Best Battery Poems
Sucking away vitality destroying your soul;
His delusions and anger cannot hide what's inside;
Vehemence in the face of adversity his demeanor breeds fear
Apprehensive, what next? Violence erupts once again
Diabolical meanderings, picturing situations untrue;
Poisoning the atmosphere, with no thoughts visible to you
Twisting fact and fiction, in his mind, is it really true?
Jumping from conclusion to conclusion keeping his anger fueled
Is it guilt feeding his mind? His conscience troubling him?
Accusations stem from nothing! He really has no clue!
Shutting down emotionally turning numb thru and thru
He keeps the fire rolling, breeding contempt nothing new
Running from the fallacy, of what life really means for him;
Threats and ultimatums destructive to all on his whim;
Forces the confrontation another hell night to live thru
Stay awake, or hope and pray he falls asleep before you do?
Don't contemplate what harm sleeping may cause for you
Only retaliates is there nothing you can do?
Screaming although its late it's time to pay your dues
Demonstrates there is no debate, saying lies that are untrue;
Can anyone relate, to pain once it begins?
No way to escape fate, the broken record never ends;
Accept now what is, not longing for should have been(s),
what was, is not, what is, what a tragic end
There never was a what was, its an imagined should have been
Low battery
In the wee hours of the morn
She was torn between two pillows;
Pure ecstasy escalates;
A blinking Indicator become
A disruptive behavior: suddenly
A dishonorable discharge
ouch! sorry low battery.
I don't know whether to consider it considerate or prideful
But I'd rather roll in coals and coil my soul with a barbed wire one-eyed cobra
Just to show you that
My emotion for you is
Nothing more than a-
Nother fortress I've
Built up just enough to save you from
Neglect
From time to time
I once wondered how one wanders from time to time
And think up the paradox line
Speak of Epoch's crime
Oh I lied, it hasn't happened yet
But bet you better believe it's such a habit that
I just said that in a past mindset
Chronologically
Oh darling don't you see
Honestly the honesty in the way we've deceived one another
I entered the circuit so you'd call me Sparky
Oh humor me
I'm at the center of the circle it's what you do for me
A little too witty to be just kidding
Because wondering is reality
To an electric personality
Chronologically
Oh darling don't you see
Honestly the honesty in the way we've received one another
Yeah the single signal
The waves we receive
Like a battery, electric personality
A battery, electric personality
I close my eyes, and the FYP still flickers.
A faint grid overlays my internal vision:
profile icons, captions crawling sideways,
the heart button pulses in phantom rhythm.
Swipe—
an old video appears unbidden,
a raccoon washes a grape to a looped remix
of something I don't need to name.
Even in its absence,
the feed remembers me.
I catch myself waiting for a voiceover
to narrate my steps to the fridge,
for text to appear above the sink:
POV: you’re hydrating, finally.
Ads linger in the margins,
selling me things I didn't know I needed—
silicone spatulas, trauma therapy,
a sense of being seen
for $19.99 plus shipping.
Swipe again—
and there’s nothing to catch me now.
The app’s gone dark,
yet its framework remains,
ghost-phoned into my muscle memory:
flick, pause, scroll, double tap.
I try to think of something else,
but the burn-in is stubborn.
I see viral dances in my peripheral vision,
imagine a soundbite stitched with my mind's eye.
Somewhere, a raccoon still washes its grape.
In the space where connection once was,
only the wanting remains—
a phantom architecture of edges
that once built something real
from the chaotic communion of sharing
oneself and seeing the same in return.
What do we do with the framework
when the picture’s gone? What do we make
of the void now that we know its name?
The abuse in this day
has gone to far
a war is fought in every other home
from sibling rivalry to spousal abuse
to mend these ties
it seems there's no use
the only thing left to do
is stand up for ourselves
and stop the battles
for patience is not a virtue
when it leads you to being black and blue
we should take the fight to the streets
and chant a chant to be repeat
we should love ourselves enough
not to be in the rough
we should turn the other cheek
and leave the home far at least a week
for need a new philosophy
when in danger we should flee
love should never be an excuse
to stand for abuse
Blessed is me....
A smartphone and an online connection is all I need....
To keep track of poetic souls and to assuage rhyming needs...
And to ready ingenious lines of acceptable rhythmic prose...
To curry favour with netizens into offering opinions and praise...
Blessed is me....
Words and lines they are diligently conjured up while I am online..
Ideas and images are in vivid display but they are offline...
Poetic souls are aplenty here in this website called PoetrySoup...
Variety is a valuable keyword to describe all that's in this literary soup...
Blessed is me....
My imagination is given the reins to roam free and wide 24/7...
Literary mastery is stretched into managing thoughts odds and evens...
Tiptapping furiously in a staccato of words to grace bits of a poem...
Bearing in mind ideas and messages to be shared as with an audience...
Blessed is me...
As this phone battery runs low and angrily flashes in indignation..
Speedily I'll need to terminate this poetic rhyming and rumination...
Where is the lengthy piece of charger with which I can somehow defy...
This low battery warning that somehow cramp my literary style...
Blessed is me...
I've found the charger, now I'll just need a little time...
Just to rest my mind and finger, a respite from these rhymes...
Blessed is me....
Now finally I've got some rest time...!
He walked right into the coal mine
And he made sure you got the money
Obeyed your words
You did nothing
But you stayed back at your place
You pulled out the remote
Pressed the green button
A GPS showed the way
The battery man had smile on his face
He out played the danger
You let your wife get the better
Then there was confusion
A knock in the door
A rifle and a stranger
The next you heard
A silent siren of the ambulance
A guy blowing in your mouth
A coldness running through your head
You had soar hand with frozen blood
You woke up some days later
Grabbed a news paper
It was 4 days before
Then you knew you were robbed
You let your wife get the better
The Girls Have All Agreed
On Some Things, All Women Need:
A Supply Source For Our Vanity
… and The Eveready-Flashlight-Battery …
Going Down A ‘Random’ Road
In The Deep of Night, When Life Has Slowed
Down … or Car Comes To A Stop
We Need An Energizer or Copper-Top …
In The Deep of Night, Trying To See
And Feel Safe, Thru Our Ambiguity
When We Need More Than Flicker-Flattery
… Give Us A Flashlight Battery …
… Your Flashlight Smile
Your Flashlight Style
Your Flashlight Confidence
Your Flashlight Manliness
Your Flashlight Ego
Is A Flashlight Hero
… and The Flashlight Form, Most With It
Is The Flashlight, Jared Pickett …
… Incorrigible, Adorable, Really More Than Capable
Hot, Poetry-Soup Staple And Palpable
With Appetites, Insatiable
Your Poetry is Quite Potent-Pleasurable
So, Flash On, Big Screen Valentino !
Lead On, With Lines of A Lothario
Casanova, Would Be Your Acolyte
( ‘Cause Even A Lady Needs A Flashlight )
Flash On, In Sensual-Satisfactory !
Give A Taste of Testosterone-Trajectory
No Girl Can Stand Before A Man, In All His Glory
This Is Factory-Tag… and It’s Man-datory
If Dura-Cell, I Got A Place For You
So, You Can Keep Doing, What Cha’ Do
And Power-Up, Like You’ve Alluded
‘Cause This Doll, Needs Batteries Included …
And Pour Me A Real-Strong Daiquiri
Put On Favorite CD, Slow-Dance, Track For Me
And Come Here, You Copper-Top-Skinned Honey
And Beat That Drum … You Energizer-Bunny
To: Jared Pickett … The Flashlight
and The Romeo Of Poet-Writes
This One’s An Original – Just For You Kiddo …
Your Poet-Pal,
The MoonBee
Battery (for Hyundai Sonata) Needed Today
Frugality worn by fiat generated
by alternate fickle finger of fate,
the plus side being said vehicle
parked here in public Salem's lot,
where I live with said diabolical mate
at highland manor apartments
penury run me underground in potter's
grave adversity doth unfortunately accelerate
curse to finance repairs of titled automobile,
more'n six months ago plus of late,
where saving impossible mission more
difficult than resurrecting the dead
even an atheist (like me) could activate,
thus this poet blithely doth adumbrate
posthumous renown much more likely than
mine corporel flesh (a complex conglomerate
edifice), essentially if present automotive
woe continues, one beastie boy aggregate,
oven ironic steely dan sing nature
unstoppable trooper, respectable,
and likeable rubber re: soul apostate
ascending, bridging, and
crossing unscheduled airdate
not set, whirling wide arms akimbo
webbed spirit world whose
self worth did depreciate,
this future disembodied
essence death will alleviate
he can deliberately leverage,
imagine, and envisage, I do articulate
mean, kickstartering (ill) luck knowing
postage overdue, I anticipate
outstanding debts unpaid
monies ash should urn
at grave robber's rate
within an eternity and
credit debits to eliminate
delay getting transported
into another dimension
NO colorful bedecked Apartheid
of time space, nonetheless
perhaps choosing reincarnate
entity formerly matter
of Matthew Scott Harris
doth unconsciously assimilate
painlessly whatsapp pining
for xfinity (away off into
verizon) accommodate
ting with easy equipoise no
difficulty to assimilate
linkedin with alternate
universe, where "FAKE" prelate
will presidentially usher
trumpet, shutterfly, annunciate
one successful Earthly gadfly,
donning imprimatur to communicate
with bone a fide skull fullness!
Battery Check
I had better say this before it is too late
& I'm doing a battery check
down at the School of the Americas
badda boom mafia rim shot
the old wisdoms are newly or neo-inadequate
all of them every one
even the Arctic and Antarctic ones
he was a master of pedestrian insights
banal bourgeoisie profundities
packaged for the pop psychology lecture circuit
which hasn't got the people smarter faster
because buzzard shadows make the dogs bark
fangs missing the juggler completely
such a klutz whose eyes see nothing
the smell of carrion fur
has him growling at my lunarscape
drips blood across my dying lips
after the blackness of the old battle
and
amen
good observation kid
state of pure vulnerability
how much delusion can we rid ourselves of
while remaining ambulatory and sane
begging for rescue or a signal from the North
like a black widow at the movies
web over the projection hole
making time into the enemy
when it should be the enema
or obsolete as clown paint
and the pet tarantula craze
every kid had one beaten into him
in a wilderness of anachronisms
where it's the adrenals vs. the endorphins
both of them a film noir fun house mirror
one with a severe penalty for miscalculation
the other giving us the freedom
to destroy our soul
you need only see the obvious
criminally reckless manhood
hypochondriac womanhood
foretelling the future ain't a big deal
a child with a gun can do it
gun because nobody wants to hear it
apparently we haven't invented
pain free illumination yet
batteries not included
because they are not needed
because we are modifiable
in a good way
by our own hand
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.site11.com/
Life is much like a battery….
Except we charge simply by resting.
Once our eyes lay back, and close,
we fall into a deep sleep that restocks.
What most people seem to forget though,
is that batteries eventually run out over time.
We all are given only so many years to recharge.
Over the years, the battery starts to worn down a bit,
and eventually one day the battery stops working.
How will you spend your time before your battery wears out?
Screw the rules of engagement.
Focus on target acquisition.
Fix range and bearing.
Estimate windage.
Calculate time on target.
Battery away.
Commence fire.
Volley after volley.
Shot after shot.
Insult after insult.
Snide remark follows snarky jab.
Brutal comeback lands with a jolt.
Gas-lit accusations trip the NBC alarm.
F-bombs. C-words. Total devastation.
Just a typical conversation
Over no man’s land in the family room.
In a time of love and war,
All casualties are blue on blue.
How long does a battery last
A square flat thing
Just under his skin
It will give him more years
If he takes his lukewarm milk
Every morning
Eats tasteless food all savoury
Extracted
Leaving behind bland vitamins
Or he can join a club where people
Find their illnesses
Endlessly fascinating as a subject.
Be optimistic everyday and
Do not show bad form by
Mentioning death
Stealthy sign in Sky
A ill-born star without branches
And yet the most beautiful star
My job's a bore,
it pays some bills
and helps me buy
my sleeping pills.
It pays for female
hormones, too
and Prozac so
I won't get blue.
It pays for pills
I split in half
(the uppers I must
make to last)
He only prescribed
me thirty-two
when they are gone,
what will I do?
Some more Excedrin
with caffeine
to try and fuel
this old machine.
They pay me just
to sit and stare
at rhythms in
the monitor's glare.
Most of the time,
I'm doing nil.
I look forward to
my sleeping pill.