Petrichor is hope that you can breathe
a soft splatter of pitter-pats on your senses
as raindrops succumb to endless pleas
to break the drought and emit
the essence of a thousand flowers
sealed in parched soil, as scent capsules
bursting forth as aerosols, smelt by a nose,
caressed by drops of rain and tears of joy,
running down your face in shiny rivulets of relief.
The first weakening of night
picks out telephone lines,
black against sky.
The eyelid of a garage door
lurches laboriously up.
A car coughs blue breath.
With aerosols and plastic scrapers
clandestine delights of frostwebs
are raked to chemical sludge.
Starter motors whine.
Windshields cloud with pain.
Gears grind teeth.
An electric train
gingerly
utters inarticulate from the sheds,
groaning over cold joints.
Thinking grimly
of tunnels ahead,
it flares with ill-humor
crossing the points.
On unworked land beside the track,
a fox is heading home.
Gliding through
beneath the "keep out" sign,
he grins at the engine,
which just judders along,
headlights trained
on parallel lines
which glint ahead,
reflecting lurid signal red,
extending out, but never meeting,
towards the vanishing point.
It came quiet as the night
Nothing you could fight
It drifted unnoticed in the air
More lethal than an angry bear
He didn't feel a breeze, he didn't feel a change
Nothing out of order, nothing struck him strange
It bound to his hemoglobin, 200 times as strong
His cells were suffocating, all systems going wrong.
They found him in my car, a snow drift behind
The got him out in time for the poison to unwind
I researched it, other compounds also creep in stealth
They may change the way you act, they may destroy your health.
A crime mob found this out, they can ambush, poison you
The motive might be foggy, the method leaves no clue
Just another thing to worry about these days
Bad things can happen, in so many new ways.
See, there are crimes you know were done
But with stealthy drugs in air, there is no smoking gun
We can rub the wrong guy the wrong way
then wonder why the joy fades out, and our life goes gray.
At Nahal Oz, Hamas hurled a substance weird
It burst into flames, released a gas to be feared
Jews suffocated in minutes, but we don’t know
Who made it, what it was, nothing to show.
At a theater in Moscow, rebels came in
Took the audience hostage, in the cause of Chechin
Russian police made an invisible gas flow
Terrorists were led away, what gas used we don’t know
Tourists describe a chemical they call “devil’s breath”
Makes you a zombie, in some cases causes death
Some Columbians use it, so visitors beware
It may seem underhanded, but crime isn’t fair.
Madman in the commuter train, makes fake phone calls
To warn the commuters of drug aerosols
He says criminals can attack this way, and you wouldn’t know
That you’re a victim, of a gas drug flow.
He says he’s a victim, they got his keys
Then entered his house, easy as a breeze
Affected his behavior, damaged his brain
White coats lead this guy away, but is reality insane?
What you don't know can hurt you, and it gets worse
You can blame natural causes, when your luck hits a reverse
When your health goes bad, when troubles accrue
Now it's possible someone's doing it to you.
CLOUD
I am a cloud
White as a cotton
the condensation of the water vaporizing a mass of water drops
Clouds are an important part of Earth's weather and climate
Aerosols consisting of a visible mass of minute liquid droplets
It houses the spiritual 3rd heaven
I am a Cloud
12/9/2021
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2021©
MASK POEM POEERTY FORM TYPE
Inhabitants are real
Facing great threats
Weighing on mother earth's future
Its effects and consequences
Even better halt it
Consume more, always more
The detriment of nature
Destroyed as an easy option
The soil is poisoned
Lands are sliding
Rain forests are reduced
Drastic effects for dims
Contagion of air
Exhaust fumes from arrogant holes
The burning of fossil fuels sings along
Harmful and deadly acid rain
Radiation spills and drills
Nuclear accidents such sudden
The air flares corpses
Photochemical smog dances
Water droplets
They mandate tears
Say sad to aerosols
Beloved refrigerants
Sincere solvents
And majesty burning fossil fuel
Why?
They set to work upon our minds
To market sprays of many kinds
To give the world a different smell
More aerosols they then will sell
But first our minds they must corrupt
To pave the way for new product
So they begin the odour game
And make us feel a sense of shame
Because we have our own odour
Better we smell like a flower
Be gone the smell of pheromone
And other odorous hormone
With chemicals we spray each part
Perfumery becomes our art
We freshen air in every room
Spraying the synthetic perfume
Then carpets and curtains are sprayed
Along with towels and bedspread
And when this done we spray the dog
Now everywhere a perfumed fog
To market sprays of many kinds
They set to work upon our minds
My mistress' eyes are nothing like a 40
Watt full spectrum LED bulb;
Doritos are far more red than her lips' red;
If Teslas be white, why then her organs for nourishing babies are dun;
If hairs be USB cables, USB cables grow on her head.
I have seen Monsanto patents damasked, red and white,
But no such intellectual property see I in her cheeks;
And in some volatile aerosols is there more delight
Than in the exhalation that from my mistress is unmentionably unpleasant.
I love to hear her powerful voice, yet well I know
That WAP hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go (except when I became too old for parental controls)
My mistress, when she stalks, kneads the earth like a cat.
And yet, by Hubble’s image of The Pillars of Creation, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.
Contest: Parody of a famous poem
Sponsor: L. Milton Hankins
Dec 21 2020
*Image of Best Nature Wind by Gfycat.
douglas
patriarch skies prayed
volcanic aerosols sprayed
uke strummed hula swayed
2020 July 26
*1st Place*
STRAND completely new (14)any theme any form
~~Brian Strand: Judged 2020 July 28
How come they're not trying to ban poison
or knives or sunshine, alcohol, baseball bats, aerosols, chemtrails.
Because those things aren't the two
that protect the people the most.
Free speech and guns.
The first weakening of night
picks out telephone lines,
black against sky.
The eyelid of a garage door
lurches laboriously up.
A car coughs blue breath.
With aerosols and plastic scrapers
clandestine delights of frostwebs
are raked to chemical sludge.
Starter motors whine.
Windscreens cloud with pain.
Gears grind teeth.
An electric train
gingerly
utters inarticulate from the sheds,
groaning over cold joints.
Thinking grimly
of tunnels ahead,
it flares with ill-humor
crossing the points.
On unworked land beside the track,
a fox is heading home.
Gliding through
beneath the "keep out" sign,
he grins at the engine,
which just judders along,
headlights trained
on parallel lines
which glint ahead,
reflecting lurid signal red,
extending out, but never meeting,
towards the vanishing point.
Villanelle: The Dilemma of the Non-Violent – 36
All day long we kill to keep the home clean
Insecticides aerosols rat poison
The killer instinct makes us bold and mean
Down by the pond mosquitoes wake and preen
Time to send fighter jets by the dozen
All day long we kill to keep the house clean
Peeled apples for veg flies succulent wean
We spend week-ends choking every last one
The killer instinct makes us bold and mean
Kids we love but not the kind who boil spleen
So we sock the wife more than hard in the bun
All day long we kill to keep the home clean
At Antipodes some guys flex muscles lean
Call that homefront affront to smite them down
The killer instinct makes us bold and mean
What counts home comfort by all overseen
Secure society to foist nation
All day long we kill to keep the house clean
The killer instinct makes us bold and mean
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2015
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