"stinger" poems
.
*Honeybees, birds and blooms unfurl
an enchanting spell
when spring comes by here
Memories waft 'neath burled rustic trellis
where flowered tendrils grasp fleshly
like the newness a love once tenderly embraced
Songbirds in your garden sing
of swooning memories rapture.., of velvet eyes,
the fragrant spicy nectar hidden within her walls
A song of honeyed bees' sweetest stinger,
and the poignant ***** of intoxicating surrender
lingers, bemused spellbound by a thorny heirloom rose
Sharp beauty beloved like a blameless trap
caught blissfully, breathlessly inbetween
all you wish for and all your wanton needs
Desire 's wellspring an unspoken passion
coquet swollen buds adorn blossoming,
sensual, untamed carnal grace
A picture perfect natural beauty;
sunlit chassé … feathered brush, demure blush
dancing with basket of lace petal’d perfume
For to colour a heart's blank pages
rapt in the poesy a joyous ecstasy ..,
enrapture with rainbow's luscious taste
What seems lost is but a tender vestige unfound
a passing moments innocence lost
to steal away like rumors of gold
These silent reveries seep from a hole in my heart,
as if ripe strawberries of yore, gently weeping sweetness
when pricked by a thorny rose
The ides of spring do still bleed a timeless ache
onto the page ... sweet naivety stung
by a mesmerizing dart to the heart
Songbirds in your garden do sing
of sweetest things immersed in nature's nectar
blissful memories sleeping in the petals of a rose*
Sung to the wind by a song sparrow — ♪ ♫...✩ ☼✩ ✩☺✩
Aug 14, 2016
Aug 14, 2016 at 12:08 PM UTC
May I present a challenge?
Imagine if you will
You have created a flying explosive device
And it needs a name that will thrill.
A name, a good name, which name?
Well, none of those below.
Some twisted suits have already used them.
**** EVEN Tacit Rainbow.
What really goes through their minds?
As they sit and discuss the name
Of their creation that's destined to ****
Butcher, destroy and maim.
Just try if you can
To read the whole of this edited list
Imagine how many have exploded of each
With out angrily clenching your fist
Little John
Honest John
Hellfire
Matador
HARM
Terrier
Nike-Ajax
Corporal
Sea Sparrow
Redstone
Bullpup
Mace
Nike-Hercules
Regulus II
Atlas
Thor
Lacrosse
Jupiter
Quail
Hawk
Tartar
Falcon
Polaris
Hound Dog
Pershing
Entac
Firebee
Shelduck
Jayhawk
Cardinal
Firefly
Petrel
Redhead/Roadrunner
Redeye
Mauler
Skybolt
Nike Zeus/Spartan
Condor
Phoenix
Typhon MR
Falconer
Overseer
Taurus
Kingfisher
Cardinal
Walleye
Hornet
Maverick
Big Q
Minuteman
Blue Eye
Viper
Firebolt
Bulldog
Harpoon
Focus
Perseus
Firefly
Stinger
Compass Dwell
B-Gull
Agile
Seekbat
Delta Dagger
Thunderbolt[7]
Patriot
Aquila
Teleplane
Streaker
Tomahawk
Firebrand
Roland
Peacekeeper
Penguin
Pave Tiger/Seek Spinner
Sidearm
Skipper
Wasp
Sea Lance
Ripper[7]
Trident II
Midgetman
Tacit Rainbow
Pave Cricket
Have Nap
Peregrine
Exdrone
Javelin
Pointer
Hunter
Coyote
Skeeter
Outlaw
Wow, you're still reading
And you've managed not to throw up.
Just wondering how many innocent victims
Of a tax funded device called Bullpup.
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 7:00 PM UTC
The oxygen secreted from the walnut tree,
the snap-pole green beans growing
up the side of the rusty garden fence, and
bags of aluminum cans stored in the shed
with the old cash registers from the antique store.
These are the golden frames caught and
edited onto organic film, etched into grey matter,
projected from a foggy lens onto reflective marble.
We abandoned the clubhouse because of spiders;
they took the place for themselves after a storm.
Our new abode was the patch of grass between the
walnut tree and the fence in the back corner of the yard;
shady, rough terrain from fallen walnuts, and
the grass always had a slight dew in places.
"The place where the snakes live" is what we called it
when we were sprouts; now we could catch them in both hands.
One night, the wind blew over the shed doors;
flimsy, sliding rail, aluminum thing.
We slinked in and got to play with the old adding machines,
foreign tools, jars full of door hinges, and
rusty hand-crank egg beaters.
Eventually, the roof of the shed collected so many years
of twigs, walnut husks, and foliage fallen that
tiny trees began to pop their heads up from the clutter.
Crickets underneath the gutter guards-
two types; the black singers and the
ones you have to dig for that will draw blood
if they get a hold of one of your fingers.
Sometimes, if bravery was roused and boiling,
we would drift closer to the railroad tracks
in attempts to catch yellow jackets, or even hornets.
One popped their stinger into the back of my neck.
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 9:06 PM UTC
You must understand my fear
As I grow closer to you dear
No more bite or insurrection
You penetrate the armour
Hard covers but tender underbelly
Be gentle in your stroke
Blisters fester
Red welt of swollen lips
Let the blood fall as it may
Unafraid
You are the light in my everyday
Slither hither
& crawl over blistering heat
You seek, you sting
Sharp penetrating glance
Venom glistens like the dewdrop
Do drop & Let drop the droplets
Wet hard the mind ****
Chittering madness
Stinger in brain
Dark obsidian, your poison sings
Your back
Glistens shiny.
Your armour penetrating dance
Brings me back
Tail quivers
Knees weak
Crawl to me
The strike
The sting
Your poison venom
The venom inside me
No antidote or logic
No rhyme or reason
Your venom sings
sound gone
Mind blown
Eyes blind and heart bleeding
I am your zombie baby
Obey me
Tease me
Play with me
Seize me
Sting me
Again and again.
Sep 3, 2016
Sep 3, 2016 at 12:26 AM UTC
Ruby red love
She didn’t give it a shove
With delicate diamonds just above
A love to find
Not the gaudy kind
Purposely shaped heart
In search of where to start
Placed upon a tiny finger
To make one stop and linger
A Ruby shine
With Red glare so clear
So much so
That one could begin to fear
What would happen if they
Tried to disappear
Runaway they might
With just cause
Of too much fright
Would bring her to shed a tear
That Red ruby so clear
Reminds her of the cheer
And the time he spilled his beer
Red ruby dazzling bright
If only see the light
Whats its symbolize
Character or compromise
She was utterly surprised
That tiny clear red ruby
A reminder
Love is never like that movie
Ruby red love
Unmistakable beauty
Recalling a late summer sunset
A clear preset
With its curves
Upon that finger
Can be a deep stinger
If not preserved
Prompts the feeling
Sensationally deserved
Sep 9, 2018
Sep 9, 2018 at 11:47 AM UTC
I write words with passion, I write words learned from wisdom
I study the works from the greatest; I even study the stars in the sky
Look to the North West on a dark Southern Autumn‘s night
Hanging side by side with the king of the jungle and holding a *** of honey
A relative to the one in the deserts with stinger in its tail you will see
A Giant that walks on ocean floors with meat that is ever so sweet
Constellations that fill the sky all been given a specific name at an earlier time
Many a being read the wise man tales in the daily papers
They live there day to look to see if there predictions come true
Your visions can only come true if you search without looking
My journey today took me to the second floor I’m in a ward
Doors open exposing many smiles and many, many frowns
Team Poppy’s Ride for one dollar I bought into yes I did
Relay for life fight the silent killer and have fun doing it as well it says
A dozen silk roses pull me near to the table to touch them
Fur lined slippers; ports open on his body, one in his neck
Another in his arm with plunger attached I can see
Flush him clean and pure I pray aloud rid him of his pain
Give it to me I cry as I looked into his eye
Tapping red heels with anxiety she’s called in next
Chairs with wheels fill the room to capacity
All with hoses and green cylinders attached given a fresh breath of life to inhale
Delicatessen of food on a low cart is now delivered from the one with child in the womb
Smile she puts on my face for there’s another life to keep the circle of life going
Journeys not over for they have just begun
Stacks of Danielle Steele books are scattered all about
Comforting the mind, comforting the soul they do
Precious words are better than man’s medicine I believe
Come to me, my written words are stronger then the script you’re looking for
No ringing of the bells here to mark the toll
To the left I see a three leaf clover hanging in the window
On the Next there’s a hanging cross
Waiting is the master, to do your part
He welcomes you and your soul.
CELEBRATE, REMEMBER, AND FIGHT BACK! (CARSr. 5-21-12)
May 28, 2012
May 28, 2012 at 12:25 PM UTC
This is going to be painful for me. These folks think they're so heavy, evil, dark, and mysterious. (Ahem) Next to the crab, you are one of the biggest wimps the Universe ever farted out. Don't even ask for backup in a fight with these people, their excuse is, "I wasn't really sure what was going on!" With your low energy, you can barely fly unless you have been a constant train wreck, I may throw you scrap of respect. You just barely have the *** department down and I have kicked many a stinger out of bed. Emotional inside like a bag of **** lit on fire! You can't escape from the bag of your own **** show. No wonder you're so angry, all you do is repeatedly sting yourself to death. What a stupid species you are, indeed!
Advice: Stop with the whole tough guy/girl front. Everyone knows that when someone throws their hands back at you, you run away and cry in the corner like the little **** you are. So quit with the heavy and join Cancer.
Jul 1, 2015
Jul 1, 2015 at 9:02 PM UTC
You weren't a bee
Bees are calm
And peaceful
You were a wasp
Filled with the fury of a thousand men
And a buzz that could send a child
Into a fit of tears
You promised not to hurt me
That my skin would always
Undoubtedly remain
Pure and without stings
I believed your lies
I caressed your stinger
And chose to believe
That it would never harm me
But it did
And I turned numb and cold
My skin burned like an angry fire
My eyes shone with tears
My cheeks were red as blood
I begged for you to stop
I couldn't control you
Jun 6, 2013
Jun 6, 2013 at 9:03 PM UTC
I spoke to a wasp today. And he told me his story. He spoke to me about his childhood, and watching his own family being murdered. It was a bright and warm Friday evening. His father had ventured out and flew among the humans that lived in the home of his home. The smell of liquor permeated the air, as did the barbeque that was nearly too done. He drew close to the man of the home, just to watch and observe the scene. The man didn't like it too much. So he swatted him. It didn't hurt him, however, but it did confuse him. And in his confusion he landed upon the man and planted his stinger within him. The man slammed his hand down, cursing as the wasp's father's guts bled out. There was nothing the wasp could do but watch. The woman of the house asked if the man was ok. The man cursed once more and slammed his glass on the ground. The woman became upset and demanded to know why. The man had no answer. He merely just grabbed a gas can, took another ...swig of liquor, and walked up to the wasp's home and began dousing it in gasoline. The woman freaked out, afraid of what was about to happen. The man merely cursed at her as well and shoved her to the ground. When she tried to get back up he kicked her in the face. The blood poured. The wasp's home was now soaked in a lethal liquid. The man had a sinister grin as he glanced at his crying and bleeding woman lying on the ground, and he laughed as he lit a match and threw it on the wasp home. The nest went up in flames, and shortly after the home of the man did too. The little wasp escaped, unable to save the lives of his screaming family being burnt alive. The man merely laughed; the woman lay crying; the nest burnt to ashes; the house burnt down. So now the little wasp is all grown up. And when I asked what he wants to do with his life, all he replied was, "I want to sting people...because it seems that is all every creature is meant to do." ♥
May 23, 2013
May 23, 2013 at 11:13 PM UTC
The Mujahideen fight for their way of life
They simply want to practice their religion
Follow their religion
And live in peace
The Soviets have no right to invade
And tell them how to live
Rocket propelled grenades
Were effectivey used at the Kandahar pass
Soviet tanks were sitting ducks
They met their end
Guerilla fighters
Walk and fight in the mountains
They mastered the ambush
The Battle of Arghandab
The Soviets attacked
An entrenched Mujahideen
The Afghan government forces often defected to the resistance
Some Soviet aircraft
Were shot down by Stinger missles
Provided by the U.S.
The Russian people were lied to
About what their military was doing there
They were told they were nation building
The war caused around one million civilian deaths
And the emigration of 5 to 10 million Afghans
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 11:27 PM UTC
Have you stopped to listen to the sound of poetry before the hands of women or man
The silent words spoken before our bodies crawled from the muck and the ooze
The songs that fluttered in the wind long before our hands held quill or pen
Poetry has always been and will always be
Before the first star twinkled in the void
Before the sky knew the color blue
Before the ocean had its depth
There in the silence before the hands of time had ticked
Poetry lived and danced and breathed and sang
Before the leaves knew the breeze
Before the pollen and the stem
Before the stinger and the wing
There in the solitude before life and death
Poetry wept and smiled and loved
Before heaven had wars with hell
Before demons had horns and tails
Before angels had cloud and flight
There in the absence of earth and women and man
Poetry beat in the heart of love
And should mankind become eternaly extinct
Murdered by by his own hate and war and greed
Talking god and heaven in his ****** hands with him unto death
And should hell and devils crumble into grief and fade
Poetry will still live and dance and sing and weep and smile and love
Will birth stars to fill the sky and sing the void sweet lullabies
Will dream stories to tell the sky its blue or grey with storms
Will fill the ocean with tales of lovers drowning in its depths
Poetry will wind the wheels and springs behind the face of time
Will forever kiss the leaf with the breeze
Bring the pollen to the stem
Attach the stinger to the wing
Marry life to death
Give demons flight
And angels horns
Rebuild heavens
Give gods new names
Place new crowns and thrones in hell
Poetry has always been and will always be
And would only flourish
By the death of man
And forever live and beat in the
Heart of love
May 7, 2016
May 7, 2016 at 6:58 PM UTC
I've ****** the venom from your sting, Scorpio, it's left me dizzy and hurting. It's hard to believe after four full rotations around the sun the only thing to have deepened are the lines on your brow rather than your own understanding. I can see your weaknesses Scorpio, I can see I've struck a cord loud enough to make you wave your vindictive hand. I can feel your unforgiveness like a cold desert night, I can feel the hot burning twist of your sharpened knife. I'm among the planets and the stars; Saturn, Jupiter, and Mars-- it's amazing I've come this far. With my hand stretched out I've called your name, but you still look to me with all the blame. I wanted to share the air with you, but I know now life will always be unfair with you. To the earth and back, with no tack on a map, there is no simple answer-- our world is now black. Filled with dread, I lift my head and see your stinger is ready to inbed the worst possible venom known to us men. I'll be just fine, when I cut this line, that always leads me back to you.
Mar 16, 2019
Mar 16, 2019 at 3:12 PM UTC
a stumble, a tongue slip,
a body in bed facing away,
an unintended provocation
commences a collaboration
just another unrequited disaster,
marks me as a lowly private
in the disarmed ranks of
mutilated souls composing,
while decomposing,
sad love poems,
as if the world
needed another...
a turn away needs a turn to,
a cul-de-sac rejection
needs a turnabout,
a traffic circle pointless,
with one exit only,
road signed,
"exit to a collaboration of provocation"
thanks and thanks
a day together normative,
now marked by a
stinger singed in the early morn.
a physical no thanks,
her passing lane left turn signal
engaged
me too passing into this,
a disgorged rejection that
is to become this realized collaboration.
*only I wrote it and you
did not
read it
just provoked its creation,
our sad collaboration*
Feb 14, 2015
Feb 14, 2015 at 7:08 AM UTC
i.
Dearest Jane, I knoweth thou hath lost thine sweet pet
But little Choco wilt never forgetteth thy love, or thy caress;
Dearest Jane, I knoweth thine little hamster meant thy all
But Jane dearest, knoweth he's happy, in a pain free place of God.
ii.
Dearest Reyna, I knoweth many tear's, thou hath shed for choco
Just knoweth mine queen, his spirit's next to thee, in clear view;
Dearest amour, he wilt be missed by me and thou, he's in cloud's
Dearest soulmate, he's sitting, waiting at heaven's gate, in shroud.
iii.
Dearest Filipino rose, ourn Choco is not just some ghost
Dearest Filipino rose, thine infant is smiling, serpahim his host;
Dearest kilig bringer, I'm here to comfort thee from pain stinger's
Dearest jane, if I couldst I'd let god taketh mine life, to save choco.
iv.
Dearest creation of celestial's, choco is extraterrestrial
Dearest amare, thou wilt pet thine friend again, when times here;
Dearest joy of life, soon to be wife, mine all, mine light, comfort
Dearest Jane, dryeth thine water, choco is better, as I'll make thou
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl jane/her pet choco dedication
Aug 17, 2015
Aug 17, 2015 at 6:22 PM UTC
She said she'd pinprick your watershed
Leave alone , it must be bled
A cold and somewhat silent shiver went through you
She tossed your hair with fingers flared
Before she rapes your lips she says she cares
And cautions ,"I am no where near through with you ."
She rips your shirt , rakes your skin
Over and over again
Till blood trickles down upon you
She licks you dry
And praises the sky
saying, "God is jealous of you guy ."
Then she sits upon your lap
Knocking off your tip top hat
And throws a ****** to you
The first and third lines rhyme
She takes away your time
Makes you scream in agony and ecstacy
All of mercy . , .
More on mercy . , .
Tasting pain . . .coated in pleasure
The memory lingers
Burning like a scorpions stinger
And now your mallingered aren't you
The second and fourth are lines of choice
Developed rhythm for the course
And you grade your decisions running through you
She left you dead , hurt your head
And then she fled
Tossing your heart into the river
Your grateful that you live
but still you go on and grieve
Or at least wished you did
As you are trying to relate
All you do is quake
And start to uttering
"All on mercy . . .
More on mercy . . .
Have mercy . . .on me ."
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 3:31 AM UTC
I experience solitude
Because I act rude
The effect is compounding
The effect is dumbfounding
I'm stuck in a trend
That will never end
My rudeness they return
So my bridges I burn
My life takes a turn
For connection I yearn
All I feel are the spurs
I live a life sheltered
To avoid being peltered
By the wailing welter
My walls block hate
Which is great
But I also miss love
That travels above
My feet are growing weary from the emptiness I stand
And I can count all of my friends on half of my hand
The half with no fingers
That's a real stinger
Not hearing the ringer
I become a feces flinger
Instead of a beautiful singer
The silence is deafening
My mentality it's threatening
With pain that's resounding
Of the drain I'm rounding
And the lingering loneliness
When I am my only guest
My mind is put to the test
By a solitude that infests
Oct 30, 2017
Oct 30, 2017 at 3:10 PM UTC
Her Diamond Mind
Rests in Pure Carbon Mine
Shining Fluorescence
Never left her with obsolescence
Light refraction
Quite the distraction
Ice rink on her finger
A monetary stinger
Gem best friend
How much did he spend?
Frozen Pond reflection
of the hardest affection
Ice rock speaks to only her
Don't be a gem amateur
Clear crystal quartz won't do Sir
with its dim blurr
Follow the four C's
Scintillation gleams
Cut determines its prism
At first sight brings hypnotism
Color - a rainbow brilliance
Smiles with each glance
More clarity for radiance
All eyes may be romanced
Be prepared for a trance
Carat weight
Might be the bait
Year after year
Continual glimmer
With every light flicker
Jan 26, 2019
Jan 26, 2019 at 3:04 PM UTC
I'm a Champ
He is a Chump
His *** you need to dump
So load up on your pump
Go out and shake your ****
Um Ya need to feel this playas swaggle
As I diggle in your daggle
Fiddle ya then stab ya
*** on...slide up and down my pole
Lick it
Slurp it watch me as I grow
Hmm señoritas let me rub your chi chas
You can be me Mija
Every time I see ya
Blow ya ***** up with my D bomb
Shrapnel from my nut
ya need to stay yo *** calm
Hmm that's how I dews it
Confuse it then lose it
Go ahead and choose it
I promise to abuse it
Um yous Filthy and so *****
*** so fucken pretty
Wake you up early to get ya ***** swirly
I will be your ecstasy
Go ahead and swallow me
***** so sprung
Why ya always following me?
Huh, My **** will show you magic
Makes your ***** so spastic
Have you fiending for my ****
Too bad you can't have it..
Huh, I aim to tease
***** begging me please
Drop down on them knees
Give this Scorpio a squeeze
Um I'm *******
this game I'm back to running
Who woulda thought
M.A.N would come back more stunning
Hmm thats just my stinger
Born to be a bringer
My presence seems to linger
I'm in your ***** with my finger
lol that's just my stamp
I feel I got you damp
A King wears a crown
So does this Cali Champ!! Ugh..
Feb 19, 2014
Feb 19, 2014 at 5:57 PM UTC
Abuse
Singer sounded like "stinger,"
Fifty years gone, but fresh....
The long sewing machine drive belt
Hung thin and waiting by the broom.
Mother handled it like a snake,
Writhing in the after school air
When she used it to soothe
Menopausal rages.
Welts and shame, rose-red arose
When she stripped them of their clothes;
Struck hard the tender flesh:
Buttocks, thighs,
Panicked wrists and hands,
Flailing in the silence of a preacher's home.
"I never struck in anger,"
She likes to say.
A counselor chills to hear...
A cool-headed striker of children so sick
To give her children the gift
Of bruises, without emotion.
Jan 30, 2015
Jan 30, 2015 at 4:46 PM UTC
Nose to the table
Swan-dive into the land of fables
Where every song is a sacrament
Cause magic has no accidents
And grief opens the door to sin
And mistakes which lead you into
A world where the light bringer
Is also the scorpion’s stinger
She’s wearing rings, she’s wearing bells
Still you deny she’s a Jezebel
Immoral fiction from the past
Makes sand fly through the hourglass
The immortality of sigils and art
Cause no one tells you where to start
Nov 26, 2012
Nov 26, 2012 at 4:37 PM UTC
I killed my cactus,
distressed and helpless;
it'll never survive regardless.
I watered it more than I should,
for some reason it withstood;
as more affection is never no-good,
but intentions are often misunderstood.
one time I changed its ***
and had a second afterthought.
I then changed its soil,
yet I'm stuck in a turmoil.
these weren't the changes I seek,
for I loathe its spines -
so cluttered and bleak.
maybe I should have gotten
a tiny potted succulent,
or plants with stinger;
perhaps I never even had
the green fingers.
Mar 13, 2019
Mar 13, 2019 at 12:07 PM UTC
she wanted to be
a killer bee
so she honeyed up servant girls
and placed them under
the fruit trees
but upon severing the stinger
a bee loses it's lust
so she left them to the bugs
and took on a bigger love
for pins and needles
and fingernails and a pale face
laced with pain
when they scream she shivers and asks
them to say her name again
when she was still young
her husband taught her necks break
if you bend them back fast enough
eyes go blind if you cut them
crisply across the iris
peasants can go missing and
no one will ever know
god help the ruthless mistakes
nobility makes
dorian gray in her mirror today
****** erzebet kissed the servant girls
like jeffrey's boy with the hole in his skull
she must have looked beautiful
in the moonlight coming through
the dungeon grates
and they finally found out
bricked over the windows
left a slit for food
minotaur in his maze
she thought she'd show off
for her funeral
but she is alone
the bodies decay
now she is a killer bee
in a cage
Oct 30, 2012
Oct 30, 2012 at 10:37 PM UTC