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Larry Potter May 2013
I once had a Simple Plan
To bribe a lady for a Kiss
With a Nickleback in my hand
And an Eagle tattoo on my wrist.

I brought her to the Linkin Park
And gave her meatloaf and Bread
But it had Red Hot Chilli Peppers
So she ate the Pearl Jam instead.

My tongue was like a Rolling Stone
As I tell her my Nirvana of love
I made promises with my Pink Floyd finger
As she watched a Led Zepellin flew above.

Her Metallica heart didn’t waste time
And she rejected me within Thirty Seconds to Mars
I treated her like a Queen
But all I got were Iron Maiden scars.

It stung me like the Bee Gees
Or a Scorpion tail’s as fine
The Beatles are all crawling down my skin
When she broke this Heart of mine

Guns N Roses were the choices
That were left for me to Root
But a Cheap Trick with the latter
Ended my romantic Journey afoot.
L B Oct 2016
“Disaster Dan” skids into the Center's
Game Room
War Room
Control Room

Fueled by a red T-shirt
proclaiming “Vince the Pizza Prince”
He flips out his cellular...

(Where does he get all those broken remotes?)
...flips open his cell
and shouts commands


“YA HEARD ME!" (He is totally in control)

“Fsssss    Fssssss   Fsssssss

Drives his cruiser around the pool table
Pulls alongside
Fixes me point-blank and cockeyed


An eight-year-old spins iz finger round iz ear
and points a giggle

the kind of guy whose life peaked
at Mount Saint Helen
Does a warlock for Halloween
Carries a portable showcase of horror
prized possessions in a dishpan
He explains his treasures

“That is NOT
a plastic scorpion!”

Offended by my ignorance
shoves it in my eyes


Dan sorta likes me
We talk horror flicks
He forbids the serious of me

he hisses in a spray of spit
Walks way, laughing, delighted!
Shaking iz head

Then back in my face again (for emphasis)

(He is dead serious)

His counselor fills in my blank
“Dan likes the Beatles
That's the only thing he likes
that isn't heinous”
I worked for a year and a half at a Boys and Girls Club.  Twice a week some local group homes would bring their residents in for some fun.  Believe me, "Disaster Dan" was a real guy.  

This was a few years ago when most cells were flip phones.
For readers not from America, Mount Saint Helen is one of our most deadly and active volcanoes. Erupted during the '80s.

                                      x x
                                    x x x
                                 x x x x x                        
   ­        ::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Never can it move::::like thunder or lightning
it goes slow, but sure:::::treading its own path
brave, strong and patient:::in facing its ordeals
they don't want to sting:::unless when needed
they want to be left alone::::but, alert:::::::ready
to protect and defend itself:::::with less action
when trapped or driven up a dead end:::::it is
more composed::::::it knows when to explode
:::a scorpion, can quickly paralyze its victim:::
::::::::::::::::::::with its own venom::::::::::::::::::::::::;
:::::::::::::::::­::::::::::::::::it is said,::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::;;
human beings have innate venoms or weapons
i don't know if i have one:::or what it could do
i only know, i can hardly harm anyone::::::::but
like any other creature::;;:::i will defend myself
::::::;;;;;;:when my safety is compromised::::::::;;
      :::::::::::::::::::: i am a scorpio ::::::::::::::::::::
          ::::::::::::::::what about you?:::::::::::::
               what could be your venom?
                    ­ :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
                                x x x x x
                                    x x x
                                     x x


© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
October 23, 2017
(just an old poem, guys...
just scribbling, while at the backyard, watching crawlers fighting)
a lake of blood is promised

homes fill with fiber optic prophecy.

"put away your lenses children and sleep under the lamp's shade."

our purple rice growing

Vishnu mumbles and stirs in his sleep.

by the crystal pond, a poison frog sings.

decorating the sand and reeds are skeletons of the old wars.

nearly dust now.

unable to make decisions for the weak or young, the strong or the old.

four seasons yet to pass

attention given to the wolf's lonesome cry.

place your head in sand,
witness the scorpion.

she is
emperor and admonisher.

the tiger breathes in and breathes out its final breath.

lay your belly upon wheat and remove hunger.

an angel's velvet wing cools the fever,
the old sickness of Old Salem.

onions, apples & lemons are sprouting.

there, just underneath the horseman's hood.

quickly, look.
happy birthday sweet prince

STLR Apr 2017
I'm on that spiritual
Spirits with metaphysical

diabolical criminal
my methodical rituals

captivate, you regurgitate  
when I sit and I spit the truth

activate, no originate
when I spit flows in figure 8's

need a female with a figure 8
body, hope I could figure it

hot tamale  on dinner plate
was my focus it didn't play

serving satin
I penetrate

4th dimensions
I levitate

my flows a solar / extension
bipolar floater with / hench man
att-ack like cobras/ extended
extendo clip / interception
vocal record / compression
in an out of / depression

Ajax in kitchen I'm mixing
with all this Henny I'm drinking

John Lennon & Jimmy Hendrix
remixed the sampled I'm sinning!

I've killed it since the beginning
my ex is gone **** these *******

a hexagon in the kitchen,
I cook with shapes of aggression

My ex is calling
I hang up like who are you?

she calls again
so I hang up like the bill collector

see in my mind I have traveled
to different sectors

sections are often of Optimus
lately I've been feeling the opposite

night prescription of *****
keeps my mind /       off the odds and ends

I should be working on offices

this consequence is brought to you by a novelist mind,
Steven king with a Flow that's ridiculous I

flip like a pendulum, fly

I’m only seeking good vibes
heating seeking misses to the sky

the years I haven’t been on
******* 25

this year I’m ******* **** out of proportion
till my ******* bends like a circus contortionist
worst is I'm not even forcing it

words I fornicate and fork with
like alphabetical ****** at a spelling bee ****

cast from my inner orifices
mighty morph into a scorpion
Society I I’m bored with.
ideology, my philosophy women——ogomy

since I'm speaking with honesty
all I see is the time that leaks
moments of curiosity
**** all the animosity
fancy mind like I'm Socrates
kicking faces with basses
like I got a team in the soccer league    
I will fulfill my prophecy,
profit to other scholars is another dollar in pocket, please
Caleb Hess Aug 2018
A scorpion stings my foot and injects its pain inducing venom into me. The pain spreads throughout my body and as I suffer the scorpion laughs at me whilst I stand underneath the blazing, desert sun with nowhere to go. This vast, empty, waterless desert with nothing to see but sand. Sand as far as the human eye can see, so much empty space yet I still feel trapped in the scorpion’s presence. A dry skeleton confronts me and puts a hole into my arm and ***** all of the meat out of my body until I am only skin and bones. My skin twists and knots around my meatless bones.
I scream.
I scream.
I scream, but when I do it sounds like laughter, so the scorpion and the skeleton laugh with me.
A poem about how friendship can be confusing at times especially when you fail to express yourself and feeling with friends.
jcl Jul 6
I turned the corner, entering the Italian sculpture collection at Le Louvre, delighting in the smells and quiet sounds of the museum. I walked slowly down the creaking wood floored corridor, ignoring the Dirce, the Nymph and the Scorpion, till I came to Antonio Canova’s Psyche Revived by Cupid's Kiss.

I gazed at it lazily, longingly, savoring its sensuality, love, and tenderness. It was beautiful, beyond belief, exquisite. It evoked so many emotions, to the point of being overwhelming. I stared at it, losing myself, in time and reverie, wishing I could love and be loved with such intensity.

“It’s beautiful, “I heard a feminine whisper in my ear. I could feel the warmth of her breath on my neck. “Yes,” I replied, slowly, instinctively, coming out of my trance, and turning towards the voice.

Our eyes met, locked, I couldn’t look away, as if bewitched, her incandescent blue eyes fathomless, tender, worldly, looking, seeing deep into my soul. I could feel her in me, like a new born kitten exploring every nook and cranny. It was slightly unnerving, knowing she could wander, at will, unfettered, and yet calming, even comforting.

As I regained my sense, I recognized her and stared, incredulously, until she said, softly, sweetly, “je m’appelle Seraphine.”  

She moved in a bit closer, cocking her head towards my right ear, and whispered, “It is my favorite, it's so tender and passionate, the way he holds her, kisses her, the way only a god could.” I noted her tone, the way she said it, with such confidence, as if she knew, from experience, what it was like, to be kissed, loved, by a god.  

She gently pulled back a bit, looked me in the eyes, like a child looking at a puppy. She was beautiful, preternaturally beautiful, a paragon, goddess like. I just stared at her in awe.

“I think we’ve seen each other around Paris”, she said softly, smiling, “and may have bumped into each other in the Metro.” “Yes, I think we have,” I replied, as she extended her right hand, as a queen would, to a knight. I didn’t know if I should  kneel and kiss her hand, or shake it. I took her hand in mine, it was soft, warm, moist. I could feel her youth, femininity, life in her hand. I shook it, gently, stopped, slightly released my grip, our hands slid apart, touching, sliding, caressing down our fingers, stopping ever so slightly at the tips, before releasing. The ecstasy of her touch. I longed for more. I heard her sigh, my eyes moved from her hand, to her lips, finally to her eyes. I smiled and said, almost in a whisper, “Je m’appelle Damien.”
currently writing #5, your comments and feedback are greatly appreciated
You shred my words
Thin colors from my brush
You still the flight of soaring birds
While grinding my ego in a crush

What music can I sing
What melodies compose
After your scorpion sting
And heartless blows

If I ignore your sneer
And refuse to listen
Will I lose my fear
And start to glisten

Probably not
I’m so weak
My art is fragile
Not magnifique

I’ll silence my pen
And dry my easel
You win again
My inner weasel
Max May 8
Your words are like the tail of a scorpion,
Your deeds like the fangs of a snake,
Your touch like the sting of a bullet ant,
Your presence like being surrounded by hellfire.

You're satan's little helper.
Somebody is trying to sabotage something that's very precious to me.
Amoy Mar 1
What was I thinking wasting my time with you
I can’t wait to shed my skin
I can’t wait to give to it to the wind
You ****** my soul and left me thin
I can’t wait to shed my skin
What was I thinking letting you in
You took my heart and left my head to spin
I can’t wait to shed my skin
Seventeen years wasted, gone like the wind
Just like a scorpion it hurts, when you sting
I can’t wait to shed my skin
No more tears I won’t give in
You’re a Narcissist, I won’t let u win
I just can’t wait to shed my skin
Filled with feelings of misgiving
I won't fall for your gas-lighting
God please help me to shed me skin
I Pray, I Pray for a new beginning
STLR Apr 23
I've been looking at the world from a different perspective

IG filters and Snapchat interceptions

I was off the grid,  I am now in inception

Social media dance floors
no escape or exceptions

what do you stand for?
put your hands in the septic

so your arms can take all the **** that
Your legs normally dealt with

Apartment, complex complicated life consequences

Brothers life deciphered
into the trenches

Despite all of the help we lent him

Life can be a loan when you are alone
It can get expensive

Don't own a home,
but I could show you what rent is

I could show you what hustle is,
I'm that relentless

Slick mouth, silver tounge...this is manifested

Bike peddling, rebelling Ambidextrous

Quiet devilish, my medicine makes most hella lit

I speak in crooked tongues like most nuns who settle with

Being Singular minded there Vibes are so celibate

A courier in this Corredor settlement

How do I, in these times, stay not high but relevant

I'm confined in thin lines, tell them **** time,
if the sunshine, makes us dumb blind

Like retail and it's details with the big signs

See this conclusion is just a visual illusion
A cesspool in the mainstream visual pollution

This vortex is just a digital confusion
Digits to acidic, hash tags for the lab rats to abuse them

watch me slipstream into a hazmat suit and snap back to an audience all the toxics that I'm using

my minds a clock incapsulated in the bottom of a backpack but only in math class, I state facts for your amusement

How can you do this?! Who the **** are you kid?!

I'm Duke Nukem with a scorpion fist ready to hiduken!

I'm Isaac Newton with a paint brush when I do this

Painting photosynthesis with my sentences, I conclude with...

Nothing but a chronological order I cause a cascade of disorder

I'm on the edge don't **** with me and my border...can't **** with me I'm the best this visual mess is what your ordered
Siena Nov 2018
you flutter your eyelashes
as innocently as a butterfly flutters its wings
and yet you spit your poison
as viciously as a scorpion strikes its tail
you were never innocent and you knew it
Classy J Jan 13
Making an *** of myself while asking myself, does cash moo when these cows Plow over poor fools?
In Cotten fields with brothers floundering,
But still gotta give grace even if monsters starve ya to death.
For they only concerned about cashing their cheque’s, and saving their necks.
Such is the carnal nature of wendigo’s,
Who egos keep em entitled and keeps the dough only flowing to their sect.
Leaving us to fend for ourselves in the wrong neck of the woods.
Evil twisted as some ******* story of a necessary moral good,
With these dark fascist crow puppeteers designing the hood.
Whilst demons like Regan test us like lab rats, pushing pills down our throats with police beating us with batons to our backs.
Backs that built the foundation for these pigs to thrive on while they watch as we slowly die.
Maybe that’s why the hood is also known as the projects.
A project for white supremacists to always have a usual suspect.
Should’ve known my skin colour would get me shot down for nothing like Malcolm x.
Assassinated because we’re deemed as a threat, So how can we live good lives when the cards have already been set?
I thought that the police was supposed to serve and protect, but corruption comes in and now a brother got to protect his neck.
Maybe that’s why ain’t a **** thing changes?
When one’s race determines the length of their jail sentences.
When ones gender determines whether or not another gets away with ****.
For goodness sake!
Devil please take a hike!
And God please give me the strength to cut up all this red tape!
Because at this rate, society will end up worse then the Scorpion album from drake!
Cause we just like his secret love child for we are in need of some ******* support.
Life is a *****, for if it was a **** star it would be easy but also expensive like a private resort.
So unless you actually started from the bottom it might be impossible to make the charts.
So when life is weighing you down, at least you never had to **** the ***** of a tattooed clown.
In order to try on a Burger King crown,
Then Letting one’s ego run wild and as a result your music becomes watered down.
But every day one a tone’s ah for their sins ah, and for drake it was the coffin Pusha T buried him in ah!
****! Fatality!
Such is the price when one makes a fatal mistake.
For you can’t have everything and that slice of cake!
You can be a model all you want but it doesn’t change the fact that your fake!
Just a manufactured mannequin pushed out at a flat rate.
For uniqueness is just a moded state.
And for the most part we are all bargain bin plastic sheep.
Man humbleness makes ones knees weak.
But loss or gain is all just something that we reap.
So be careful what you seek.
And be sure not to advantage of the meek.
Or else you will get put through a saw mill.
For if you underestimate your opponent you’ll be killed.
For real though man I swear this world has no chill!
Josh keller Feb 12
Scorpion, scorpion, who brought the pen
The tip of its tail, the needles sharp end
Poisonous dagger, To write all your wishes
******, soiled, bundled up tissues
Issues and cashews and nuts
Rhinoceros, rhinoceros, have you the tusk
The one on your nose, the jungled rough musk
Broken and bleeding torn from your face
Now beautiful laced girls
Discover your pearls
Fathers and mothers, did you bring the child
Shattered, broken, seen with both vile
Bangs and pangs broken dishes, birds sang
That night along with the screams
Did you believe
Artist, artists, have you the pieces
The ones of your life, sadness, defeation
The black strokes, lonely tokes
And pills and late sat to smoke
What does it all mean, by life
Dictators, dictators, did you bring your people
The hobbled and squabbled, who prayed in the steeple
Who hung from the rafters, and rang with the bells
For whom it tolls, well, no one tells
And lost citizens
Butterflies, butterflies, did you keep your promise
Mottled, and bottled, spread across lawn mist
To be beautiful, shiny with no varnish
Your caterpillar state should not tarnish
The wings you have now
Children, children, did you steal the money
For xanax, tricks, and acid, your'e funny
Brain dead generation
Same dread, memorization
Of all the dead jokes
Villagers, villagers, did you burn the witch
The bloodied open stitch
That tore the wound of the town
And they all began to drown
In truths they didn’t like
Kitten, kitten, did you trick the boy
Into finding your, mangled, ticked, body
Squashed, splattered, with marks in your back
Circled rocks, flowers, hit and smack
The dirt down flat
Conscience, conscience, did you make me feel that way
For something I thought, for something I might not say
For something I did, and something I am
Why do you threaten
Why do I listen
Ghosts, ghosts, do you really terrify
Blankets, and behind walls spy
Sheets, and bags of treats
You saw it all, naked
Through the clear square wall, sacred
Creatures, creatures, you dwelled in the cave
Red, glowing eyes. Blue burning rave
You crawl out at night
To get a good sight
Of all of the people passed out drunk

Beware this place.
Weariness of straining stress
In a bedchamber of thick darkness
Illumination drowned in the
      darkfield of ******
Mysterious mole in the conclave
      of concord
Crawler of cruelty crawling for prey
Eulogising gods of darkness for
      caging light in the attic of

Espionage goon of evil
Drenched in darkness to sell sorrow
Where are you migrating from?
Where are you swaggering to?
In bewilderment, my spirit watched
In astonishment, my soul monitored
But my body wallowed in deep-sea
      of deep dreamless slumber.

Creeping like a poacher
In swarthiness of darkness
Habitant of evil you are
To sting
To ****
Denizen of death you are
To turn hubby to widow-man
Undertaker of tragedy you are
To turn wife to widow-woman
Envoy of hemlock of hell you are
Dweller of darkness
Agent of disaster

But suddenly!
And suddenly!!
Light engulfed the aura of darkness in
      the cavity of Illumination
Lucidly l saw you
Clearly l heard you
Dangling proboscis of danger
Waggling poisonous *** end of death
You stuck on the wall
To sting
To ****

Helplessly you watched me
Now pray your last prayer
Clod of callousness
Vasoconstrictor of wastages
What is your real name?
eleanor prince Dec 2018

revelrous without
the alibi
of Christmas

many join in
swiftly slicing shadows
from looming skyscrapers

few see beneath
the ****** of mirth
children sob within

partners in crime
with adult eyes
destined to stare

at arid landscapes
removed from life's
scorpion bite
somewhat inspired by a recent poem by Lydia XIII 'Intentional' - many a bright and breezy stance belies much torment within

— The End —