"pixy" poems
Children grow up
with jump ropes
barbie dolls
and suckers tangled in their hair
Children grow up
in daddy's shoes
and mommy's dresses
and Pixy Stix sugar in their laps
Children grow up
feeling the boom of fireworks
wading in the cold pool water
and pop rocks dancing on their tongue
Children grow up
with secrets kept from them
and told to them
and pockets filled with smarties wrappers as bribes
Children grow up
with dirt under their nails
and rain water soaking their clothes
and taffy between their teeth
Children grow up
with the wonders and horrors of the world
all on a sugar high
so they never learn the difference
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 9:12 PM UTC
What surmounts the best of best
What surpasses excellence,
Where resides the wherewithal
To top the prize of prescience?
How to master that which hurts
The song which wears you down?
Limitations splendour son
The fool who fools the clown.
To climb the bleak forbidden peak
To sleep with guts and gore,
Endure a cancer's world of pain
Where moments shut the door.
Resurrect a broken life
When love has fled the room,
Found the strength to seek again
And find light in the gloom.
Hold an old man's withered hand
And listen to his tale
Of life's travails and hardship
Where broken dreams prevail.
Take that cute kid on your arm
And kiss her with a hug,
Treat her like a Pixy Queen
And cuddle dolly snug.
What surmounts the best around
What surpasses all,
Where resides the wherewithal
To claim the prize recalled?
How to master songs of joy
Tunes which wear the crown?
Limitations laughter son
The fool who fools the clown.
Capture magic's glow around
Make each moment ring,
Fling confusions net away
To let your heartstrings sing.
Smooch a mountain maiden
Cry for great things done
Celebrate your life my friend
For it's a fact.... We've Won!
Marshalg
In Sweet Celebration.
27 February 2013
© 2013 Marshal Gebbie
Feb 27, 2013
Feb 27, 2013 at 3:29 AM UTC
Now Alice was a very nice girl
even if she had a thing about rabbets
well breed like one
she stood tall, very proud,
on her own two feet, with slitty web toes
which stuck out to the side
she never would become a dancer
now her hair was curly but jet black
which fell over her shoulders
her skin alabaster white
her lips cherry red but thin
and strange but nice sticky out ears
which at times made her look like a fairy
if for would rain like man thunderstorm
ooO
and she like black rabbits
So that's my
Alice in Blunderland.
Alice sat down lent on a tree
pulled a book, from her gold and silver pocket book
began to read, but as she did would hum
the heat of the day did take its toll
her mind slipped back and fell down the rabbet hole
and as she did saw signs of the times pop up
her eye did blink, did I say, brighter than the blue sea
or the stars that twinkle on a starlight Coal bout sea.
Her dress bloomed up she drifted for the rest of the fall
in the meantime her lip turned blue full stop. period.
and like all girls became in a bad mood
and the story ends for the common man
as we know there nothing we can do, not even if you give up your arm
the king would not be pleased
at that, all the pink storks fell off there legs, fell and began to snore.
a sleep, now you know why!
Alice did I say
you looksiblime
with all your curls
that seams to curves your shoulders
and I just love them sticky out ears
pixy it up Mamrm.
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 1:04 PM UTC
Like an outcasted stoop kid,
I sat glass-backed, bar-assed ten
feet away from the main streets
waiting. Waiting
for some leaves to fall off treewires.
I waited for inspiration in the bitter
November chill biting at my ankles.
And I got funny looks from football
cap colleagues on this dressed-down
Thursday. The trees were practically
naked. Scarce blossoms and partridge
leaves crisped by the stagnant air.
The door'srustedhinges-aircrack-
waking ends a four hour sleep
short. I found out she was a lesbian,
and allergic to ****
My mouth tastes like plain Pixy Stix
and I can only swallow in short bursts
like a camera or pool water over-
whelming the filter hole. It's like
untreated brine that I'm swimming
around in, ******* in, trying to sweeten
it with my natural body oils,
but it's not working
because my pool is also a lesbian,
and allergic to ****
Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 2:50 PM UTC
Delicate as you were our love was cast away like wilson. I ate the fruit and basked in joy as ploys were set to feel some, kind of arbitrary. The way we rose to crash and fall was quite unnecessary. Your soul infests me barely.
It used to make me whole, Used to sooth my mind. Used to to pay no tolls, Used to have you here. Used to have no fear, I used to love you endlessly and now the end is here.
Never thought we'd die. My mind was always lost because your presence got me high, My shine was always tossed because id rather be in yours. I loved you like iv never loved anyone before.
Jan 30, 2015
Jan 30, 2015 at 12:40 PM UTC
We were young, we smelt like pixy sticks and hope.
Ran through the meadows getting our dresses ***** without a s i n g l e care in the world
We'd laugh until our bellies hurt, and laugh even more
Smile so big the whole world could see it
Until you turned 13
Never saw that breath-taking smile again
Never laughed til you cried
All you did was just cry
Never came out your room
Til that day we found you
Hanging from the ceiling
Oct 19, 2015
Oct 19, 2015 at 9:13 AM UTC
Your brown eyes take me into flight
your grace in movement is spellbinding
your sweet smile brings tears
to your servant called me
On this sad island of fear we live
take my hand my love and lets leave
leave the bitterness and hatred
take my hand and lets fly away
You are a child of green liken to me
so I thinks you get some pixy dust
I so want you to fly, come
come fly, like I do
You are spell binding to me
with those wonderful windows
those windows to your soul
angelic are your brown eyes
You still hold that kingdom
the one of true hearts and kind minds
and I love you very much for that
my beautiful, beautiful brown eyes
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Oct 29, 2013
Oct 29, 2013 at 8:08 AM UTC
Pixies dance in rays of moonlight sprinkling magic dust across the veil. Mist rises the morning after and mushrooms tell the tale. Groupings of circles where pixy dust was thrown down last. Waiting to be harvested by industries gnomes, and carried away to their lairs. Each full moon the cycle begins anew. Fairies spreading their magic, in fairy land that is what they love to do.
Feb 22, 2016
Feb 22, 2016 at 9:41 PM UTC
Pixy snatches our lucrative dreams
Making a touch with a magical stick.
She gathers all these dream
And distributes among deprived dreamers.
Our dreams are their true story.
They work on their dreams, we do business.
We sell them in Pataldanga Lane,
Sometimes wipes it out into a dustbin.
We think, they do. we fear, they roar
Our imagination is their success.
We fail to fight to get back our right
while they die to fly from daedalous labyrinth.
Feb 8, 2018
Feb 8, 2018 at 5:58 AM UTC