sainte
Et qui fuit la Jamaïque
Et part à l'étranger
Après son forfait.
C'est l'histoire d'une mangouste qui vole les poules les plus grasses de la cuisine
Et qui les met dans la poche de son veston
C'est l'histoire d'une mangouste qui entre dans la cuisine d'un prédicateur
Et qui repart avec une des poules les plus grasses
Et tous les chiens savent son nom.
il s'appelle Sly Mangoose
Il est malin, il est vicieux, le compère
C'est mon ombre, que veux-tu
Et parfois pour échapper aux prédateurs
Il prend l'apparence de l'ombre d'un raccoon.
Aug 21, 2019
Aug 21, 2019 at 6:05 AM UTC
I don't speak spaceman she said with a grin.
When into the craft she went.
Was parked on the grass at the rear of her tent.
There met an alien ugly as sin.
Invited her in to join him for gin.
Or maybe a game of rummy.
Neither one could understand.
Non-verbal communication ensued.
They had a hug and laid on the rug.
When sipping their gin.
The two of them,
The alien invader, ugly as sin.
And maiden fair who chucked her hand in.
By ladylivvi1
© 2014 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 4:35 PM UTC
Heart not
Of my heart
But still in my veins
Womb dweller, outside
my body
Me, a native invader in a constant
Place.
And [t]his will always be
A glass house
not a welcome home.
Apr 8, 2017
Apr 8, 2017 at 8:01 PM UTC
My heart has been invaded.
Alarms sound through the open hallways
And echoing spiral stairwells.
I hear the tread of a thousand-man army
Trudging through liquid and flesh
To capture my precious Love,
The Love that has been locked away in a tower
Safe from the outside world.
Call 911 -
This is a real emergency.
Fear creeps up my spine
As the shadow looms in the distance
And my days are numbered.
The army closes in with a fatal lullaby,
But to my surprise
The figure emerging from the mist
Is no heartbreak militia,
But instead
A girl.
Just about my height
Face to face.
Flower petal lips and hummingbird heartbeat.
Deep brown eyes glance through feather-lashes
And I am smitten.
If my invader is here to kidnap Love from her tower,
Love would go willingly.
A dream-come-true abduction.
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 10:51 PM UTC
At first, I felt like an invader. A trespasser in these spirits’ home.
The stillness swirled around me, as if it were trying to dizzy me away.
The tombstones didn’t want me there. I was abhorrent.
But then, I felt a kindling inside of me.
And as I sat in solitude under the withered old tree between the graves at 2am,
I couldn’t help but feel like the tombstones were my friends.
I couldn’t help but feel like a tombstone myself.
All I was was a symbol for what I had once been, a memory of who I once was.
What was inside of me, though, was just ashes of the past.
Sometimes people visited, dropping off a flower of hope or love or anguish,
But once that flower died, I was dead.
I started to cry.
I cried for these people, these new friends of mine.
I cried for their pasts.
I cried for my own.
And in that moment, I realized,
I was meant to be a tombstone.
People were meant to visit my grave. People were meant to cry for me.
I wasn’t meant to have a happy life. I was meant to have a memorable death.
I was meant to transform into a tombstone, for the world to visit and cry for.
And that was okay with me.
{alaska}
Nov 29, 2013
Nov 29, 2013 at 10:06 PM UTC
Ah here sits the stone on the ground
The shrub on the hill. A
Natural state of affairs if you will.
Retched Earth, abominable stone
Why the nerve of the rag tag tree
To perch ones self in stark relief
Blocking the skyline, space invader.
Thief.
Why the unmitigated gall.
Of the rain to fall on withered
Pate..
Tis the empty barrel that rumbles profusely.
The shallow stream that muddles at the bottom.
Pyramid craniums, issues forth babble.
Slackjawd mouth-breather.
Knee **** Buffoon.
Perched in perpetuity,howling
at the moon.
The my way or the Highwayman, astride a cocked horse.
The cant see the beauty of the Forrest for the treeman.
Bull headed, Ram goat Salty old ******
Failure to Communicate.
Rush to excommunicate
Monolythic seer
Cotton eyed joe
Constipated thinker.
Oh the comfort and surety
of riding in the ruts.
.
Nov 27, 2012
Nov 27, 2012 at 12:13 PM UTC
Space invader,
invades my galaxic heart
floats with me in the milky way
and rotating twenty-four-seven in the planet of love
Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 9:10 AM UTC
In the twilight hour
We reached the watch tower
The swinging trunks had got our smell
And one could tell
They weren't pleased
We had just intruded into their dust bath
Post the shower at the pool
Between us the distance
Was one of studied silence
Till one's trumpet froze me to the ground
From among the trees
Big little mud hills surrounded the space
Our clicking lens
Wore out their patience
And we were just nuts
Before that large herd
Some more were coming up the river
We heard someone whisper
And I thought of rebellious elephants
Fighting for territory once their own
Against an invader that spares none
What if this dwindling day hour
They crush the watch tower!
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 9:48 AM UTC
Burly bleak plumes roll out aloft corn
Where the dragon fell post spin and ditch
A wretched hulk of ruin splintered and worn
Amongst endless blanch green fields which
Arc with a gust and apart where he treads,
Dragging his silk cape afar from flame
Clueless and concussed to a near house he heads
With a tattered scarf that constricts yet ***** about his mane
Black fists of cloud had boomed around him as they soared
His beast spat metal fire whilst the pale sky turned dull
The zipping ballet of warfare smiled throughout as motors roared
Gnashing its teeth and making forgotten martyrs of them all
Shuddering not from demise rather conflict as a whole
He is as content with death as he is to survive
Just not burn the world and condemn his soul
A horror; men of rule seem keen to keep alive
An agrarian self-dines rancorous and crocked
Half sat, improperly perched from where he was shot
Monsters had come for him once before this day
They took his spouse and his daughter and then took them away
He can hear but does not hark to the battle aloft
It is now like the rain and the trees in a gust
But to the boom and the shake he stands with a cough
And as he cites the invader he sees he must do what he must
The grower limps out with a Chassepot in his arms
As the airman’s hands reach up and he falls to his knees
With beads on his brow the man pleads with met palms
The crofter sees naught but a Prussian blue monster disease
The pilot knows his death, ‘Ich bin nicht sicher, wo ich will gehen?”
The old Frenchman just sniggers as he thinks never again
With the rifle’s slug now spent and the horror sent back to his hell
The farmer mumbles to himself, ‘je dois me chercher une pelle,”
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 9:54 PM UTC
fifty trillion of them,
give or take an exponential few,
programmed to replicate, then die, ad infinitum
spawning perfect copies to ensure
molecular harmony
their perfection could not keep
their host from huffing on tar sticks,
gobbling bacon by the kilo, or worshiping the sun's crisping rays
until one of their eternal days, a perverse mutation occurred
one at first, then two, then four, then more
forgetting that all were once destined to die,
in a crimson clockwork fashion
apoptosis
the new invader would hear nothing
of this strange word, for it was the emperor of maladies,
its geometric procession a spinning spectacle to behold,
purloining space from the mortality hobbled trillions
evicted by cancer's kangaroo court
it will have its reign,
this galloping ghost maker, until
the host gives up the fight, and
that which fed its gluttony
will starve it as blithely
as the body gave it
******* birth
Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 11:19 AM UTC
Mother oh Mother. Why?
I find myself
Torn
Between two lives
Mother, oh Mother,
My future self and my past strife
They battle
As I watch with wide eyes
Mother oh Mother,
My head pounds
As my heart
Is pulled two ways
Splitting down the middle
Like the poems I wrote in the beginning of high school
Mother oh Mother,
They were ripped to shreds
And tossed in the trash compactor,
Mother oh Mother,
My heart can't take the same fate
As my first love letter.
Laughed at and ignored,
Set aside when it became a bore.
Mother oh Mother,
you once told me
Don't ever grow up
Well that was a sore mistake
Considering I grew up
Far too quickly
In order to make up
For your ****** up faith
In that ******* bottle
Mother oh Mother,
Do you remember the night
That you shattered it against the wall
(you had missed my head)
Mother oh Mother,
it made for a pretty metaphor
Representing
My life after you
Decided
Facing demons
Was best done
With a little help
From your friends
Jack, Jose and Morgan.
Mother oh Mother,
They never had any right
To take over our lives
Just like him
An invader
Nothing like kin.
No matter how much you insist
There's no problem,
Not even you,
Can begin to understand
What they've cost you.
Mother oh Mother
The memory is clear
As the night you wept,
"Don't grow up to be like me"
You whispered it quietly
Just past midnight
While you sipped on your wine.
Out of that diluted cracked glass,
Sleeping pills in hand.
Mother oh Mother
Do you remember how I sighed?
Closed my eyes.
Hid my tears,
It never did me well to cry
Not with you.
Mother oh Mother,
That night stands clear in my mind.
I took you to bed,
Tucked you in, kissing your forehead.
Setting yet another glass of clear water, two advil down
This night was repeated far too many times.
Mother oh Mother,
Do you even know?
Every single last day
I was screaming on the inside
Mother oh Mother,
Mother oh Mother,
Mother oh Mother,
Why?
Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 9:49 PM UTC
Yesterday I freaked out.
She told me to breathe.
But that didn't make sense.
I breath all the time.
At least if I held my breath,
I could get high off of it.
I once met a guy who was high on life
He ate the sun
And bathed in the wind
He might have worn tree bark
But I think he was just *****
He said in order to be one with yourself
You have to be one with all.
I don't think anyone wants to be one with
Themselves
We love other people's attention to much.
Thats why we stand in front of a mirror and list our flaws
That way we actually have something to talk about
I could bend over backwards to look
But all I'd see is everything upside down
I don't like being upside down
Cuz I know the other way is right side up
I don't like the other way
I like my way
Its luxury of design
I draw my life...sometimes there is sketch marks
But that's cuz I'm not a printer.
I don't particularly care for printers.
They make odd noises that sound too much
Like invader robots.
I've seen too many machine rising movies.
And I think I have seen the printer glare at me.
Probably cuz I kicked it.
It printed obscenities at me.
Speaking of obscene
You're probably wondering if this little piece of writing
Has a purpose.
Without further suspense I'm glad to announce it doesn't.
Why you even read it I couldn't begin to answer.
Why I wrote it is as mysterious as bologna.
I don't have much time left to write.
Probably a good thing because I don't have much
Write left to time.
But I implore that if you have read this that if any of it made
Sense.
Its about time to switch therapists.
Mar 26, 2011
Mar 26, 2011 at 3:57 PM UTC
I can hear the dryness of the tobacco burn
Thousands of chemicals burning for my desire
I can feel the burn of the nicotine gushing into my lungs.
Thousands of chemicals leaving traces throughout my organs
I can smell the bitterness of the smoke exhaling into the air.
Thousands of chemicals surrounding me
I can sense the damage being done to my body
Thousands of chemicals killing me
I can see the dangerous chemicals of the smoke filling the air
Thousands of chemicals polluting the space
I can feel the cravings executing my need.
Thousands of chemicals made to fix me
-------
I can hear the pulse in my head
Throbbing in the frontal lobe of my brain
I can feel the blood fighting the nicotine
Steadily rushing at an unsteady pace throughout my veins
I can smell the evidence on my skin
Reminding me of the chemical I am letting ruin my body
I can sense my rapid heart beat
Pumping my blood faster and faster until the foreign invader leaves
I can see the regret surfacing the space I currently am occupying
Making this one my last
I can feel the effect of my decision invading my body
My chemically invaded body
Aug 8, 2015
Aug 8, 2015 at 4:25 PM UTC
Wired like a loaded gun
Waiting for the morning sun
Hello! How are you today
And I wonder
My love
Should I take the sun from you
Put it in a box of darkness
Like setting
I spread the ashes of a love never in love
just a circle venn diagram make believe but not Peter Pan
And love
I love you so
I am the sun
And I shine for no one
So box of darkness
Here I come
Speckled star dust farm eggs
Fresh renewed self conviction
Moon born
Phasing through to a life
Without you
Hedonism blood pulse
Still sentimental soul
Selling out to the lone wolf
Sneaky fox
Flowers tainting memories
Hand holding cheek kissing nostalgia bliss
Don't think
Of the one you will miss
Just kiss
Supernova
Little sunhat at nighttime party
Don't don't listen to the lies you whisper to yourself
You are the one you'll miss
If you don't help yourself
Feast on sin and self-righteousness
Reincarnation is second chance
Listen to the hands with the carnations outstretched
Fellow stranger with star burnt eyes
caring for those self told lies
You cheat
yourself
with handholding cypress knees bending towards
neurons collapsing
into the one who
Binary stars you
Binary stares at you
Holds you in your sleep from far away
Dream meeting past life fleeting into the now
You answer to this highschool crush pop quiz invader of reality
Who questions what color to paint the moon
Never almost drowning
But who has only ever taken a life
that belonged to them alone
relating in fictional patterns of physics
Undeniable wavelengths
colliding crashing consoling
You knew from the first eyes
that seeds of doubt would sprout in what you mislead as love
And you ask
Why not?
Hello,
today is not tomorrow.
Oct 22, 2015
Oct 22, 2015 at 3:50 AM UTC
Our free flag is dancing
In the free mountain air,
And burnished arms are glancing,
And warriors gathering there;
And fearless is the little train
Whose gallant bosoms shield it;
The blood that warms their hearts shall stain
That banner, ere they yield it.
--Each dark eye is fixed on earth,
And brief each solemn greeting;
There is no look nor sound of mirth,
Where those stern men are meeting.
They go to the slaughter,
To strike the sudden blow,
And pour on earth, like water,
The best blood of the foe;
To rush on them from rock and height,
And clear the narrow valley,
Or fire their camp at dead of night,
And fly before they rally.
--Chains are round our country pressed,
And cowards have betrayed her,
And we must make her bleeding breast
The grave of the invader.
Not till from her fetters
We raise up Greece again,
And write, in ****** letters,
That tyranny is slain,--
Oh, not till then the smile shall steal
Across those darkened faces,
Nor one of all those warriors feel
His children's dear embraces,
--Reap we not the ripened wheat,
Till yonder hosts are flying,
And all their bravest, at our feet,
Like autumn sheaves are lying.
1.4k
Mother oh Mother. Why?
I find myself
Torn
Between two lives
Mother, oh Mother,
My future self and my past strife
They battle
As I watch with wide eyes
Mother oh Mother,
My head pounds
As my heart
Is pulled two ways
Splitting down the middle
Like the poems I wrote in the beginning of high school
Mother oh Mother,
They were ripped to shreds
And tossed in the trash compactor,
Mother oh Mother,
My heart can't take the same fate
As my first love letter.
Laughed at and ignored,
Set aside when it became a bore.
Mother oh Mother,
you once told me
Don't ever grow up
Well that was a sore mistake
Considering I grew up
Far too quickly
In order to make up
For your ****** up faith
In that ******* bottle
Mother oh Mother,
Do you remember the night
That you shattered it against the wall
(you had missed my head)
Mother oh Mother,
it made for a pretty metaphor
Representing
My life after you
Decided
Facing demons
Was best done
With a little help
From your friends
Jack, Jose and Morgan.
Mother oh Mother,
They never had any right
To take over our lives
Just like him
An invader
Nothing like kin.
No matter how much you insist
There's no problem,
Not even you,
Can begin to understand
What they've cost you.
Mother oh Mother
The memory is clear
As the night you wept,
"Don't grow up to be like me"
You whispered it quietly
Just past midnight
While you sipped on your wine.
Out of that diluted cracked glass,
Sleeping pills in hand.
Mother oh Mother
Do you remember how I sighed?
Closed my eyes.
Hid my tears,
It never did me well to cry
Not with you.
Mother oh Mother,
That night stands clear in my mind.
I took you to bed,
Tucked you in, kissing your forehead.
Setting yet another glass of clear water, two advil down
This night was repeated far too many times.
Mother oh Mother,
Do you even know?
Every single last day
I was screaming on the inside
Mother oh Mother,
Mother oh Mother,
Mother oh Mother,
Why?
Aug 5, 2013
Aug 5, 2013 at 10:41 PM UTC
End of the hall, last door on the right
Lies a sick child thats put up a fight
Her body sits broken and bruised as can be
While wars rage on inside her, we see
She still holds home base, with help from a few
Those protecting her heart, keeping her mind like new
So pesky invader, it's time you beware
And leave this strong body with each breath of air
Jun 27, 2011
Jun 27, 2011 at 9:19 PM UTC
The ghost from my lungs on the first cold step, the vapor that spirals out of my blood to dance as crystals on the cape of the dawn.
Her arms around my shoulders, pressing the blades, lamenting climbing in together when I would be the only one getting out.
Stepping in and dropping my bags in all directions, having none of them come running to investigate the invader of days.
Chill rolling on the inside of my skin and across the palms of my hands, only combated by the brush of your kiss.
A mistress of mistrust who sets lasers to **** just let you waltz in, even curling up behind your knees like you’ve been here forever.
Sweeping of lips on the line of my shoulder, a sweet settling of nerves so I won’t miss you too much on the far side of the bed.
When she lays on my bed with a gap in between, leaving just enough room from elbow to elbow for our souls to slide in and conspire.
The probing of the snowy wet nose of the gummy-eyed dog, bald but for patches of scratches and running zany with zest.
Swelling that builds up in my spine as you leave, filling and growing like insulating foam, an expanding despair.
Bristled fur and the slink in her walk when she’s asking for favors, a coyote stalking voles in the stems of dry grass.
Standing again as a phantom on the path, reading again the first tentative steps, still yet to find a single thing to regret.
The way the words just come pouring out like well water when she asks, running out the mud until it flows clear.
When the sun shivers and floats and then settles like dust on your eyelashes as you sleep.
Oct 20, 2012
Oct 20, 2012 at 11:17 PM UTC
The night is upon us
Stars glowing and twinkling
Like sequins on a blanket of black
The sounds of the forest
An orchestrated song
Crickets chirping, Owl a hooting
The rustle of the trees
I sit here on duty watching over our clan
The noises I am accustomed to
Would be deafening if I were not
I sit atop our campsite
The flames of the campfire dancing
Emitting a low glow of light
Shadows of the forest dance
To the song of the flame
I am alert, my senses clear
I smell the rain coming
It will be here in a day or two
My eyes trained to focus
In the low light of night
I am the night sentry
This is a job I must do
The trickling sound of water
Faintly heard from afar stream
I see every part of our camp
From my post within a tree
The campfire pops and crackles
I do not flinch to it's sound
I know the sounds of the night
I catch a scent of something
On the cool breeze of night
The scent is wild and thick
Slightly burning my nostrils
Then the sound of twigs snapping
Snapping in time to footsteps
I look in that direction
I see nothing, but the smell rises
I ready my bow and strain my eyes
The snapping getting louder, closer
One hundred paces from campsite?
Maybe more, I hold my breath
Listening through the sounds of the forest
Intent on hearing the oncoming threat
My eyes focusing on the direction
The snapping closer still
It stops, the orchestra is all I hear
I take a long breath
Then hold it as I listen harder
Bow still at the ready
I listen, I wait, I slowly breathe
Time seems to slow down almost to a stop
I peer at the direction of the snapping
Nothing seen, but I know it's there
Maybe the campfire creates fear in it
But it did not detour!
I slowly set myself comfortably
I am ready, my bow is ready
Then suddenly the snapping starts again
Only faster and heading to camp
I hear my breath, it has become fast
I hear my heartbeat in my ears
I still hear the snapping
And the sounds of night
Thirty paces from camp?
Maybe closer, I see the brush move
Shaking violently under it's strength
I point my bow, I am ready
Heart pounding, breath speeding
The wild, thick scent ever imminent
I wait for what seems a lifetime
For the invader to protrude
From the forest into view
Ten paces from campsite?
It bursts forth from the thicket
Large and tall, but fast
I take a deep breath, hold it
My arrow ready, I pull back
Feeling the muscle in my arm strain
To hold steady and create force
I release my arrow
My shot sure and true
The arrow meets with invader
A crimson cloud of rain explodes
As arrow connects
The sound of a heavy fall
The low moan as life escapes
I remain at my post
I watch intently
After feeling assured
I lower my bow and continue watch
We will investigate the invader
In the morning, as my job is
Night sentry.
Jul 9, 2010
Jul 9, 2010 at 2:42 PM UTC
The day was young and bright when we first met,
She had stared at me,
appraising.
Her eyes had set.
I was an alien,
an invader.
She had to search my eyes,
to check that I, too, was homo-sapiens.
I thought she was done,
for she accepted me then.
But I was wrong.
She peeled at my layers like I was an onion,
discovering who I was. I hadn't known what I was concealing.
My life was a charade
till, like a lioness,
she had begun ripping, revealing.
I was no longer an alien,
She had heard my tale, both the sorrow and joy, and I hers.
Yet she searched my eyes again
and discovered that I, too, am homo-sapiens.
Oct 23, 2012
Oct 23, 2012 at 2:26 PM UTC
It’s ******* Veterans Day
He said as my teeth turned into shrapnel on the street
He had the right to remain violent
I had the right to remain silent
Men have died for your right to speak
How dare you question the military?
Dissent squashed with brute force
Drone strikes on a straight course
Bang Bang! Like the pixels on a Playstation
His hands return ****** to the deployment station
PTSD on the brain
IUD as cremation
It’s ******* Veterans Day
Pay your respects
I’ll collect your debts
And turn them into fighter jets
You say you support the troops
Or do you really support Fox News
Or MSNBC
What ever you choose
It’s information that you lose
There’s no glory in ******
No matter what flag you use
Who’s this foreign invader your protecting us from?
The way I see it, is you’re the invader, son
Let’s hold a concert
Where the **** is Bruce Springsteen?
Let’s have a parade
Do people on the streets remind you of anything?
Oh yeah, that thing called protest.
How we talk about the things we detest.
Unless it’s about the troops.
Tie yellow ribbons instead.
Aren’t you glad Osama’s dead?
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 5:49 PM UTC