"stuntman" poems
Idiot Man
everyone knows about the super hero dudes
the super cool who protect us from the bad and crudes
Batman, Superman, Spiderman even Batgirl too
they use their brains to outsmart villains and fools
to bring justice and kindness to a world sometimes unkind
well I searched all over the net trying to find
a way to create a new man of evil
and no it's not stuntman Evel Knievel
I call him Idiot Man and he lives up to his billing
he writes words of assnine stupidity completely filling
and entire page and more of ideas that are dumb
when he should be in the corner ******* his thumb
he cant recognize beauty when it's right there in sight
he doesn't know how to apologize to set things right
I guess it's hard to find a graceful way out
when you have left absolutely no doubt
that you are in fact Idiot Man
David Nelson ....
Aug 14, 2011
Aug 14, 2011 at 6:30 PM UTC
Stunt ****
He can be your lover lady, ima be your stunt **** He can be your boyfriend mommy, ima be your stunt **** He can be your husband **** ima be your stunt **** stunt **** fluid swap, yep when them ******* drop. Lights, camera, action ,I’m your stunt **** stunt **** Lights camera, action, I’m your stunt **** stunt **** Ima be your stunt **** girl and beat it up, yep ima beat it up, that man there can eat it up. We don’t need no scrip for this act or no monolog, you can adlib, improvise on my microphone. We can do the box spring boogie all night long, we can get ***** coz play like its Comic Con. Tag your girlfriend in, we can do a menajahtwa , pile drive that nannie, Macho Man Wrestle Mania. Petting that ***** Doctor Claw, go go gadget pennies, working your equation *** notation like a mad genius. If I nut prematurely , don’t you worry I got ****** it’s not superman, but stuntman with all the stamina, Ima beat it up like Van Dam at the Comitia ,finger, lick and kiss each other while I ********* It’s ocean spray ,whale watching like in Monterrey.
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 7:51 PM UTC
Eat from the ground, all the different colours of the food,
autumn comes, pain for the leaves, death dyes the life,
Earth gives, slippery sometimes, stuntman fall on the floor for a film
nutrition beneath our feet, kaleidoscope of tastes and sensations, good,
trees that grow and give life splinter skin,
carnival of motions reaching from the ground in an infinite cascade,
hope for the future,
baseball players in a stadium, the crowds and players all wrapped around the same pleasures for a little while,
for some it's sugar,
and others ******
Fluffy colours fades,
samba, world feeling;
Cake at a party finger dipping from bowl to bowl of party foods refined from all recognition from the ground first manufactured by nature,
glass spilt over and sticky hair,
slither of glass on the table, children spin around on the grass,
blood, a nail from a plank of wood left on the grass, pain like the bite of a snake,
activity carries on despite the tears, dance, sponge deprived of it's fondant,
the sun is going, the ground remains warm a while.
Apr 27, 2013
Apr 27, 2013 at 7:35 PM UTC
Fade to scene--pallet: blue and green--wide shot; mood: serene.
Establish view; a stock or few; pan right to view a distant two.
A hazy rim; we cut to HIM--so clean and prim--just as we hear the hymn...
A tear rolls down his chin. The brightness dims; music shifts to grim.
Cue the screams; cut the scene.
We're back in the now and the mood is mean.
HE'S back in a view--pallet: black and blue--the shot askew.
The mood's muted; sounds of shooting. Cue dialog:
"Look what you did..."
Camera jerks; extreme closeup: a smirk; let the ANTAGONIST work.
The wire crew's here. HERO sheds a tear. Signal stuntman on the tier.
Orchestra on my mark...
Deliver line then cut to dark.
Light's back to reality. The view won't change, you see.
There's no crew or doubles. Just a wide sea of troubles.
No second shots; no calling "CUT"; it's all open-shut.
It's not like a filmmaker's lens; it's not just pretend.
Let me script this out what you're all about:
An overconfident lout, but backlit with doubt.
All part of a cast, direct you like I did the last.
I see that you're furious, but you're hardly fast.
Now I'll produce the fear as the shoot draws near--
I've got the schedule set; we're not finished here!--
You're calling "cut," but I'm just cutting you more,
And then I'll edit you out on the cutting room floor.
I appreciate that you feel you've come so far,
But never forget this is MY movie, and I'm the STAR!
Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 6:42 PM UTC
I want to be
Your ex boyfriend's
Stuntman and do
All of the things
He never had
The courage to do
Like trust you
Dec 22, 2023
Dec 22, 2023 at 5:26 AM UTC
What I don't seem to understand is...
before you become a man and
everyone cradles you,
holds you by the hand and
fills your thoughts with these dreams and aspirations,
(no exaggerations...just genuine life expectations)
but nothing is impossible,
you are fresh.
Not to death, but from birth.
A brand new mind that has yet to be tarnished.----
Through adolescence,
you start to learn adult lessons.
Cowboys are no longer real...
President's have to wear a tie!
And if I become a stuntman...
then I'll probably die.
I can't be a wrestler on TV if I actually fought?
I need...what!?...on my SAT's to become an astronaut?
Reality, Gets In.
Our Ways, Set In.
Goodbye Dreams,
Goodbye Imagination.--
*"Today you are eighteen years old,
you are an adult."*
God, do I hate the way they say that.
An elongated "u" as if emphasizing the key component that I am an, "adddduuuult"
Then to agitate my irate sense of frustration they ask my for my declaration:
"Now, just what you want to do for the rest of your life???--
You don't have time to think.
This is it, hurry.
Choose.
Now!
Did you figure it out? No...?
Now you're already behind!
Wasting mine and your own time.--"
Time...the only thing that remains omniscient.
Time...the real gift to represent the present.
Time's up.
School's over.
Time to get a job, a good ole' nine to five.
But, I can't listen to that:
For I know that it's lies.
I know sitting in an cubical in an office drinking water from a cooler pretending to be cooler
will be my own personal demise.
I believe everybody has hopes and dreams.
From the oldest person alive to addicted drug-phenes.
Never write a person off by social means.
Never let the American Dream become the American Scheme.
All of us have our own devine-mind.
Life's a playground, don't *** on the slide.
Re-capture that child-like spirit.
If they tell you: You Can't.--
Don't Hear It.
Jump out of the line!
As the rest watch from behind.
No more: Stress.
No more: Fear.
Disregard all: Turmoil.
"You must be the change you wish to see in the world."
.Peace.
Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 4:13 PM UTC
I am lost!
I have crossed a divide,
where I collide with the unrevealed.
I am thrown into swirling life
spinning amidst defused light;
a kaleidoscopic landscape of streaked memories.
Is the end of this tunnel, my future or past?
Is there any evidence that I'm getting closer, at last?
An illusory distant point - a distraction
from action that needs to materialize
before I realize that I am not strong,
and am wrong about where I want to be.
I attempt to grip the whirl of wind;
hands outstretched to slow the spin.
My feet have yet to find land.
My body plans for impact
a stuntman's tumble back into mid-life,
eluding strife or contention,
but not to mention,
the final and ultimate cost;
alongside bittersweet acceptance,
of knowing that
I am no longer lost.
Jun 2, 2021
Jun 2, 2021 at 7:09 PM UTC
Grass stuck between my young pearly whites
One record-breaking nose bleed winning
As it plays catch with my middle teeth.
Find myself crashed on the new neighbor's lawn
Must have shot right over the handlebars
Cleared their bushes
Must have been going near Mach one.
Untangle myself from the remains of my bike
Clicking my jaw
And there she is
The head-turning epicenter of my crash
A summer dress made of rainbows and promises
A question in those blue dreamy eyes.
"I'm fine", I chuckle and shrug
"I do all my own stunts"
She beams
I smile back
Traces of white
But mostly
Stuntman reds and greens.
Jul 19, 2015
Jul 19, 2015 at 12:18 PM UTC
Quiet on the set
Ready, Action
Conversation could have that much impact
But the movie set doesn’t want that effect
The script calls for numerous explosions
It requires the stuntman to be set on fire and leap from the roof of a building
Emergency crews are standing at the bottom being ready to put out the fire
A car is scheduled to go out of control
There were flips and turns
The car even exploded being like a cremation urn
But the stuntman was an experienced car driver and knew what to do
Anybody else wouldn’t have any clue
The car ignited into flames
The flames were all over the stuntman
A fire extinguisher became in demand
The stuntman had to go through action and movement on cue by the Director
The script was fully detailed
Yet safety measures were put into place in case some things fail
Hollywood making the stuntman
The stuntman having no fans
However the Stuntman being behind the background in high demand
Without the Stuntman, there is no movie production throughout the land
So the Stuntman and Stuntwoman are who make Hollywood the action in adventure the caravan.
Jul 4, 2017
Jul 4, 2017 at 1:39 PM UTC
Yup, you red correctly,
this noggin must go
perhaps donated
to the Salvation Army, or Good Will
cuz, said atrophied cranial
horridly styled comfortably numb skull,
the source of immeasurable
beg hot ten woe, from dawn to dusk
nothing boot eve ville
hollow cavity mainly comprised
of wooly webbed weaving waste,
uber sawdust, sans Schuylkill
River effluvium and runoff rotten rill
hence, e'en a think tank
designated as Abby Normal
formerly atop a body named Phil
lip, or Wright winged Orville
one half brotherly duo,
the other sibling Wilbur,
whom both made a mill
yen legends getting airborne their lil
mechanical contraption
atop Kitty Hawk,
North Carolina with bi sic ****
mechanical aptitude,
when born aloft **** Devil Hill
synonymous making fin hushed
blue prints emulating
flying fish, whose grill
like cartilage backbone
precursor to Evil
Knievel, who soared
on his motorcycle a devil
lush daring stuntman,
whose helmeted crown
full pursestrings muted cavil
ling critics with legitimate enterprise
earning gobs of legal tender,
whence aye aver
his mugshot ought to appear
on common denomination bill
and/or honoring throughout
the entire month of April.
Jun 7, 2018
Jun 7, 2018 at 2:50 AM UTC
But the sound.
Left stood red on the curb.
He sits.
Reading his epitaphs and choice.
Leeching to his lead.
Pocketed mind inside his fine teeth.
Friends free loading on the 2 cent couch.
Bass played Stuntman Randy.
So the Grooves get the gist.
Guthrie preaching Cosmourn poems.
They feel the nail black.
Lagooned in haled land.
Black eyed and far away from gentle.
Coppered Pirates Poets loving.
Battered.
Laughs the words forming.
Cause back on the streets they are once again.
Garrett Johnson.
May 8, 2020
May 8, 2020 at 1:35 PM UTC