"wheee" poems
Pandas are fluffy. Labradoodles are…
Bake the road, crush the world.
Richard Feynman, Freddie Mercury?
Can you be unique?
We are defined not by ourselves
but by the Television set
by the media
by our leaders
What the hell is this Orwellian nightmare?
Do we exist independently?
Individuality is discouraged
unless you have money
This postmodern splash
The drones of nighthawks, flapping by the shores
The shores of Calavera, of San Luis Obispo
If the mountains drifted out to sea
Let the toaster rule you.
Let the media.
Not like you can stop them.
Wheee! Ride, piggy, ride!
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 6:58 PM UTC
Veins, veins,
length and breadth,
intertwined
beats to freedom
or desolation;
a terminus
lost on a circular.
An ebbing destination,
unchartered targets,
Follow the signs.
We are a one way street,
follow the signs
on software maps.
Stumped
by sequential lights
and us, caught
in a dragnet
within steely fish,
gasping for air,
choking on smoke,
bilious coughs,
hacking sputum,
gobbing phlegm globs
in interval gaps
within gridlocks;
nose to **** to
nose to ****
The rage, the stares
the shouts, the finger,
the Grrr’s, the Rrrr’s,
the honks, the blares,
the bumper to bumper
expletive shares.
The rolling down,
the alighting,
the threats,
the fighting.
The falling down,
the separation,
reseating,
the rolling,
the thunder,
the trudge,
the stops, the starts.
Follow the signs,
follow the signs.
Robotic conveyors
for humans,
mechanical
fossil fueled
chariots,
grumbling, grunting,
wheee-ing and
screeching,
and screaming
and spewing
and chuffing
and guffing
black plumes,
air tarred,
veins, veins
clogged and bogged,
viscous, molasses,
liquid black blob.
Road fogged,
numbers logged.
Veins, veins,
follow the signs,
slow crawl.
Veins, veins,
follow the signs,
follow the signs,
sprawl.
Copyright Marc Hawkins 2017
Nov 12, 2017
Nov 12, 2017 at 6:20 AM UTC
THE KIND OF THINGS POETS THINK/DO
all its little life
the triangle longed to be
a circle
"I want to get around!"
it piped up
in its little Isosceles voice
"It's...it's preposterous!"
screamed his mother Scalenely
"...whoever heard of such a thing!"
"You should be proud of your lines!"
scolded its grandpa
Equilaterally
"A triangle can not be..."
said his Papa in a right angled kind of way
"...anything other than a triangle!"
"I always felt I was a circle
trapped inside
a triangle's body!"
one day a passing poet
eavesdropped in an idle moment
on what the lines were saying
"Why ever not...why
ever not" said the poet
poet chaps tend to think like that
so he erased the brave
little Isosceles
drew him again as a circle
"Wheee!"
laughed the former Isosceles triangle
delighting in its circle-ness
this is the kind of things
poets think of...
. . .poets do.
Feb 9, 2019
Feb 9, 2019 at 3:42 AM UTC
THE KIND OF THINGS POETS THINK/DO
all its little life
the triangle longed to be
a circle
"I want to get around!"
it piped up
in its little Isosceles voice
"It's...it's preposterous!"
screamed his mother Scalenely
"...whoever heard of such a thing!"
"You should be proud of your lines!"
scolded its grandpa
Equilaterally
"A triangle can not be..."
said his Papa in a right angled kind of way
"...anything other than a triangle!"
"I always felt I was a circle
trapped inside
a triangle's body!"
one day a passing poet
eavesdropped in an idle moment
on what the lines were saying
"Why ever not...why
ever not" said the poet
poet chaps tend to think like that
so he erased the brave
little Isosceles
drew him again as a circle
"Wheee!"
laughed the former Isosceles triangle
delighting in its circle-ness
this is the kind of things
poets think of
poets do
Feb 9, 2018
Feb 9, 2018 at 1:15 PM UTC
pine needles
ride roller coaster branches
up and around in the wind,
flashing their sunlit outfits
of furry green diamonds
as they wave to the earthbound world.
wheee-eee-ee!!!
Dec 26, 2015
Dec 26, 2015 at 4:32 PM UTC
Crash! Smack! Ow!
The chair broke.
Yeow! Galump! Swoosh!
A cat runs away with glue on its tail.
Vroom! Crunch! Grrr...
Dad's motorcycle met its end.
Clip! Clip! Done.
The raspberry patch is no more.
Pop! Wheee! Plop!
A jar of peaches sits on mom's head.
Ahhhh!!!!
She's gonna get us! We're dead!
Two children's little legs dash over the threshold.
HE He he he...
Gurgle, growl, burp,
Tummies are empty.
Whimper, pout, please!
Hush.
We're hungry, we'll clean, we're sorry.
Sigh, reach, hug,
Love.
Dec 3, 2016
Dec 3, 2016 at 1:32 PM UTC
your love keeps the wheels on
this rollercoaster of life
Oct 3, 2014
Oct 3, 2014 at 10:50 AM UTC
Leaves just fall
Like a human with no care in the world
Or a soul searching for a home
Like it's timed
Before the next person jumps out of a plane on their first sky dive
Premeditated
Each leaf knows when it's next
To meet the feat
And the fate of other leaves crunching beneath my feet
Floating down in such a way that looks like they're saying "I'm next or wheee wheee" like the little piggy crying all the way home
It's now or now
All in competition for the most creative landing
Categories like most flips before falling to the ground or the most graceful float around
Descending in pairs of two, maybe with the leaf they grew next to
Not in this alone
None
Meeting every family member and neighbor in the same place
All the same fate
I wonder how the strongest leaves feel when all have left the tree and they remain
Through the colder weather
Sometimes through snow
Always through rain
Proud or lonely
Or are they weak?
Afraid to fall and leave the comfort of their roots
Or serving as a symbol and a remembrance of the life of the tree once bearing the greenest of leaves that we all seem to forget about when fall comes
Too fascinated and enraptured by the leaves that change colors because they're different from the norm
Yet we miss them through the winter as we tear them apart
As we walk throughout each day going through what they go through
Falling and shedding as graceful or messy as we can be
With or without someone beside us
Pieces of us we let die and give up for new life
We wait to be reborn with the trees
Until a new season rolls around and we.... marvel over the falling of leaves again
When there is no longer something pretty and new to amuse us
We long for old things
Always coming back full circle, always beginning
Always beginning
Nov 29, 2017
Nov 29, 2017 at 1:48 AM UTC
I went to offer my services at a hockey tournament and I was heating voices bad
1 I was having evil thoughts about me and an old friend in the mouth of a kid watching one of the games and this made me crazy
You see the force was trying to take my knowledge of me finding my way home
Then I walked out of the hockey field and I walked the wrong way right up to the end of the road
Then I was scared saying what is happening to me and I want to end this journey
I turned left toward the city and I was wondering where the **** I was
I felt like a car was going to pull up and lure me into the car
I was scared and yelling out what is happening to me
I walked another half an hour still not knowing wheee I was
I headed further south and I made it into the city and hopped on a bus to belconnen with Matthew and Lawrence dressed up as my late granny and she helped me get home safely
I got home and my parents were worried and I went down and had cold fish and chips
I was seeing angels back then good and bad
Dec 16, 2016
Dec 16, 2016 at 7:48 AM UTC