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Vicki Kralapp Aug 2012
The jungle makes its calls, welling up from hollows beyond.
Monkeys and wild things make their way through the spaces in between,
rapping from unseen places on long barriers
and marking their territory.

Sounds of birdsong fill the air calling out to all too few.
Others prowl the paths looking for prey in caves and behind walls.
Packs of banshees laugh as the chorus grows until the final call.
The last bell rings all are free run for home.
All poems are copy written and soul property of Vicki Kralapp.
Big Virge Aug 2016
Well ........
It seems it's ... OPEN SEASON ...
  
for ... MURDEROUS ... Policing ... !?!
  
NO MORE ...
will blacks take ... Beatings ... !!!
  
Police will leave us ... Bleeding ... !!!
while they ... KEEP ON ... receiving ...
PROTECTION ... for yes ... leaving ...
  
Blacks with ...
  
NO PULSE or ... FEELING ... !!!
In Fact ... NO LONGER ... Breathing.
  
and then .....
comes ... " Court Proceedings " ...
that leave black people ... " SEETHING " ... !!!!!!
  
Well fine it's ... OPEN SEASON ...
for poetry ... now ... Seeking .............................................................
  
Some TRUTH ...  
and less ... Deceiving ... !!!
  
See ....
I'm Incredibly ... not shocked ...
at how ... poor ... " Walter Scott " ...
  
got shot by ...
some ... white cop ...  
  
when Walter ... tried to run ...
from this ... Policeman ... **** ... !!!!!
  
But ......
before I ... move along ...
  
He may well have done wrong ... ?!?
but ... " Officer Slager " ...
Let Off ... EIGHT SHOTS ...
in ... Walters' BACK ... !?!!!? ...
  
Let me just .... " back track " .....
  
He shot ... " EIGHT TIMES " ...
Taking ... " HIS LIFE " ... !!!!! ...
  
Because .............
said ... SLAGER ...  
  
" He feared for his safety
because Mr. Scott, tried to
grab his Taser ! "
  
So ...  
That means ... WHAT ... ?!?
  
He ... Deserved to be shot ...
EIGHT TIMES ... in his ... BACK ... !?!!!?!
  
Maaaaannnnn ....
  
ENOUGH ... of this CRAP ... !!!!!
  
What kind of Policing ... ?!?
gives Policeman teachings ...
of ... SHOOT TO DEATH ... !!!!
  
Rather than ... " A Leg " ...
  
Shoot ... BOTH ...  
... if ya like ... !!!!!
  
But .....
ENOUGH ... of these vibes ...
where Black People ... DIE ... !!!!!!
  
Husbands and Wives ...
whose Fam' ... are told ... LIES ... !!!!!
about ... Cop ... HOMICIDES ... !!!!!!
  
So let me ...
  
Season and OPEN ........................................
how people are .... Bro Ken ...
and Blacks are just ... " Tokens "...
for them to be ... " Quoting " ...
all kinds of ... DUMB THINGS ... !!!!!!
  
About ...
  
... Po' Po' ...  
... Shootings ....
  
An ... Asian dude ...
who went to ... my school
posted ... one day ...
  
on my ...  
Facebook Page ...
  
"Blacks need to be wise
when police are in sight,
and not antagonise,
cos that's how they'll die !"
  
Yeah THIS ... Indian Guy ...
felt he had ... The Right ...
to tell me ... " Why " ...
Police TAKE ... Black Lives ... ?!!!?
  
cos' we ....
  
" DON'T ACT RIGHT !!! "
  
Well YEAH ... sometimes ....
but being ... SHOT TO DEATH ...
goes BEYOND .... NONSENSE ... !!!!!
  
but ......
Asians like ... HIM ...
Prove that being ... "submissive" ...
is how ... Most Choose ... to live ...
and how ... Most Seem ... to think ... !?!
  
How many ... Asian girls ...
and I ... DON'T MEAN ... Orientals ... !!!
  
have been ... " Experimental " ... ???
  
when it comes to ... Black Men ...
being in their worlds ...
as the ... FATHERS OF ...
  
..... Their Children ..... ?!?
  
It's CLEAR ....
from their ... " Caste System " ...
that ... Inter-Racial Teams ...
are .... Rarely EVER ... seen ... !!!
  
Unless their partner's ...
..... " White " ..... ?!?
  
Most Asians ....
Don't Trust ... blacks ...
and that is simply ... FACT ...
  
In Fact ...
Some do believe ...
that blacks are just ... MONKEYS ... ??!??
  
Check through their ... "History " ...
Such words ... AREN'T FALLACY ... !!!!!!!!!!
  
When we now ... " Greet Police " ...
  
Should blacks ... IMMEDIATELY ... ?
get down upon our knees ...
  
and BEG ... like ...
  
... " Slavery Scenes " ...
  
"Please *****', don't shoot me !"
  
which leads me to ...
... These Blacks ...
  
Whose uniform's now ...
.... " Packed " ....
  
to join these ...
... Police Klans ... !!!!!!!
  
What have they ... " Changed " ...
in ... Policing ways ... ?!!!? ...
  
" Not A Lot " ... !!!!!! ...
  
Ask ... " Walter Scott " ... ???
  
Well sadly now ...
  
You ... CAN'T DO THAT ... !!!!!!
  
because what is ... FOUL ...
is ... THIS HERE FACT ... !!!!!
  
while Walter died
and lied ... FACE FLAT ...
  
A cop who was ... BLACK ... !!!
seemed to search Mr. Scott ...
as if ... He'd ... STILL ATTACK ... ?!!!?
  
and then ...  
let this ... white cop ..
treat him ... LIKE HIS DOG .... !???!
  
I'm ...  
SICK ... of the ... CRAP ... !!!!!!
now coming from ... Blacks ... !!!!!!!
  
Will they wanna ... Shoot ME ... ?!?
for this ... REAL POETRY ... !?!
  
See it's been ...
  
..... OPEN SEASON .....
for ... QUITE SOME TIME ... !!!!! ...
  
cos' ....
Black folks be ... " submissive " ...
as if they'll face ... " A Lynching " ... !!!

for .. BREATHING ...
and NOT ... " Flinch-ing " ... !!!!!
  
when ... Po Po lights ...
Start .... Blinking .... !!!!!!!
  
which right now ...
gets me thinking ...
  
that ... " William Lynch " ...
is looking down and saying ...
  
"Look at these Black Clowns !"
  
Folks ....
This here ... AIN'T ...
  
" 12 Years A Slave " ...
  
This shooing happened ...
.... " YESTERDAY " .... !!!!!!!!
  
In ....  
South Carolina ....
where that PIG ...
has been ... Fired ... !!!
  
But ....
Without ... " The Footage " ...
would he still be out ... SHOOTING ... !!! ? !!!
  
See i'm ...  
a man of ... " Reason " ...
  
but right now ...
I'M SEETHING ... !!!!!
  
because ....
when it comes to ....
  
... KILLING BLACKS ...  
  
It's  .....
  
... STILL ...
..... CLEARLY .....
  
.... " Open Season " ....

Listen Here :

https://soundcloud.com/user-16569179/07-open-season
Certain poems speak for themselves, due to events that are as REAl, as they come .... I use the BLM moniker below, but, Do Black Lives REALLY Matter ... ??? beyond police actions .... ??? I prefer this tag #VerseThatMatters
King Panda May 2016
this table in the
shade
these commune hippies
in the river
I wrote a poem
in my sleep
I looked at the mountains
and thought
rain
staccato
metronome
irrigation
and caps
melting
but enough of this
nature
let’s go back
to the concrete
mouth
where we walk
through the city
full of cake
bloated like
balloons
but rolling
because
cake doesn’t make
you float
no
cake only makes you
fat
the conversation turns
to the stench
there’s something dying
in the air
we leave
and roll joints
spot magnums
on tree branches
and think
only monkeys ****
in trees
and we would never
want to see
monkey ***
and ******?
no
we’d never try it
and the homeless man next to us
puts his spoon
away
but god
why do we sleep
when we just wake up?
why do we sleep
to dream
such ******-up
things
where celebrities
feed us salami in
back alleyways
and we see our mother
pooping on
world maps?
time rips of
lyrical grass
conductive smile
soap bubbles
these beautiful
dreamtime mornings
spent thinking of you
in playhouse mountains
like a child
you smile
like a friend
I offer you my hand
and we walk
to the white
together
bill withers is there
he is singing
in his yellow
turtleneck
James Floss Aug 2018
Picking head lice
From the head of my wife
Familiar fun behavior of
All hominids since then
I revel in the connectedness of all
Even with fear for the future
PC classic Feb 2016
telecast trepidations
at the top of your
tongue

move like the moon

shout like the
sun

The monkeys are swinging to the beat of the drum

Says
"It's finally begun"
"It's finally begun"
your magnetic eyes and thighs
that never lie but speak twice as much as the truth
i am abused by your delirious laughter
i am amused at your shattered theater
i have become a drowning servant
abhorred in your servitude
loathe to whisper the tenderest secrets
so free me from the violet waters
the drones of laughter and suffering
the hours spent in your beatific company
i monitor the arrangements we’ve made in wonder
some claim that we are descended from the dead
and others from ancestral monkeys
some claim we are a wild combination of proteins
and others that we spontaneously came into existence
from whence there was only stardust
but i know that no matter what they say
we all share the same destiny and destination
and i'm contemplating if i am truly ready
to be released by trial and error
and surrender to the heat and flames
upon the frying pan of love
Strapped to the outside of a rocket ship with nothing in the way.
I took off, and I just kept going. Reaching a height higher than heaven.
Nothing to orient myself. No time. No space. No self. Nothing but darkness stretching out all around me.
A roar of a million voices trying to scream over eachother resonates through my head.
I then came into orbit. Everything begun to crystalize.
No longer was I confounded to the restrictions of flesh. By birth and by death. I was out of my shell. Out of my world.

Complex geometrical patterns formed around me. Beating. Breathing. Moving. Almost like they were alive.
I had no way to process this. It was all so perfoundly alien. This was not my world. "Where the **** am I?" I thought
Terror possesses me. I feel like I am going to **** myself. Then all of a sudden these beings of indescribable features surround me, telling me to relax. "Relax now. Take it in. Settle down."
They told me they were my guides. They were going to show me around.

They gave me the tour of this universe, "Look at this! Look at that!" they said excitedly, showing me worlds that I can not explain, yet they seemed to reflect me.

I suddenly lost them. Where has my tour group gone?!
Suddenly these entites besieged me. Giving off negative energy. Holy ****! Jesters with tight pants and bell hats. Giving me the finger. They were so mischevious. Surrounding. Laughing. Jumping inside of me. ****** my soul. Is this what hell feels like?!

The darkness begins to clear, as a large face of a shimmering blue woman, with flaming white hair blowing in a non-existant wind, comes into view. Her face has so much dimension, with thousands of other faces upon her own. A snake tongue escapes through her lips, wrapping around me, pulling me into her mouth. I am flung into a space that is pure white, and a warm tingling sensation fills me.
This is what heaven feels like. This is my home. I think I found god.
I have never felt so much love. I have never felt so alive.

I then opened my eyes, trying to process my surroundings. I was in my home. On the couch. Sitting in front of the tv. My friend Jason was sitting next to me. He asked me what did I see. I leaped off of the couch, screaming "It is all a simulation!" I pulled my shirt off, swinging it around like Daniel from the bible. I tried to throw myself down the stairs, but was stopped when Jason tackled me. He held me in a chokehold, and while this was happening I exclaimed:

"On earth I am just a monkey,
but out there I am so much more.
I am not just a speck on a spinning ball.
I am more than the skin I wear,
More than the title I bear.
There is so much out there.
This world is not real.
What is real is me."

When I finally calmed down, Jason asked me how I was doing.
I looked up at him and I said "I am a work in process."
Bus-riding, crumb-counting hand wringers
Bibble-babbler, channel-flipper slogan slingers
Keep the volume loud enough to drown out the machines
That fill their cupped hands daily with excrement and dreams
These are the ****** of the canon

Button-pushing, lever-pulling product users
Wife-buying, tax-paying alcohol abusers
Emasculated monkeys done up in black and white
Clock in in the morning and flock home late at night
These are the ****** of the canon

Train-conducting, ring-leading hand shakers
String-fingered, queue-cutting, man makers
Drive home, cursing, lonely, breaking bones beneath their wheels
Without the time to diagnose that emptiness they feel
These are the ****** of the canon
Written over the course of a week or so on walks to and back from work.
Paul Hansford Nov 2016
Ganges, dawn, a luminous haze
over the water. The bathing ghats
are busy with the faithful. (But India
is inconceivable without faith.)  
The robed bathers, raising river water
to the sun, pouring it back
to mother Ganges, are they worshipping
the sun or the river?
For them God is everywhere
and everything.  Water, sun,
the river and the twinkling lamps floating on it
are part of one consciousness.

The burning ghats too (such quantities of wood
stacked ready) are beginning their day.
The funeral party approaching in respectful haste
have a job to do. They build their pile,
move the body to the wood,
start the fire. I watch, but not for long.
This moment, so intimate, so public, reminds me
I am an intruder here. The ashes
will return to Ganga unwitnessed by me.

Away from the river, the vendors of tea
do their trade among the stalls. Monkeys,
cheerfully pilfering, are chased away
half-heartedly, for they are Hanuman’s representatives,
and they, with the sacred, garbage-clearing cows,
are part of the one consciousness. In this land
all are “the faithful”, everything is God’s creation.
In this poverty is richness.
Varanasi is the Hindu holy city formerly called Benares. The "ghats" are a series of steps leading down to the river, and are divided into areas for various purposes. Hanuman is the Hindu monkey-god.
CK Baker Mar 5
Pilsner cap switch blade
tie dye and piccolo
greasers and freaks
with platform feet
muscling in
on the bow legged hoofer
tapping
Bursey Hill Tram

Diamond tuft console
mullets n' ****
angels and saints
(unrestrained)
appropriately trimmed
as 3 mile wreaks havoc
on the nickers and
fighters of penn

Bangers and home boys
hookahs and sheiks
hostile geeks
breaking knuckles and jaws
on the caners and skinners
who are locked
and grinding the root

Desert boot foothills
boardwalk jeans
rainbows and sea fairs
and psychedelic dreams
(the platinum queens
jamming it hard
on the jade room floor)

8 tracks
and fender packs
the hottest summer days
psychedelic haze
center hall, graffiti scrawl
(sinister yet refined!)
covering the subtle
yet striking third ****

Brunswick cues
and red man chew
350 blocks
(on a solid Chevy - stock)
monkeys and beatles
and laugh in scenes
pastel dreams
from the long and coveted
velvet scroll
Rhoma May 2017
Those fierce green eyes,
Saw a lot of your sad times.
Pretty little white flowers,
All those sickening forevers.

They enjoy smoking on the right timing,
While you're smoking when you're dying.
Your mother like the monkeys and you like the bears.
Oh little one, all you need is heartfelt prayers.

I'm really sorry for letting you down,
How can I change that frown?
Straight and fast while it lasts.
This poem is about one of my favorite books, Looking for Alaska.
MisfitOfSociety Sep 2018
The bees don't care what you say,
The bees go their own way.
Don't be like a monkey,
Rather be like a bee,
You can't tell them what to do,
the bees just defy you.

You can hold down the seas,
but you can't hold down the bees,
Who are you to tell them what to do,
We are the many run by the few.

Newton is my god,
god is good,
god is great.
Forgive me father,
for I have sinned.
I am sorry,
for questioning thee.
Bless upon the fruit that fell and freed us!
Bless upon the monkeys that gave birth to us!
Bless upon the pictures that they painted for us!
Bless upon the cosmic scaled **** that made us!

You are my eyes,
my prophet,
my seer,
my revelator,
put thoughts in my head,
and I will repeat what you have said
Our thoughts are not our own,
We are not safe, even in our home.

Monkey see, monkey do,
we are the many run by the few.
Don't be like a monkey,
rather be like a bee,
don't do what they say,
forget what you have learnt and levitate away.
*** did I just write.
Jordan Hudson Sep 2018
(Evolution)
Monkeys, humans, they're all the same thing
According to scientists who work for a king
They make up lies so advanced they're believable
How 'bout you make some that are at least perceivable
(Evolution)
So they say we came from monkeys over gradual time
I guess some monkeys liked being monkeys while the others committed crimes
Breaking the rules of evolution and deciding they weren't ready
Come up with something that makes sense already
The process is so complicated it can't be comprehended it can't be observed closer
Quit with the excuses, even I can comprehend it and I'm a musical composer
Debunk their lies while we save lives and destroy their realm in schools and emphasize the fact that government spies are on the rise to destroy kids eyes while we sit and let them get away with there bull crap pathways while our minds experience exponential decay drilling useless information in innocent kids minds but let me remind you of this time that is falling apart as we unwind everything
Monkeys, humans, their all the same thing
According to scientists who work for a king
They make up lies so advanced they're believable
How 'bout you make some that are at least perceivable
Monkeys, humans, their all the same thing
According to scientists who work for a king
They make up lies so advanced they're believable
How 'bout you make some that are at least perceivable
So they say we came from monkeys over gradual time
I guess some monkeys liked being monkeys while the others committed crimes
Breaking the rules of evolution and deciding they weren't ready
Come up with something that makes sense already
Please don't get offended by this but I don't agree with evolution
zebra Feb 9
palace of lights caved
blooms through the body
like reality pitted against a comic book
not knowing where life came from
not knowing how it will end
food tubes or road ****

is creation substance-less?
24 carat nonsense,
or pure wisdom?
perhaps bad therapy
for lab animals
and store front dummies

monkeys shudder at needles
unless candied with a heroine syringe
chemistry a science of belligerence and euphoria
pleasure before despair
and than a sea of pain

and a ****;
impaling her

the lushly contoured female
a frictionless exchange of power
for ******* ecstatic death
as her eyes bob and flutter
like cascading echo's

my birth tarot card
**** of swords
her favorite when I push through her
like blood bubble gum
b l o o d b u b b a b u b b le g u m

a **** cathedral of lights flicker spit
guttural diphthong
like a vipers castanets
uterine fire bursts like an appendix bomb
her **** a zoo
******* z o o

i am peanuts worms and hay
her face a mask to hide behind
breath play
sibilant ****
specter or nightmares
shadows and villains aphrodiac

gagged and drugged
hot ***** bound
a big eyed ****
s l u t l o v e

*** cannibals turn me on
her ****** a goddess
a Russian roulette
for shtttty kisses
sploosh
she shot me

cuckoo spit
k o cuck  k o  k o o
twizzles willie milk
in a drowning
moss draped moon orifice
under a shattered zodiac

wrapped in tentacles of night
she turns me on
Rich Hues May 17
Shipwrecked
Barefoot on the sand,
She's curved like the beach
Of some tropical land,
Birds of paradise,
In the shadow of palms,
Naked legs,
A tangle of arms.
The dolphin dances
The monkeys laugh,
The water gets cold
I get out of the bath.
Logan Robertson Dec 2017
i'm sitting at a bar
one beer, two, another
through the window of time
monkeys look in
and laugh
how can i blame them
they ask if i want a banana
i laugh
i pause
i tell them my tongue slipped once
slipped on a banana peel
my tongue went to war
with all my loves
once, twice, another
and all my loves
all my loves in my life ran away
women that i adore
****
i look back at the monkeys
they scratch their heads
they're bored
they rise from a drought
dying of thirst
or are they dying of my story
so much for having no poker face
reminds me of all the women in my life
an open book
for me my eulogy
i order the monkeys  drinks
once, twice, another
my phantom friends
my phantom dialogue
the window of time creaks open wider
its a jungle out there
and i fell on a banana peel
theres a scar
and i sit
unforgiven
looking at the past
the open window
talking to myself
i'm sorry

Logan Robertson

12/09/17
Francie Lynch Dec 2017
You've heard this tale
A thousand times,
Take one more spin,
This version's mine.
And this telling tale
Is its first time.
My theme is fitting,
The message sublime,
For the Season of giving,
And gifting one's time.

For my first Christmas
I was three,
But the warmth on that night
Never cooled,
And indeed,
It was
A cold Christmas Eve.

We stuck branches of pine
In a bucket of sand,
That's the snapshot I've got
Of our Christrmas tree then.
Here's the memory that Eve
Of a lad of three,
Yet this story is true,
It's a family heirloom.

We weren't many then,
There was Mammy and Daddy
And six children, soon seven.
Daddy was an Operator
Of cranes and loaders
Dirt packers and graders.
He was working North,
Far North,
Manning a dozer,
Distant from family
Near the Quebec border.
That's where he was
Days before,
When his pant-leg caught fire,
When the diesel was spilled.

We were only three months
In our chosen homeland,
It was 1958,
And fresh from Ireland.

No way to get to him,
Nor him to get home,
No car,  no friends yet,
Little money, no phone.
Yet somebody knew
We were out on our own.

And the snow started falling,
It was Christmas Eve,
I stood at the window,
Saw the snow fill the trees.
I was still and staring,
At what I don't know,
But I remember quite vividly
All that I saw.

Like a scene from a movie
Starring Barry or Bing,
A fire-engine red no-top
Stopped and parked with high beams,
Highlighting the snow,
On that Christmas Eve.

A big man in a red suit
Slid off of the trunk,
Literally carrying a sack,
And calling, **! **!
The family joined me
At the window to see
The big man's helpers
Carry a big Christmas Tree.

When they entered the house
Kevin, Sean, Gerald and I,
Cowered and crouched
Behind the second-hand couch.
We must have resembled
Three monkeys plus me;
I hadn't a clue,
I was dumb-founded and three.

In through the front door
They clattered and sang,
Unloading their boxes
Of food, clothes and toys,
*****, bats and dolls
For two girls and four boys;
And I'm sure there was something
For the coming bundle of joy.

I don't remember their departure,
Or where he went,
But they called Merry Christmas
And left all else unsaid.

Mammy understood
Some good persons had called,
Who'd heard of our plight
And couldn't be calmed
Til they knew for certain
We'd some peace in our storm.

So, that's my first Christmas,
Since then this my creed:
The gift of giving
Isn't under the Tree
.
L B Aug 2017
I’ve seen genius so fixed on itself
as to be monkeys, squealing
wicked-itchy
watching a record whirl
in the same drugged circle
33 and a 1/3—circa 1969

This—their eternal brilliant conclusion
their e=mc2
This—their Final Solution
their inner-spring
Their convoluted complexity
as the hands of their clocks
fly off, striking me in the face

Alas!
—the equation that would solve
the mystery of whistling “Dixie”
that would feed the dogs
and “seize the day”!

This penetrated groove
This—track, eternally diminishing
toward a point on a label
at which two ***** intersect

and then...
...cease to be....
Drugs and is the Revolution really worth it?
zebra Oct 2017
oh better not say that
mind of hell
tongue of heaven
better not think depraved
veiled demon, licking ******* for car payments
God watches

what will people think

am i good person
birthday face
shut eyed stiff
not dangerous, like a gun in the face

did i say the right thing,
cypher of morality
the knot of good, a slow strangle
a frightened worm
wont risk tears

eeek
here come the scissors

technology brains wired like weaponized monkeys
eater of crumbs
heatless heart ransomed for the ******* rent

can i evaporate
like a dead cat in a black box
better then tripping all over my self

strings attached with hooks
on shunted limbs
a relic of modernism,
office life

talking scapegoats hissing
always haunted by what's missing

guts spilling through clutched fingers
apologizing to a faceless crowd of sea shells
and bagged heads

minds like the small screens
sitting all day

frenetic fingers and burning eyes
exhaling only

there's a part of me thats been crying since birth

be careful
what you do
in the land of the free and the brave
Elizabeth Brown Oct 2018
Stop me if you've heard this before
but I feel this feeling fleeting,
running opposite me
to lands unknown
where lost dreams go to die.
Why are words so fickle? Leaving at the lightest touch,
the barest hint of anything new.
A world, undiscovered,
lies within a place I can reach only when I am most bare.
My purest form of self,
mewling and screaming,
pulls from me this insatiable insanity.
Yet with the slightest digression my sleeves roll themselves down
and it's gone again.
I am lost into reality like some suited being,
honking at the other monkeys in futile attempts to make up for lost time.
Was it worth it?
Is that loss of captivation worth an ounce of conversation?
Bring me back to that place.
I want to feel the pen warming between my fingers again.
That smooth ink feel on dead, life-giving friends.
Is this the closest I can get to holiness?
lovely Mar 15
Dear Lord,
take me on an adventure.
one that i’ve never known,
take me high and low.
make me fly with the birds,
let me swim with the fish,
make me run with the cheetahs,
and let me climb with monkeys.
allow me to see a new perspective,
Lord,
let me live a new life,
any life but my own.
i’m old
and tired
and i can’t think straight.
take me above the world
and let me fly!
let me be a super human,
let me die.
saige Mar 2018
no count-downs for birthday parties
no arm wrestles, no jump shots
no go-cart donuts
not even a snowball

where did we go?

blond hair
up to my shoulders
surrounded by jewels
some empty-paned picture frame
couple sprouts beneath a pine
saying "monkeys" for Grammy's kodak
red clay on your feet
pink frosting in your teeth
me, sheathed in my favorite shirt
"I'm the big sister!"
with a butterfly depicting
what I've yet to become

how wrong have we gone?

well, I'll be twenty
once spring rolls around
and brother
you're not far behind
I can't tell time
to change its mind
but I promise you
it won't be changing mine
from the photographs, scrapbooks
I'll forever feel your laughter
just like goosebumps
the brail I'm reading into
let's gaze past glares
straight through white sunbeams
spiking your brown eyes
twice as deep as mine
the truest shades
on the face of the earth
to this very
foggy day
this mirror, this moment snagged
before shutters snap
and capture us, splatter us
on matte paper, or cell screens
with brown hair
up to your shoulders

way to go, little brother
but I'm still keeping that tee
because the only thing
I've always been proud to be
is your big sister
Jack L Martin Aug 2018
Silver backed monkeys talk on the line
never do they squat on the heros of time
meet my best friend who is thoughtful and kind
benevolent son of a seventh son of mine
Deb Jones Apr 22
If animals were mobsters....

A ****** of Crows.
An Unkindness of Ravens
A Shrewdness of Apes
A Sleuth of Bears
A Glowering of Cats
A Destruction of Wild Cats
A Quiver of Cobras
A Stand of Flamingos
A Parade of Elephants
A Charm of Foxes
An Army of Frogs
A Mob of Kangaroos
A Business of Ferrets
A Tower of Giraffes
A Crash of Rhinoceroses
A Bloat of Hippopotami
A Smack of Jellyfish
A Shadow of Jaguars
A Cackle of Hyenas
A Conspiracy of Lemurs
A Drift of Pigs
A Herd of Rabbits
A Barrel of Monkeys
A Parliament of Owls
A Shiver of Sharks
A Stench of Skunks
A Band of Gorillas
A Knot of Toads
A Pandemonium of Parrots
A Leap of Leopards
A Pride of Lions
A Prickle of Porcupines
A Scurry of Squirrels
An Obstinacy of Buffalo
A Labor Of Moles
A Bale of Turtles
A Zeal of Zebras
An Ambush of Tigers
These are the actual names of the groups. How great is this?
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