"swashbuckling" poems
My body steeps in this hot sarcophagus,
Coated in fake butter topping.
I watch trollops quaffing hoppy-scotch,
Flipping wristwatches for moves to jump rope two-and-two.
Like when I was 10, and I saw this ***** white trash can of a man,
Fly out of a grocery store with a 40oz like he was Peter Pan.
But I knew deep down, in my swashbuckling soul of souls,
That Peter Pan got Wendy by being a gentleman.
So this fever, that has my mobile phone not shaking in my pocket,
I keep staring at every five seconds for you to call.
Is just another moment in my life to cherish, because if we should be married, And I want to talk. I'll just need to walk down the hall.
Apr 13, 2014
Apr 13, 2014 at 9:29 PM UTC
Drunken pirates sloshing along
a martini sea, looking for papers to roll some angelfish ****
Then on to Giza to gaze in amazement before we tackle
the Gates of Hell and raze it.
Swashbuckling demons we branded our feet. A duel with
the devil we had to concede
before sailing back up to our Martini sea.
Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 3:25 PM UTC
My swashbuckling heart, she lost her boot,
it fell in the ocean by old Port Toot.
My heart she does wander forever at sea,
never again a respite for me.
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 5:12 AM UTC
i joined a sports team
because i felt ignored
and movies make it look like a team leads to
pirate, swashbuckling friendships
that leave you emotionally changed.
well, the other girls got that
i try to speak and they don't look at me
i bring in cupcakes and they don't thank me
it's only when they need someone to help them that they talk to me
which is not unlike everyone else.
well, it did do one thing that was promised
i have changed
people are as good as they are unfeeling
for every kind soul i meet
there is another that would happily leave me jaded
and i'm already cynical
do not speak to me of your problems if you refuse to hear my own
i want your kindess
and your fairness
not a blind eye
Sep 5, 2013
Sep 5, 2013 at 9:18 AM UTC
Rancor,
Swashbuckling with a sawtooth grin and sacrilegious shouts, selcouth with an unsound mind, the commonness of uniqueness, the commonness of opinionated onions cutting their teeth on life and crying, again, and ready to saw off the limbs of the opposition out of revenge!
Rancor, relax, you're not a Twitter matador, I wish you were because I’d love to watch the show.
We cuddle with exotic nylon fibers and squeal about our weight and status and how someone insulted us and how terrible it is to be alive while sipping on easily accessibly high fructose corn syrup! Life has never been this sweet, but I guess we’re getting sick of honey.
I complain about the complaints, I am the anti-complaining complaint club president.
I am a writer, an iPhone thumb tapper.
Hear me
These mental gymnastics will somersault and summerset you right, child,
Don’t listen to Rancor,
That man’ll grab your gaze and stir your attention into a cocktail while winking at you from behind the bar
he’ll leave your brain a little woozy from a life that used to be sweet until you left it out in the sun a few years too long,
I wonder if some of the dead watch us from the corners of our bedroom or the trees along the freeway, waiting for greatness to unfurl.
I’ll bet they do and I’ll bet you’re a glitch, I’ll bet a little piece of another galaxy hit you in the head and made your finger twitch.
How many hot car hours have been spent in a parking lot,
the skin dries, the phone dies,
the spirit once lifted towards the outlines of the mountain peak now seeks memes, transcendent in their own right.
May 12, 2022
May 12, 2022 at 1:54 AM UTC
Like a ghost on the wind
She comes from the sea
And trembles the foe
So wild and free
With swashbuckling swagger
And a Jolly Roger laugh
She flies the black flag
On a whalebone staff
She has terrifying eyes
And a ring in her ear
And on her sun tanned face
A flippant leer
With a bone-cold glare
And a sneer on her lip
She has coins in hand
And a cutlass on hip
With a thunderous blast
From her cannons' might
She plants fear in the strong
And steals the fight
She takes all that's lost
And turns it to gold
For she's crafty and devious
And frightningly bold
She is dashing and daring,
A fierce buccaneer
Faces of many
Pale when she's near
From ocean to ocean
Her tales are spun
About the queen of the pirates
For in the end she won
Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 4:24 PM UTC
*** 101
by Michael R. Burch
That day the late spring heat
steamed through the windows of a Crayola-yellow schoolbus
crawling its way up the backwards slopes
of Nowheresville, North Carolina ...
Where we sat exhausted
from the day’s skulldrudgery
and the unexpected waves of muggy,
summer-like humidity ...
Giggly first graders sat two abreast
behind senior high students
sprouting their first sparse beards,
their implausible bosoms, their stranger affections ...
The most unlikely coupling―
Lambert, 18, the only college prospect
on the varsity basketball team,
the proverbial talldarkhandsome
swashbuckling cocksman, grinning ...
Beside him, Wanda, 13,
bespectacled, in her primproper attire
and pigtails, staring up at him,
fawneyed, disbelieving ...
And as the bus filled with the improbable musk of her,
as she twitched impaled on his finger
like a dead frog jarred to life by electrodes,
I knew ...
that love is a forlorn enterprise,
that I would never understand it.
Keywords/Tags: first, love, *** lust, passion, desire, school, bus, foreplay, ********* odor, musk
Apr 27, 2020
Apr 27, 2020 at 4:29 AM UTC
There is this hell inside me where the flames are mesmerising
it’s shape fits your outline
it grows and shrinks
every time you walk in
walk out.
Tell you what
i’ll be the empty house
and you be the ghost
I’ll keep my favourite illusions about us in tiny glass jars
(like portable mausoleums)
What do you want for dinner?
I'm leaving you
Shall we watch The 7:30 Report?
You’ll never see me again
I’ve made your favourite dessert
You can keep the house
Did you know you can be crying for years
and not even notice
The funny trajectory of feelings
They rise up
you take note
they fall away
some don’t fall away
becoming embedded in your bloodstream
and there’s my only enemy right there
inside me
and no matter how much I vacuum the cracks in the floor
my childhood just doesn’t change
but maybe
just maybe
if i do everything the opposite way i was taught i might survive
I thought you were the face of my survival
(silly I know)
I thought you were my very own swashbuckling hero
like the one's dreamed up by Spielberg and Lucas
but after awhile getting your hopes up
becomes just another extreme sport
If only i had known
the best way to keep our romance alive
was never getting to know each other
Refunds for emotional disappointment should be a thing
and weddings
weddings should happen under water
the suffocating non-air
can break you in for your future
You’re working back again/What’s her name?
You know, there’s a freedom that comes with being forgotten actually
I can relax and become a mountain again
free of perfecting myself
to outshine your golden girls
all of them competing for the crown in your secret world
I would cry about it
but i bought 80 pairs of shoes instead
It will show up on your bank statement
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 4:12 AM UTC
shattered dreams
American nightmare
ghoulishly stalking mankind
Bilderberg extremists
owl effigy looming
behind the all seeing
eye of rah –
multi-national tycoons
inspire blooming death
radiated waters flush with fluoride
filter through sippy-cups
washing away the taste
of vaccinations
and GMO soy –
mutated masses mumble monotonously
meager motor skills
meandering through melted meadows
masochistic in the macabre –
moonless morning breaks
trails checkerboard the sky
cubism
from air force fly-boys
under orders to implement agenda 21
disguised as protection
from solar radiation
old soil toils under the strain of oil based
pesticides
and molecularly altered
food crops
for profit
and to experience the long lost joy
associated with being a swashbuckling pirate –
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 12:32 PM UTC
Come and let me tell you
Tales of distant wizards
In far off foreign lands.
The speak in words of poetry
And magic incantations
Even they don’t understand.
They tell of arcane stories
Of dragons and the caves
Of gemstones where they hid.
They tell of verve and derring-do
And swashbuckling heroism
In legendary acts they never did.
They chant, these ancient shamans
To deities and gods of ancient name
Who they know well are fakers.
They foretell and portend wonders
And riches for those who rule, and
Call themselves movers and shakers.
These magic-minded soothsayers
Drape themselves in auras of mystery
And tell the believers they can heal.
And if the congregation fails to look
Closely enough at their performances
They believe the mythological is real.
And time can coat the stores in paint
That looks like the patina of the ages
So it passes the inspection of he willing.
No true believer looks for cracks
In the walls around the real facts
Or questions the truth they are killing.
Jul 27, 2015
Jul 27, 2015 at 7:51 AM UTC
Sometimes when I’m by myself
I imagine me with you
Running off to far off lands
With so much left to do
We rule the world with iron fists
And giggle behind closed doors
We ponder the meaning of our dreams
And what we were made for
We steal hotels and sleep in jewels
And stare up tall skyscrapers
Staring off into infinity
In this town made of paper
Then I see you and I say hello
You didn’t hear or answer back
I don’t mention our adventures
Because of the confidence I lack
I’ve fallen in love with the idea
Of you as a perfect person
The more intricate I spin this tale
The more my affliction worsens
You aren’t the one who comes with me
To distant far off places
You’re two very different people
With very similar faces
But I let myself imagine
That beneath your boring shell
The swashbuckling endearing daredevil
Lies inside as well
Feb 8, 2012
Feb 8, 2012 at 1:05 AM UTC
You haberdashery hauberk harangue of a hornswoggling hiatus . Your arrogantly delusory blasphemous dementia of odiously ominous diabolically grotesque gives me a decadent distraughtness of desultory debauchery and ghastly gnarly abysmal abjections . It causes hysterical deliriums of maniacally macabre . My swashbuckling surreptitious spatiotemporal telemetry tactician is tacitly inured in a phantasmagoria fantastication of fabulist façade fantasias . I could positively kithe a futurity cudgel phantasm and bonkers bluster boggle with your phrenetically frenzied phrenic and forget my phyletic you preterit rendition autonomy equilibrist .
Jul 21, 2016
Jul 21, 2016 at 9:22 PM UTC
A touch of death,
Specimen in the back shed,
Joggers on the streets.
Seizures of cursed withering adolescents who ate the sweet pomegranate
of lust and ***********
And never came home.
Sirens at the sybaritic streamlet,
Swashbuckling seventeens and greed of fanciful adventure.
The young rebellious nature
of hopes and aspirations.
The harvester, the hunchbacked prince, the harrowing keeper of time,
Creeps like the night,
Like the stains of black ink that scurry and watch,
Who spy for the other-mother.
The exquisite expectation of an oncoming assassination,
Unsuccessful, beaten, and purged.
Burried in the soft silence of the hushing leaves,
In the swaying trees,
As the fatuous breeze follows aimlessly,
At the ankles of its maker.
The exhaustion of the tangerine technician,
At his mercury writing desk,
Pondering if he begs for the inspiration of the raven, to the very extent it drives him mad,
What is the difference?
Assembly lines, employing those who they despise.
The last humans left scoar the barren dust storm that was once the azure bliss of the promised land.
Do not ask the doctor for answers,
Simply receive his remedy and swallow.
This is how it has always been.
Dec 19, 2020
Dec 19, 2020 at 6:25 AM UTC
You haberdashery hauberk harangue of a hornswoggling hiatus. Your arrogantly delusory blasphemous dementia of odiously ominous diabolically grotesque gives me a decadent distraughtness of desultory debauchery and ghastly gnarly abysmal abjections . It causes hysterical deliriums of maniacally macabre . My swashbuckling surreptitious spatiotemporal telemetry tactician is tacitly inured in a phantasmagoria fantastication of fabulist façade fantasias . I could positively kithe a futurity cudgel phantasm and bonkers bluster boggle with your phrenetically frenzied phrenic and forget my phyletic you preterit rendition autonomy equilibrist .
Jul 27, 2021
Jul 27, 2021 at 11:06 PM UTC
Yesterday night
After an evening of indulging myself in liquid poison
I found my self standing in a club
Boom boom boom boom
The bass strangely palpitates on the rhythm of my anxiety
Light flashes
And life flashes slashing my mind in it's entirety
Soul sweating, soaking my composure entirely
Light flickers
My psyche shivers..
****
Images with every flicker portray what I mostly miss
Quickly gulping down another glass of this *** and mix
Vision blurry, yet the imagery is fixed, so it's pointless to go full throttle
There are lots of differences
between alcohol and liquid Sorrow
Guess earlier tonight at the store I must have bought
the wrong bottles
So we put our hands up, like the ceiling can't hold us
**** that, this song is so bad it's the end of rap
As I fall within the depths
landing on deck of my Mind's Ship
Giving out nonsense orders
like I've become a swashbuckling pirate
At the end of the night
I take a dive in a sea of smoke
my brain inhales
and ironically welcomes
"Davy Jones"
Oct 10, 2014
Oct 10, 2014 at 7:06 AM UTC
saturdays smell like
bleach under my nails
sleep in my eyes
scratches on hands
gluey stuck fingers
glare off an empty parking lot
and other people’s
uncomplicated lives
give me enough time
and i can get rid of
any kind of stain
in your coffee cup
but i don’t take the time
to wash out my own
and i can’t get rid of
how i sometimes feel
like less than a person
a second class citizen
or some kind of
preprogrammed robot
just here to assist with
strangers personal quests
i’m not the
swashbuckling hero
out on an adventure
i’m the placid villager who
never moves from behind
the counter night or
day and only ever repeats
the same half dozen lines
wears the same outfit every
time you see them
i don’t want
to be the hero
anymore
all i want is
to live comfortably
in this town
and let my life
unfold
all i want is
to get the dirt out
from my fingernails
and get enough sleep
to love
and be loved
to drink coffee
in the morning
wine at night
and water all day
but i never
want to be the
chosen one
i just want to be
the one who points
you in the right direction
Sep 18, 2019
Sep 18, 2019 at 3:02 PM UTC
We were best friends
Boys just having fun
But those days are over
Forever done
So many adventures
Imagined and real
Swashbuckling pirates
Damsels hearts to steal
Then fast cars
Driving as fast as we can
Hanging out at the river
Always a Summer tan
Those were good times
Got in a little trouble too
But it was always together
For me and you
You left too early
Way too soon my friend
I was in no way ready
For our adventures to end
Man what a loss
But to me you're still here
As I relive those days
Of adventure and no fear
So many things
I'd love you to see
But in the grand scheme
It just wasn't meant to be
I miss you my friend
Guess I always will
But in my memories
You are with me still
We were best friends
Boys just having fun
You left too soon
Adventures still undone.
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 7:12 PM UTC
I allow my mind to
take me back to that time:
I knew and love the best: that dance
When my feet move like a pro dancer
Smooth and glamorous and elegant to the quickstep
Was it the music, or was it the love in both our romantic heart
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Everyone needs that inspiration and strength to go
back in time: and see the real us.
together we outshine: them all
here, I am reliving the down, down beats
we share so many swashbuckling moments
ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one,
beat!, beat! Beat!
goes my poetic heart.
We were one with the music………….
Happy, happy days.
Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 9:06 AM UTC
You haberdashery hauberk harangue of a hornswoggling hiatus . Your arrogantly delusory blasphemous dementia of odiously ominous diabolically grotesque gives me a decadent distraughtness of desultory debauchery and ghastly gnarly abysmal abjections . It causes hysterical deliriums of maniacally macabre . My swashbuckling surreptitious spatiotemporal telemetry tactician is tacitly inured in a phantasmagoria fantastication of fabulist façade fantasias . I could positively kithe a futurity cudgel phantasm and bonkers bluster boggle with your phrenetically frenzied phrenic and forget my phyletic you preterit rendition autonomy equilibrist .
May 7, 2023
May 7, 2023 at 10:58 PM UTC
I've cracked them for years,
so thrilling
by the barrel,
black & white,
all tossed overboard,
casted to those
swashbuckling-fools.
And while
I may not be a quick study,
I still long for Maracaibo,
to see a chilling moon,
to collect your kisses.
I miss them.
Jul 15, 2014
Jul 15, 2014 at 10:28 PM UTC
A spray of sparrows
ascend from the seed splashed
garden floor
perching high in the delicate branches
of my heart
together we warble our
Ode to Spring
Spicy Concador lilies open
their fragrant parasols in
curly vernal tresses
Jasmine petals tucked between
the crease of her ample *****
wafts deliriously
making us all a wee bit tipsy
Sticky sap of love oozes
from secret orifices and
long slender tree limbs
Hibiscus donned in frilly
Easter bonnets and climbing
red swashbuckling Don Juans
dance around Her graceful ankles
The garden is suddenly
So alive
So very pregnant
Zeppelin shaped dragonflies
buzz softly past our upturned lips
Spring's milk and honey kisses
showers the earth blessing our
burgeoning Spirits
Apr 4, 2018
Apr 4, 2018 at 8:37 PM UTC
the veneer. Slipping
pieces are chipping and
falling to the floor. I’ll sweep them up,
placing them in a paper cup
drinking a toast to “no more.”
I see-through
the bravado I said
once a hero. The swashbuckling
buccaneer turned to road-killed deer!
I see-through
all the holes. I’ve crawled
between the cracks I once called
love. I can’t have myself back –
the self-made glue of all I misconstrued.
I see-through
the glossy bubble. I'd trouble
for many years. But as it popped
so went my tears and all the heaviness
of airs.
Jan 3, 2022
Jan 3, 2022 at 6:47 AM UTC