"jurassic" poems
One fine morning
on my way to work
I met a real dinosaur
in big boots and a mischievous smirk
I’m kinda lonely he said
just visiting this town
I don’t have any friends
and thats bringing me kinda down
He looked kinda sad
with his tiny Dino eyes
I’d have to call in late
and explain it to the office guys
First we went out for ice cream
then we played a video game
He cracked a lot of dinosaur jokes
which were all kinda lame
When he would laugh
his mouth would open wide
Which sorta kinda scared me
and made me want to hide
His Dino tail would wiggle
and his laces would always come loose
It was funny trying to watch him
tie up his dinosaur shoes
Then we went to Iceland
and all the rides were cool
It was really spectacular seeing a dinosaur
floating in the swimming pool
Then we were really hungry
and we went out to dine
He scared all the waiters and waitresses
and drank up all the wine
I climbed up on his back
and he went for a run
Omigosh this day was perfect
I was having so much fun
Everywhere we walked
people screamed and ran
at the big stomping dinosaur
causing all the traffic jams
If only they would listen
If only they could see
Mr. Dinosaur is just a nice guy
just like you and me
Our perfect day was over
Dino had to go back home
probably back to Jurassic Park
and left me here alone
Next morning at work was a ******
such a tiresome bore
I just wanted to leave the office
and run out the office door
When the clock stuck five
I finally decided to leave
I left my dull office
and Lo & behold I just could not believe
Standing before me
in front of my very eyes
stood my dinosaur buddy
what a nice surprise!
We talked and talked for hours
even after dark
and when the day was over
I decided to move in to Jurassic Park
Now we’re never lonely
Dinosaur and me
Dinosaur has a friend
and I have family
Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 4:17 AM UTC
I L U like my ***** clothes
Love being forgotten
On my bedroom floor
I L U like chores love the
music that helps them
forget they're chores
I L U like ***** dishes
Love hot showers and
the other side of the sink
I L U like I love spilling
Salt, and warding off the evil,
By tossing some behind my back
I L U like I love
Breaking rules about
my own supposed
non-Superstition
I L U like black cats love
Bad luck, cause to them,
It's just Friday, you know?
I L U like the hot dog bun
Loves staring at the beef patty,
Wishing "if only, if only"
I L U like bread loves
Being forgotten till we're really hungry
And then we're all ungrateful, like
"Hey bread, you remember us?"
And bread is high above us, like
"Always."
Not even a hint of scorn
I L U like the first time I saw
Jurassic Park, The dinosaurs
Were real enough
sans chicken feathers, and
Who needs modern science anyways
when love has no fossil records?
I L U like the weather loves
Surprise parties.
I L U like painful
surprise party memories love
being forgotten on my bedroom floor
I love you like Mayflies love living,
oh so briefly, once a day, every single day,
Chapter one to chapter none
I love you like mayflies love themselves,
brevity and all, stirred by nothing but
the glow of Dawn's light,
Dead by dusk, the Mayfly never
knows its final form.
It dies
in complete
incompletion,
but that's okay.
It drank the salt ocean,
it breathed the living air,
And that's how I want to L U
Feb 25, 2017
Feb 25, 2017 at 4:26 PM UTC
Life for me began as an egg, it wasn't really a special egg, just a regular egg shape with some green splotches .So, you were just like the Platypus and the Echidna ?. Exactly like the Echidna and Platypus .Well not quite exactly, those creature are mammals,
I'm more like a lizard, I'm actually part dinosuar.
My mother is a dinosuar like creature known as a Dinosapien, But I'm more human than she was. I'm about 60 percent human , though I do posses Lizard organs , My eyes are ,
My heart and lungs are, So is my ****** my appetite and my tongue
I can taste the air, Just like the snake . Em, but dinosaurs don't do that
How dya know ?, Well because of science and Jurassic park
Yah, I'm sure their both official sources, any way, so how come were having this conversation ?, well that's the one thing about dinosaurs , they were notorious for having one sided conversations with themselves, ya mean they were bonkers ?, no not crazy and once they left the nest ,were pretty much losers, I mean loners.
What about mating?, Well they had wieners ya know, no, not that and what about female dinosaurs ?, well the females didn't care , they just wanted a male for about 3 minutes, if he was lucky maybe 3 and a half, the males were more concerned about ****** contact with the ladies. So, I guess there was a lot of dudes ******* each other then ?
em, I think this conversation is over now
Feb 13, 2013
Feb 13, 2013 at 12:30 PM UTC
play wild things
lie is waking
spirit is american
the book is beat
where is wonderland, Alice?
Jurassic period dinosaurs,
oven toasted humans,
plastic skeletons,
dancing to ska,
cupboards organize themselves,
toking indian hides
blaring chocolate chip trumpet solo
as the laughing sun, rises
pen stroke sun rays
into a rainbow bouquet
Dec 12, 2013
Dec 12, 2013 at 3:51 PM UTC
I understand they find dinosaur bones there in your backyard. Big ones. I've never been to your house or even close to that neighborhood, but ever since you've written me, I am completely intrigued. What you said about me, I think about you in an execrable Hemingway way, maybe as in his "Death In The Afternoon." All the goring. Faintheartedness is nothing to be carried by bullfighters or by bone hunters, I suppose. If there were a way of going back to days of nobler more romanticized slaughtering in bullrings, without the controversy, I'd have to say it is more evident in our modern day Jurassic Park flicks where nerdish paleontologists are transformed into fiendishly handsome toreadors.
I know I'm not making much sense. Bullfights and dinosaur rustling, what's to compare? One being non-civilized though colorful and bathetic, the other fantastical but forgivable because the beasts bite back. Oh, if only I could explain these machismo machinations. What a ruse. How song and dance does intrigue. Please write me again from South Dakota. I'd like to book one of those dusty dinosaur tours before I go extinct. Bone hunts, bullfights, same difference.
Mar 10, 2016
Mar 10, 2016 at 9:47 PM UTC
My visit to Jurassic Park
What a shock
And my how those fences spark
And be careful
Of those prehistoric sharks
If you go wading in the sea
Don't expect to live past 3
And raptors roam
Across the forest floor
I wonder what else the park
Has in store?
Brachiosaurus eating leafs
From a tree
What a beautiful creature
It seems to be!
But stay away
From those long legs
They can stomp you into
The ground
Like little pegs
Well I enjoyed my trip
To Jurassic Park
I did not dare go out
In the dark
I stayed in
The park's Atomic shelter
Better than running around
That park helter-skelter
Better safe than sorry I always say
I left that park
And lived to see another day
Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 3:35 PM UTC
A Jurassic forest - a
tense moment watching
my T Rex, grazing lightly
on the jugular
vein of some docile lizard, with
a toothy grin, when
Alan's mum stomped into the room
bellowing dinner
time and the intervening million
years or so turned
in a whirl of pages, tumbling
legs and screaming kids, and a jumble
of Alphabetti Spaghetti tubes, limp
in their bloodied ketchup pool,
clearly out-flavoured
the remembrance
of things
past.
Apr 21, 2015
Apr 21, 2015 at 2:53 PM UTC
Be on the side of truth, speak boldly what’s true
Said the father to his son, truth you must value.
One day said the father, son let’s go to a movie
Jurassic Park at the Globe would be fun and groovy.
A little recreation is overdue son, what do you say
No harm will be done, if you are off from school a day.
The lad a little trepid said after a reflecting pause
What dad should I tell the teacher as absence’s cause!
Don’t worry son tell him the truth for from the daily grind
A day’s break of a little boy he wouldn’t surely mind.
So they merrily enjoyed the day, the movie was ****** good
Away from lessons and classroom, found the kid in fabulous mood.
But you know about the good times, it’s in them to always rush
The merry day passed quickly, and the boy was back in class.
What happened yesterday, the teacher’s jaws hardened
The boy had to admit it, with truth he was burdened.
I had gone with my father to watch the Jurassic Park
Was enough for the teacher to show his anger’s spark.
You boy bunked class and now tell it on my face
Get out right now and remain standing till recess.
In the class was another boy without truth placed better
He too like our lad had gone to the Globe theatre
When the teacher turned to him asked him what’s his cause
He said he was down with fever without a moment’s pause.
The truthful boy felt pangs of remorse for saying what was true
From that day he learned the lesson that truth would never do.
Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 8:03 AM UTC
how weird that i could
miss something as simple
as your odd habit of
saying "zoom zoom zoom"
any time you're in motion
Jun 13, 2015
Jun 13, 2015 at 4:21 AM UTC
omnipresent sick to my ******* stomach
dressed in mosquitoes that are woolen
like the lining of my english ******* and
coated in a complex mixture of secreted proteins
i follow the screen of the teleprompter as it storms,
blue and brilliant behind a mess of optical wiring.
lip and teeth
theres bile at the base of my throat
threatening to bust with each greased second
as my brain becomes nauseated by the snow-drift
of sentences burning the back of my eyelids.
i've never believed the things i read
so now i'm mute but spitting, spiteful and unoriginal
visualizing their greyhound decapitations in high colour.
nearly implying transit to our friendship or something
that would only churn the stomach like rich food after famine
so yes, i am the cruelest female of august
shipwrecked on the front porch with the lamplight raining in my mind
and i'm asking the moon as it rises like a solemn word
why i'm sick all the time, sweating
from everywhere but my tear ducts and
waiting for several breeds of cold to attack my corpse
Feb 22, 2010
Feb 22, 2010 at 11:39 AM UTC
Nothing these days is truly failsafe.
You buy some Ultrathins and the babies might win,
even the Trojan horse had issues for the boys of Troy.
Fancy ribbed models can end up in shreds
& I've seen the reservoir tips burst.
But if you're still ***** & thirst for safe ***
you should try different combinations
of tubed-latex along with 'the pill'
dispensed from
the fancy circular monthly-packages.
That's your best bet,
your best chance of survival.
If anything, don't be a dinosaur
thinking your living Jurassic,
this is about being prophylactic
'cause nobody knows
what killed those ornery
unprotected beasts.
The experts believe,
it was probably
a rare disease
that got 'em.
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 4:20 AM UTC
I'd like to think I'm a hopeless romantic,
but honestly if I had a time machine
I wouldn't go back to you and me.
Dinosaurs.
Feb 9, 2014
Feb 9, 2014 at 10:58 PM UTC
Love.
Of course, the great spirit said that word
when he set down the majesty of mountains
thus, spread curling softness through the seas,
sending little creatures wriggling, crawling, mewling, howling,
oh ye little fish and fowl, doodled up the dinosaurs,
a lumbering jurassic joke, then unleashed leviathan
from just a speck, and made some others walk *****
Love.
That word we need to hear
and the word that hurts so much.
It comes crowned with garlands, glistening
with the dew of pleasure. And underneath, the horn thrusts up
Dionysius and Venus, processions of Priapus, frenzied satyriasis
blind Baccus, luscious Pan and Zeus.
Ah yes. The juice.
Love.
And who has not recklessly ignored this word
or squandered it on abandoned, neon nights
that paled before the coming of cold mornings,
and who has not held back this word
from loved ones,
cowards of commitment,
circumcelliate, averruncate and absquatulate?
Love.
That little, mighty word that dominates our lives.
But what can we require of life and how can we survive
indifference in the barren waste and stay alive outside
without its whisper, without its cry and shout? And how can we aspire
to ecstasy without the tumult and whirlwind of its desire,
without its warmth, without its fire? So, we must turn again
to love's softness and love's pain. Again. And yet again.
Love.
It's easy, really. So go on, say it.
It's time. Why not? It's for the mothers and the lovers,
the fathers, it's for all the children who blindly seek.
It's for the teenagers and trembling old and the outcast and the isolate.
Even the soldier with the gun. Especially. It's for everyone.
The grave is lonely, deep and cold. By giving love before it's too late
those soft wings of the dove of peace unfold.
Love is the playmate. Enjoy, reciprocate.
This is the message I communicate.
Oct 31, 2012
Oct 31, 2012 at 5:55 PM UTC
We used to play guns with sticks
and we all knew how to die convincingly
with playing cards in our spokes
we summit hills atop motorcycles
ratatatatatattt
we walked through woods
explorers and pioneers
waiting for dinner or supper or bedtime
when summer was another world entirely
and the stains on our clothes
told stories
and not worries
We would carve sticks into spears
with knives our mothers did not know we had
today we hunt pheasant
we never did catch one
but we made dens deep in the woods
and climbed trees until we didn’t know how to get down
the hay bales stacked four stories high
in the farmer’s field
was a jungle gym
and when the farmer chased us away
in his combine harvester
we were playing Jurassic Park
back when girls were silly, annoying little things
that none of us were quite sure why we liked
and fights were forgotten within the hour
we had better things to laugh at
a marble composition book filled with ****** raps
and graffiti designs
we would take stones and make them into entire planets
but before long
our shadows caught up with us
a stick was just a stick
a bike just a way to beat the heat
and we were all too aware
of the special effects
Jul 19, 2014
Jul 19, 2014 at 1:51 PM UTC
Joseph sits on skinny chairs, reads the funnies
she would be tall, pretty hair, she don’t see
see he won’t be reading one bit, he looks dumb
just staring, looking fat, broken, glum
she cleans up all the plates
—Put those dishes down, now is a time for **********
I’ll take you now, and wonder if I’ve taken
steps enough to excuse my idleness; in time
you’ll leave, and supine, I’ll take a coat of lyme
and let the lines loose
We will communicate through touch and kiss
and enjoy the full of it, pull in the harvest;
light and movies romance the **** out of me
at last, we are at the end of all things irony
Christ that **** impersonal.
—This music don’t be coming from them
that is right, that is absolutely the end of them
they just end, I don’t care, I let it be
how come you so foolish, Joseph? I don’t see
why are you so foolish?
—You play the guitar by ear and plucking
at this moment they are dinosaur hunting
time is absurd and disgusting
I don’t understand it, I’m simply saying
you played some songs I knew at the time
But how different are your songs from mine
attach your seatbelts to your right hand buckles, fine
away with it, away with them all, please
I am telling, telling, understand, please
different in a few ways, love
—Joseph, you play the drums too loud
you are a big, dumb, idiot head
they end, it certainly has to be
it’s apocalyptic, something like this, said she
such a dummy you Joseph
the movie drums its so vicious loud
the end a dumb idiot head
that’s a thing she might have said at the time
and you are given a full witness to the violence of our time
Joseph plays bad harmonica.
Feb 13, 2010
Feb 13, 2010 at 3:00 PM UTC
I left Florida for the weather.
Where summer pulses stagnant heat,
to the rhythm of waves crashing.
Today feels like yesterday,
feels like last year,
reminds me of that time five years ago
when thunder seduced my soul.
Ssshhh.
That's death rising from swollen swamps,
listening for the sound of prolonged blinkers.
Jurassic eyes ogle leather flesh,
cracked,
salty,
alien.
I moved north for a fight.
I jumped in the ring with scholars,
pennies clamoring in sidewalk cups,
applause.
A crooked nose now leads the way,
shadows take root beneath youthful,
sun-kissed pools of blue.
I'm still spinning.
I left Atlanta for the people.
Well, just one really.
The girl whose soul once kissed thunder in the rain,
and can't quit chasing storms
until they touch again.
Feb 26, 2013
Feb 26, 2013 at 5:51 PM UTC
For the moment we rest
A single spot light saved their life tonight
Flurry wind carrying mist to their nest was the best to achieve
Feel content to perish
If my words will sink, float, grow or spin
With a view of her luminous gold green hazel piercing rings
Last night fall went hand in hand
Apropos of the longing after depart
Underneath a sky embrace
Syncing out through the spirals that she draws
Was a vanishing scent
That's impossible to seek and find
I'm a ****** for skin, snorting her all the way to my mind
There's a sign on my arm
And a still beating part that you own
And a vow to never do you harm
from my red Jurassic heart
May 20, 2018
May 20, 2018 at 9:15 AM UTC
I buried them in a shallow grave
outside the sunroom where their cage hung
rain washed their bones into a deep earth cellar
Where I descend by night with my lone candle
to find them fixed in strata, yet not fixed
scaled claws striking Jurassic dragonflies
*My shadow flickers and dissolves
as I sit at the sunroom desk
Tiny scaled claws strike my head
Pinioned dervishes scold:
My suit of black and white feathers
my smooth hands and my scientist's smirk
my two-finger typing and opposable thumbs
my missing wings and manifesting teeth*
We dinosaurs live on, incantations of ancestral rebirth
templates used, discarded, and used again
as our sphere cycles on, now warming, now cooling
the uniforms change, the costumes evolve
but the sudden-death scrimmage is eternal.
Jul 18, 2012
Jul 18, 2012 at 1:52 PM UTC
I grew into my youth without fearing dinosaurs,
Because I watched too many re-programmings of Jurassic Park.
I wasn't aware that my basketball skills could take me places.
I was born here, I ran through cornfields and tall shades of grass,
playing hooky with ******* hopscotch with ******
yet still averaging 24.6ppg while playing only 20 minutes a game.
It seemed so easy and simple at first, doing these things.
My neighbor Craig down the street,
used to work at the children's hospital so he always had access to needles;
all he wanted from me was a stack of metal spoons
that I could steal from my grandmother's house so we could dissolve the ******
“This shit'll make you feel like you could never die”, he would always say.
It was the 3rd quarter of our high school opening game against Fullerton.
We played at the redeveloped convocation 20 miles south of town,
because our high school received a bomb threat earlier that week.
The court constructed with cheers and boos due to my low field goal percentage.
I stashed my lucky line inside of my practice shorts in the locker room,
so I could lie to my coaches about needing some air.
My nostrils captured the effects of this white powdery substance,
as my body started to fail and deteriorate.
I think I felt my heart stop beating when I came to the free throw line.
First shot...air ball.
Second shot...no shot, body falls to the hardwood.
My shoes squeaked like rabid mice without control,
my right leg became convulsive and spastic, my left moved none.
The floor below my body drenched in a bilinear merging of crimson red and **** yellow.
The last image that I witnessed before my eyes left this world
Were the faces of the opposing cheerleaders,
Their young eyes bleeding blue and yellow,
mascara and grief running down their pretty cheeks.
They knew this from the beginning, my parents did.
They thought I had changed and found a new sport to love.
As my body laid on the floor, my parents laid in the belly of the audience,
Incapable of shedding tears,
because their suffering overtook their ability to cry.
May 10, 2013
May 10, 2013 at 10:43 PM UTC
We could have gone to lunch today,
We could have talked a while.
You could have explained the pain away.
And I could have made you smile,
because it would all be alright.
You should have come to see me
I would have made things right.
Could have, should have, would have,
So close and yet so far.
Now we're both alone tonight...
But I have your guitar.
Jun 13, 2010
Jun 13, 2010 at 4:07 AM UTC
Are the bluebells really a delightful hue
when they habitat railway banks
They are wild and not so rare
like the country we reside in.
We are a barren land
once proud but
with all wealth stripped away
Our Jurassic coastline erodes
likewise a once bedrock of national pride.
Our spirits wane,
we are too self conscious to crowd
amongst our own.
We have been too disorientated
to uphold our truisms
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 12:56 PM UTC
Minuscule cockroaches creak
Conspicuously around the crude crumbs
On the dusty kitchen counter,
And tadpoles squirm in the cremated creek.
The porridge poured itself
For the poor stray kitten,
Who was too spritely
For eureka's euthanization,
Triumphant in trespassing
The proximity of the porch.
Meanwhile, the revolving rover
Imitated the raunchy rocket ships,
Launching like fervent fertility
Interceding September's secret,
Sacred admirers of ethereal pyres.
The sepulchre's soma
Spread from the peach's center
Like the terrific thighs of a virile *****
Jurassic travels ,
Machines running on ancient carcass,
Annulling the terra firma
Of its aloe vera-like virginity,
And courtesans adorned with jewels,
Pretending to be Aphrodite?
Just as Jupiter does,
Joy wears covetous rings..
Originally written 8/12/11
Revised 10/19/14
(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith
Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 6:12 PM UTC
Crying over stupid things
Filling your mouth with chocolate everythings
Upset over the simplest things, you want to just scream
These feelings come and go, or stay a few days
Everything has to be cleaned or organized just right or I'll go ****** girl
Wearing simple things and hiding in your room for days, sad or depressed
Being filled with water like a balloon, feeling sleepy and like you can't do anything
Opening your eyes to see it's today, it's no valentines day
Same feelings, same amys, different month
Pen or paper? Awkward or uncomfortable?
Aug 24, 2015
Aug 24, 2015 at 3:04 AM UTC
A flower that last saw the Sun
when Neanderthal was on the run,
scientists have carbon dated
and ,now, successfully cultivated.
No shrinking violet, this plant, I know
bloomed thirty millennium ago.
Just a tick in cosmic time
Its fate with man’s was intertwined.
It was found beneath the permafrost,
a treasure in a squirrels lair.
In cryostorage it remained.
The squirrel forgot that it was there.
Ten Thousand years beneath the plain,
then came the centuries of ice and rain.
The game died out. That same fate befalls
the tribe of the Neanderthal.
Now the flower blooms again-
An ancient beauty born anew-
In those seeds, a living spark,
just don’t expect Jurassic Park.
Feb 21, 2012
Feb 21, 2012 at 10:27 PM UTC
Am I plain stone?
To be thrown far from the eyesight
Am I skin of the tiger
To be stepped by soulless merchant
Am I blood soaked by relative fellow?
Am I a lost tribe’s leader?
To be adored as saint
Am I lost prophet?
To be searched in caves where the Jinni settled his colony
Am I a Jurassic fossil?
To be displayed in a crystal cube
Am I a jasmine essence?
To be smelled after third millennium
Am I lost planet
The curse of mankind
Am I paradigm of goodness?
To be diminished by surrenderance
Am I perfect mischief?
To be hailed as a Gospel chant
Am I wing of purple angel
To bring you shade
While you search for knowledge
Am I supersensible tune?
To be played by enlightened heartstring
Am I aerial spirit?
To bring you storm
In a midday when the sun
Reads its quatrain
Am I a cosmic fluid?
To be dispersed as a star dust
Am I divine enough?
To rejoice for a cosmic harmony
Am I the bell from the angel’s wings?
To bell the beginning of a new prophecy
Am I a saint that shows hardly his miracle?
To be later adored as Godling
Am I pure water from the desert’s spring?
To be drunk on the moment of death
Am I death of Art?
To be reborn by Theurgy
Am I a drunken lover in Love?
To be perished in the quantum of photon
Am I stupid to reveal a new discovery?
So you may pity or
You may salute and laude
And so, and so, and so on.
Apr 18, 2012
Apr 18, 2012 at 7:44 AM UTC