"strapping" poems
The calender reads 2016
But its feels more like 1984
Have you heard the crying
The American dream
Lying dying in the streets
While big brother
Is strapping blinders
On our heads
And shackles to
Our hands and feet
Were being lined up
By the rows
Willing prisoners
Of the slave power
Empire of minimum wage
Shuttling our children
Off to the animal farm
Market of big business
And big lies
***** water mixed
In with the rotting
Apples of the
New American pie
The sugar isn't sweet
To the starving
In the street
While trash cans
Over flow in the back lots
Of the super market
Super chains
Of the slave power
Empire of criminal rage
And its the cold dark waters
Of nuclear waste
Soaking the pages of the calender
That reads
2016
In these days that feel like
1984
No kindness or compassion
For hands shaking tin cups
Needing just a little change
Just a little shelter
From their sad weather lifes
Living on the cold ground
Below our overpass ways
No shelter and no change
No compassion and no kindness
In the fist and pockets
Of the slave power
Empire of ignorant ways
Bullets, bombs and hate
Harvesting fresh blood
For the ink
To print the pages of the calender
That reads
2016
As politicians write us back
Into the pages of the days of
1984
May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 4:27 PM UTC
I'm addicted
Something I can't cure
Simple and pure
To touch and watch it melt
Mmmmmm
How so good that felt
Warm, pleasing on my lips
In little strips it drips
Under the wrapping, so strapping
****
Its a victimless crime
In my prime, it feels sublime
In my mouth, moving all around
Tastes so good, need to lie down
Creamy center, nothing so delightful
Its beautiful, insightful
Mmmmmm
Delicious, begging for more
Just need another score
Addicted to the taste
Can't let it go to waste
I'm Addicted
Oct 12, 2014
Oct 12, 2014 at 11:56 AM UTC
Trapped in the anxiety
created by society.
It forged a mist and it won't let us go.
Feel the churning hollow pain
at the centre of your brain.
There's nothing really there,
and if there is, why care?
They'll ask you what the point is,
a question that still taunts us,
but the question makes no difference,
and the judgment has no existence.
Should we, or could we flee?
Will we ever be free?
We run, but it's always near.
The unshifting terror, strapping you down.
Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 3:16 PM UTC
I watched the snow descend to earth
Attention sought as flakes give birth
Submit to all her majesty
Surrender clouded canopy
A freezing fox that runs across
The curtilage wild turkey's toss
A lofty oak tree hides raccoon
Two fledgeling birds lose their platoon
The strapping deer takes off in flight
See squirrels flee with all their might
An Owl concluding calls of whoo
The animals know too eschew
All happens when the snowflakes fall
Am spellbound by one flake or all
The memory each one contain
Unique like us and our domain
Snowflakes and animals I see
We all are different you and me
Is random chance its proximious?
Creation not dichotomous
Am thankful I could see this view
And freedom too believe it's true
_______________________________________________
Jul 20, 2014
Jul 20, 2014 at 1:03 PM UTC
Shimmering stars above your head,
Invigorating wind rippling through your clothes,
Strapping waves hitting the shore,
Astonishing music emerging from the violin..
But then i wake up,
I wake up and everything disappears
How is that possible? A place that means so much to you disappearing so swiftly..
I truly wanted to live in that moment
I truly wanted to stay there forever and ever..
Jul 1, 2018
Jul 1, 2018 at 6:05 PM UTC
Emptying one’s wallet for the family fee,
Joining in linear solidarity with the crowd,
Dripping profusely under the blazing sun,
Creeping forward as if slower than a snail.
Arriving at the moving beast’s head,
Receiving envious glances from the tail,
Stepping boldly forth at last,
Following instructions.
Strapping oneself into place,
Shooting forward like a rocket into space,
Spinning endlessly until quite dizzy,
Screaming with sheer delight and fear.
Dropping back to earth,
Speeding faster than a thought,
Leaving stomach far behind,
Enjoying the absurdity of its apparent disappearance.
Exhilarating, yet much too short,
Seeking to repeat the thrill,
Joining the waiting horde,
Staring impatiently from the queue’s tail.
Oct 27, 2018
Oct 27, 2018 at 9:01 PM UTC
Sappho of the South
Sweetest lips upon my mouth
From Tomboy Casanova
To Soft Butch Jehovah
Stone Top, Touch-Me-Not
To chapstick and Birkenstocks
She’s my Strapping Queen
The only flicker of my bean
Oh, Lavender Menace
I’m on my knees in minutes
Stud-finder
Cunt-diver
Love-guider
Me-inside-her
Lover’s lips upon my mouth
Lovely Sappho of the South
Jun 14, 2025
Jun 14, 2025 at 1:07 AM UTC
*Fairy Godmother:
Oh, now, now, now, now, now, just a minute.
You must understand, my dear:
On the stroke of twelve, the spell will be broken,
and everything will be as it was before.*
Royal *****
With all the fluff
Pretty dressed girl twirling and laughing
Strapping young men Promising them the world
The masks are on.
Girls with their heads in the clouds
dancing in their glass slippers
Slippers that hold all their hopes and dreams
believing the words falling off men's lips.
whispering in their ears
all the things they want to hear
not seeing through their carefully crafted masks
Midnight descends and all bets are off.
Carriages turning back to pumpkins
rich men turning back to paupers
taking away their hard earned money
sleeping in their beds.
Leaving them in the dust
leaving nothing behind
but those awful glass slippers
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 11:58 AM UTC
The strapping young boys
Will play with their toys
And cause harm to er'one around.
They'll make lots of noise,
Colluded with poise,
Among them not a soul to be found.
It wasn't too long
Before they were turned on
To firm over in Illinois,
Where collusion has proven
A blooming conclusion
For all whom they choose to employ.
"Is this an illusion?"
Said one in confusion.
"I'm successful and happy and paid.
"I'm a millionaire
With brilliant hair,
And a beautiful dame of a maid!"
"Pardon my intrusion,
You've chosen profusion
O'er doing the world some good.
"Prepare for seclusion-
A lonely conclusion
Is knocking beneath your hood."
Aug 27, 2012
Aug 27, 2012 at 5:54 PM UTC
Pooled in disgust
In the arms of a fool
My skin seems to burst
By his lustrous drool
The evil desires that spill
Gives shivers to my soul
It is of not my will
To be in such a role
Touched to places
Flames rise, high in pole
Strapping the laces
Seeking his ultimate goal
The pain aches pleasure
In his deaf ears
Nibbling bits to bites
My cries he hears
Now, on the natures bed
He pushes me back
Gasping over my head
Clenching his teeth on my neck
As I cried and he hissed
Like that of a snake
Crawling and being kissed
For a 'NO', he could not take
The nightmares spread
With a foul smell
Sheets covering red
From an unknown spell
His breath fading
Laying heavy on my chest
I pulled myself together
To be with the rest
Red zone or prostitution
Is not a self led to many
Neither it's an institution
To earn a penny...
©sim
Dec 16, 2018
Dec 16, 2018 at 10:55 PM UTC
Hand on the good book that I never read,
I swore my loyalty though you know I like to fib,
Even as your see the guilt gushing beneath my skin,
I’ve been holding the prosecutor’s hand, with another on the switch,
A spineless snitch waiting for the green light to fry you for what Benjamin did,
So sorry this couldn’t have been different,
But the chair only seats one according to our governance,
And I’m not the victim with a scheme preached as providence
So sorry for the inconvenience
But I want to feel the pulse of the pompous cease,
And watch the stillness of eyes that once blinked,
When they found the oval throne of a tyrant
Instead of the virtuous,
The one who was to lead us,
So who’s stopping me from strapping you to that seat?
Since my crime caused the scene
Since your fathers where the ones who put your sons to sleep
Coming from the cranial cracks of the insane,
Those that tried justified slavery while promising us all equality
I am the reason they put price tags on humans
And why this isn’t the land of the free
I’m the governor forcing your loyalty
Or I tell everyone you’re a traitor before finding you guilty,
I’m Uncle Sam’s mistress,
The thought process of social unrest,
When the enemy was a homegrown threat,
When Plymouth protest turned to disobedience,
I was with the Protestant,
I’m the crack in the Liberty Bell,
The judge, jury, and judicial jezebel,
The King, the colonial, the freedom fighter, the insurgent
I’ve once facilitated your independence,
I was your lust for a better existence
Since the struggle against a parliament
I’ve been dealing you an idealistic hand,
Since the election of the forty-third,
I am the notion that this isn’t the promise land
Like a revolutionary remedy
I am the idealistic ******
The enemy of our mentalities
The thought of defying the constraints this reality
Apr 6, 2012
Apr 6, 2012 at 2:38 AM UTC
Cassie Lane Gray, ever so slight of frame
Hit harder than a train, playing her martial games
Cassie ran eight miles a day, and she never strayed
Her routine was tough as iron, her boxing gloves were frayed
Her momma put her in ballet, but later on, she disobeyed
Strapping wraps to wrists, uppercut finisher each day
And when she said she wanted to box, her momma turned away
But she was gonna fight, with no one in her way
Cassie Lane Gray grew up poor in San Jose
Never had much to say, just wanted in the fray
Her ballet, in a way, made her opponents pay
As she moved with dancer's sway, they later would convey
Cassie's family prayed that she would portray
The sweet and simpering visage of a classy dame
But it wasn't in the cards, for Cassie Lane Gray
The "Bantam Weight Ballerina"
A strong young fighting woman
Was in the ring to stay
Mar 16, 2020
Mar 16, 2020 at 9:36 AM UTC
It's so hot.
The priest's sermon-
whose warm voice so soft,
soothes the yearning ear,
encouraging oft,
for all to hear.
But the soul most dear.
And the poignantly silent Cross behind him.
People's voices-
rosaries, novenas,
strapping their arms,
but not their lips.
Heartily singing
or maybe snoring,
rising to the heavens,
but drowning my little own.
Like each sentence is simply a groan.
And the endless cars honking outside us.
Then in my little reverie, I yell:
Don't hush me!
When I pray to Thee,
all I want is Thy sympathy,
whose essence to a dry soul so empty,
would quench thousandfold a bounty!
Cries.
Then right beside my pew,
a light of unfurled color lies,
reveled by so few.
Then I look to the left,
facing the most mighty sun
shining on my burned cheeks,
on the blackest of hair,
closing my ****** eyes,
having a little fun.
Only one voice
of direction, of choice,
of just enough noise-
to brighten my day,
to go along with whatever may,
I am allowed to play!
And Mom tells me to keep silent,
before any wall gets a dent,
after I've learned what they've meant.
But, it's Sun-day.
The one light, the one love,
for the one me-
God allowed me to be.
Feb 2, 2014
Feb 2, 2014 at 2:12 AM UTC
Swamp Tigers
No matter the monsoon rains that swished the tall grass
In the rivers journey downstream through
tea bushes on a symmetrical hill where
baskets dangled on nun dressed heads
collecting two buds and a burst of beauty
for tea bags.
Hidden in the dense foliage
Semtec strapped to her belly
She walked from bush to bush unafraid.
She had died many times before.
When gathered around counting tables
Her mind tripped as a childs cry found her heart
and she pulled the umbilical cord to a bomb trigger.
and the muffled sound escaped
as the fifty mothers melted in the searing heat
and the factory flattened against the hillside
burning roasting tea and flesh together.
Deep in the jungle the Tiger growled
a low menace (of rejoicing?)
Other tamil tigers stalked the night in camouflage
jackets, strapping other mothers
to the savage sword of an enemy side.
Lost forever in the mayhem.
Author Notes
Its all over now. It happened once before the revolution faded against brutality.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.
Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 2:58 AM UTC
Today’s key stroke painted tale started a few short days ago
When his father found him on the bathroom floor and with no blood flow
Why are your lips blue and why is that belt again wrapped around your arm?
O’ My God son, look at what you now have really done
You just got out of jail days ago, I been all alone and it wasn’t fun
You promised me you would clean up and stop all that body harm
You’re gone now and with no return, who’s going to help me now run the farm?
An old street friend years ago, he was someone very well, I used to also know
I had to give up that life because I have a much better place I now want to go
Earlier today before I got done slowly processing you, my second ever autopsy case
I vowed to your father, he made me promise and say I would bring you back home safe
And to your brother I’d play all your favorite songs at the start on the ride back
You are now back in your town and inside the best ever made Funeral Parlor
I unzipped your bag so I could see you one last time; I was the last to ever see your face
I then put a letter in your hand so you can take it with you forever into space
Last night after I talked with your Dad and Lil’ J all about your stories
While sipping on Don Julio Tequila I also sniped and saved till today,
And in your other hand you also hold, a piece of the family cactus a rare peddled flower
Slated plan Monday morning is, I’m taking you to your next process
After that, because you were a surfer in CA. growing up as a kid, Lil’ J
Is flying back with your ashes in his arms and then strapping you down onto
Like a surfboard he's helping let you ride the waves in the Pacific Ocean
And that is what you will be doing forever and ever more,
As you always requested, your special never ending moving motion.
R.I.P M S, 2013
(SirCARSr. 3-23-13)
Mar 23, 2013
Mar 23, 2013 at 4:57 PM UTC
Spanish man! Spanish man!
Welcome to America!
I have you a place
for your clothes and shoes
You start work tomorrow,
washing many dishes
If you wash enough
your dreams may come true!
Spanish man! Spanish man!
Welcome to America!
How has life been
since last we spoke?
Are you working two jobs
and paying those dues?
Well, please, put this package
underneath your coat
Spanish man! Spanish man!
Welcome to America!
Here is some money
for what I asked you to keep
Go shod your feet nicely,
eat well ‘til you’re full
Pay up your rent
and I’ll see you next week!
Spanish man! Spanish man!
Welcome to America!
Please open your door
for I need your help!
I’m covered in blood
Can you spare me clothes?
Next time I see you
I’ll give you much wealth!
Spanish man! Spanish man!
Welcome to America!
You have a new job,
it’s in another town
These guys owe me money,
but won’t pay me a dime
I need you to meet them
and gun them down!
Spanish widow. Spanish widow.
Welcome to America.
I’m sorry for your husband
He was a good man
I see you have two sons
Fine, strapping, young lads
If they ever need work
then see me when you can
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 5:56 PM UTC
Come here
splendid heat wraps me up in a warm sauna towel
and bakes me at 350 til I'm crispy crunchy
and surprisingly Cali-girl
maybe attractive to strapping young lads with tan bulging biceps
it's hard to tell
the sun makes everything look instagram and amber
kind of like a living hipster photo album
only more mainstream because it's the whole world and even I can appreciate.
Oh my my
are the colors so colored today
they are living
coexisting
the sku blues with the leaf greens and the crap browns
they're all friends here
and there and everywhere friendly as friends
and bright as radioactive goo.
May 27, 2012
May 27, 2012 at 9:22 PM UTC
“Blame”
I sure don’t blame the hills
Nor do I blame the trees
I do not blame the summer bugs
Or winter’s endless freeze
I cannot blame the wind
That winds around the bend
And I will not blame the history
With fences still to mend
I sure don’t blame the view
Nor the colors in the fall
I do not blame the quiet nights
Or the sounding of the call
I cannot blame the birds
Or the squirrels up in the trees
In the end there’s only one
To blame and that be me
It’s not the Billy’s that I blame
Their stupid, stubborn ways
Or coldness that eludes the view
Of dark and dreary gaze
No, more than them, it’s me I blame
For ending in this maze
For strapping in to drive my dreams
Through cold and foggy haze
It’s me I blame for clinging to
This dream that never dies
For thinking there’s a quiet place
Somewhere in these skies
Believing that the days will run
Down warm roads in the sun
And lead me to a rocking chair
To rest when days are done
But truth is hard to swallow
When the Northwind howls your name
And though you try to hit the mark
There’s noone left to blame
Yes,
Path I took and the path I take
That leads me to the end
Can never be my lover and
Will never be my friend
No, blame is not for lovers
And blame is not for fools
And blame is not a simple prayer
That plays by simple rules
No, blame is not my partner
And blame can’t point the way
So
Blame will have to suffer on
to rule another day
Feb 17, 2019
Feb 17, 2019 at 10:09 AM UTC
That’s because I didn’t know preparation was required,
but it was an adventure if I’ve ever been on one,
exploring a brilliant mind corrupted with
lust
and want
and desire
and anger,
and if it wasn’t for the honor I felt being the
first to conquer your algae free heart,
I would have ran the other way
the first time you told me you loved me.
It was 11:34
and my stomach wanted nothing to do with my dinner
and my mouth wanted nothing to do with my brain.
How can you blame me for being terrified
to do anything but spit it right back?
I’m not saying I never loved you,
and I’m not saying you didn't teach me anything,
I’m saying the height requirements
were a few inches too tall
but you didn't care to
measure me up
before strapping me down
and telling me to put my hands up
when my instincts desperately wanted to
hang on for dear life.
I want to be in control again,
but I’m not even sure
what it feels like to be in charge
and I’m a little scared to be my own god
and not wear a rosary around my neck,
not having to kneel every time
you want to be worshipped and touched.
I would be a hell bound liar
if I said I didn't like it,
but I’m so ashamed of that
and being judged is something
the real God is supposed to do.
Who is that again?
Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 11:47 PM UTC
You set my world on fire you're my greatest desire.
Like a miner or prospector i must perspire as i search for the sweet sacred nectar that is of your flower.
As your nectar trikles off your flower releaseing so much power.
I can feel the nectar's calming powers as it drips off the lips as i take a sip and a quick lick.
You're the most beautiful thing in this universe's sector there is no better not even god can make a replica or even try to make you better and nothing even comes close to being almost better.
I wish i could write you a letter but maybe this poem will be better.
Like reading it might make you shake and shiver maybe even quiver.
Like when im caressing your body with a feather or strapping you down and playing with leather.
OOOOOH BABY!!!!
I love the look in your eyes as they fill with surprise as you force open your eyes and let out a magnificent passionate cry of love lust and exstasy begging me for more.
As your getting wetter and wetter and then i smell that sweet sweet nectar i know i found my prize i knew it from the very second i looked into those gorgeous angel like eyes god **** im glad i get to be your guy.
Then i remembered lifes so much better on this side of the glass that is playing with you gin and always letting you win in the garden of love
MY TRUE LOVE THATS YOU BOO YOU KNOW I LOVE YOU<3 <3 <3 <3 <3
Dec 9, 2011
Dec 9, 2011 at 6:58 AM UTC
At the drive in cinema
on a dark street corner
when no ones around
an old fashion will do
Bobby sock's strapping jocks
when you can't do the nasty
don't you worry
an old fashion will do
In the park with the one you love
feeding bread to the ducks
your girl throws a coat on your lap
yep a old fashion will do
By Christos Andreass Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Dec 24, 2013
Dec 24, 2013 at 12:35 AM UTC
The sheep in the nearby pasture
Heard what the cows had done
In the building of their rocket ship
And they too wanted one
A few of them shaved for pocket change
Black market wool brings a hefty price
While some went out to Las Vegas
To try their luck at the roll of the dice
First thing they did with the money
Was to spring for Sherman's release
The only one in the family to go to Harvard
Though it was for experiments on his mind which apparently they fleeced
Right away they noticed something odd about Sherman
Something that just wasn't quite right
But passed it off as genius quirkiness
And let that idea slide by
They told Sherman what it was they wanted
Said he had a mad...um...master plan
All the sheep turned and Baaa'd together
What was that, that he just said?
For weeks all they heard was banging and clanging
From inside their farmers shed
The only activity they saw outside
The massive delivery of Dominos crazy bread
One day the shed doors flew wide open
There stood Sherman as mad as acid rain
No doubt among the sheep in the pasture
He was Bonkers, Loony, Loopy...okay Sherman's insane
As he drug his creation into the open
Not a one in the crowd uttered a word
Till little Bobby Black Sheep spoke up and said
Is that a cows udder?...is that what they think that they just herd?!
Sherman took that moment of bewilderment
To swing onto udder #4
Strapping himself inside of his contraption
And shooting off for the stars
Sherman is still up there circling the planet
Did you hear about the phenomenon in Spain?
Just the other day something amazing there happened
There was the pouring of milk instead of rain...
But we know how that miracle happened
And that it came from the udders galore
Cause when your traveling through space like Sherman
What else would udders be for
Jun 6, 2013
Jun 6, 2013 at 9:11 AM UTC
an attractive honey ***
has been available
to so many folks
who've made a career
of abusing
us taxpaying folks
our small community
plays mien host
to a cohort
of these hard working folks
they sit on their tails
watching the world go by
the idea of getting a job
never enters their mind's eye
a particular gentleman
who is well know around town
has collected the dole for years
he's exploited the welfare system
like so many of his peers
he's a strapping man
who has good physicality
some of that could be expended
doing a day's labor
and his mental capabilities
are pretty keen
as he's always found ways
to cheat the welfare scheme
no wonder the taxpayer
is apt to feeling rather miffed
as ***** is always
giving the free gift
with the government
tightening the purse strings
those non genuine welfare recipients
will have to enter the job market
and stop feeding
from the generous taxpayer's
evergreen basket
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 7:47 PM UTC
Two strapping squadies sat on a tank
Both just been for a sly ham shank
One called Peter one called Paul
Both rather partial to the others smalls
Along came the Sgt he didn't want to play
Went and told the CO he thought they were gay
Along came the MPs in their red hats
Dragged them to the guard house quick as a flash
Now a court martial and public ridicule
The Sgt said the showers where not safe at all
A dishonerable discharge for being a ***
Being a soldier was all that they had
Twenty years latter we now go to war
You love a man or woman even three or four
The Army doesnt care if you play the rear flank
So long as you can shoot to ****
Or drive a Tommy tank
Well that was then and this is now
Many came back from another gulf war
Hounded like prey by the lawyers of today
For doing exactly what the CO says
So sign up Peter sign up Paul
Do what you like with you best friends smalls
But for heaven's sake be you John or Jane
DON'T SHOOT ANYONE IN THE GOVERNMENTS
NAME!!
Feb 23, 2013
Feb 23, 2013 at 10:38 AM UTC