"pythons" poems
They creep me out.
Those sticky-out veins in your neck,
the way they stretch like pythons’ tongues
as if they’re going to snap –
they’ll snap.
Like elastic,
they’ll snap
(just the thought …)
They creep me out,
the fact that they’re so FLESHY
and for some reason,
remind me of goats’ beards
and stringy turkey necks
(I don’t know, but,
just the thought …)
They creep me out.
I’ve got the weird feeling that
they could be snipped away by silver scissors
like loose threads.
They’ll snap.
Like elastic.
They’ll snap.
Stretching,
Stretching
(just the thought …)
Jul 16, 2014
Jul 16, 2014 at 5:42 AM UTC
*And suddenly he finds this--
the season of strange happenings
befall upon him.In Bangkok rains lashed
for three consecutive days without stop.
Huge pythons with strange markings
undulated over waves, that were roads
three days before.A stranger to the town
he feared the fury of river Chao Phraya
but this girl took care of him well,
and when rain paused slightly
she suggested they should eat out.
He left it to her choice, though never knew
much about her, say he was careless.
In that dim-lit restaurant, she said
most unexpected things happen certain days,
and what she said was really true.
She ate his past wholly, so quick
when no one noticed, it was truly smart an operation.
It tastes exactly like Thai cuisine she told him, as if pleased,
full of aromatic leaves of herbs.
He just sat like a zombie, would he understand
the meaning of that sabotage, ever?
As she whispered her words in his ears,
he wanted to contradict, tell her about
coconut milk, pepper and condiments
in which his memories of past were marinated,
like his mom's incredible curries
of fish from Kerala coast.
She pretended she didn't hear
all his memories of spice coast,
she had tactically usurped.
Then a doubt creeped in to his mind
"Is she a banshee, after me?"
She persuaded him to take a stroll
along the bank of Chao Phraya in spate
None would believe him later
his eye witness account of the girl
who ate all his spice land past
jumped in to Chao Phraya turning in to a big fish
and disappeared, never to reappear.*
Oct 28, 2013
Oct 28, 2013 at 1:49 PM UTC
when it is still, it reflects
the baby blue sky above
the waves, each sparkle
with the light brown
Coconut toffee made by locals
muddy and Overgrown, it is
the beautiful home of
Wild pythons, chicken, and rooster
Rice Popping, snake wine
fermenting, hot black sand
wood boats of Green and
Brown with Red eyes that
lead the way across the
water to the Floating Markets
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 8:09 PM UTC
i.
We've seen armchairs yarned in factories
as they take away great grandmother
with cancer of the lungs, a string of long
fluid woven into her assembly
apt for a tapestry, a long room
that is woven of her memorized thread of choice.
A Volta television swamp floats until breath emerges
gentleman like, heated from its length of rope nerve.
Six looping pythons in one belt
4:44, a tilted mirror and
a bookshelf.
Feb 25, 2012
Feb 25, 2012 at 10:28 PM UTC
the only boy i ever loved
is awake while i am sleeping
the tinman boy lives upside-down
but in my tongue i keep him
while screens have saved us tenfold times
i still sit and mull your visit
those days spent tangled in your hair
i won’t admit i miss it.
you drove stick-shift but held my hand
jumped guardrails and pythons and nerves
painted me with waterfall clay
and careened around my curves
your tongue is strings on violins
and i am no virtuoso
each rusted joint creaks heartless songs
while my will swings to and fro
you’re tension like a tinder box
or a match-head ripe for striking
i can’t speak freely of your hands
but found them to my liking
i hope i am not novelty
or distraction wrapped in ennui
i, for one, am enthralled by you
and how you can’t sing on-key
raggedy thoughts bite (just like you)
of distance and futures and you
sentences always end with you
except when you want them to
the only boy i ever loved
is spiteful and tragic and sweet
the tinman boy lives far away
at least until next we meet
Jun 13, 2013
Jun 13, 2013 at 7:27 AM UTC
Chipped, cherry toned toes, pressing
across the cheap, linoleum flooring,
She's wearing nothing but an
over-sized sweater from a college
she's never, ever been.
And her hands hit her hips,
her grin leaves **** those
smoky-stained calcium cuties,
wrapped by chapped pythons.
In which, you have to admit
that 90's bob bouncing is
as killer as cancer.
Coffee table eyes, glancing,
gliding between every take,
she lifts the bottom of that
balled-up, decade-old sweater,
revealing a tuft of brunette hair;
a place where you can touch her;
where you can escape and stop
lying to yourself, you nihilistic nothing.
II.
Breathing the cold, in the murky-dark,
she, laying on a decadent country,
huddled in my authoritarian arms,
we stared at stars, streaking across,
waiting to escape like them, instead of
relating to those already dead beacons.
Dec 13, 2016
Dec 13, 2016 at 2:02 AM UTC
Making her senses keen to discern it better , she realizes:
"This giant of a tree, is no less than a wonder"
on it age plays a game different, no one is able to gauge,
ancient times nurtured, wind and rains embraced it tight,
scorching sun, in all his tropical fervor, couldn't daunt it,
eventually sun and the tree must have fallen in love with each other,
From morning till night, this banyan listens to many voices,
long days didn't make any difference, every day is new to it,
the roots searching under the earth, the hanging ones above,
create their own world, the ones below earth search for water.
when they come up in certain places, they look like creatures
prowling crocodiles, reptiles, or even imaginary creatures, without names
Hang roots defy all rules, prefer the shapes of snakes it seems
anacondas, vipers, pythons or cobras in search of prey.
This banyan is a catalyst, from bird to humans here,
find a shelter,take rest for varying times. It's Grandma attitude
makes each seeker of solace and rest go back with happy smiles.
Some times here, a pauper speaks to a pundit, roles get reversed,
experience speaks louder than the knowledge in the book,
the many voices heard under the banyan makes,
one awake, from slumber, the orchestra of many voices,
builds a music, euphonious in its composition, pregnant with meanings.
Aug 6, 2013
Aug 6, 2013 at 10:42 AM UTC
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Feb 3, 2018
Feb 3, 2018 at 9:47 PM UTC
If I am fine
Then why I am here?
Strung up on
The line of my fear
Endless reasons
Not to breathe
I always endure
The pythons squeeze
If I am alright
Then why am I here?
Passed out on the
Broken pier
The pyre angels
Sing for me
Broken, sleeping
Sometimes they scream
Perhaps I am twisted
Though why am I kind?
You say I am poison
A poisonous mind
A toxic concoction
Some wretched possession
Foul smelling, rotten
An echoing question
I think I am faulty
A smoking explosion
Though carefully sculpted
By acid corroded
A tremulous wreck
Dancing on sand
Can’t gain my footing
I choke on the plan
Feb 15, 2010
Feb 15, 2010 at 7:18 PM UTC
In theory, we're demoralized,
In practice, neutralized,
But with force we analyze
What happens around us.
Sanctimonious ********
Pulling our plastered limbs
To an ever lasting fight,
Against forces of evil? Where are we?!
Black veils on their faces
Dark tears in the traces
Marked by the graves that are left behind.
Apathetic pathetic pythons biting the bits and piecing the peace that pits you against your brother.
Pompous posers pushing pampered ideas into our polluted brains.
Anti-idealistic contenders competing for riches and a nice comfy throne.
Plausible pseudo-righteous imposers asking for an applause for all the ill-witted words they shed.
Rectify the wrong wriggled reason riddling wibble fed to feeble citizens.
We sit here waiting for divine intervention,
Well divinity's gone! Not to mention the tension,
All these factors and factions, the fact is we're dying, and they're not helping.
Something drives them, something we don't understand, but who has the guts to ask them what it is?
Our blood has become the dividend divided among the not-so-united lands that fall under a geographical, categorized country of hell.
In this hell we live in, we've become minions of liberal less-than-mediocre minds ironically not minding their own business, feeding off of ours.
Intertwined, undermined, understand the outer line, see the truth, feel the crime, freedom's yours. Freedom's mine.
Dec 15, 2013
Dec 15, 2013 at 7:08 AM UTC
Ask him about the first time we met.
He will tell you,
eyes bright,
that I made him laugh
so hard
that his ribcage cracked open,
releasing a generation of butterflies
he kept hidden for so long
I may never know
who hatched them there.
Ask him about the songs I sing.
He will tell you,
in a familiar tune,
that I make pythons dance.
My vocal chords are marionettes
that turn ballerinas into puppets
whose feet never touch the ground.
Ask him about my bedroom.
He will tell you,
counting off of his fingers,
that the shelves are stacked and rickety
the vanities empty
and the lamp, a glowing green,
casts shadows of butterflies.
He will tell you that there are two broken clocks
under glow in the dark stars
and a table of sketches
eraser dust
and matchsticks.
Ask him about the sketches.
Ask him about the shelves.
Ask him about my poetry.
A muted mouth with a severed tongue will tell you
that there are hundreds,
written on the insides of my palms
But they've been caged fists
since my heart first opened
and there is not a single joke
that could make me laugh
hard enough
to set free the crushed chrysalids
that I've been holding
since I discovered butterflies.
Aug 7, 2015
Aug 7, 2015 at 12:53 AM UTC
****** or Heroine?
by Michael R. Burch
(for mothers battling addiction)
serve the Addiction;
worship the Beast;
feed the foul Pythons
your flesh, their fair feast ...
or rise up, resist
the huge many-headed hydra;
for the sake of your Loved Ones
decapitate medusa.
Keywords/Tags: drugs, addiction, user, ****** needle, tracks, marks, pain, despair, recovery
Jun 26, 2020
Jun 26, 2020 at 2:14 AM UTC
The Drummer Brothers of Ikku Ukku
Heard from the bathers that-
The Princess had been abducted
By the Dark Beast.
A bounty of thousand gold coins was announced
If you brought her back alive and the beast dead
And Death if you brought the beast alive and the Princess dead.
The Drummer Brothers of Ikku Ukku
Hung their drums around their necks
And drummed their way
Through the Forest Dark
When the Elder Brother drummed the sleep-inducing roll,
The storks that roosted in the trees
Dropped as if they were one big bunch.
He picked them up one by one
While the younger one,
Elated,
Shouted 'Pelicans!' and drummed the defeathering roll
Upon which the plumage came off
The Elder Brother drummed the roasting roll
And the birdflesh caught fire.
On the second day a leopard that looked-
More like a boulder in leopard's clothing
Lurched at the brothers.
The Elder Brother drummed the age-reversing roll
And the poor old leopard grew younger and younger
Until it became a watery foetus which-
The Drummer Brothers ate,
Dabbing crushed chillies, and sprinkling salt.
On the third day a bear of grisly proportions
Ambled, roaring, into their sight
The Younger Brother drummed an organ-enlarging roll that-
Stretched the bear's mammaries far too long-
They dragged on the ground like two pythons.
The Elder Brother drummed the light-the- candle roll
And the oily **** caught fire like wicks.
Having vanquished the two deadly beasts
The Drummer Brothers of Ikku Ukku met,
On the fourth day of their journey,
The Dark Beast.
The Dark Beast, as it turned out,
Was no beast as such
But an Outcast once expelled
Into the heart of darkness
Who wrapped himself
In the dark of the Dawn
And became one with All the Beasts
And rumbled.
The Princess' pygmy horse was impaled
With the stake coming out of its mouth
Grossly gory, its hindlegs missing
And the blood, coagulated, hanging like icicles.
Near it was the Princess herself,
Naked, except for the gold waist chain
And the anklets.
The Drummer Brothers of Ikku Ukku
Drummed a very ordinary roll,
Steady and throbbing.
The Dark Beast who listened to it
Was transported into his past,
His memory of listening
To the old drummers of Ikku Ukku.
Excited,
He spun on his heels and stretched out his arms
He gyrated and pirouetted-
And on reaching the peak of his frenzy
Exploded, like a watermelon
The pieces flew in all directions.
The Drummer Brothers picked them up
And licked
While the Princess, shaken out of her languor,
Rose and sauntered towards them.
Holding out her honey hands
She said, "Now I belong to both of you."
The Younger Brother came up with a plan:
The elder one would have her from the waist up
While he would have her from the waist down.
The Elder Brother approved.
Vain and coquettish,
The Princess rammed her fists into either drum
And said: "I loathe their sound- too unrefined."
On the fifth day,
The Drummer Brother drummed a jazzed up roll
On their new drumhead
Made of the Princess' hide.
Jul 24, 2020
Jul 24, 2020 at 6:15 AM UTC
supposedly
never lying
would help me keep
my life straight
but i'm not sure
these pythons
would stop choking me
just for a spoken word
of truth.
Aug 3, 2013
Aug 3, 2013 at 4:07 AM UTC
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Sep 29, 2015
Sep 29, 2015 at 4:17 AM UTC
The pythons on the branch
and you were headed upstairs
to greet it, tongue first,
lips pursed
willing.
Wet chunks of shattered glass
singing through flesh,
singing in multiple octaves
howling in pain and you
took your hand away to
kiss serpents.
I reached out for you.
Furniture rising to the ceiling,
air escaping, but me and the
love seat float upward toward
a new heavenless home.
We see a new horizon.
We breathe not of our own accord.
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 3:17 PM UTC
vines, so virile and verdant, grow in the golden light.
like pythons, they grip concrete pillars with all their might.
cracks and wounds appear, and dust pours out from within.
they grip harder still and wrap around the pillars now so thin.
tree trunks to pencils, the pillars now appear to be.
there was a forest here once, of sparkling cement trees.
Feb 4, 2018
Feb 4, 2018 at 3:33 AM UTC
I like walking to see the man.
When the trees are stiff
and the clouds are glowing,
i take the high road up
to where creeks are flowing.
To where panthers sing, in
the darkest nights, to where shadows
are pythons and liken bites
when i can i see the man
i feel something inside me
bland, but beautiful,
second hand,
like a magic spell
in possum land, goannas
lizards, private lynx,
and kissen wizards
hybrid shrinks
when iv got a problem,
or my eye lid kinks
i follow the road
up to the skyward links.
Theres three roads,
once you arrive there well
theres one that will take
you up a plywood cell
and in this you scream
“take me to the dream
mr Pirolell!”
And if he hears you
in time youl smell
a clear blue gel, or feel a tear brew.
Well that is a bridge to enter your dreams.
—
The next road, the second, leads to
a humble abode with a pleasant
decadent essence. Inside this are
creatures that are big and
small, hairy and airy
ones, some are fairies holden
up librarians with scary guns
some are twisted toads with
bowed blisted noads
living life in a dark pit
solarium.
You must confront these
creatures to reach
the immortal bays
of the Pirolell beaches.
And here you will
be taught by the teacher
of teachers.
And that is the man i
walk to see.
—
The third road
you must tame an
insane hawk to walk
to the magic chalk board.
The bird is wanting to
**** those that wish
to write with the sword or quill, in spite
of it guarding its lord that is still.
If you can tame the hawk
than what ever you question
on the board with chalk will speak aloud
proud monstrous way,
and will discover all that is heavenly.
And youl realise that the man is fantasy.
Oct 2, 2015
Oct 2, 2015 at 2:33 AM UTC
we tie ourselves into knots
around each other
begging, pleading
curling tighter
suffocating one another
until there is nothing left
but dry skin and bone
a corpse that smells
of desperation and decay
our names forever seared onto the remains
and we decide to call this act
of brutal destruction
love.
Apr 30, 2013
Apr 30, 2013 at 5:06 PM UTC
A man for seasons
Vivaldi played this tune
Neil Armstrong looked down
As he walked along the moon
Noah was very clever
When he sailed around in his Ark
Spielberg scared us witless
When we saw his man eating shark
Roswell holds a lot of secrets
When aliens crashed under the sun
Cleese and all his pythons
Gave us laughter and tremendous fun
Pinter wrote dark little plays
About homecomings and a dumb waiter
Van Gogh put paint onto his canvas
I guess it's sad what happened later
The Beatles destroyed America
As they rode the musical jackpot
And finally one Adolf ******
Sadly remembered for be a crackpot
Sep 23, 2016
Sep 23, 2016 at 6:48 PM UTC
when
fear breeds doubt
gemini
pythons
coiled
around
the
speechless soul
then
we sing out
Jun 7, 2016
Jun 7, 2016 at 5:32 PM UTC
Death, we cannot escape its mournful grasp,
there to greet us in in our heaving rasp,
reaching the end of our incumbent race,
it engulfs us like a pythons embrace,
coiling around our souls in a macabre dance,
hypnotic eyes as we succumb to its trance,
long since departed souls smile in an ironic bliss,
betray our presence with a Judas kiss,
so underneath the vultures stare,
we must now go and prepare,
for time is no longer our friend,
neither cares for the plans that we attend,
so take no thought for matters at hand,
for we are all but grains of sand.
Jun 17, 2017
Jun 17, 2017 at 10:46 AM UTC
Step into the mind of a young man,
Praying that you won’t get hit again,
All I want to do is make you understand,
But if you don’t want to listen then I guess you ain’t apart of the plan.
Sorry if I digress,
All I ever wanted was to be the best,
Absorbing all the hatred putting my mind to the test,
Staying up late, night, no rest,
Why does people feel to cause so much pain,
Is it power they hope to gain,
I hope they realize they left a huge blood stain,
It’s almost thanksgiving gotta make preparations,
Can’t wait till the family comes,
Hoping no betrayal happens, that’s the sign of disintegration,
My own life is coming soon,
It won’t be awhile until I fully bloom,
Death is full of pain,
But life is really strange,
What is the difference between black and white?
It is the opposite,
But it’s pretty much the same,
Life seems like a game,
But truly it’s really plain,
Some people are chill, some people don’t give a ****
People are very picky of who they meet or who they hang around,
I swear I’m gonna end this pain,
Why does everyone feel the need to judge other people when we all the same,
For god sakes just break down the wall,
Grab the hammer and bring down the glass,
Took a test about poetry got two separate A’s and I passed,
Getting sick of people judging ****
Getting sick of people judging others,
If you don’t know that person then shut the hell up, no bother,
It’s time to form the resurrection,
Admit your confession before you get infected,
Working hard on these poems like I am trying to win the presidential election,
Poisonous pythons is gonna hold you down and have you dissected,
Cuz i remember the time when I was livin sublime,
When I was living off of my rhymes,
When the world was saying they were mine.
I am a star, how can I not shine,
And don’t even care if you hate on me,
Speak up louder I want you to preach homie, huh,
And not a ******* thing,
Well that’s enough of that i’m gonna let my home world sing.
Dec 14, 2016
Dec 14, 2016 at 8:51 PM UTC
I was a stupid naive ******* twelve year old and I had never been taught, told or had the common sense to know about the evil that lurks in men's minds or pants,
I was ******* twelve years old when you the 22 year old man gave me the biggest bar of chocolate I had ever seen and said "shh, don't tell your mother",
I was ******* twelve when I took this as a sign that maybe just maybe you liked me the same way I liked you,
I wrote on a small piece of paper in red of course the words " I like you " and gave it to you and walked away watching your grin from afar,
I was ******* twelve and because of my naivety led me to trust you when you took my hand and guided me to an alleyway,
And as I felt a horrible sinking feeling as if something disastrous were about to happen we reached the dark shadowed spot in which you would not let me go,
My arms you held tighter than a pythons grip your body so close to mine I could hear the blood coursing through your veins and as I felt as though I were in grave danger, as though what were to transpire would change my life forever and so I tugged away and still you would not let go, I said, " let me go! " and still you would not let go,
Nearing tears and feeling panic I yanked my arms away and walked back to find my family looking for me,
I told them I had gone for a walk,
They still do not know about this and never will because if I were to tell them the label **** ***** ***** would be stamped upon me and not only by them.
An anonymous girl ©
May 20, 2016
May 20, 2016 at 10:41 AM UTC