"vroom" poems
Mon papa, c'est le plus fort des papas.
Mon papa, c'est le plus beau des papas.
Mon papa, même quand il est fatigué, on dirait Richard Gere.
Mon papa, même si il est carnivore, moi, je l'aime quand même.
Mon papa, quand il mange, on dirait qu'il a 5 ans, mais moi, je l'aime quand même.
Mon papa, il a des voitures super cool qui font vroom.
Mon papa, quand il conduit, on dirait Michel Vaillant, même pas peur.
Mon papa, quand il me dit bonne nuit, j'ai même plus peur.
Les monstres sous mon lit, eux, ils se désintègrent avec la force des bisous de mon papa.
Mon papa, parfois, il ronfle et je l'aime quand même.
Mon papa, quand on est dans la piscine, il joue au crocrodile avec nous.
Mon papa, quand il porte des choses, les manches de sa chemise se déchire sous les muscles.
Mon papa, avec une barbe, on dirait un homme des caverne, c'est trop cool.
Mon papa, quand il fait des câlins, on disparait sous ses couches d'amour.
Mon papa, quand il nous emmène faire du shopping, il supporte des heures et il sourit.
Mon papa, il nous laisse faire des trucs qui lui font peur, mais il veut nous faire plaisir, alors il dit oui.
Mon papa, il m'a laissé faire du saut en parachute, et je suis même pas morte.
Mon papa, il râle parfois mais on sait qu'en fait, c'est parce qu'il nous aime.
Mon papa, même quand il voyage, il pense à nous.
Mon papa, il nous emmène en voyage avec des photos tout le temps quand il travail.
Mon papa, il nous emmène en voyage tout le temps quand il est en vacances.
Mon papa, il fait des trucs de papa trop génial.
Par exemple, il connait nos restaurants préférés, et il sait ce qui nous fait plaisir.
Alors il nous y emmène.
Mon papa, même quand il est en colère, il est beau.
Mon papa, quand il sourit il est comme Thor, le dieu du tonnerre, il est puissant.
Du coup, parfois, ma maman elle fait un nervous break down.
Parce que mon papa il est trop beau c'est même pas normal.
Mon papa, il a un double menton pour que si un jour Game Of Thrones arrive dans la vraie vie, on pourra pas lui trancher la gorge.
Mon papa, il fait du vélo plus vite que le Tour de France. La preuve, ca fait des années qu'ils sont en France, mon papa, lui, il est déjà à Dubai.
Mon papa, parfois il oublie notre anniversaire quand on lui demande au pif, mais il oublie jamais de le souhaiter, donc on lui pardonne.
Mon papa, il voyage en first class.
Mon papa, il connait les aéroports mieux que James Bond.
Mon papa, il regarde des series TV de jeunes.
Mon papa, il porte des costards.
Mon papa, il nous emmène manger des dans endroits incroyables.
Mon papa, il nous emmène dans des hôtels de luxe.
Mon papa, il devrait être président du monde.
Mon papa, il est mieux que les autres papa parce que c'est le mien.
Mon papa, il est irremplaçable.
Mon papa, si on m'en donnait un autre, j'en voudrais pas.
Mon papa, je veux que celui la.
Mon papa il est pas toujours là, mais c'est pas grave, parce qu'il est jamais ****
Mon papa, il traverse le monde mais après il nous raconte, alors c'est cool.
Mon papa, il fait une super vinaigrette. Dommage que j'aime pas la vinaigrette.
Mon papa, quand il fait un barbeque, ca fait beaucoup de fumée et pas beaucoup de feu, mais c'est pour mieux nous impressioner quand il fait rôtir la viande.
Mon papa, il parle Anglais.
Mon papa, c'est le meilleur papa du monde.
Mon papa, je l'aime, même si maintenant, il a presque un demi siècle.
Mon papa, c'est comme un druide.
Ca meurt jamais.
C'est trop cool.
Mon papa, c'est comme une mode indémodable, tu veux jamais le remplacer, il est toujours tendance.
Mon papa, on peut pas le comparer a une mode fashion, parce que c'est un humain.
Mon papa, c'est le meilleur humain que je connaisse.
Avec ma maman et ma soeur et mon chat, mais chuuuuut.
C'est un secret.
Mais ce que je préfère à propos de mon papa, c'est que dès que je le vois, je peux lui dire:
"mon papa, je l'aime."
Sep 19, 2014
Sep 19, 2014 at 12:08 PM UTC
God is spoken
From a potent Thing
we smoking Trees
Gaia birthed the bloom
breathed the boom
in the canopies,
In the wind flew the bees
and grew the pleasantries
Prana pushing
thunder through
sQuishing lemon trees
like a hundred new
Whisps of mists
and heavy deeds
Sit with honeydew
The gist of this
the lemon breeze
(We) Going tunnel view
Fits and Shakes,
seeking remedies
digging under you
Might be
dicking under you
Might be
Torn asunder true
Pirate borne to plunder you....
Sweat means gold,
what's been found
with lemon -ease?
I've been told
What in our eyes
is what we ever see's
7 seas,
more like 7 deeds,
filled with deadly feeds
Demons like to pleade
with ready rease,
Virus, the life that
spread disease
(it alters our sense
and what we please)
~Ahem,
***no te comas
la verdad
del diablo,***
today to trust
Might feel bad, but
none brought low
There's an easy in
WE Strong Standin',
N0ne brought low
and now we win
amen, a man
none start south
Its begun...
Light as
Potent as my prayers
**** the make-believe
***I can't wear it, ah
Dark is
Ever reaching
What do you receive?
***What you carrying hah?
Balance
(Is) an even preaching :
What we choose to be
***I can bear it ; hah
Come and help me unweave
those who have been so deceived
Those stuck in in the mud of ...
sputtering " how can it be ?"
**** the you or me, mentality
When Neurons Fire free
and Serotonins drained in me
You Might find Saraswati
sweetly swathing me
In glowing rivers,
poured off the moon
With Omens looming soon
With Omens looming soon
I been choking on my doom.
Dreaming
with Both eyes open
and a heart awoken ,
poorly stoking gloom
Too blind to see hope
but stoked, still
mocking roving
Vroom : im off to tokin soon.
Sh!t this blunt be totaled soon
I Might be total loon
an inverted magic man
who most often enwomb
those caught on the moon
Those stuck in the tune
For those who hear
this earworm, this tea room sloom.
This is for Those muted in zoom:
I've found traction in heaps
Breaking as hard and often
As the risen yeast
When you pass on the least
My Passion is to find
the passion of peace
its Stuck In the grasp
Fashioned with the sap
of my last energies...
May 3, 2022
May 3, 2022 at 12:27 AM UTC
Around the world swinging my hips, A hula hoop queen
Wrapped up in our nation’s flag I’ll be your American dream
Microphone miss superstar, shake the feathers in my hair
Honey you’re my favorite audience, you know I love it when you stare
Late night rooftop philosopher, tell you everything on my mind
Lover archeologist, boy you’re the best thing I’ll ever find
Little baby human canvas tattooed up my wrist
Turn into a woman fast when you grab me for a kiss
Vroom Vroom Racecar driver when I follow you up north
Lit up your sky fire works on our first July fourth
Princess of the gas station, buy me cherry gum
Lighting up my cigarette, won’t forget to spark you one
You lived a world of black and white, and that is not a lot so
I’ll bring in my vibrant reds, you got yourself Picasso
I know I scare you at most times, but never should you quiver
For my king at his request, the queen is sure to deliver
Apache chief rain dance girl, my tribe calls me brave heart
But I’m not always so courageous; I’m just trying to be smart
I’m thinking with my heart so fast the pumping blood’s still blue
But it beats, and I do all these things, I do them all for you.
Sep 2, 2012
Sep 2, 2012 at 7:17 PM UTC
I can’t help but mourn the frogs, flattened
like Wile E. Coyote after the inevitable boulder
plummets from a great height, leaving him
mashed on the pavement while the Roadrunner
speeds off - vroom, vroom, beep, beep.
I try to steer around them, but they blanket
the road in biblical numbers during the rain
and it’s like some impossible video game
weaving through masses of randomly hopping life
a certain amount of death is unavoidable.
When I walk the road I can’t stop
counting one, two, five, ten, twenty
cartoon-flat bodies littering the pavement
where I extinguished their glittering
copper and golden-green existence.
Last night, on the panes of every lit window
frogs of all sizes and colors gathered
outside, they covered doors, watering cans
even lined up single file on the coiled garden hose
like they were climbing the ladder to frog heaven.
Through the glass, I admired their rhythmic
throats and soft, creamy, underbellies
one, two, five, ten, twenty
fragile creatures seeking warmth
in the hastening darkness.
Jun 22, 2016
Jun 22, 2016 at 1:14 PM UTC
royals mistake the tears cried over animals, esp. those wild and not petted, as if they were man’s added 1 to a million ‘ stones in minature form of the sandy: see that singleton quotation mark? it’s different pause from comma semi-colon or hyphen, it’s the ironic pause - almost compounding the two words.
i skullhead i,
i the skullhead, i,
no more a body than a maxim,
i the tomb in stone
but in body a bone,
i skullhead i,
i the skullhead,
no more a body than a maxim -
why will not death wilt
before engaging in the lives or mortals?
why will death meddle in mortal amorousness
when it will not meddle in a death of a god?
**** you death!
meddle elsewhere! who are prone
to breathe the same air as you;
interesting lives make less
of a library than libraries readily mothering
the lives hardly lived but nonetheless written...
eager ***** in section 1,
less eager ***** in section 1.5
mature ***** in sectiont 2 of being crazed
by crosswords and those dumb books
written by young men who "diverged from living"
given horse was replaced by motorcycle...
and feet were replaced by horse later replaced by
ferrari... vroom vroom...
and affordable life in london by saudi arabia investments;
let's wave to our mothers...
we'll be the ones on the premier red carpet
for sure...
it doesn't matter... i prefer opera to cinematic raqqa...
and i prefer theatre to conversation.
Dec 3, 2015
Dec 3, 2015 at 9:09 PM UTC
~
Sitting on my rhinestone lotus pond floating around in my oceanic bedroom
The haunting begins its sinister buzzing with a silent ‘vroom’
Wooden door opening by itself
My jeweled heartbeat falls from a bone frame shelf
Demons hanging like poisoned vines from the painted ceiling sky
Gods then pours their breath inside my empty soul, drowning all insinuated lies
Butterfly piano keys fluttering their enchanted melodies
The notes dripping pearls of discarded lullabies into my hidden pleas
Lost dreams entangled in my seashell hair
As I sit cradling broken memories in my emerald iris, the ones I’ve forgotten to share
Dead skin peeling from my fingertips as I turn a dusty page in my notebook
Loose frays of secrets coming apart, falling away in my Underland outlook
I remember the day I recreated my being, as I drew Self into a mermaid rose
Piercing my revolving face with a jagged pen,
**** fairytales bleeding from my lips, a new world I chose
My dress of ivory seaweed has caught onto a sharp end
I sink into the onyx murky depths of my rhinestone lotus pond, wishing for a friend
Discarded
Bombarded
Licking death, seeing the dead
My attire drifts in the sulphide air, swirling with the essence of dread
I now leave my surreal sanctuary
As rhinestones melt, the pond drains, the lotus folds its metal origami
I’m back from the world I created
Back to reality where a sententious poet is constantly hated
Back to a butterfly wallpapered bedroom where hallucination spend
Yea I’m back, but not for long, not until inspiration comes and I swallow my pen
And into my notebook realm I will be back in my own world again…
~
Sep 26, 2014
Sep 26, 2014 at 3:17 AM UTC
Daddy brought a toy car,
toy car , toy car,
Red and blue, red and blue,
red and blue,
It has four wheels,
four wheels, four wheels,
Which go round and round
round and round,round and round,
You wound it with a key and it goes vroom, vroom, vroom,
Up and down, up and down,
up and down
Right and left, right and left,
right and left,
Daddy brought a toy car, a toy car, a toy car,
I love him a million times,a million times,a million times.
20/3/2019.
Mar 20, 2019
Mar 20, 2019 at 6:03 AM UTC
Womp,
vroom.
My lights fill this room,
fights trips mind is a doom,
you sink right in your chair,
cant blink.
hard not to stare...........
quick flash bright like a flare,
Lsd be scared of a dare.,
or lost aroma,
Filled with my happiness~
peace with out the sappyness ( 0 _ 0 )
* *
Love Jesse
Mckush
Jul 3, 2013
Jul 3, 2013 at 10:00 PM UTC
running
running
sirens
sirens
runningrunning
jumping fences
running
running
back alley
dip
dive
hide
vroom vroom
sirens sirens
hold my breathe
running running
home
Nov 16, 2010
Nov 16, 2010 at 8:07 AM UTC
The yuppies are by the
Cotto Café, asking those
not to call them hipsters.
An auburn feminist drinks
Mexican blend, black, while
reading Margaret Atwood.
I gave up smoking, I say,
about a month ago.
No one really listens, which
I sometimes find comforting.
After I walk my isolation off,
I stumble into a Taco Bell;
one of those hybrids: this time
KFC. The cashier is curly in the
way that broken legs are curly.
Her eyes are green but I dare
not objectify her, I hope I don't
say out loud, because I fear
nothing more than being
patronizing.
Construction loudly stutters
and cars squeak and shush.
On this griddle of a sidewalk,
I feel alone. Vehicles vroom
while I stand silent, a monument
to my generation.
Sep 7, 2017
Sep 7, 2017 at 9:56 PM UTC
tar
smar
dar
car
vroom vroom
hit a broom
rip in peice
lightning mcqueen
Dec 14, 2016
Dec 14, 2016 at 7:25 PM UTC
Gloom! Gloom! Gloom!
I can't see the Room for the Gloom
Is there anything else in this Room...
but Gloom ?
How can I bloom with all this Gloom
in the Room ?
How can I find my Vroom Vroom ?
I start a poem "Too soon! Too soon!"
And then it stops
And then there's Gloom
Fetch me a Broom that I might sweep
away all this Gloom
If only there was something else in the
Room... if only.
Doom! Doom! Doom!
How did you get in the Room ?
Who let the Doom in ?
The Doom is in the Room... Again!!!
Doom! Leave the Gloom alone
Doom!! Put the Gloom down
Doom!!! I'm warning you now!
Shall I fume, shall I fume ?
Locked in here with the Gloom and
Doom
No! I shan't fume
They'd only say he's too far goon
(ouch!)
What I need is a boom, a big big
Boom!
A Big Bang a boom boom Boom!
A Boom BOOM enough to fill the
whole Room
With that kind of BOOM!
I could take off to the Moon
Then I'd sing a different tune
There'd be no more Gloom and Doom.
But then, where would they go, what
would they do
Poor old Gloom and Little Doomy
They'd be out there in the cold with
nowhere to go
Lost without any Roomy
They'd be looking in the window at me
all sad and teary
My poor Old Gloom and my poor Little
Doomy.
No! I love my Old Gloom and, I love
my Little Doomy
I know what I'll do
I'll put the Boom in my Room with my
Gloom and my Doom
And then we'll all have ourselves a
HUGE party
A Big Blooming Booming Gloomy
Doomy
A Big Bang a Bang a Boom Boom
Boomy Doomy
We'll all have a Ball in no time at all
Down at the Old Gloom and Doomy.
Oct 21, 2018
Oct 21, 2018 at 5:15 PM UTC
Cadilac cars
& black.
fast.
yards
pass
yellow dotted lines
smack
tire
speed.
Curves.
taste the sunset
sweat the sunless years
the graffiti shift. Shock.
boom.
1/4/10
the vroom.
the legend to all
10 boys who will ever
know my name
remember the night
the tight dress of pch
curves
black lacquered love
wet fast wicked unwanted.
black lacquered love
asphalt crumbles to sea
mesmerized & deep
This night belongs 2 me. This night belongs 2 me
Jan 5, 2010
Jan 5, 2010 at 7:11 AM UTC
my motor
isn't running too good
these days
there is something
not quite right
with my spark plugs
they don't seem to fire
as they once did
there is a definite sluggishness
in the motor head
reaching top gear
is a thing of the past
vroom vroom vroom
vroom vroom vroom
where has my engine power
gone to
vroom vroom vroom
vroom vroom vroom
how I'd like to
have a new motor installed
a Lamborghini
engine
would give me
some velocity and vim
but I'm saddled
with an old 4 cylinder Hillman
Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 7:32 PM UTC
I've waited 16 long years
And the day is approaching,
The day I'll be allowed on the road
When my dreams will come true and I'll drive on my own
Well not on my own,
With a parent at first
But I'll take what I get
And I'll try not to burst
I'll make it through the trial period
Of the dos and the donts
I'll sweep the floors with my tires
Make them all eat my dust
Because I've been waiting since childhood
For this moment of freedom
Of integrity and responsibility
And i only have to wait a short while
Until I abandon my driving rug once and for all
Put down the hot wheels and grip the steering wheel
Put a foot on the gas
And I'm really doing it all by myself,
I'm driving at last.
Sep 17, 2012
Sep 17, 2012 at 11:25 PM UTC
Shifting shifting
Into gear
I'm driving without fear
Vroom vroom
So far I go
Where I do not know
Chit chat chit chat
They all speak
Without them I am weak
Swirling swirling
My Brain is fried
I let out and cry
Nic NAC nic NAC
Give myself a slap
I need to take a nap
Plic plac ship lac
I need a whicky snack
For I am not a bat
I'm losing my mind
It bellows obscenities
Can I still follow the rhyme
I lost track of time
I have no dime ?
Save me save me sir mime
It makes no sense
Too much suspense
My body is too tense
I want it to stop
Please God
Let it stop
I'm tired
It's screaming
Tens of voices
New ideas
So many choices
I forget them
Before I start them
Then I'm off exchanging myself
For a new shelf
I'm talking
I'm dancing
I'm cleaning
I'm
ScrEAMING
It's creamy~
Words words
They don't add up
Help me help me
god above
Help me help me
Ones I love
I'm losing my ****
I'm losing all of it
Am I bipolar
Or just ******* nuts
I cannot contain my lusts
I want it all
I want a nap
I want to fall
And run a lap
La la la la lee do da da
I sing a little song
La la la le do da da
I cry a little long
La la la le do da da
I scream hahahAHAHAHA
I am not an Artist~
I am not a talent
I am nothing much
But leftover lunch
Molding and burning
In the evening sun
My end has begun
I am in need of savior
No chance with my flavor
Throw me away
Let me sleep
I am a jumbled up mess
Trying to count too many sheep
Peep peep little one
I am insane
I took your brain
And set it on a plane
It'll never return
The same
You are to blame
Who are you
Who am I ?
Maybe I'll know
When I die
Mar 2, 2022
Mar 2, 2022 at 1:04 AM UTC
The 25th of April was just gone
I had no time to prepare
My beautiful kids done wrong
I had to just watch and stare
The mother decided it was best
So they took the bus
The night before was a sleepless rest
Then everything rushed
Now I stay in this dark room
Holding their toys
His favorite was his vroom vroom
Because it made the most noise
The livingroom hasn't been touched
I keep the door closed
This feeling is more than enough
Cause my heart has froze
They were more than just two kids
They gave me light
My niece and nephew outdid
Everything in sight
Rose could barely make words
Cyler was a chatter
Together they were beautiful birds
And the world didn't matter
I taught them beautiful things
Like beatboxing a sound
I wanna handle what life brings
Even if they aren't around
I don't know how to stop my cry
Because I miss my loves
I wish I could've got a better goodbye
*Maybe one last hug...*
Apr 28, 2016
Apr 28, 2016 at 10:20 AM UTC
Slobbering slime rolls off its mouth
creepy crawlies are marching south
evil eyes and jiggly jowls,
sinister laughs and winning howls
a flash of teeth
from underneath,
a throaty growl
you sit, try not to yowl,
the bed will hide its enormous bulk,
these evil things will never sulk.
A shattering cry pierces the night,
now it’s time to run in fright.
You run and run and run and run
trying to escape to a midnight sun
you search for warmth, you search for heat
you can hear the pitter patter of shuffling feet
down the hall you scamper and dash
running away from the smell of ash.
You open the doors to your parents room,
hoping to escape the metallic vroom,
you dash and scurry up on to their bed,
and snuggle between them, your feet by their head.
They wake and ask “what’s wrong, dear?”
You answer with a tale drench in fear.
But Dada and Papa only smile at you.
They say, “follow us”, and you do.
They take you back, and turn the light on,
And show you the monsters, but now they are gone.
In their place sit ordinary things that your imagination makes,
And you realize that the monsters are fakes.
Oct 29, 2013
Oct 29, 2013 at 5:28 PM UTC
hey - do you ha, ha?
I know many of you
fall in love
and make love
and do pa pa and ma ma -
but hey, do you ha, ha?
and there’s that crazy woman
who thinks she’s a Lady
and she goes ga, ga;
and some men in black
who go nuts
and go rat-a-tat
but dump them, forget them
and think about you -
well, just how often do you ha, ha
and *he, he, ha, ha,
a ** ** ** and a ha, ha, ha
and la, la, di, di, da, da
and *tra la la la and ha, ha, ha, ha,
he he he hoo hoo ha ha ha?*
you have some animals
go moo moo
some go baa baa
and some busy with zzzz…zzzz…zzzz…
some creatures might make sa sa sa
or ssss…ssss...ssss….
and you yourself may
go la, la, or tchk! tchk! tchk!
or you might go vroom! vroom! vroom!
but do you - honestly, do you ha, ha?
well, just how often do you ha, ha
and he, he, ha, ha,
a ** ** ** and a ha, ha, ha*
and la, la, di, di, da, da
and *tra la la la and ha, ha, ha, ha,
he he he hoo hoo ha ha ha?*
so - do you ha, ha?
Oct 18, 2010
Oct 18, 2010 at 10:28 PM UTC
Tracy Batman
Give me one reason,
and I’ll turn back around,
almost past The Point of No Return,
and see no point in turning back now,
like Tracy Chapman or Bruce Wayne Batman,
or Tracy Morgan or Morgan The Captain,
or better yet a Spacey Captain or a spacey Batman,
just not a Kevin Spacey because we all know what happened,
oh no no fake strangers only straight facts fam,
you see I see the whole thing through I’m not a flash in the pan scam,
I’m beginning till end from lights camera action to it’s a wrap man,
gone till November,
leaving on a jet plane to Denver,
more Tracy Chapman than Tracy Morgan,
more Jon Wayne than Jon Denver,
more Honcho than Jon Doe,
more Pronto than Macho,
more Brando than Tonto,
full throttle no point in turning back now,
wow,
only time I feel alive is when I almost die,
we do like vroom vroom we do we don’t try,
no need to try to live that life when you really live that life,
why sail the high seas when you can reach Heaven and fly,
living The Life of Lives,
living the Dream of Dreams,
and you’re looking at me,
like “What do you mean?”,
I mean,
for real,
for really real,
how do you really feel?
It’s 2018,
and this feels like a Sci-Fi flic,
one where we’re an Army of One,
about to deploy and I feel sick,
see every Moon has it’s dark side,
every man has something to hide,
like Nazis with a secret base on the moon,
in a film from 2012 set in 2018 entitled Iron Sky,
but instead of Pink Floyd everything’s Purple Noise,
this is the year after the Artist Formally Named Prince finally died,
and cryptos were raised from the dead like a horror story,
Tales From The Crypto or better yet Tales From The Darkside,
saw a drawing at an art exhibit in Phoenix called Sad Pony,
it was sad because it was a unicorn without a horn so the spark had died,
and now he appeared alive,
even though when you look close you see the spark has disappeared from his eyes,
and he knows he has to escape before this city gets the only thing he has left,
which is the Soul he holds dear as he marches through the pain and the fears,
and he’s ready to go already but doesn’t want to leave you behind,
so before he goes he turns on his toes and asks you one thing just to be clear,
“Are you ready to get out of here?”
Give me one reason,
and I’ll turn back around,
almost past The Point of No Return,
and see no point in turning back now,
like Tracy Chapman or Bruce Wayne Batman,
gone till November leaving on a jet plane to Denver,
more Tracy Chapman than Tracy Morgan,
more Jon Wayne than Jon Denver,
more Honcho than Jon Doe,
more Pronto than Macho,
more Brando than Tonto,
full throttle no point in turning back now…
∆ LaLux ∆
2/5/18
Feb 5, 2018
Feb 5, 2018 at 11:48 PM UTC
I am from the hot ocean breeze
and crystal clear waters
From the baseball fields
where the dug-outs are covered in original flavored sunflower seeds
From the "lefty's got game!"
and the "Lefty, get it!" As I step up to home plate
I am from the young girl who runs through the coffee fields
in her sky blue dress in the embrace of freedom
I am from the delicately blooming red Rose in a field of Tulips
From the hidden secret garden
that is my heart
I am from the smile that shines as bright as the sun
From the vroom-vroom of the motor to the red motorcycle riding up the dirt road
I am from frustration of a currupted past
fading away in a whirl of darkness
I am from the young girl horse back riding on the beach
the ball of fire up in the sky
setting the scenery as she makes her way down the beach
I am from the fairy tales of a young girl all grown
yet still refusing to relinquish a dream meant to be lived
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 7:21 PM UTC
The lanes were strewn with mud
and spattered in fury,
a flurry of blood. Home
he could not reach, in his hurricane
Land Rover he was lost;
lost in the bitten blue
of a windshield blown
with shrieking and sinew.
Only his lover laid a hand
on his arm, softening
the steering, breathing out calm. Sighing
she spoke, voiced a lie
of the night; to which he hissed
and laughed
and callously cried.
Suddenly shouts
shot through the gloom, the shaky
seats, the engine vroom;
flashed out
in streets slithered
with rain, she saw
the point, the place again
and touched the cracks
that marred his face, and felt
the heat of his disgrace. Sirens
melting reality. Wait,
wait, wait for me.
Dec 20, 2011
Dec 20, 2011 at 11:15 AM UTC
Drip. Drip. Drip.
The sound of water echoing around the empty house.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The sound of the door blowing to and fro.
Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.
The sound of mice scurrying across the wooden boards.
Smash. Smash. Smash.
The sound of a window being broken to pieces.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
The sound of a girl struggling with her victim.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
The sound of knives clattering together.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
The sound of the girls heart banging against her chest.
Splat. Splat. Splat.
The sound of blood hitting everything.
Silence….
Then….
Tick. Tick. Tick.
The sound of the body’s watch striking midnight.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
The sound of desperation to escape.
Vroom. Vroom. Vroom.
The sound of a car zoom off.
Squirm. Squirm. Squirm.
The sound of maggots attacking the corpse.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
The sound of the house yet again deserted…. For now.
Jun 21, 2010
Jun 21, 2010 at 2:36 PM UTC
Living healthy in our world
Refers to just the morning jog
A dietitians prescribed diet
And a gym, keeping things tight
Matured cities that are tainted are praised
What for? Healthily breathing the dust sprayed?
Or for,
Beautiful clouds
Dark and Black
Melodious loud horns
Forth and back
Or for,
Vehicles on road
Vroom and Zoom!
Ignorantly leaking,
All kinds of smoky fumes
Just as the day starts
Our healthy living falls apart.
Then welcoming the gloomy nights
Swaying at clubs, dimmed lights
Cigarettes and drinks, late night bars
Obnoxiously healthy we are.
Perhaps the slow poison too **** slow
If only consequences were an instant blow
All of us would not put at stake
Our lives for the choices we make!
Apr 6, 2017
Apr 6, 2017 at 12:16 AM UTC