"piranha" poems
Living freely in this world
My vulnerability, feels so lost
As it seeks the skies to escape all
Perched high away and hiding
My heart forsaken
For my vulnerability
Has left
The little bird has flown
My retreating heart lives behind
Many layers of frozen ice
The warm waters of my heart
Have all frozen over
Come back, come back little bird
A teardrop falls
For I see the loss of potential
In this frozen pond
Where waters should be warm
My heart should sing
Great rich jungles, it should bring
My pride wounded by this world
I stare into my murky depths
My standing in this world falling
As my legs are taken
By the jaws of a giant beast
Far away a bird twitches
My stomach twists and turns
Absorbed I am into the belly
Of a great giant crocodile
I begin to feel my vulnerability
In these dangerous warm acidic waters
As I merge into a crocodile
And high above a bird leaves his perch
As the ice layers break
With the force of my tail
New eyes see the self importance in people
Of this earth, with all their arrogance
I will bring you back to earth
For I am the last living dinosaur
Born from a time when T.rex reigned
And even the birds had teeth
For I still live in waters
Where Piranha's seek to
Frenzy on living flesh
And I am to be scared of you
I warn all of those who wish to disturb
My open and most precious heart
That rests in silence over my pond
For your flesh will quiver
With the sound of my ancient growl
And your eyes will panic
With the sight of my jaw
A quiet bird flutters closer
Bring your bitterness and all your sourness
For I am hungry and love rotten meat
And your disregard feeds my fury
Circle my pond
Where my heart rests softly
With rich and green waters
Bursting and growing in love
For I am not scared to feel
And I will lounge and grab
As a tonne of me, slaps itself
Bang, hard on this earth
For I am here to feel it
And not escape it
But you will be blind
And lost in my depths
I will turn you over and
Your arrogance will feed me
As I grow stronger
You will be ripped limb from limb
A little bird comes closer
My heart free from noise
A silence nestles in me
And all innocence is seen
Beautiful souls float freely
Butterflies dance and play
And my beautiful vulnerability
returns in sweet song
And rests softly in my jaw
A strange paradox becomes so very clear
With a little bird we hold so dear
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 7:54 PM UTC
This was just published so it is copyright 2015 by Holy Cow Press ~ mce
Poverty is the fence around your life. Poverty wakes you up at 4 AM only to whisper meaningless slogans in your ear. It is the school of Piranha nibbling at the back of your brain. It is two hours waiting in the anteroom of despair for $22 worth of food stamps and being glad to be there. It is changing your phone number frequently because bill collectors are such boring conversationalists. It is the empty space your heels used to fill. It is letting your hair grow long and scraggly and your grizzled beard sprout because you know that although you sleep in rented rooms tonight, the street is not far off, and you want to fit in when you arrive. Poverty scalds the lint from your pockets. It is your private Treblinka within which you rage but are crushed. It is desperate prayers against dental catastrophes, blown tires, surprises of any sort. Poverty is when everything you own is frayed including your nerves from sleepless moments spent trying to solve the equation that will make X number of dollars cover X + ? number of bills, knowing that such math would defeat Newton or Einstein. Poverty is eying the cat's kibble imagining that with a bit of sugar and a splash of milk it might be fine and then eyeballing the cat himself thinking of protein of last resort and trying not to measure him against the microwave door. You ration your cigarettes; whiskey is a fading memory. Passing a diner on the street, you catch a whiff of burgers too expensive to consider and experience a Pavlovian moment. Poverty is trying to keep your head up and then remembering you pawned your neck. Poverty is watching the needle eat your last few gallons of gas. Poverty is the archeology of despair. It portends the death of irony. There is nothing ironic about a car with 217,000 miles and no insurance on it. Facts are facts in the world of poverty. Poverty is the last quarter reclaimed from beneath the cushions. It is too much time and not enough quarters. It is the specious logic of the self-righteous proclaiming that you deserve to be poor because you are, which in Amerika passes for wisdom. Poverty makes each day like the next because nothing does not vary. It is who you are and where you are going, although you won't get far. It is the life you lead inside the fence. It is the sum of what you lack. It just is.
- mce
Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 7:54 PM UTC
Your advice
Is my vice
And you continue to add vices
And you swim like mad pisces
Through my stream of thoughts
With all the lessons you taught
From all the advice you brought
So I avoid your glance
To not give you the chance
To see the results of our fishdance
Or how much my life has been enhanced
Until I begin to flounder
As those pisces become piranha
Feeding on other considerations
And growing colossal
Until your kraken is in my mind
Cracking up my mind
Stacking up the time
It takes to get out of bed
As I trust the tentacles that tie me down
To a life floating on the surface
Of an ocean
Where the fish burn like a furnace
And I watch the water evaporate
Like the advice on which you elaborate
As the advice that was once there
Is currently water vapor in the air
As I start to think of us as a pair
From inside my secret underwater lair
That is the cavern of my mind
Where a school of fish
Teach me how to live and die
Aug 4, 2017
Aug 4, 2017 at 7:49 AM UTC
In Praise of Feeling Bad About Yourself
The buzzard never says it is to blame.
The panther wouldn't know what scruples mean.
When the piranha strikes, it feels no shame.
If snakes had hands, they'd claim their hands were clean.
A jackal doesn't understand remorse.
Lions and lice don't waver in their course.
Why should they, when they know they're right?
Though hearts of killer whales may weigh a ton,
in every other way they're light.
On this third planet of the sun
among the signs of **********
a clear conscience is Number One.
Jan 29, 2013
Jan 29, 2013 at 11:43 PM UTC
I am a miner. The light burns blue.
Waxy stalactites
Drip and thicken, tears
The earthen womb
Exudes from its dead boredom.
Black bat airs
Wrap me, raggy shawls,
Cold homicides.
They weld to me like plums.
Old cave of calcium
Icicles, old echoer.
Even the newts are white,
Those holy Joes.
And the fish, the fish----
Christ! They are panes of ice,
A vice of knives,
A piranha
Religion, drinking
Its first communion out of my live toes.
The candle
Gulps and recovers its small altitude,
Its yellows hearten.
O love, how did you get here?
O embryo
Remembering, even in sleep,
Your crossed position.
The blood blooms clean
In you, ruby.
The pain
You wake to is not yours.
Love, love,
I have hung our cave with roses.
With soft rugs----
The last of Victoriana.
Let the stars
Plummet to their dark address,
Let the mercuric
Atoms that ******* drip
Into the terrible well,
You are the one
Solid the spaces lean on, envious.
You are the baby in the barn.
3.3k
Chum floats the pool
encircled by sharks and piranha
a pity, nature's fool
as fearful teeth do their work.
Could they be as bad as I?
Apex predator, Invasive species
where it means to die
as a means to live.
Growth from a spineless cherub
to a spiteful formless entity
possessing a cunning golden scarab
controlling wheels of fortune.
Slaves to our own demands
aren't we antagonists to someone else?
With machinations of wicked plans
to justify righteous intentions.
Hypocrites line the tank
tapping their fingers in rumination
Abandoning morals, faces left blank.
I am not your foil, I am a mirror.
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 2:04 AM UTC
**Deceit is in the air, beware!
the stench of dead birds,
mysteriously perished,
is it caused by the weather change?**
I witness feathers change color
beyond recognition on many birds,
both young and old,
i usually used to see on my walk
now they don't smile,
or even send a casual look as before.
Monsoon clouds, expected
aren't dark, or fat, as usual
obscene white, like cotton wool,
Had it been in other times,
i would have eulogized,
"So white and pure"
Drought is predicted,
we are living in hard times
should one remind that often?
would you hold my hand?
we need to stick together,
now, more than ever.
Luscious looking grapes, but wait,
I've seen them bath those in
thick soup of insecticides,
death lurks in salacious and sweet garbs,
eschew that grapes, they are sore,
be like foxes , that are clever.
The apples? rotten to the core,
forbidden, though entice
polished by poisonous wax,
don't eat those rotten eggs,
dame salmonella displaying her bare *******
would be ready to ****** don't budge.
soon you will be down with illness.
Don't walk alone,
guardian angels have fallen in to bad days,
their wings are fragile,
vampires with fangs long enough
to draw blood, till the last drop
have come out in the open,
from the legends, where they slept.
The piranha, in the water closet,
has been starving for a week,
butterfly with psychedelic painted wings,
really is an evil thought,
out to attack on a masquerade,
Inside the cupboard there is a masked raider,
have you heard the hungry tiger,
growling in your cluttered backyard?
a bear is prowling in the garden,
searching for hidden honeycombs,
did I see a python, licking a girl's naked breast?
*Keep all the doors closed tight,
remain quiet inside*
)O(
Aug 2, 2012
Aug 2, 2012 at 1:57 PM UTC
Beautiful piranha
Bare your teeth in a scheming grin
Pull back your harsh red lips
Flash your blue-green-gold coat of scales
Blood thirst blinding your eyes
White boney razor teeth gnashing,
Biting on empty space
Dart around your territory
With your cliques of similarly minded
Similarly equipped predators
Your body specifically designed
To be irresistible
To let you spot your victim,
****** them,
And go for the jugular
Jan 15, 2013
Jan 15, 2013 at 8:26 AM UTC
*a whole town goes dark
all cars stand still
lights are out*
silence . . .
then, something rushes by
nothing
or is it?
looming out of the jet-black inkiness
knees shake in cold moon
the sudden-roar of a impossible jet for five seconds
tinkling of three pedal-notes in the distance
a child's laughter calling from behind a deserted playground
sinister swirl of seeming-piranha inside the dark sky-folds
a half-dead bulldozer on the rim of a quaking river
murine-teeth ferret in a SUV-carcass long abandoned by instant-gratifixes
after..
*birds chittering about the secrets of the night
while leaves embrace the wind*
S T, sun - 22 sept
Sep 21, 2013
Sep 21, 2013 at 11:42 PM UTC
We got your crew like you were an
easy catch, cos once we got our
hooks in your postcode we ain't
letting go, fact.
We see the youngens, they little bait,
but once we hooked them,they'll be
piranha's in our tank, stripping the
dignity from out of your
voice in 20 seconds flat.
We got your crew like you were an
easy catch, cos once we got our
hooks in your postcode we ain't
letting go, fact.
We strung up your boys, gasping for air.
But once we got our hooks on you
were gutting you easy.
But not before we get what we need from
your pleads.
We got your crew like you were an
easy catch, cos once we got our
hooks in your postcode we ain't
letting go, fact.
Look little fish you in a tank of sharks,
we grin our grills gravestones of what you
see last before your dispatched.
But don't you worry there are plenty to keep
you company down there, you ain't the first
and you ain't going to be the last.
We got your crew like you were an
easy catch, cos once we got our
hooks in your postcode we ain't
letting go, fact.
We got nicknamed the fisherman, we sail into
your town catching what ever we want.
We don't scrap the sea floor hoping
for a catch. We fish for the real deal.
Disillusioned of the fish bowl they swimming in.
We got your crew like you were an
easy catch, cos once we got our
hooks in your postcode we ain't
letting go, fact.
Making it even easier to catch, to turn them from
neighbourhood trash to one of our sharks.
showing other that once we got you hooked,
the only way you leaving is dead floating at the
bottom of the tank.
We coming to your postcode.
We got your crew like you were an
easy catch, cos once we got our
hooks in your postcode we ain't
letting go, fact.
Feb 25, 2020
Feb 25, 2020 at 6:23 PM UTC
Did he live dangerously as he believed? You decide.
A wish he cherished inanely for long
Did him in or liberated from fear once and for all
His date with the camouflaged piranha
He coveted much, was an unqualified success
He repeatedly said, though none disputed it.
An ace strategist, he thought of himself
Aware of all the wily tactics the fish practices
It all started with the tickling pleasurable nibbles
But when the blood started flowing the fangs were out
Nature's invisible sensors respond to the situation precisely.
Look!
Hopeful vultures circling above slyly observing
His each faltering step is alacritous, turned hostile,
"Walking skeleton, buddy, fly back.No scope for us
Crumbling little by little.Let it ride, bad luck"
Sep 17, 2014
Sep 17, 2014 at 12:17 AM UTC
Though the; core of the earth can be measured in Kelvin
What happens on the surface is a negative hell man.
Its a; cold world that we live in
From the government, law enforcement, and politicians.
Everything you do, where you go is like your swimmin’
Piranha on you tail take everything you've been given.
Through the gutters we roam in search of new beginnings.
Man; is this life we live really worth livin’?
Just to find out the when, where and how of your ending?
It’s a; cold world that we follow.
Pushers giving you pills and telling you to swallow.
The pills of conformity, we all had a taste.
Some just got addicted so they feigning for that 8.
Nose stuck on the internet searching for conspiracies.
Illuminati, JFK the whole entire industry.
The media’s agenda is the way we all proceed.
People tread the tail cause they all afraid to lead.
Probably afraid to bleed, to impede on the culture.
Well now it’s time to feed, swarm down hungry vultures.
It’s the; cold world that got us dying.
Fight for your beliefs and end up in an asylum.
You ain’t even gotta riot, to be quiet is a sin.
Yes sir, yes sir, yes sir. Amen
That’s the story that they preach.
Subliminal, under the surface.
Nobody knows the truth so it all seems perfect.
Well...
Does it all seem worth it?
Nov 20, 2011
Nov 20, 2011 at 12:49 PM UTC
whispering...
calling...
Reaching out for me
What am I to do
Arms of death gripped corpses
Attaching themselves to every limb
Trying to drag me
To the darkest pits of the unknown
whispering...
calling...
Pulling on my flesh
Tearing me to pieces
As I try to reject the conclusion
That these hollow point glares
Are drilling into my body
But the pain is numbed
whispering...
calling...
I don't want to reply
For if I do I accept defeat
And let this cancerous nuisance
Plunge me into my own insanity
Of cannibalistic voices
Crawling on the walls like shadow phantoms
whispering...
calling...
I'm dead
No point in denying it
I'm a nobody
Who will remember me
These joker grins around me
Knew my fate long before I did
Because they were pushing me off
The edge of life's lonely cliff
Into swarming piranha infested darkness
Apr 27, 2013
Apr 27, 2013 at 9:50 AM UTC
Bruised and beaten in the salt swamped oceans
burnt to crackled skin, unbarked, floating
highways in the waters racing, warm
blanket of currents, tossed in the tide
of reaching places, far off shores
infested by man -eating sharks
piranha fish, electric eels, the boat of misery
finds its channel to freedom
on some strange islet that leads
to unkempt land.
Not wanted in their own country
scratching for existence
watching nirvana on Channel 52
each scampers in the dead of night
to find a home in other unwanted countries
abandoned on the beach of mercy.
The war on poverty will rage
around polished tables of policies
and the rich will get richer
while the poor get children.
We are driftwood dressed in a society
with new bark-like skins.
Author Notes
immigrants.Watch as the world disintegrates into driftwood.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, a month ago
Nov 1, 2014
Nov 1, 2014 at 5:35 PM UTC
there was a big piranha he had lost his teeth
some where in the water along the water reef
the fish began to search all along the ground
but his poor teeth were nowhere to be found
piranha he was sad now he could not chew
he had lost his teeth and there was nothing he could do
then he met a crab deep down underneath
piranha he told crab all about his teeth
dont worry said the crab i know what to do
i will make some new ones especially for you
crab he made some teeth out of shells upon the floor
piranha now had teeth and chew again once more
Dec 22, 2013
Dec 22, 2013 at 10:44 AM UTC
*...when the quiet transfixed my eyes,
finally realized your darkly overt tenor
no matter how often you change colors
beastly burdens invasion upon mine soul
piranha eating flesh of thy innocent young
professing peace, love, interminable charity
wolf in sheep masquerade of disavowel's claws
scraping bottom of bowels and viscera
have you no soul, even fiends take offense
cut thy own tongue and feed it unto thy ego
wallowing in the contradictions thine own self
repudiation will be thou own ruination in* HELL
Oct 11, 2013
Oct 11, 2013 at 6:09 PM UTC
Some days I wish I was a piranha where
I could snap at anyone who pesters me,
Which on days like this is everyone.
How can this be called a life?
Staring past the glass each and every day
Is enough to make anyone go crazy,
Year after year chums come and die,
Why should I bother with the trivial dance of friendship
Anymore?
Especially with that stupid goldfish
With those big and innocent eyes
That annoying childlike eagerness
That only lasted so long before
I took a bite of those juicy black orbs.
May 18, 2013
May 18, 2013 at 7:54 PM UTC
Performance: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rrtxgFdTYO8
running running running
always running from something
always coming from nothing
but all day these beats be drumming
running running running
always running from something
what i summoned i can barely stomach
what i come with got me rushing
call it whatcha wanna
like a piranha i be up on it
got vocal bionics
got the local goddesses looking
honest to god
no stopping when I am cooking
a prophet when i spit that pudding
ducking from the crooked pigs
lifted off that chronic
it is what it is
never live like a *****
i can take and i can dish
never fake i really live for this ****
spit quick
so slick
a misfit
born christmas
but the lords can take this ****
wait for it
i found my place
like outer space
i was made for it
running running running
always running from something
always coming from nothing
but all day these beats be drumming
running running running
always running from something
what i summoned i can barely stomach
what i come with got me rushing
Oct 2, 2017
Oct 2, 2017 at 9:13 PM UTC
We were once mountains
Standing tall, standing proud.
Mountains of great girth and of great pride.
We were once, the top of this world.
Landmarks, conquest, tourist attractions.
We were once as tall as the clouds.
And where safety , for the Eagles home.
We were once.
We were once, great boulders of strength and of size.
We were once great boulders hanging on for life.
We were once in the mids of this world.
Added beauty and charm to the mountains side.
Became steps to help others achieve their goals, became hidding spots for smaller animals to hid from their prey.
We were once great boulders.
Relatable, reachable and visable.
We were once.
We were once rocks, that have fallen from the highest of peaks.
Rocks that have been broken, slammed, stepped on to help you achieve.
Rocks that made up the lower grounds of a stream.
Planted, stacked and buried
As a bridge for your feet,
To keep you dry.
We were once rocks.
Used as a grip for your boots, to keep you safe.
As a path to guide you, to all that you achieve.
As caverns for the minnow and his family.
As a safe haven from the piranha.
We were once.
We were once dust
The wearing,
the fragile truth.
Looked upon as not a thing.
We were once.
We are once.
Once
We are all dust.
Once,
We are all the beginning.
Once,
We are all, the foundation.
Once,
We can see, we are all needed
Once,
We can hear, we are all our own strength.
Once we accept, all for who they are, all of what we can be.
Once,
We see truth and strength
In unity.
All is just as import to building a powerful mountain.
Once,
All this,
Then, this rocks dust can rebuild
His majestics mountain of strength.
Dec 29, 2014
Dec 29, 2014 at 1:15 PM UTC
poems come from the abyss
one always hopes to fill,
at least for me ,
no lines from heaven
behold the joy proposed of being an artist
worrying that you really did fail
in turning your soul to statements
the true nature of what we do , unknown to us
letting the decay of sanity sink in,
we hunt beauty by way of letting logic fall to abstraction
close your eyes, let the right line and word and image be a piranha
hand goes in the water, hoping for a bite, for something to
latch on so hard you can pull it away with you
the loving breast of an artist allows eggs to be planted inside
it, only for them to devour till fat and mature, to burst away
and take flight, as far from you as possible
Oct 14, 2015
Oct 14, 2015 at 12:17 PM UTC
Let’s ****** all the words
social norms dictate we use.
I’ll drown “beautiful,”
you slit “relationship’s” wrists
We can tag-team
the execution of everyone’s
favorite; “love.”
Do you want to use the chainsaw
or piranha tank?
We will gleefully
beat the **** out of—
stab mercilessly —
whimsically hang—
frolic & fire upon—
turn up the heat on—
keep the electric coursing through—
dance, continuing to pour gasoline over—
each *******
overwrought
dead-eyed
limp
word
until the populace begs us to invent more.
And we will.
Only a few.
We'll cackle as we toss the useless
words away,
saving the best
for the language we're inventing for ourselves.
Dec 28, 2011
Dec 28, 2011 at 11:20 AM UTC
Baby piranha
Achoo! Bubbles in the sea.
Bubbles in my heart.
Mar 4, 2016
Mar 4, 2016 at 6:49 AM UTC
I have a pet piranha !
He swims ' round in a tank
At first i called him baby jaws
But i changed it then to Frank
He doesn't like potatoes
But he's very fond of pork
I offered him a glass of wine
But instead he ate the cork !
I thought he looked quite lonely
So i bought for him a friend
But frank just looked then ..eat him
A fishy tale .....The End.
Oct 20, 2010
Oct 20, 2010 at 3:28 PM UTC
at the lip of a pool, i suspend time to forage through the reveries of lost love
and like thunder i roll over tragedies and dull days,,,i wrinkle my eyes at a stone sun
and embark renewed at a crossroads tethered to an iron halo.
i drink more now. my Bourbon soliloquies banter like a bantam **** at all Dawns.
but the irony is bracing and the ice is breaking a vow of iceness… now a conflagration
where a glacier burns like a sun and marvels at how tepid Hell.
i loved too much. and that was not enough. and you can tell.
so now i gaze at the impossible with a child’s eye and a poet’s dark.
i sleep with myself in my chambers of unseemly devotion.
i love everything and nothing.
and i yearn to yearn without yearning
all the while.
Sep 28, 2018
Sep 28, 2018 at 5:14 PM UTC
Falling Down Fast! (ANOTHER DARK POEM)
I'm falling apart,
I'm splitting,
Divisible into,
Two fine halves,
Not sure where I'm at,
Torn as crevasse breaches my soul,
My soul,
She's more in control than me,
Weaving chaos while she parties hard,
Fought, the strong ,
Desire to die,
Hell is here,
I won't fight,
I'll sit and cry,
Will ride the tide of tears,
Or maybe drink them dry,
My paradise is lost,
At what cost,
Self assured,
Still keep my dignity intact,
Underneath facade ,
It's just an act,
She fits,
Myoclonic,
Confused,
Flits as Pipistrel,
Through twilight night lights,
Whirling,
Turbulent witch,
Fingertips alive with pain,
Cauldron bubbles,
Filled with heart's dark art,
While piranha eats her heart,
Body stripped to the bone,
Clean to bone,
Nothing left to fear!
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Jun 1, 2013
Jun 1, 2013 at 7:00 PM UTC