Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Martyn Thompson Aug 2011
i - Introduction:
ii - Lismore Park
iii - The Road to Maidenhead
iv - Town Square
v - Contradiction, contraband
vi - Saturday Afternoon
vii - The Circus Comes to Town (Sunday)
viii - The Show
ix - The ringmaster
x - The Fracas
xi - An incident at Upton Park
xii - No ball games
xiii - New found…
xiv - Nearly done
xv - Another time…

i - Introduction:

Come friendly bombs you’ve still to hit
The place whose name means quagmire
The town, the place that’s left bereft
Of soul, of spiritual fire.
But hurry, hurry, please be fast
For the crack dealer plies his trade
With slight of hand and cunning
A ghetto he’ll have made

The peroxide perms have now all grown
And muster outside shops
To wait for the be-suited sales rep
With his rocks and his alco-pops
They’ve all spawned offspring of their own
Fifteen-year-old cradle pushers
Who sold their souls in return for hope
To thirty year old cradle snatchers

Come friendly bombs it’s plain to see
The vacant, empty faces
The lifeless eyes, the pallid skin
The love that leaves no traces
The love that lasts a knee trembling minute
Outside Harry’s and Sluffs
A love that smells of emptiness
O they cannot get enough

Come with me, look over there
To the sculpture in the mall
The stainless tree with it’s stainless birds
And stainless birdsong call
A bird sings and the town all stops
To see from where this sound will show
A bitter disappointment when learned
It was played on the radio

Community service on the airwaves
To draw the crowd together
A song played, a one hit wonder
Reminds us nothing is forever
The sterile radio station plays on
Opiates to which we should yield
And bare our souls and be grateful for
The song of Bedingfield

ii - Lismore Park

The sight of a child playing in the street
Is one of day’s gone bye
But Lismore Park sees them out in droves
Stealing cars and getting high
The twelve year old sent out to play
Whilst mother takes a knap
But really she’s having it away
For a fiver and a brown wrap

The party at the house next door
That never seems to stop
The men all come and go and paw
Girls in this knocking shop
But halt weary traveller, stop!
Come sit and rest your back
The bench awaits you on the green
And the deluded maniac

The man who knows what’s wrong with you
And how to make it better
As long as he keeps his soul filled up
With cheap White Lightening cider
Six large cans for a five-pound note
From the corner shop near the school
An offer really not to be missed
And to make the drunkards drool

A songbird sits on the climbing frame
And sings his cheerful tales
A tune too much for our dear lush
The maniac exhales
The songbird sings and fills the air
With a loving string of notes
That reminds the sitters on the bench
There may still be a hope

A radio plays ‘that’ song again
Should you dare to forget the rhythm
The bird has flown away now
Fed up with this hypnotism
The airwaves are now filled with dross
Thanks to the flat opposite the green
The weary traveller moves on
“Better days has this place seen”

iii - The Road to Maidenhead

O friendly bombs do try to miss
The sweet blossom, the fragrant smell
The flowers, the green grass of the parks
The havens in this hell
Be careful around the Jubilee River
With it’s wildlife and sculpted hills
For a walk in this very man-made place
Will surely heal your ills

But spare no mercy for the superstores
That pollute and destroy our thoughts
“If it’s not on the shelf, we haven’t got it…”
The familiar assistants’ retort
Take no prisoners with the office blocks
That lay empty year after year
For they clutter up the atmosphere
And have no value here

O friendly bombs, o friendly bombs
The cabbages are all grown
They read the Sun and sing along
To the radio’s dreaded drone
Whilst in their vans they speed on by
Jumping all the lights
To price a job – a small brick wall
Based on a thousand nights

The car showrooms… the car dealers
Stack ‘em high and sell them cheap
Chop-chop salesman, soften ‘em up
The rewards are there to reap
Finance, part exchange or cash
Anyhow you like
“No sir, not me sir…
…I’d prefer to use my bike”

The bustle of the weekend crowds
The steamy traffic queues
Stare too hard at that red car
And suffer the abuse
Overtake the blue one now
And make him toot his horn
See him raise his voice in anger
To satisfy his scorn

iv - Town Square

Saturday morning, seven o’clock
The town begins to wake
A pair of sleeping winos
Dream about their fate
They plan their morning sermon
But who will really care
For what they say means nothing
Less than their icy stare

The busker and the balloon man
Wait to take their turns
To entertain and irritate
And suffer being spurned
By a thousand shady shoppers
Who’ve heard it all before
And probably given hard earned cash
To make them play some more

The trickster and the barra’ boys
Set up all their stalls
Selling mobile phone covers
And fake branded hold-alls
Adorn your phone with logos
Hankies for a pound
“Yes sir, we’re here on Sundays…
…(Providing there’s no police around)”

Grab a baked potato and sit
And watch the folk go by
Some will have you in hysterics
Some will make you cry
The man on his double-glazing stand
In his suit and in his tie
The perspiration on his head
Watch him wilt and fry

The songbird settles on the wall
And sings to our delight
A merry sonnet that will inspire
Dreams we’ll have that night
The wino shouts his sermon now
The bird has paused his song
This post-war sprawling Hooverville
Muddles slowly along

v - Contradiction, contraband

On the steps of the library he screams aloud
Through a mist of smuggled gin
“You’re all fools, the lot of you is ****
I’ve not committed sin…”
“It’s not my fault I’m a lush… a drunk
I don’t choose to live this life”
“You’re all wrong in carrying on
It’s you what’s caused my strife”

In his wretched form he abuses the world
Pooh-poohing this and that
A skunk telling the world it stinks
The polemic polecat
“Society has robbed me of everything
And left me less than whole”
“The only day that’s good is Thursday
When the postman brings me dole”

On Friday he meets his dealer
To fuel his pickled mind
The man with the van on Saturday
With the spirit and the wine
By Monday, he’s all skint and broke
The weekend has passed him by
He takes his place on the library steps
We shake our heads and sigh…

Every week the same routine
The same routine again
Like clockwork his life ticks on by
The suffering and the pain
But he tells us it’s all our fault
We’re the ones not right
But it’s very easy for him to say
The man who’s so contrite

The children watch him puzzled
It’s more than they can bear
“It’s very rude…” their mothers say
“To stand like that and stare”
But what, do they expect their young
To ignore this fool a mumbling?
For they will see it for what it is
A stormy weather warning

vi - Saturday Afternoon

I sit on a wall in Slough with friends
Sharing the Dutch export
Watching and laughing at the world
And it’s variety of sorts
A happy bond that we all share
The joy of simple things
Come friendly bombs and gather round
Watch us while we sing

The friendly bombs you call upon
Are they straight off the shelf?
It’s my belief, my firm belief
The bomb is in yourself
Ticking slowly by and by
Just waiting for the code
To trigger you and trip the switch
To make the bomb explode

We watch the people from where we sit
The hellholes they’ve all made
They don’t live they just exist on
The edge of a razor blade
Stop! Step back and take a look
It’s not too late to change
And become what you really want to be
An icon of your age

Over now to Langley Park
To sit and bathe in the sun
O friendly bombs please wait a while
Until this day is done
But what will tomorrow bring my friends?
And will it come too late?
Something that may save us all
The bombs may have to wait

A sedate sleepy Saturday
Away from all the crowds
Share a joke, a ****, a smoke
And laugh together loud
The sun warms our sombre souls
As on our backs we lie
Staring as the clouds roll by
United under the sky

vii - The Circus Comes to Town (Sunday)

Halt now, wait awhile please
Stop the counting down
Today the air is charged with joy
The circus comes to town
Must have arrived last night we think
Under cover of dark
And settled down and pitched it’s tents
In the grounds of Upton Park

The queue to purchase tickets
Trails far along the road
No. 53 offers cups of tea
From outside her abode
The crowds are mum, they say not a word
As they wait their turns to go
Inside the circus big-top tent
And sit and watch the show

We settle down and take our seats
With an ice-cream and a coke
But wait, where are the circus clowns?
Is this some kind of joke?
A wall of mirrors fades into view
And puts us in a spin
Reflecting all the bright lights
The colours and the din

The ringmaster enters, cracks his whip
And hands out little slips
“Everyone’s a winner” was
On every body’s lips
The clowns they all appear now
With a modicum of fuss
Hold on just a minute now!
The clowns we see are us

A spotlight points up to the gods
At the top of the trapeze
A giant money spider glides
Down with greatest ease
He touches each and everyone
All paralysed with fear
And hands out ten pound notes to all
Then promptly disappears

viii – The show

A strongman strolls out slowly with
A length of iron bar
A leopard spotted leotard and
Moustache sealed with tar
He looks around the big top with
A menace and a sneer
Surveying all the audience
He seeks a volunteer

The white van man he raised his hand
The tattoo on his arm
Said this man must not be crossed
To do so would mean harm
The strongman bent the iron bar
Across the van man’s back
Then invited him to strike him down
An unprovoked attack

The van man clenched his hand and hit
And hurt his mighty fist
A statue of the strong man shattered
Turning into mist
The van man stood and stared in fear
The mist it gathered round
And carried out our hero driver
He hardly made a sound

No-one clapped we all just stared
Our faces ghostly white
The strongman re-appeared and looked for
A second stooge that night
No-one raised a hand in fact
No-one said a thing
The strongman shrugged and vanished…
Empty was the ring

A knife thrower was the next to appear
And seek the help of one
With nerves of solid steel and courage
Secondly to none
Down came a fallen woman
Who said she had no fear
A knife was thrown and pierced her skin
Her right large ear-ringed ear

ix – The ringmaster

A second knife it struck her chest
She didn’t seem to weep
She didn’t seem to be in pain
Although the knife was deep
A third knife struck her arm and then
A fourth it struck her head
The knives that should be missing her
Were hitting her instead

Horrified the crowd looked on
Without a fuss or row
The woman now all full of blades
Politely took her bow
She then went back and took her seat
And never said a word
Not another word she said
And not a word she heard

A magician was the next to charm
And thrill us with his tricks
He pulled a rabbit from his hat
Then sat it on some bricks
He then threw watches at this beast
That grew to a great size
The rabbit caught them all and juggled
Them to our surprise

But here’s the rub when we all looked
At places on our wrists
No watches were there to be seen
A cunning little twist
The magician cracked a whip and put
The rabbit in a stew
Which vanished there before our eyes
Vanished out of view

The magician he announced that he
Alone did have this plan
To mystify and amaze us all
With his clever hand
Indeed he was the ringmaster
That owned this circus troupe
That terrified and petrified
Our frightened little group

x – The Fracas

A swarm of bees engulf us now
And cover us with honey
The ringmaster cracks his whip again
The bees all turn to money
Then suddenly the fight begins
As we grab this flying stash
Filling up our purses now
With the hard-grabbed cash

The ringmaster, a clever man
Calms us with his sigh
“There’s plenty here for everyone
…And more than meets the eye”
Suddenly a flock of doves fly
Sweetly through the air
They then attack the baying crowds
Pulling at their hair

Then with a deafening bang, a crack
A flash of burning light
We all cascade towards the floor
The circus out of sight
Confused we all stare around
Thinking it absurd
This bizarre spectacle should vanish
Gone without a word

I look from face to face to face
Whatever could this mean?
We all are laughing nervously
How stupid have we been?
We talk about the day’s events
We talk and talk some more
A voice booms from out the sky
“I’ve opened up the door”

“I’ve brought you all together now
To pander to your greed
To watch you take from fellow man
Deny him what he needs”
I reach in to my pocket
For the money I did place
It reads “Admission: 1 adult
To The Human Race”

xi – An incident at Upton Park

That week the local paper ran
An exclusive full-page ad
“Faland’s Travelling Circus Troupe”
“The most fun ever had”
But no review was there to read
To tell of our event
The strange encounter with this circus
To which we all went

The following Sunday we meet up
In groups of three or four
Since that incident in Upton Park
The spectacle we can’t ignore
No-one knows quite what it means
I don’t think that we’ll ever
Understand all that happened here
That brought us all together

Perhaps there is a deeper message
Given on that day
Faland may be telling us
That we have lost our way
He simply used us all as tools
To illustrate our folly
That had now become too serious
A risk to things so jolly

Every week now we all gather on
This hallowed piece of land
And this is very odd because
Nobody makes the plan
The idea comes to all of us
A self-ignited spark
And draws each of us in turn
To meet in Upton Park

We picnicked then we all played games
Then talked about the rain
We toasted our new friendships
And vowed to meet again
The bombs, the bombs they’ve all slowed down
Compassion saved the day
This newfound love we now all have
Must surely pave the way

xii - No ball games

The joy did not take long to spread
Across our grimy frowns
And bring a little sunshine
To lighten up this town
Happiness is upon us now
The whole of Slough-kind
Depending on how you look at it
And on your state of mind

The lush upon the library steps
The wino on the bench
The Publican and Landlord
The ***** serving *****
They all wear smiles and laugh a lot
And speak of wondrous things
A songbird perches on the fence
And merrily she sings

The children, o the children
How they sing and dance
Always being friendly
In any circumstance
They have no care for politics
You’ll see it in their face
They want to play with everyone
Who’s in the human race

Meanwhile back in Upton Park
The townsfolk meet again
But there’s no talk of horror
Or suffering and pain
Instead though how a monument
Should be erected in our names
And pulling down the signs
That read ‘No Ball Games’

The bombs have all stopped ticking now
And line up by the wall
And every now and then they clang
Just to remind us all
If we get too complacent
And don’t respect our friends
We’re marking down the seconds
To our bitter end

xiii – New found…

We shared our food and shared our tales
Life stories we all told
They made us laugh they made us cry
Left us warm and cold
The suffering we did speak of
Helped us understand
How fellowman and woman kind
Dwelt in other lands

We laughed at tales of folly
And stories of the past
Stories that we are in awe of
Stories that will last
For another thousand years or more
And travel on the wind
A gentle breeze that talks to us
Thrilling to the end

Gathering momentum
Our stories travel far
Picked up and told by new folk
Under glowing stars
They bring warmth and humanity
Softened by the rain
They travel back to each of us
To be re-told again

Who’d have thought this loving joy
This beacon in the dark
Would begin upon the grass
Of hallowed Upton Park
The greed has gone or mostly so
Now happiness is here
We’ve seen the light and now must spread
Our messages of cheer

Looking back it hardly seems
We could have been that way
Not caring if each other lived
To see another day
This new found near Utopia
Must spread across the land
And we must stand to offer all
Our warm and guiding hand

xiv – Nearly done

The story is now almost told
Of how a strange event
Saved us from our selfish selves
A message heaven sent
With cunning tricks and sleight of hand
The error of our ways
Was written up in greasepaint
Shining through the haze

A strange di
I wrote this in about 2004 - loads of literary influences in this poem. It speaks for itself really. Having read through it, I think I ought to revise / review and re-write some of it, but this is the original.... yay!!
False Poets Feb 2015
two little ugly creatures
astride me shhhh-oulders
residers and deniers,
opinion~haters,
into each ear, they whisper~creep,
do don't do don't you'll be sorry,
never~good~enough~
and~you~know~it


never in uni~sons,
now look how sorry~sad you are...
dear old dad

when done with the outside torturing,
slip right in and down the ear canal,
up to the brain, thought~mongers,
(what's a monger anyway?)
the voices of my depression,
you can't, you couldn't, you lose,
yo yo you lost you are o v e r,
my body snatched, my past erasing,
turn me into mongrel,
half~man, half~dead
a monger-el,
a contemptible god,
contempted, contemptible
that's the word refrain
of the men in my head
RW Dennen Feb 2015
Yes, you out there wherever you may be
You try to steal our souls in poems
We know you, to the tee

What twisted motives to be us, by proxy, what cowardess you be
What an empty vessel posses you, such sadness, such despair
You pick our hard imagined fruit and not from your own tree

You clone our minds, like leaches on our skin
You wish us harm, you thieving ***
You wormy monster, a slug, next to kin

I curse you
I loath you
I hate you
You stealers of our youth
Betrayers of our written souls
What lacks is pride, and owners of the truth
Harmony Sapphire Jan 2015
Dream Catchers, egg hatchers, baby Snatchers, **** wackers, lip smackers, online hackers, ***** slappers, hand clappers, exotic flappers, lazy slackers, suitcase packers, & back stabbers.

Hate & defeated, cheat & feel the heat. Too weak & petite. Tales of hell, wishes on a well, thoughts are things you can't always sell. Sometimes words can be lies liars tell. One day to your death to you fell.
Pass it on. I don't belong. Some people are wrong. Die. I won't cry.

Pakrat hoarders, pro choice aborters, two faced home wreckers, voodoo curses, retired lazy old nurses.

Deaf & Blind, racist & unkind, poor & unemployed. Broke & exploited. Dumb, old, ugly, & fat. ***** stinking rat. Piles & piles of crap.

College professors, real estate investors, coaches, cockaroaches, poachers, perverts & ******, meat eatting caravores. Bums & addicts drunks & fanatics, obsessive compulsive, stalkers too possessive, insane aggressive.

Author Notes :

Partially true, could be your family.

© Harmony Sapphire . All rights reserved,
Spenser Bennett Jul 2016
Giving in to making small talk chatter.
Collateral atoms scatter over my head
Perfect pitter pattered patterns.

Behind my eyes grey matter
That feels in tatters
After it burned out the rafters.

Is my skull getting fatter?
Madder than your favorite hatter.
And I won't get an ever after.

Never been a dodge drafter
I meant a draft dodger. (cue the laughter)

Who makes taffy taffer?
And who made Daffy dafter?
Bugs and carrots for my Satur-
Day morning napper.

Paint splattered pancake batter.
Knife and fork clatter.
Belly never felt so dapper.

If I had to choose I choose Venonat, er
I meant you Pikachu! (What a Knee slapper!)

Always been a little scrapper
Even when I was bigger batter.

And I don't know no pastor
But I got the spirit moving faster.

Probably should've been a future rapper
But I could never be a present wrapper
And I'm more wrapped up in the past four
Years that were snatched by time snatchers.

But now I'm bored by this rhyme planner
So I'm gonna go get a snack or
Two.
Does my body not
frighten you?

the scars that run from
elbow to wrist. The pieces
of memory that vanished
with the flick of a Bic
lighter

my solidness. Like a rock
gathering moss, weather
beaten to look at,
rough to the touch

my thighs that have
greeted Lucifer, the firm
push of his hands.
Spreading, swallowing
the dessert, sand sticking
to the back of my
chipped teeth

my eyes, robbed blindly
of innocence. A storm
cloud swirling, frequent
showers of rain that
soak my cheeks

my mouth, that has
tasted strawberries, picked
fresh and kneaded into
a pulp

my knees, bent praying
at my bedside. For forgiveness,
for freedom, for tomorrow's
fling

does my body not
frighten you?

lacking heart, rotting flesh,
the deepest pores of
regret
John F McCullagh Oct 2015
Jeudi, 21 Février, 1788, NYC

Il a été dit que la science progresse un décès à la fois. Pour Jeune Docteur Richard Bayley, professeur aspirant des études anatomiques, ce fut littéralement le cas. Il avait besoin d'un approvisionnement constant de cadavres récemment décédés pour ses recherches, et ce fut la raison pour laquelle il était là, la négociation avec les trois voleurs de corps dans le sous-sol de l'hôpital de New York.
"Il ya une jeune femme, Margaret La Stella, décédé jeudi dernier, et qui repose dans le complot de sa famille dans le cimetière de l'église de la Trinité." Ceci est le corps, je dois, pour ma recherche, et je suis prêt à payer le taux en vigueur pour vos services. "
Quel improbable trio étaient ces hommes debout avec lui. Leur chef, James, était un géant d'un homme robuste, près de six pieds de haut, ses deux compagnons étaient des nains par comparaison, à peine cinq pieds chacun. "Rafe ici est un bon pour crocheter les serrures sur les portes de fer et Alfie est rapide avec une pelle en bois. Il les ressuscite dans une hâte: «Je vais pousser le corps dans une brouette et de vous rencontrer de retour ici pour livrer la marchandise et récupérer notre argent. Vous aurez à payer un peu plus que vous le feriez pour un pauvre ou un nègre ".
Il était une négociation rapide et le docteur assez rapidement convenu à son prix, laissant James à se demander si il aurait dû demander plus. Eh bien, une bonne affaire est une bonne affaire, et une médaille d'or chacun Guinée était bon salaire pour un travail obscur de la nuit.
Ils défilaient sur puis, laissant le jeune Richard à ses pensées. Bientôt, très bientôt, il serait de nouveau afficher Margaret. Bientôt son corps allait abandonner ses secrets pour lui et il serait apprendre la mort avait pris celle qui avait été si belle et si jeune. Il n'y avait rien à faire pour lui maintenant, sauf à attendre. Il est assis avec une tasse de thé et a tenté de se distraire avec le journal du soir.
Body Snatchers, ou Resurrectionists, comme ils préfèrent être appelés, sont en mauvaise réputation en cette année de notre Seigneur 1788. gens souhaitent en général tourner un oeil aveugle quand le corps de certains pauvre a fini sur la table de dissection. Un bien faire femme blanche avec une famille était généralement prévu pour se reposer tranquillement. Encore James et ses deux petits complices connaissaient leur entreprise et vous faire le travail rapide de celui-ci sur cette nuit.
James arrêta son cheval et le chariot bien en deçà de la Trinité, ne voulant pas porter trop d'attention à eux. Il serait monter la garde à la porte du cimetière avec une brouette tandis que ses deux complices petits glissa à l'intérieur et fixés au corps.
Trinity Church cimetière était à côté du site de l'ancienne église qui avait brûlé dans le grand incendie de New York du 76 '. Le doyen actuel de l'église avait accumulé des fonds destinés à la construction d'un second, plus grandiose église de la Trinité, mais encore la construction avait pas encore commencé. L'absence de l'église physique devrait signifier pas de gardien et un cimetière qui serait totalement déserte sur une nuit la mi-hiver froid. Avec seulement une lune décroissante pour l'éclairage, les trois hommes étaient dépendants de lanternes à main qui ont donné peu de lumière et à côté de pas de chaleur lorsque les vents du sud de Manhattan serraient à la gorge comme un spectre vengeur.
"Et c'est parti. Rafe se rendre au travail cueillette de la serrure, tandis que je l'aide avec Alfe la bêche et les couvertures. "
«Je vais avoir besoin d'une longueur de corde, trop mate, à nouer autour du corps et le faire glisser le long de la tombe."
Ils ont été surpris par le cri plaintif d'un grand corbeau noir qui a été perché sur la porte du cimetière de fer et qui semblait être en regardant leurs activités avec curiosité et méfiance.
«Je dois la porte ouverte, allez, Alfe, je ne veux pas être là plus longtemps que je le dois."
James regarda les deux hommes petits happés leurs lanternes et des outils et ont disparu dans les ombres du cimetière de Trinity.
Ils ont trouvé la tombe récemment fini de la fille La Stella rapidement, et Alfe commencé tout de suite avec sa pelle de bois pour creuser le cercueil de son lieu de repos temporaire. Il a travaillé tranquillement, mais ses travaux ne vont pas complètement inaperçu.
"Mate, Prêtez-moi un coup de main et nous allons la faire sortir d'ici. Jetez la corde ".
Rafe a fait comme il a été soumissionné. Il a également ouvert sa lanterne et l'agita en un signal à James que le travail était presque terminé. James n'a cependant pas été le seul qui a vu le signal.
Comme le corps a été exhumé une lueur d'or attira l'attention de Alfe. Je t avais un anneau sur les cadavres quitté l'annulaire.
Grave voler était considéré comme une infraction plus grave que trafic de cadavres, mais sûrement pas l'un allait remarquer petit anneau d'or disparu. Quoi qu'il en soit ce corps allait retrouver tell disséqué et articulé, il avait entendu on fait bouillir la chair de l'os de fournir un squelette complet pour l'étude. Personne ne les payait pas assez d'argent à son retour ici quand le bon docteur avait fini avec son travail.

Était-ce juste imagination- de Alfe ou fait froid main morte des cadavres lui semblent se battre pour l'anneau avant qu'il arracha libre. Immédiatement, cependant, toutes les pensées de l'or est devenu secondary- il y avait des problèmes en cours de réalisation
"Vous là, montrez-moi vos mains!" Il y avait un garde dans les motifs de la chancellerie, un peu de malchance qu'ils avaient pas compté sur. Rafe, pas un héros, sa réaction immédiate a été de tourner et courir. Il lâcha la corde et le corps de la jeune fille se laissa retomber dans le trou, près de piégeage Alfe dans une étreinte indésirables.
Alfe bondit de la tombe ouverte et renversé le grand mince tombe garde qui semblait un peu plus d'un squelette lui-même. Il a entendu le crieur public dans la distance la sonnette d'alarme. Alfe a abandonné toute idée de récupérer le corps de la jeune fille et avait l'intention d'évasion. Comme il sauta de la porte, il pouvait entendre la garde frénétiquement essayant de charger son fusil. Alfe besoin de plus de distance. Il a dû se rendre à James à la porte.

Un fusil à âme lisse est une arme la plus fiable et à beaucoup plus que 100 verges pour atteindre un succès était plus de chance que d'habileté. Alfe entendit à peine la décharge de l'arme, mais la douleur dans son dos était difficile à ignorer. James l'a attrapé avant qu'il ne tombe, mais il est vite devenu évident pour les deux que Alfe ne fallut pas longtemps pour ce monde.
James et Rafe ont travaillé rapidement pour obtenir Alfe dans la brouette et le roue de l'écart. Le gardien tentait de recharger mais la distance et l'obscurité devenait leur ami. Il ne serait pas obtenir un deuxième coup avant qu'ils ont fait à la voiture.
Pour le docteur Bayley il semblait que les Resurrectionists étaient de retour plus tôt que prévu il, mais le corps dans la couverture était pas le corps qu'il avait prévu de recevoir.

«Il y avait un garde posté à la chancellerie en face du cimetière. Il faut avoir vu l'un de nos lanternes et est sorti pour enquêter. Il descendit un coup à nous pauvres Alfe obtenu dans le dos. "
Richard regarda par-dessus le corps de Alfe, le nouveau sujet du Royaume des morts. «Combien voulez-vous pour ce corps?" Ils ont conclu rapidement leur affaire, James ne fait pas tout à fait aussi bien qu'il aurait pour le corps de la jeune femme, mais divisées deux façons il serait suffisant pour obtenir de lui un endroit pour dormir et nourriture et la boisson en plus. Alfe allait être un homme difficile à remplacer, mais il y avait beaucoup d'hommes durs bas près des docks qui feraient le travail et ne pas trop parler aux mauvaises personnes.
Il pensait qu'il ne serait pas bientôt d'accord pour ouvrir la tombe d'un dame. Les corps des pauvres ne sont pas si étroitement participé.

Bientôt Docteur Bayley avait le corps d'Alfe déshabillé et lavé et prêt sur la table. Dans sa vie relativement brève ce corps avait rarement eu assez à manger et trop de gin à boire. Les dents qui lui restaient étaient jauni et il y avait des signes de maladie des gencives. Richard était sur le point de faire la première incision dans la poitrine quand il a remarqué une lueur d'or dans la main droite crispée.

Il était un anneau; il était la même bague qu'il avait donné sa Margaret quelques semaines avant. Juste quelques semaines avant la mort l'avait prise de lui. Il ne savait pas qu'elle avait été enterré avec lui. Richard a tenu le petit anneau dans sa main et a commencé à pleurer amèrement, dans la connaissance cruelle qu'il ne reverrait jamais son visage, pas dans cette vie ou la prochaine.
A short story, in French, based on a grave robbery that took place on Thursday February 21, 1788 in Trinity graveyard in New York City.
Mike Hauser Aug 2016
Okay, who stole my body
I had when I was young
It was never in the best of shape
But far better than this one

Semi smooth and silky
Not a wrinkle on the lot
I feel I fell asleep for a century
And this is how I ended up

I now have wrinkles on top of wrinkles
With wrinkles on top of that
Could someone point me in the direction
Of where my body could have been left

It had fingers that worked without aching
Steady hands that knew not of shaking
A memory that...I'll get back with you on that
And a face you wouldn't mind dating

My body had knees that were noiseless
A smile that wasn't so toothless
A libido that you could rely on
Instead of the one I now have that is useless

My other eyes were filled with wonder
Not these made dull and steely gray
If anyone has seem my body
Could you kindly point me in the way
Francie Lynch Mar 2015
The year following
Jimmy's death
(my first encounter,
and my little brother),
I smothered myself
In every read on
Parapsychology,
Astral beings,
OBE's, NDE's,
And plasma projections,
Reincarnation and all
Aberations.
I awarded myself
An Honorary Doctorate
In ******* (Ph. D.B.S.).
Then I met ****** Mary,
As the police called her.
Her keen abilities
Recovered bodies
And the snatchers.
She had a dead-on reputation.
She spoke German and gesticulated
Wildly while she oracled.
Her husband translated simultaneously.
Her sun-room shone,
There were plants on
Every table. No candles.
Perhaps I was mesmerized.
She had one message for me
From the other side:
     Tell Francie to leave me alone.

Marlene
(my darling little sister,
And my next encounter),
Had a dream the very same
Day I saw my seer.
She dreamt Jimmy
Was alone,
Crying at home,
And through his tears
She clearly hears:
     Tell Francie to leave me alone.

****** Mary was free,
That's right... no fee.
She said her gift
Was for sharing,
And she shared
Her gift with me.
True story. I have left him alone all these many years. "There are more things on heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy, Horatio." (Hamlet)
Lucy Tonic Dec 2011
They call it repressed
But the memory’s gone
I swear, it’s gone
Can’t you see the struggle
Can’t you see the fight
Can’t you enter my body, my mind
I suppose you can’t
Got me thinking it’s all a trap
Got me thinking body-snatchers
Got you thinking of ironic ways
Got you thinking of my end
Never meant for it, no
Thought you’d read the words
Not twist them, no
So where do the sinners of misunderstanding go
Never an answer, just gridlocked throes
I’ve believed it for so long, still haven’t seen the pros
Just ex-cons with teeth for wings
Black angels never wept like this before
No, black angels never wept like this before
Lucy Tonic Nov 2011
Underneath the face of a sad clown lies a little wicked small town
Just a speck on the map
You may just be passing through but soon the fever will catch up to you
Feel the ripple effect
Here you won't make a best friend, but a sister you never had
She'll guide you through the flowers and offer lots of laughs
But even at her most serene there's a sinister current underneath
A flexing of power
And soon you'll start looking towards the ground, where you'll start tripping too much to be coincidence
An as you look up the danger stops
She'll look right through you as if you were air and she'll say, 'Take my hand'
Soon she'll invite you to parties of mutual bodies, who happen to favor clumsy fools like you
But they'll treat you like a guest of honor, when really their accolades are insults with armor
They've nothing better to do but make up a coded language and test it on you
How did I get here?
How can I disappear?
But as you start to evaporate she'll throw you another inquiry
She's reading off your flaws with smiling jaws
Taunting you with mistruths
You look away hurt, and she seizes the moment to write the jab on a napkin
Something to share with the cronies for later
Ha-Ha, how cleverly subtle you are!
Friendship is makeshift here, my dear
The hippies don't play instruments anymore
The company she keeps would dispose of her in a second
But she's not worried, she has you as her bullet shield
The body-snatchers with mommy issues save face quite gracefully here
They all say they'd leave, but they burn a free ticket
A mafia with no honor
You'll have seen more life in comas than this town
Little coffins with hearsay mouths where hearts should be
Small town breeds fair-weather ghosts and cold abodes
But it sure is a great place to be if you're training on how to play dead
HackMonocut Nov 2014
I drive away from the scene of the accident
blood on my broken windshield
I can't turn away

Take my hands off the wheel
I wanna give up control

Too late to hit the brakes
we've gone too far and much too fast
to rewind

Born among the evil
in the land of the leader
child-snatchers and their basement hobbs rooms

we love our former leaders
and the ****** empire
a smell of corruption, fraternities

we don't mind a little lie
for our nation's alibi
I love you home sweet home

I'm dangerous
a little paranoid
I'm broken by the world
88 is my number
and the tattoo on my neck
I am the real patriot
don't treat me like an idiot
I'm the one to fear
you can't make me disappear
I've got no future
I've got nothing to lose

I've got no future
I've got nothing to lose

I turn my head away
I close my eyes
I don't wanna look at you

Too late to hit the brakes
we've gone too far and much too fast
our love won't last

I've got no future
*I've got nothing to lose
Bardo Feb 2023
He came up to me this guy and introduced
  himself
"Hello", he said, "I'm You"
I looked at him uncomprehendingly, even a
  little afraid
I thought 'How can you be me, I'm me... not
  you'
It's like he'd come to take me over
He was after my pronouns
He wanted to own me
It was like Invasion of the Body Snatchers
Or the Angel of Death, the Grim Reaper come
  to get me
I was about to take off running down the
  road
I thought "You can't take me, I... I'm already
  taken
Then I thought 'If you're me then who am I,
  I'm what then....
Maybe that was it, maybe I was a What now
And he... he was a What-not or a not-What
"You! You're You", I said back to him a little
   doubtfully
"You", he said again this time with emphasis,
  "You O'Brien"
I looked at him closely "You, you're You O'Brien" I said slowly confirming what he'd
  just said/told me
Then it hit me You!... Hugh the Borg from Star Trek (the Next Generation LoL), that episode the Borg collective Guy becomes an individual
"You're Hugh" I said greatly relieved, you're
   Hugh, Hugh with a H
It was like I'd been released 'So you're not
  me after all'.

When he'd gone though I thought, maybe if he had of being me he might have made a better job of being me than I did.
Bit of fun.
Lucy Tonic Nov 2011
You brought me a monster disguised as a mime
Said it was my time to get it talking
I pondered what great a gift to set something free
While in the shadows you put blood in the water
Then fed it to me

I remember lips moving, but never the words
I remember immobility, but never the verbs
(How two-faced is instinct when masked
With a drug you've never tasted before?)

I thought I had shaken this feeling of quiver
Until you delivered me straight to the sheep
Who immediately sank their teeth and grinned
They still had fleece: The joke's on me

At the same time your obsession wavered
Said to savor the memories and the mystery
For what I didn't know would **** me
And so your hands are clean

But I knew something too
A sober fool- yes
But even drunk on your first elixir
I could see through you

Kept coming back to catch you in the act
Partaking in your habits to appease your false politeness
Until it painted my world black-
But I was so close

Just wanted to know a piece of you worth saving
But you feared my mind's sedition-
You mistook napkin stories
For published ammunition

And so gained pleasure in wetting your fingers
And putting out my flame
Keeping secret tallies with your body-snatchers
As to when I'd burn out and fade away

But what you never told them
And will never tell the future
The truth-
Your scars may be invisible
But fire burns in fury when it's blue

So I'll be waiting in my exile
Till the end of days
When the haze has lifted
Your spell has broken
And the Creator returns to its rightful owner
spysgrandson Apr 2018
I found you, in a stack of photos:
the 2D you, I can't touch, taste or smell

the first thing that came to mind was sharing a joint with you and spilling the chocolate ice cream cone on your skin-******* shorts

and sneaking into the Woolworth bathroom, and our freaked frenzied scrubbing of fabric with nimble fingers and pink powdered hand soap

and how we couldn't stop laughing
until a woman older than time caught us
before we could consummate

which we did after running the entire
200 yards to my van, wet white shorts in your hand, with me looking over my shoulder for imagined narcs and other freedom snatchers

when we finished, we shared my last Winston, blowing smoke rings in the gathering gloom

your shorts were dry, and our high
had worn off--you didn't kiss me goodbye when I dropped you off

between your pad and mine,
I hit a black mongrel pup wandering on the dark asphalt

I scooped him off the road
with my hands; lifeless, light he was...

I found you, in that stack of ancient
photos--that was the day we conceived a son, one you had shredded in a doctor's office for $300 in illegal tender

I see the messy ice cream, your naked nineteen year old flesh,  smoke rings disappearing, the poor mutt dying

though not for lack of trying, I can't see the child you had executed in utero--without trial, judge or jury, save an elusive dream
of freedom

Albuquerque, 1967
AprilDawn May 2014
Who dares to steal
in the dead of night
sacred morsels
right out
from under his nose
mount an inquisition
follow the trail
to it’s deviant source
Halt !
he bellows
who goes there
brandishing implements  
of sacrilege
close the gates  
seal off the moat
no ones leaves until
such savagery
is exposed
cunning lies
stuck down
under the white hot glare
of the fridge light
clandestine cheese snatchers
   take heed
your nibbles
are numbered !
Another poem about  sharing the fridge...my  Dad  ( who we were living with   at the time  )  had a few moments of  "where did my  snack  go "? !
Robin Carretti Jun 2018
I was circling seeing the symbol at
the square like great ***** of fire
Making his move the checkmate
The overcrowded City all sharked Inn
Persian cats  the parade of top hats
The women with her furry-coat
She has some woofing bark
The time to be happy but sulking

Dark, what? (Dr. Seuss Square Hats)
what happens when no one listens

Eyes far away masquerade to glisten
Holy water so purified  this earthly planet
A give or take got terrified all flatten
linked face and body invasion of the body
snatchers those crazy cats like a
A boy to the crunch snicker
were squeaking someone saw
something squealing card dealing

What the (Bobcats) cat napping
Stray cats ***** pack City rats
Were stinking up the alleyway
The whole nightclub was a square
the Disco ball have it your way
What time is it anyway 
 his hangover jerky

  Eggs Benedict Times Square the
formula of love project what did I do
for the next subject

What I did_ go daddy so diddy I was his lady
And he was so
___
square toast Arnold
So  dorm dorky was a big ball Porky
Pig glob New York Times all I read was What I did
The girl has to have ***** but the Victorian doll face
Christmas red glitter ***** came to be a disgrace

He's such firecracker handball the soccer ball he wasn't
showing up and what I did I met the Canadian Cups
I met someone else named  Rob what a dip drip dribble

He was fixated on the TV square rabbit ear antennas
Feeling like a round bubble brain chit chat yentas
In his RV square cell phone apps laying their sedated
Twins overlapped taking naps

Archer Ball hotel Archie what a "Bunkbed"
  outside in the lobby 'Talking heads' group,
they could see you talking in your sleep
that sleepytime tea Vampy crime
with his beat-up square chair
the doorknob speckled all dotted polka dot 
 Magnifying glass ball someone will fall

Itzy ritzy French bikini he fantasized
Into her curves, he needed
better ***** going firm up
The New Year was germ cup
To many Apple computers like
Jumping Jack more apple phones
it's the New Year you hear
So many serial murderers here's
(Jumping Jack)
he got trashed
Such a comic Jughead so bushed
He was outdated so Square he didn't
have one square in his head I was in the mood
making  round's
With celebration drinks ball twister looking
inside my crystal ball

New light counting 1-2-3-4 waiting without a
care 5-6-7-8 my head is pounding for the
New Year, everything is a number
People are like lemons
square cakes
All we do is have a fight to
the nearest rounding
A perfect round stone
Diamond why exchange silly name
Diamond Exchange
You know what I did for
Times Square right?
Don't go back tumbling in the past
Tumblr no one has time to check
your pictures all science and physics

Why does everyone want your birth number
Getting dimmer adding right dress
The ball did go up or what I did put a lid on it
  Holy hot tamales stick to the
new year priorities
Did I have a kiss or another year to miss?

The ball going down I need him to get up
Basket-Ball Hoop Snoop Dog
The concert felt like Ms. Betty Boop
New York necklace of fruit loops
  Please allow me to introduce
myself symphony
of the devil
I am a man I will do anything for my lover
When our time is right I will just leave her
Foreign Cat tongue milking let's be personal
Times Square New York New York
The Billboards and mural "Marilyn Monroe"
names of Doe look at her new legs
Her white dress flew away
with her money
gold bonds
She's the love talker he's savvy
(New Yorker)
New day, every hour, every time
Times Square
Jailbird meeting the blue square tie bird boss
He was the show wicked crime light cross
Is it really such a waste of time?
College teens of frats scholars

No one cared to have principles
What will I do for twin double
Eyes coupled
What I saw multiple personalities
what will be the resolution?

Singing in the New Year
he takes a New Year ***** Diva
her one of a kind glass
Someone threw it in the grass
Hum, Hum, Hum singing
He's downtown going forty-second street
Are you kidding me this is
Times Square
Do you have square curved
into your bone body
Go home and get some sleep
on your *****
This squares it up no extra rounds
That's what I did 4 Times Square
No love circles just being
you Square
Married diamonds square
shape worth it.
Kiss the whole earth lit
Time is many things we hold a moment and we watch the ball celebration or see all the killings we live in warfare no one, unfortunately, cares let us be the change and rearrange our hearts leave them close to our family and loved ones
I've been sick.
I cured myself this morning.
The cure only lasted about an hour.
Then, I fell asleep while sitting in a chair.
The Mind Snatchers took over my head while I was dreaming.
It was a pleasant dream about a friend playing his flute.
When I woke up the mind was ablaze.
A roaring, burning flood of thoughts drowned me.
I put out the fire.
I calmed the flood.
I've been sick.
Terry Collett Apr 2013
If you were good and they thought
You’d be safe to walk along to the drugs
Hatch and pick up your own batch of mind
Snatchers, then that was ok, because
It meant they trusted you (fools) and you
Could wander along the corridors and gaze

At others who were on their own way to Hell
And back and sometimes not back at all,
But in some perpetual purgatory where
They were poked and tormented and maybe,
If lucky, purged and delivered sane
(What that meant no one said

Or maybe knew) but if they thought
You bad and unsafe, you’d not be
Allowed out of the locked ward,
But have to sit or wander around
And around the ward or adjoining
Rooms pulling faces at yourself in

Mirrors or windows, or arguing with
Others, nurses, or the quacks with
Their dark eyes and foreign accents,
Until the day’s light crept off,
And the night and lights out call,
And strange bedfellows came in

With the mutters and cries along
The watchtower where the night
Staff peered, sighed and smoked
And cursed and drugged you
And others (not themselves),
And too often joked amongst

Themselves like hyenas picking
Over some corpse; except these
Were alive, if living is what it was
They did, behind the tall walls
And high windows, with the endless
Hum of human voices, of the asylum.
Seema Mar 2018
To die peacefully at old age
Is a fortunate privilege indeed
It's quite heartbreaking to see
The suffering, as the purries we feed
When soul snatchers are summoned
To collect the soul
Their arrival does alarm
There are no bright lights but clouds of coal
The heartbeats jump and ****
At times the eyes open too wide
When it's time to go,
You can not repel or hide
I wish they go silently in their sleep
The much torture of the epidemic diagnose
And the so called cure antidotes
While everything is fed through tubes in nose
The nights become much darker
To welcome the path to the death valley
How I wish, we could give our lifelines
To the ones we are so close to very
Just for them to live a bit more
How I wish, I had a genie lamp
To grant the wishes for green health
And erase all that is meek and damp
Here I sit in the hospital,
By my mom's bedside
Out of five critical admits,
Four have lost their loved ones side
Tho, the life seems numbered
It is my mom that got through the night
Tears after tears I break silently
So long for the will to fight
I pray hard and ask God
To spare her for sometime
Just a little more
To see her precious everlasting smile
I don't know how I will pull through
As I am just a small canoe
Trying my best to shore the wrecked ship
O' there is so much, left to do
The night owls hoot over the roof
Not a good sign I guess
As I dismiss the negative feelings
Coz within me, my brain is a mess
There are many more things going on
Everywhere in this world
Time flies, and loved ones gone
Expiry their dates, and so are called...


©sim
Wuji Jan 2012
I am a man, a flying man,
Flying around the garden.
Never stopping to stand.

They are the catchers,
Looking for prizes.
Those misguided snatchers.

I fly around,
Spreading love all around.
Such a nice thing to be so high off the ground.

So the catchers,
They jump,
They leap,
They bound,
Waving their tempting net,
With that lovely swishing sound.

Then I am caught and put into a jar
A nice little habitat,
Behind glass bars.

They feed me food,
But are quite rude ,
If I stare at the meadow out there.

So I sat,
And my image changed,
Into that of a rat.

They let me go,
In disgust.
Left me on my own with no one to trust.

But I escaped from there,
And went back to the meadow.
The catchers didn't care.

"That rat will never grow."

Then they left,
And lucky for me,
I was back to a being a flying man.
They couldn't cage what I could be.
Drafted this on my phone a while ago. Kinda forgot what's it about.
John F McCullagh Nov 2018
They swarm in the darkness of the night.
They ring my bell, they give a fright.
“Trick or Treat” They know the script.
Hand it over or we’ll pitch a fit.
My pumpkin empties as the hours pass,
It’s uncertain if my supply of Twix will last.
I dispense largesse to every tot
whether they are masked or not.
Covens gather and Mummies squeak
A sugar high is what they seek.

I’ll have the last laugh on those Trickers
I kept a fun sized bag of Snickers.
Thanks to my niece, Mary Ellen, for the title
Karijinbba May 2021
Hilton- Travel lodge-95.
~~~~~
Jealousy is a very damaging
emotion. My family all dead
by jealous men and women
I avoid jealous people.

I was furious with your
call girl jealousy stunt card.
just not to tears with
a woman crawling to you!.
You deserve much better.
You deserved me.
Loving you eternally.

As for your heart diamond ring
promised for my tears
hiding in your coat pocket!  
I can't cry in jealousies for it.
Couldn't you bend your knee
To put it on my finger?
O it wasn't in the script!

I meant asking you to though,
In the pre nuptial agreement.
Sorry I didn't bleed for that too.
Now look here eons later.
See my lifeline roped in sadness.

The trails of graves lined up
My many loved ones buried.
Our children never born then.
You left without asking!
But only misery and pain
I found.
 Jealousy greed malice
butcher human predators
were deadly treasure thieves too.
Butchers, twisted in laws
Childless Jealous baby snatchers.

As for Angelina ASG-BBA
and JPC- RDD
Lost and found,
groom sat bride me free.
"If you love someone,
very much, set beloved free
If dear one returnd
Is all yours, if not,
loved one never was."

We both missed our mark.
but darling beloved
Don't leave empty handed
Take me with you.
Take everything it's yours.
It belongs in your real world.
Take that old grassy hill dear one.
Those many treasures you buried,
left for me to harvest;
Script and all.
Take my children too.
I won't miss them
Not if you have them.
You are the best father
Best friend best teacher.
Best ghost companion to me.
Take my heart my brain too
my courage along
I need them not here in hell,
this unreal cursed world.
Physically alone.

Nothing makes sense here
You kept me company
all through this years
I understand you now
my misfortune is loving you.
Your promise my company.

"We'll always be together."
Twin flame souls.
~~~~~
By Karijinbba
All rights reserved
74-present-rddjpcasgbba
Are you lonesome tonight??
Elvis reminds me of you..
~~~~~~~
CAN YOU WRITE YOUR LOVE STORY
IN JUST ONE STORY POEM!?.
Mike Hauser Aug 2021
Okay, who stole my body
I had when I was young
It was never in the best of shape
But far better than this one

Semi smooth and silky
Not a wrinkle on the lot
I feel I fell asleep for a century
And this is how I ended up

I now have wrinkles on top of wrinkles
With wrinkles on top of that
Could someone point me in the direction
Of where my body could have been left

It had fingers that worked without aching
Steady hands that knew not of shaking
A memory that...I'll get back with you on that
And a face you wouldn't mind dating

My body had knees that were noiseless
A smile that wasn't so toothless
A libido that you could rely on
Instead of the one I now have that is useless

My other eyes were filled with wonder
Not these made dull and steely gray
If anyone has seem my body
Could you kindly point me in the way
poetrygod Dec 2013
A rainbow against my,
Wall,
It bounces back just down the,
Hall,
With a tremendous leap and being very,
Tall,
I keep it from the rainbow snatchers who,
Call,
Curses after me with,
Drawl.
Prabhu Iyer Oct 2017
Four of them thirteen times lashed this land
and three; As the skies wept over
our sullied homes, heart rending in Indra's roar,
teary eyed, wearily waited these desolate gates:
Where the cove that shelters you in rain?
Whiplash on our backs, the mid-season
Mantharas, we who sent jasmine Janaki's feet
to the thorn-laden paths of the jungles deep,
where dwell the soul-snatchers vile;
By the fires of the winter, storms raged,
when word came of her loss;
As the quarters wailed thumping their chests;
Was this why we brought forth the Sesha down,
to keep vigils under the wind's unending flutter?
Folorn with every leaf falling into the Sarayu,
shrunk now to a stream in the burning pangs
of this earth for the touch of your feet,
this holy night, when we await you
with rows of lamps, that now swells in spate:
prince of our hearts, woe begot for all times,
that we sent you to the bush on the night
of your ascension. Now the heavens hymn
bursting forth in joy, that you are with us,
withered, fatherless this Raghu realm!
another Diwali poem - greetings to all on the festival of lights!
Mohamed Nasir Nov 2017
I'm tired and your tired too
Coming to see me now and then. When
You have the time
Your tired and I don't blame you
I can't explain this type of tiredness
It's not a seasonal thing. It doesn't come
When the season comes
It doesn't disappear when the season
Is over. It kind of lingers
This tiredness permeats into the body
Sort of alien ever so slowly overwhelmed
Me and I'm powerless against the body
Snatchers
The mind is tired the eyes are tired. The
Limbs are tired too
Wearing the same old clothes and the same
Old shoes
Not that she can't effort to buy me new
Clothes. Right now I don't need to
I'm tired and your tired too
The same old folks friends the same old
Faces greeted me the same breakfast
Welcome me every morning and I'll be
Glad she comes and bring along her kids
To see their granddad
I can sit in the living room and watched TV
I can sit at the window watching the grass grow
I can hear the birds singing the **** crow
I can hear the wind blow
I can't wait for you to show up
I know you're busy I don't want to interrupt
I'm tired and your tired too
And l longed to go back home. But I'll be
Alone all the time. I don't want to bother
You now I know you're busy. I know
Your tired and I'm tired too
As it was told to me at the old folks home where this man is one of the lucky ones who have a daughter who comes visiting him occasionally.
Olivia Kent May 2014
A tissue box,
a perfect packet,
full with broken heart catchers,
nose wipers,
window wipers too,
make up snatchers,
put one up your sleeve,
leave one on the table top,
to grab a sloppy drop,
when your coffee dribbles over the edge,
when your cup runneth over,
caresless chick,
always needs her tissues!
(C) Livvi
I see the moonlight belly dancer approach,
The one eyed witch comes with intent to dagger my soul,
Two on one, odds in my favor,
I'll protect the village with warriors and spears,
Swords send fear through the Phoenix's wing,
While the slaves of the underworld shoot acid to the skies,
The clouds shall fall with the gods they said,
And will rise with half human half angels,
A city of crystal built from darkness and blood,
With my eyes of stone I'll slice the wind so gently, the tide rolls in harassing the shore,
The heavens mist carrying my soul, aboard the ship of journey,
Though hell is conquered, it leaches deep in every mans gut,
So beneath you can't feel pressence, but alive is the pulse,
The black magic, the soul snatchers,
Watchers of the city of discomfort,
Army of the evil pharoahe,
Land of the wind,
Scar Jun 2016
We were born side by side
Invasion of the body snatchers
Bluish hair cut and swept from the salon floor
We both got lost in each others curls
If I could return to a certain October
Believe me, I would
Some kind of magic in the way you were lying dead on the highway
Like I breathed that sparkling dragon powder through your lungs
And resurrection took shape as a boy named You

We live on the line between two worlds
Boys and girls and the animal collective
We reside on the scientist's bookshelves
All this attraction or lack thereof
Dancing in the dark when we're pushed to the brink of normalcy
Your wrists remain the sole body part that ever made my veins shake
Al Drood Jan 2018
One dreary morn they found me,
stored away from public view
within some time-forgotten annex,
where few dared ever venture
save the morbid, strange or curious.

A label hung around my wrist,
though none could now decipher
words once written bold in ink  
by some long-dead medic’s hand.  
(‘Tis true, a man once consigned me here.)

And so today you see me lying prone
within a white-walled room.
Blue lights glare down upon
my twisted shape, my ravaged torso,
my empty sockets and my grinning jaw.

What tales I could tell them,
these two masked women!
How once, when a child in London Town,
was I drugged and drowned,
then sold to meet the surgeon’s knife!

Not for me, the gracious innocence of death;
not for me, warm tears, soft prayers
upon a flower strewn grave!  
For I fell victim to the cursed Body Snatchers,
sold for thirty silver pieces by the hospital gate.

So now here I lay, rib-cage rent asunder,
vermilion wax pumped hard-set into
cold blood vessels, cranium sawn in half.
I raise my hand to greet you, for
they say I died to further science.
Dressed-N-Venom Mar 2016
Behold the Twilight has come
Look at the body snatchers begin to run and take shape
I saw you then but now? You R vac ant
Just another soul snatched
caught in the moment  
A mere glimpse of what was, ran empty
no refill
Help Me put your pieces back together again
Help MeeEE put your PiEceS Back ToGETHheR Again!
Again?????!!!!!
Again!!!??
SelinaSharday Sep 2021
Watch out for the waters
You adventure in,
via your browser swim
truly unknowingly.
For there's so much we browsers can't see,.
Everyday grinding hustlin just doing you.
Never know what rivers u may end up passing keyboard canoe.
Like the social online parks
Its a place wherein lays unsorted dimensional sparks.
Designed places includes types of sharks.
Even for us who appreciate staying in the bushes.
Some of us like being behind the scenes.
Within the usual even new public things,.
Careful where you step. Careful where you post.
Social media is a maze, of lanes and thangs!
Online social clubs, No matter where your from..
There are places that will pull you there.
Beware of emotional eye catchers
Like mental mind candied snatchers.
Becoming a awed fan..
In this wide waters  entertainment of man.
Careful where you click, adore carefully reply.
Daggers can give you a pc glared blackeye.
Give support, but any other mission be ready to abort.
Hearts  sometimes on your sleeve, still give support that others may succeed.
Yes But not at your own risk where you may bleed.
Depression your own regression.
Diagonal emotions, changing of your views. subscribing to social vlogs.
Go easy take baby steps.
Because you can't vision where the waters go deeper.
Becoming blind to your bodies symptoms and signs.
Your giving outputs yet when have you taken time
for your inputs.
Everywhere some are asking things of you..
I happen to subscribe to a very high emotional vlogger.
Attack after attack, before my eyes and ears.
Wasn't used to the atmosphere. The language etc but still
it was a bit entertaining.
When my physical mind became drained, and the tones yelled defensive jabs.
emotional stabs.
Realized I'd subscribed way to much into the chaotic space.
Had to sit out wasn't needing the taste.
Waters of content creators thinking oh I can handle this.
Your spirit yells enough.
Careful hearts and minds..
Take breaks step away, rest and cater to your Mind health & spirit.
Careful of what Ads invite you to online swim. from the ponds, pools and lakes.
To deeper waters stay safe.. protecting the mental intellectual of your souls.
Too much junk food from creators, vloggers, subscribers, followers and the like
of social media channels.
Once over whelmed your gut will tell, unsubscribe, step away and recuperate.
You don't need so much on your plate.
SelinaSharday.. 21/9 S.A.M ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
BROWSING, SUBSCRIBBING, supporting posting  staying current on content.. checking messages, working, networking, entertaining, etc all takes it tolls on us.
Amethyst Fyre Feb 2017
i can't describe the monsters when they get this close
i can't understand the difference between claws and teeth,
it's all just sharp and shiny
nor push forward and pull back
which way will the demons throw me from that sand-drawn line between
absolutely everything and endlessly nothing?
i can't tell you what they look like,
these time eaters, these body snatchers,
these creatures of the late night mind
all i can say is i am so very tired of running
they chase me quickly through the dark halls of a falling manor
in a world running antiparallel to our own
where the air breathes Death instead of life
i break a mirror and jump on the shards
as if the fractured pieces of myself on the floor can pierce my skin and save me
knowing full well the monsters circle closer, an oppressiveness suffocating space
the last drops of moonlight reflecting their mournful cries for me
before i lie down in defeat

i let the monsters i cannot describe burn through my heart, my soul, my eyes
my last hope ringing in my ears
that the world will know i never really wanted to
die.
Rick Hamilton Sep 2016
People say that Trump may even have influenced the cicadas cycle;
yet while the cicadas chirp away in our trees,
Trump has aroused stragglers who are prepared to live underground,
if necessary, in The American Redoubt where they fear an insurrection
will consume all resources and outsiders will attack their homes.
Trump drums away, like the cicadas, with a more fearsome sound,
and who knows what he would look like if he shed his exoskeleton.
I am not a fan of sci-fi movies, but think there must be a sci-fi movie,
maybe much like Invasion of the Body Snatchers,
where instead of emerging from a pod,
he loosens his Chinese-made tie
and sheds the exoskeleton of his Chinese-tailored suit;
then, bird-like, sort-of-foot-things burst from the expensive shoes,
maybe those tassel loafers I’ve never liked,
and reveals not some low-energy monster
but excuse me, a disgusting, great, huge, horrible, incredible,
terrible something even more hideous
with clumps of orange hairy stuff,
and patchy old skin,
and a snarly mouth-like thing
that sends out a tremendous stench,
for it would not be some weak, loser of a monster,
but a great, amazing, but stupid thing
that consumed everything in its path.
We would see that something really dangerous was going on,
but until we were able to determine and understand this problem
and the dangerous threat it poses, something bad is happening,
and we have to be much smarter, or it's never, ever going to end.

— The End —