"toady" poems
A Stirring biomass, a grim river
Garrotted by mud and each rusted carcass
Dumped over the slow years -
'And we saw the metal of a woman,
A frothy corruption, naked and open,
we prised her from the mire, and saw the city
through the eyes of the sewer,'
The Lady from sludge,
your toady skin broke
as you flopped, nymph-like on board
Caved-in by the tumbling sky,
And air like leather. Dry in the throat.
The sweating walls spun his head,
And the cogs whirred to fast
To bite back. Space and time-blind,
He turns to the sepia city.
Like new life,
ready for the fall of man.
Through the river of time elapsed,
Churning up memory.
And there's the glitz, the cracking lips.
that bet on goodness.
'I remember being a girl - and my mother -
smiling but never sad -
I waited for her every morning'.
The forgotten root scratches out life
Underneath vast and forgotten hangers.
The lungs of the city shed their skin
To keep pace with the smog.
See what we all don't know.
And live where we all can't see.
He led her to a room with broken windows
and one swinging bulb,
She wasn't scared.
Dank Amazon.
the roots are wires,
sprawling for grip for the sulking trees
In the great ape eco-system
'I'm a cruel joke, don't you see?'
As her eyes slowly rolled.
'I'm sorry'
As her fists unclenched
'Im Sorry'
As her knees went limp
'I'm Sorry'
Belted by un-silent night
And below gridlocks of light
An I.C.1 male is being chased
By screaming vans, run rabbit
Down the hole and off you go.
And the hiss of 'one eight seven,
one eight seven' from the radio,
is scoring his run - as the pools on the floor,
neon-flashed burst open
in a booted shatter.
'And the time went by,
And I looked at your form
And I looked at your cuts
And you are the river
And one of its secrets, un-watered'.
Jan 21, 2013
Jan 21, 2013 at 9:18 AM UTC
Factory Frog
A frog of the Greatest Generation,
Rosie fastened skins to the planes -
all the while ceaslessly chattering.
All of the other factory frogs
covered their ears or plugged them
since none could abide the endless pattering
of Rosie the Ribbiter.
Basketball Frog
Few frogs try their hands(?) at basketball
but Kermit (Z. Phrogg not D.Frog)
gave it the old college try.
He wanted to play like his hero Alcindor
before or after his name change.
But never managed to loft the ball
o'er the edge of the basket's rim
so he finally gave it up and sang,
'It's not easy being Kareem.'
For all the Cane Toads in Australia
To the tune of Froggy Went a'Courtin.
Toady went a'courtin' he did ride, Hmmm.
Toady went a'courtin' he did ride, Hmmm.
A toady went a'courtin' he did ride
A road **** honey for his bride Hmmm, Hmmm.
She said, 'Please Mr. Toady won't you bury me, Hmmm?
Oh please Mr. Toady won't you bury me, Hmmm.
Please Mr. Toady won't you bury me?
Said he, 'Not now, Honey I'm in ecstasy, Hmmm, Hmmm.
January, 2007
Aug 30, 2013
Aug 30, 2013 at 10:14 AM UTC
Today takes a bath in rain
Feel it wash away my sins!
Toady takes a bath in rain
Feel it wash away my stains!
Today takes a bath in rain
Feel it wash away my ascendance!
Today takes a bath in rain
and rain instill gaiety in me!
Sep 25, 2016
Sep 25, 2016 at 2:17 PM UTC
Ezra clamber’d o’er the crest
to seek the way which he knew best
which, passing by the yellow tares
and turning at a grove of pears
set him at ancient fungal oak
where upon a branch he hung his cloak
For on some odd-nights within his mare
declared a warlock and his maiden fair:
“Spindled by the peary copse
after fields of shammy crops
stands that vile toady oak
shading torpid mystic folk
“Percieveth thee the one with warty beak?
‘Tis to him whom you must speak.
Rouse him from his slumber, Ezra,
pray of him your task."
The wizard with the moley snout
reclining with a snoozy pout
snored upward from that moldy bark
and whispered “yonder peasant, hark!
“Ezra, deary, there’s a bane
The shepherds hold in some disdain
for sheps can’t herd bereft of sheep
and this bane ingests them in their sleep.
Do strap on hip your faithful blade
and into swampy depths do wade
so to provoke this shepherd's foe
and smite him lifeless head to toe.”
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 2:32 AM UTC
The bathroom faucet drips hurried footsteps,
carrying him back to dappled wood buried
in repeated dreams: a brushed ritual
circle hasty ringed by displaced logs, bark bit
by lichens; their sacrilege tools — hammer's
rotted-wood grip, nails with rusty shafts — littered
about a stump-altar where brothers met,
made not-so-secret sacrifice, to abash
their god; still suffering toad, random
picked to endure this mock passion play ending
on cross-tied twigs. Its yet resurrected
eyes stare at him, ask simple but damning "why?"
No Samaritan, good or bad, among
pretend Romans, ever stayed their hands to help.
Sep 19, 2009
Sep 19, 2009 at 8:48 AM UTC
This teetotaler turns to tea
torquing temptation
towards tippling
thankfully, though
that tremendous tugging
teasing tendency thirst *******
thru teaching this totally tubular
toothless titular Texan thuggish tyrant
(titled Tsar Terry Troutman)
transcendental theology
tenets taught transferring
torpedoing, taming threatening
titanic tsunami tempest
tastefully tickling temperance
testing trying taut tenacity
together teaming (troika)
triumvirate torchbearers
*********** therapist
(Tony the tiger)
tough trailblazer theoretician
toady treacly Tory
(Tommy Two Tone),
thence thirdly Theodore
"Tornado" Tornetta)
themselves trained to tamp
twerking tremens triggers,
their tripartite treatment told
tattooing thorny transforming
took this then truant teenage turtle
through time traveling
to those truant tumultuous tragic,
toxic, tipsy twitchy, touchy, tetchy
typhoon terrible two times two
times two times two tantrum
throwing, thieving, threatening
taxing textured teen tinder times -
tossing, tilting, taking tankful tolled
throaty, thoroughly,
thickly telltale temblor
toured terrible tournament
testing taupe tumbling termagant (Thaddeus)
tangling (Tangoing) tiny Timothy,
the treacherous tarantula
tying tussling travail – tata!
May 16, 2018
May 16, 2018 at 6:31 PM UTC
surely everything in life ain't for keeps
this world of ours is not ours to steal
maybe in the shadows of the morning
you'll get to see what i'm dreaming, of
Oct 23, 2015
Oct 23, 2015 at 12:38 PM UTC
Is it too late to shrink into violets at full bloom
Too early to squeeze into the round sleeves of the moon
Too inconvenient to consider the hobbling leg of a ****** love ?
Has my moment passed
to lick up the freckles that fall
From face to floor
Am I too young to slip my words into a box of dogma?
Too old to melt into serpents
And I'm sure you'll tell me
I'm too pretty to dry up in a wasteland of apathy
and too confident to dive into gaped alligator comfort
Too lost to soak in road map paper cut blood
And my brain is far too twisted to
wrap around your body
buckling and cinching
as armor
Of course my flesh is too toady
For your winter coat
I've been told
It's much too prosaic to embarrass the rising rays
with my black aggressive grip
I will reach out anyways and harbor away yellow
Every second I can.
That, that you cannot take away from the pockets of my soul
Jan 26, 2016
Jan 26, 2016 at 11:01 PM UTC
I’ve never been a toady,
Nor I hope have you.
But the problem with toadying,
Is sometimes you just have to.
http://tansyroake.weebly.com/new-word-poems
Jul 19, 2017
Jul 19, 2017 at 4:56 AM UTC