"pests" poems
If it weren't for the consistent badgering of radical america your roots your nourishment would enrich the very soil our ancestors turned,
but pests and pesticides alike have yet
to be relinquished,
"autumn" has consumed us as smiles fall-- the hazmat suits leave us bare to the weathered reality,
except you,
umbrellas and storm sheltered words nurture loved ones -- you are worth the wait,
with conflict resolve you take off your helmet and gear we are not prepared for such violence -- shielded eyes from falsified truths you bloom and blush,
you are beautiful,
a perfect storm your wrath the 5th element -- uncontrollable you are free as "winter" resides on your shoulder,
she is awakened and unapologetic,
a God among us,
frightfully we are safe we have waited for your wine to runneth and pop goes the cork,
as the war begins your throne you sit with confidence.
Dec 1, 2015
Dec 1, 2015 at 12:06 PM UTC
Every self defeating metaphor anyone has ever birthed
A mug of orange juice in a giant’s hand
Three tablespoons of soil that you will misidentify as dirt
A motif specific to the reader
The sound of a tree falling alone in a forest
A manual titled Insects in the Garden of Today: Pests & Benefactors
Three redwood seeds in a row without pause
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 8:53 PM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
Did you ever consider segregating,
The good ones from the ********
The devils and gods,
With trending honorables,
Or symbolic presses,
Call it lame meetings,
Random trending would be my guess,
I'm ******* crazy,
In reality I need a physical test,
Fail it then then turn it in,
Then tell every in class their all ******* pests,
Like I said I don't need your pity,
Nor your sympathy,
It was the end of me,
But also the beginning of the new me,
I will never rest,
I just need some time to think,
While this blows over,
Being hated by many,
But no luck with clovers,
Violent black kid in America,
Do I sound like a good person,
Mistake me for a fool,
Leave you with one of my curses,
So strum away lady,
Cause I'm not listening,
I'd rather be frozen in block of ice,
Then be trending.
Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 8:00 PM UTC
I was six when I first saw kittens drown.
Dan Taggart pitched them, 'the scraggy wee shits',
Into a bucket; a frail metal sound,
Soft paws scraping like mad. But their tiny din
Was soon ****** They were slung on the snout
Of the pump and the water pumped in.
'Sure, isn't it better for them now?' Dan said.
Like wet gloves they bobbed and shone till he sluiced
Them out on the dunghill, glossy and dead.
Suddenly frightened, for days I sadly hung
Round the yard, watching the three sogged remains
Turn mealy and crisp as old summer dung
Until I forgot them. But the fear came back
When Dan trapped big rats, snared rabbits, shot crows
Or, with a sickening tug, pulled old hens' necks.
Still, living displaces false sentiments
And now, when shrill pups are prodded to drown
I just shrug, 'Bloody pups'. It makes sense:
'Prevention of cruelty' talk cuts ice in town
Where they consider death unnatural
But on well-run farms pests have to be kept down.
3.6k
The clock struck midnight
With an informative pang
I couldn't face it's music
So I turned counterclockwise
But time kept moving forward
As my wisdom dissipated
Bad times I anticipated
As I wandered through life
Burdens grew
Weight added with each step
My feet started to sink into the ground
So I got in my car
And drove
And kept driving
The more I traveled
The more I witnessed
The less I talked
As I grappled with the futility and necessity of communication
The clock warned of night's approach
I decided to continue driving
Luminous fireflies pelted my vessel
Their lamps exploding upon impact against my vehicle
The ability to destroy light
Exhilarated me
And I became addicted
To extinguishing that which shines
Until darkness flooded my engine
And an abysmal order was made by my abyssal odor
I had to exit my vehicle
And consult a mechanic
He explained my engine wouldn't work
Unless my windows were down
Which solved my darkness problem
But those ****** pests pervaded my car
Their locust glow disoriented me
The slight variations of their unique displays
Manufactured chaos within the light
My eyes grew accustomed to entropy
My brain grew accustomed to impairment
Commuters noticed my erratic driving
And offered to assist me
By attempting to ram me off the road
But the impenetrable light created a force field
Impalas couldn't run through
For my light bugs too much
Buffering me from others
And driving others from me
Leaving me alone
As a giant pulsating light that never stops moving
Is this how a star is born?
Jul 4, 2017
Jul 4, 2017 at 3:13 AM UTC
Where I live, you see, is the future
which nobody saw coming but me,
and I guarantee, its truth,
I consider ants sentient, indeed.
I cringe for my imaginary Jain friends,
I just smashed another dozen scouting sugar ants,
and I sang to them as I did,
hoping their tiny antennae
knew the deal,
we throw ant-edibles in rodent safe containers,
out past the edge
of the motion sensors,
ants of all common sorts are welcome.
- because our fire ants have some how mellowed
- since arriving from Texas
on waves of dread… fire ants,
maybe that kind never got here. any way
- now, we live with them and all the others
- on the edge of the eastern pacific
- super colony that has no war
- on its inner or outer edges.
But one must consider ants
as sapient sentients,
senders of signals, wireless radio,
wee-tiny antennae vibes,
to sing a song ants can translate that says,
This human says: I shall **** all you send to my kitchen.
It is a thought song, you think it, as you ****
You might try it if, you consider
ants are not just pests, but
interesting life tools, for living in dirt
with no screens, lack so obvious it is
noticed by any with attention to antennae
as intense as
that that of Everest Pax, who in April began his sixth year…
Now, who
can hold the ant mind
long enough to imagine the queen,
with Ender-vision?
Through the eyes that watched me **** the scouts,
and signal boundaries to the Queen.
Jun 12, 2021
Jun 12, 2021 at 4:36 PM UTC
My memory is filled with icy thoughts so chilled
I begin to stammer, loss of breath, like a ghost
That follows me, my teeth chatter, so many
Of my warning words that no one ever heard,
Locked away in fear, the watchers always near,
Thoughts flooding with grief, the darkness fraught,
Ever filled with thieves so fast they seem to disappear.
It would seem I am beyond what some deem a good guy in the end,
Every time my breath catches, I seem to feel on the mend.
Then it begins again, a waking crash like flashing light,
Well I never get much rest, before it's over, twilight pests.
They follow me at dusk, this rain, and hail it must,
Until I am lost in thought, I awaken to this unspoken fact,
That if I had not been poor, friends would be at my door.
Blind with broken dreams, this is quite a scene,
It seems that money spoke, it made my life a joke.
Still I ask why oh why oh why? And I get the same answer,
It'll come to you some day, boy, you're getting old, tisk tisk,
This world is cold and full of holes, your worries are absurd,
Not a word, NOT another WORD, your logic is absurd...
Feb 16, 2015
Feb 16, 2015 at 3:46 AM UTC
your daughter is infected;
writhing as she sleeps in too-thin-skin,
afraid the already permeable peach might catch,
impaled by some night terror
inching out under her eardrums and eyelids.
any other orifice blackened with rot,
and skin crawling with creeping creatures, cutting comfortable
dugouts and sleeping quarters in her heels,
beginning to pull and tear as
one-by-one pests patrolled her leg bones.
cauldron of guts, blood, oil, trouble and toil,
stirred to churn, to gurgle;
Out from up her hip bones the maggots marched,
All her demons expurgated,
Slithering out and flicking forked tails,
Winking kisses with blind eyes
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 11:08 PM UTC
I have precisely not one but two stalkers, two malaise menaces in my hands. Well, not quite literally.
Its all in my head, you see.
They pervade my robust, iron clad, sheer willpower.
Hmph, not really.
The two little rascals, attractive ones at that, present themselves during frenzied times of scattered notes, inked fingers with frustration crashing in the air.
Frustration grows ever-so-slightly when they efficaciously whisper to you, it will only be five minutes.
They leech time off my circadian clock, inevitably painting black under my eyes.
A pair of smooth-talking liars, the scourge of the Student Underworld.
Their flamboyant, beguiling gestures of distractions, alas, it is far too much even for
my
mind.
Even doctors cannot prescribe a medical concoction to rid me of these pests!
Beware these criminals!
They need to be obliterated, removed, pruned away from us, young innocent seedlings.
I introduce you to... ughh...
Mr & Mrs Procrastination.
Dec 1, 2013
Dec 1, 2013 at 5:37 PM UTC
OOO!
He is worried!
Again!
the Mr. Perfectionist.
It’s almost Carnival but
He hasn't yet got a mask
with specifics
outlining
his ballads
and jests
he
surly lists his bests
in two principle steps
of CAPS :
1)
* Feeds the Bats and
* Tempts the Charms
2)
* Cheap N Handy
* Quixotic but Scary
* Not too Trendy
and he cries
Yuck!
EW!
Husky!
What's worse than
a self-adoring pathetic bat
in my whereabouts!
I can't get the stink and shrill so I help him fast
'Yo what's the worry!'
-I say friendly -
'you need not hurry
cause I think you already are ready!'
-I continue enthusiastically-
'Here! Try this one
My top design
Custom fit chemistry
A truly NO Risk Recipe
and of course
Specially designed for you! '
'for you for youuu
to echolocate
such is an eye-gaze
for the half-blind
such is sound
a vibration that propagates
in ears and brains of pretty gulls
and of course
only for youuu'
- I sing loud a common bat ad just to stimulate
my client and continue- merrily explaining my serviceable recipe
*for 2)
Wear your white shirt just
...as always
the one I know
you know?
the webbed one
weaving grace
and don't forget to
iron it well this time.
*
*for 1)
Put on your true face!
I reckon then
and can guarantee
...as always
no one will ever recognize you .
*
In a flight he disappears glad and I hope he won't show up till next year
What can you do I say to myself and quote a encyclopedic fact about my client.
All things have a place, you don't really need to like them but these ones pollinate flowers and disperse fruit seeds and they are economically important as they consume insect pests reducing need for pesticides.
I say while I ventilate my head with an OM mantra and an incense stick
Bah what a stink what a stink...
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 5:34 PM UTC
No one respects anyone!
old prejudices
They arm themselves on street corners with divine ideas .
old prejudices
They rule the world since ancient times .
old prejudices
They are never forgotten or outdated .
Old prejudices :
Spends time and are always remembered .
old prejudices
With the skin color
Are old prejudices
And eternal concepts .
Old and older
Prejudices of old
They are old and eternal ,
eternal concepts .
Concepts are created ,
Concepts arm ,
Concepts as old
They are old prejudices .
as old ideas
And extreme measures
They are eternal pests
Who do not die of old .
old prejudices
They are old and old
eternal concepts
And eternal prejudices.
No one respects anyone!
May 16, 2016
May 16, 2016 at 1:40 PM UTC
a community of wildflowers pretending to be roses.
befriending what we believe are better plants,
and covering themselves in lavender.
they dip their petals and spikes into ink,
and they pretend that they are feathers,
and with these feathers they pretend to be birds,
and being birds is the only way they feel free.
they are left uncared for and wilted down,
they are overlooked and thrown away,
they are called pests and flower killers.
but they are beautiful,
they are powerful and everpresent,
they are proof that no matter how much pulling them out,
cutting them down, and praying them away, wildflowers are here to stay.
Nov 9, 2017
Nov 9, 2017 at 2:54 PM UTC
the big easy
is hard lives,
what gives
this rainy city
so sublime,
it's almost a pity
that streets are lined with ****
pests and rats in the alleyways
how did things get so ******
or have they always been?
overpasses with people
lying underneath
so many homeless
it staggers the mind to think
bread bags and coffees
floating in the wake of the ferries
outnumbering 10 to 1
the loads that they carry
all the old growth
coming down
all the gold of their headpieces
tinfoil hats fashioned from crowns
no jazz or blues can save them
from the fate that waits
an engraving reading,
here lies what once was a haven
May 18, 2021
May 18, 2021 at 10:07 AM UTC
Yes, I see the blossom illuminated
Between sunlight and shade;
I can even see the crenulated
Line they have made
Between late and high summer
And the evening’s waiting shade.
It is a Rose of Sharon, lavender and fair,
Hibiscus syriaca, a northern guest,
As if gracing some maiden’s hair.
Nearby Lilies dying of strange pests
Divert my vague attention to their neighbor
In the post-monsoonal air.
Down your blossoms weary with days of rain,
Drag low on the heavy boughs.
I have let them grow too high; they are vain!
Sending out showy blooms,
Into the sodden air, yet flimsy and thin,
Fit only for vases in rooms.
Sep 5, 2017
Sep 5, 2017 at 8:33 AM UTC
The forest welcomed her
With myriad open trunks.
She swallowed
The deep sweet deposit
Of dew on the drowsy rose,
Then lay upon the lawn
Naked and profane,
A creased sheet in the eve
Soaked through with passion;
“Make no mistake
My dear,
You’ve lost your way,
I’m the guiding voice
And you’ve nothing but me
to fear.
Here.
Where the queer meets a quarry
and the Queen is questioned
by pests
I’ll never surrender my love
Until I’ve whet your slender breast
And taken your breath
Made into mysteries,
Silent as a changing season.
Lucid in all lingerie,
Elusive and eloquent;
A humming bird made
in Pity.”
Sep 12, 2012
Sep 12, 2012 at 7:37 PM UTC
"Don't leave out the graphic details."
Oh, trust me. I won't.
The gruesome, disturbing, intimacies.
The bone-chilling, hair-raising fragments.
It's almost too much to bear.
But not quite.
This vulgarity is just enough to keep them on the edge of their seats.
Every tiny, twisted moral of the story.
In between the cracks, find shining slivers of redemption.
Only to immediately cover them up with rotten deception.
Good, ***** flair. Scummy additions. Sick annotations.
Keep the masses rollin' in.
Complexity, concentration, then chaos when they want more fear.
The blood-curdling, stomach-churning truths.
The disgraceful, distasteful deductions.
We've come to the conclusion they crave this coagulation of ****
Dark disdain eating away at the corpse of wellness.
Vermin, pests, gnawing, slobbering.
Choking on the bones of prosperity.
The decomposition of this life is what they love.
Flies, gnats, swarm. Maggots clump.
Crack, rip, slurp, gag, choke, ******* die.
Sep 8, 2010
Sep 8, 2010 at 6:57 PM UTC
Such a snake you are,
poisonous words dripping like venom from fangs under bitten lips,
striking at the ever-so slightest nudge of your tail,
retreating and hissing for help from those you belittle;
Do I really seem like such a foolish little mouse,
slave and prey to your every whim, every change of mind?
I'd like to think not;
For your cussing and fussing, screaming and shouting,
while throwing a little hissy fit, is not proper etiquette,
even for a reptile such as yourself.
Such a tiny wriggling thing must be put in its natural place,
relocated to where it cannot bite the children
to where it can go find others like itself,
away from the big scary predators that might hurt it;
Humans, cars, bikes, cats, dogs, oh the possibilities are endless,
but you wound up in my path, unlucky you,
a demonic and unforgiving rage personified;
If you are a snake, I am a dragon,
if you are a fish, I'm a bloodthirsty shark,
darling don't you see how this works?
I've dealt with you long enough, you pest, you ungrateful little thing,
my mercy is off, our truce is through, now God only knows what'll happen to you,
did you think me to be a kind human being?
Well, I guess you're mistaken, so take a number, sweetie,
I'll call for you when I'm done sending others to the graveyard,
for if you think I'd even hold you at the top of my list,
you're sadly mistaken, yet again;
You should probably stop trying to predict me,
stop blaming me for each little thing,
for a predator can't be blamed for taking out pests,
nor animal control for relocating vicious creatures;
You silly little snake, do you think yourself to be a viper,
when really you're just a common garter?
Apr 29, 2013
Apr 29, 2013 at 3:03 PM UTC
There were grass-hoppers once, in these fields of green.
Leaf-hoppers too and a myriad other tiny wing'ed ones.
Now bees fidget fretfully along the hedgerows.
Lady-bugs, now only the twelve-spot greenhouse slaves.
Monsanto's beetles badgering them as they fiddle.
These ditches that once housed frogs and musk-rat, ferocious diving beetles,
The sky absent the wheeling martins, the boisterous larks.
Gone the pests, I rue the dearth,
bring me back my mud, my earth.
Never was I annoyed by them, always an ally that buggy thing,
Who yet knows how the June bugs sing?
Nov 19, 2012
Nov 19, 2012 at 8:34 PM UTC
I dedicate my heart and give you all my love
For you my sweet are like the flower called Dove
Your distinctive features give off such power
Soft and beautiful like a Lewisia Cozyledon flower
Colorful like a wild Daffodil, giving off a sweet smell
As bright as a Rose Swallow with a head built quite swell
Shaped like a pretty Lily, curved and slender
Lovely as a Buttercup, radiant and tender
Built like a Red Rose, with perfect formation
Giving off exhilarating fragrances that imbues such sensations
Your pedals are firm, and round and thick in all the right places
Silky and smooth, you earn stares from all types of faces
Unique as a Kadupul flower, but thankfully don’t perish at dawn
As rare as a Ghost Orchid, won’t be found in just any old lawn
Men and women a like, have wished to re-plant you in their home
But with a little help from God, in my garden bed I have you all alone
I cultivate and regenerate you, giving you nutrients to keep you well
Providing you space to breath and warmth wherever we dwell
My enriched soil is full of caring and understanding of your needs
Keeping you safe from harmful pests and ridding you of weeds
With you by my side, life is a refreshing spring breeze
Enthralled with your beauty, you knock me to my knees
I knew my heart was right, no second-guesses, I was not tricked
That you truly are a rare flower from the first day you were handpicked
Oct 2, 2016
Oct 2, 2016 at 11:11 AM UTC
Mosquitoes
Pesky little pests
Mosquitoes
Bastard's of ******
Mosquitoes
Sucketh out mine blood
Mosquitoes
I'll smacketh them in their Butt's
Mosquitoes
Cometh by the swarm
Mosquitoes
Thine wings art mine, tonight they shalt be torn
Mosquitoes
I hate noone but thee
Mosquitoes
Like bedbugs, roaches, and flea's
Mosquitoes
Taketh all the cruor thou canst tonight
Mosquitoes
Thou hath lived for a few days
Tonight's thy last night
MOSQUITOES!!!!!!!
Die thou little blood ******* devils!!!!!!
Jun 25, 2015
Jun 25, 2015 at 9:53 PM UTC
Deceived in men
and seeking
no revenge
Pleasure machine betrayed
by hypocrisy´s hounds
their howling hordes
come knocking on my door
crushed in the mud
like flies
or summer pests
by men mediocre
and their willing slaves
After they tasted the fruit
to hear them swear
"she was a temptress"
to see the fundamental lie
and feel no need
to protest
innocence
Feb 1, 2010
Feb 1, 2010 at 2:18 AM UTC
[read.aloud.in.monosyllabic.monotonous.robotic.voice]
it.is.fifth.may.year 2059
click
got cyber-pests?
introducing.the.all.new.zap-a-cy-pest.control
(no.more.worries.of.being.cyber-bugged)
click
got.some.bad.cyber-pain?
easy.to.use.no.problem.zap-a-pain
(no.more.cyber-headache.or.backpain)
click
got.loud.cyber.noise?
fix.it.with.simple.insta-silencer
(simply.clip.on.and.away.the.cyber.sounds)
click
got.poor.mobility?
get.the.facile.magi-mobi.to.move.you
(no.more.cyber.traffic.jams)
click
need.a.break?
get.the.insta-vac.program.to.cast.off
(take.the.cruise.vacation.of.a.lifetime.in.half.an.hour)
click
feeling.old?
get.the.insta-rejuvy.package
(no.mirrors.needed.anymore)
click!
S T, 9 May 2013
May 8, 2013
May 8, 2013 at 6:45 PM UTC
i live with Moths in my Head.
they flutter around on dusty wings,
coating my Brain with dirt until that’s
all i see:
a world covered in grime.
nothing’s clean -
especially me.
i want to shove mothballs
in my Ears,
i want to unleash a colony of bats
in my Skull
until every Moth is reduced
to a bad moment
instead of a bad life.
alas! these Hands of mine are human -
they are useless.
they cannot breach my Bones
to extract wild, immovable pests
so untamed they grow into ravenous beasts;
beasts that consume my:
Words, Will, Esteem, Ego -
until i am left bereft
of who i hoped to be.
but as i lay in stillness
side by side with you,
our bodies mixed up spider webs,
i take note of my Hands
holding you -
and i think perhaps
they are not as useless
as i’d first thought.
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 10:17 PM UTC