Best Big Wheel Poems
hi I'm Baxter Belknap Mandible IV
the Ninth Earl of Burneydick
I'll be heading your inner assault team
would you like the wine list
we have a nice Retaliation 666
somewhere over the rainbow
where every two-bit overheard whisper is an omen
and other vile statistical deceptions
where the big wheel spins like a drawbridge ratchet
but it never stops too many numbers
and the future continues to remain hypothetical
in degrees depending on the reading
an experiment in capitulation and submission
it was the War of the Parasites
but when has it been otherwise
this is a mathematical demonstration
bold as a distillery padlock
that insanity is the flip side
of merely more insanity
that would be Mandible IV driving
his dream hearse down memory lane
smoke from burning bodies
badly needing a wick adjustment
apparently fogged his lens
the horrors of the world are entertainment
weather permitting we'll visit the ruins
and insist upon representation
in the government Pilgrim Travel Advisory
you see the difficulty
serenity having been proven
a monstrous violation of reality
pause
every idea is a unit of measure
another pause
the pixels swirled and another
unholy vision drifted past in the tide
riveted to my screen
and it's trauma etched engrams
picked up on my middle finger antenna
in the last act you find out why
good bad and maybe mostly maybe
just trying to be more numerological
be certain of your conclusions
or call them something else
sure people's faces can be read
most are possessed by a mad hunger
or acts of cosmetic genius
proving it's more than brain chemistry
they told me that self-creation has its dangers
lots of mockery out there in hammer land
but there's no mocking your best efforts
kept them off my back for a while
set free for the propaganda value
and still always curious
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/
german shepherd dog
my own big wheel bodyguard
loyal till the end
Bright yellow, green and blue
Are some colours to name a few.
And in their daub or scroll compete compare
To the carnival’s lively and zany air.
Powdered faces pale announce
A disregard (of) or speak to superficial self,
As buzzing rides revolve and reel,
While the spielers project and create (their feel)
To sweet smelling grass in the down-trodden field.
See the open mouthed and blank-eyes clowns,
With heads that left to right, will turn half round..
When pretty Katie passes by, (Vivacious child in navy dress,)
Honey skin and teeth chalk white, under coiffure'd tress.
Within her hand from Daddy's passed
A pink balloon all helium gassed'
while In the other hand is pressed
An icy pole half past its best.
A stray dog, with darting chocolate eyes
Espies the treat and makes a try,
Now poor Katie covers her face and cries,
As her air balloon makes its maiden ride
Over the hot dog stall it goes' as Katie screams on tippy toes
While Rover wolfs his stolen delight,
Oblivious to the toddler’s plight.
Up…up into the atmosphere; and then a sudden rush of air,
It to the big wheel sends, from there,
Where a wild-eyed lad with hair like straw
Fixes it fast; in a gangly paw,
But Daddy sees it all transpire, and scooping up Katie heads that way,
As Daddies will to save the day.
(ammended 19 04 2011) & removed 9 2nd 2018
© Joe Maverick 10-12-2010
Automobile vintage
Armed with few horsepowers
American girls dreams
Amazing and stylish
Agile it still rolling
Away with big wheel bike
Admit, prime example
http://www.howmanysyllables.com
Each line has only 6 syllables
(poem in the Pleiades form)
- Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
The Eighties Edge
Life today is nothing but “No” “No.”
“No this”, “No that” wherever you may go.
The sign says, "This campus is smoke free."
Who owns the very sky and air we breathe?
Consider things around back in the Eighties,
big wheel trikes and shoulder padded ladies.
We walked on planes like going to the store.
Now you bare your naked feet on the cold floor.
The media shows the many signs of change.
Doctors smoking at St.Elsewhere's now deranged.
Can we stop and count up all the added rules
that no longer give us options free to choose?
The Eighties bring a twinkle to the eye
as we think on carefree years and softly sigh.
11/25/15
Remembering the 1980's Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Michelle Faulkner |
2/16/2016
Here comes the Queen
I mean
Elizabeth sitting among prestige colleagues and staff
The red carpet delicately cleaned every hour upon to relax
The threads and mend the seem
From the window I see this Big Wheel spinning around
I am walking slowly keeping my feet on the ground
I smell crumpets in the air
Can I take them aboard or do I have to share
Laughter fills my tummy yes full in fact
I see from a distance Buckingham's Palace bricks they stack
In such formation and clearly joined back to back
Giving the states a run for their money but back on tour
Here in this place I love to see for sure
The wheel has stopped but never this day
Where next will we journey Jack can't rip me off now I must stay
Sherlock home alone but the guards hold me down
Shh were walking pass some prominent people wow
I am having a ball wish you could be here as this place gives definition
It is not a dream but a touchy feel premonition
I stand in the street for real and see how they drive on the opposite side
Not causing ciaos not even famildihide can hide this much fun
well I know you want to know more but my job here is done
see ya lay'ah (see you later)
Big Wheel
I was draped in stars, and filled with whiskey,
When the operator stopped the ride
My head tipped back, drinking in the shadows,
Red beaded earrings swaying with the carriage
He was a caricature of himself
Nose reaching down to caress his greasy top lip
Rubbery ears inflating with thick fairground music
One clamped tight with a brassy ring.
One more ride?
He kindly asked my cleavage
His fat hands wrapped around the bar across my thighs
I smiled
And within seconds the wind was once more
Filling my skirt like a fat hot air balloon
The spindly strands of my earrings
Resting loosely on my lips-
The legs of dragonflies.
grandma's potato pancakes
reminds me of my wooden tennis racket
along with my three wheeler big wheel
drench however many with butter and some warm,
equally buttery grits and my stomach thanks me for his
sleeping bag warmth and indulgence
there was a time when saturday morning meant something
and professional wrestling was a serious sport though physical theater
merry-go-rounds were at every park and high dives were at every public pool
memories and delectable delights overtake my mind with no resistance or struggle
one radio station was all i needed to get through the day
ten dollars filled a gas tank and arcades were everywhere
poems were not in my mind but instead was within the atari 2600 of decadence
the fried chicken plays a rare groove from somewhere, and i realize that i cleaned my plate
Years had passed still I had every bit of reason to grasp/
That true essence of what he said/
Yet there was many thought's inside my head ?
Like the time I drove my big wheel into the yellow Ollie !
I was speechless in thought and deed
Still I never bothered to take heed/
All I wanted to do was just speed !
That's how Bodda Boom met with Bodda Bing !!!
You all know what I mean ?
I even could hear that sweet little bird sing/
Bodda used to be a good friend until when
Bing came strolling into the town/
Many thought the freekin guy was such a clown
So nobody wanted him around/
Today Bing resides right next to The Jersey Shore
Last I knew he lived with a whore ?
Yet who knew/
About that two timer Boom/
He's the spitting image of Jessy James/
Then with his face I'd like to rearrange !
How could he do that to such a beautiful lady !
She's better off settling for Wavy Gravey !
So it was back to the past,
We had every reason to grasp/
That day when Bodda Bing met up with Bodda Boom !
Yet who knew ?
Form:
You don’t have to say
one spherical metallic word
I know with GSW empathy credulity
just how you feel ... I bequeath kindred sympathy
Taking one lead body blow
for the I homeboy visiting team,
was enough mental pain timeout for me
And the physical hurt toll it put on my body
made me frequently start falling to my knees
I can understand if you’re gun shy,
really I can
When you felt the quiet burn
of the silencer,
and the sweat of your fear
started to pellet fly
There’s a few blood splatter
reasons why
you’re audibly mute upset,
and so gun shy
Some whack eraserhead
unholstered their hostility on you
Bam, bam went the bullet hate —
hot metal piercing flesh ...
smearing cold iron-cooper fear
over your nude, trespassed privacy
I can understand if you’re gun shy,
really I can
I can truly relate
if you thought death
was your imminent fate
Really I do
You don’t have to say
a single semi-automatic word ...
You’re gun shy,
and I know the trigger reason why
Your temple’s been invaded
by kinetic metallic thieves,
who left your wounded,
praying soul to cemetery bleed
But putting a cap on the lip lid
is gonna make you implode within
Though asking for a modicum of gun control
is considered a Second Amendment sin
Keep the treason
on the tip of your tongue
from speaking
It’s best to remain gun shy,
never saying a word
It’s smart to duck when the bullets fly,
and the screaming is heard
Silence is double-O seven golden,
it’s good that your thoughts
ain’t got a license to kill
In the quietude of the grave,
victim death shout echoes do reverberate still
So, shhh ... stay low-key gun shy
Any sound motion can be detected
by a revolver barrel indiscriminate eye
Heat seeking for some unsuspecting
bipedal target to Big Wheel die
Any guttural movement
is gonna get a crosshair,
scattershot, fade-to-black goodbye
The kevlar-coated lip service politicians
sternly suggest you keep
any over-the-top, brash comments
under-the-counter on a locked vault cry
They say, now ain’t the time to be vocal and brave ...
bite the bullet,
and suffer your soul to die timid gun shy
The speed, invigorating,
damp mist, breeze through my hair,
aghast at the roar's and scream's from a far,
faster and faster,
my palm's getting clammier and clammier,
stillness in mid air,
my heart skips a beat,
please, please get me to my feet.
Apartment dwelling strangers
who never stop to talk,
don’t know the people living
a few doors down the block.
They nod hello while driving by
but never know my name,
somehow I get the feeling
it’s all a terrible shame.
Our insular existence
strikes me as really weird,
as if the nearby neighbor
is someone to be feared.
Co=dependent for nothing
without a single bond,
don’t know if he is fair or dark
a redhead or a blonde.
He has a noisy dog though
a mutt that barks all night,
I thought about complaining
but didn’t want to fight.
Who is this man I live near
this stranger with a dog.
can he be a big wheel
or just a minor cog?
Is he also curious
does he wonder about me,
or is he just concerned with
what is playing on TV?
Bad to Good Spinning Wheel
It's hard to explain on how I feel..
My life has been turning on this big wheel.
I have always tried to do my best.
Staying alive has been my great test.
The Monster has once tooken over my brain.
It brought me guilt it brought me pain.
It showed me power then gave me control.
I was hurting people I was hurting souls.
I was selling things that blocked their minds.
Then they were hooked then they were mines.
I ran then rolled from place to place.
I took their money so they can just have a taste.
The Evil hovers a dark cloud over me.
My soul was tooken then my addiction wouldn't let me free.
Then one day God, put it to a stop.
He sent me to jail when I got caught.
I was there alone then scared.
No one would help me, no one cared.
Ther I sat for that one crime.
I was punished I did my time.
Then one day this man gave me this book.
It changed my soul, it changed my look.
The Evil has left now, I am free.
But everywhere I go my addiction keeps on taunting me.
So I Pray and Pray.
For this temptation,
To Leave.
The Non-Sublimininal Criminal
High Priest of Hypocrisy
The Diplomat of Draft Dodgery
The Great Example of Paying Test-Takers
The LoudMouth of Wealthy Fakery
The Main Proof of Miseducation
The Nanocrat of Non-Payment
Potentate of ***********
Sultan of **** Patronage
The Grand Probah of PooPoo
The Big Wheel of Blather
And Salesman of Bull-puckey
High Lama of Skullduggery
The Master Purveyor of Inaccuracies
The Pride of Misrepresentation
The Scion of Misdirection and Nepotism
The Black Knight of Spite
Grand Lizard of Hate and Bigotry
The Fometer of Torment
Master of Catastrophe
The Master of the Quick Disaster
The Worshipper of War by Proxy
Lover of Lies and Liars
The Promises of Pusillanimity
The Handmaiden of Bribery
Worshipper of Massive Greed
The Purchaser of Fake News
The Dandy with Unseen Clothes
The Undead Ghost of the Capitol
The Horrible Haunt of the Presidency
Embodiment of Embracement
The Shamelessness of Gross Shuckers.
Hey, little man ...
yeah, you with the big head
Napoleonic complexion
got your face turning so red
People say you got a big mouth,
that you talk a real giant-size game
But my homies say, you’re a shrimp baller,
whose short of stature with a light frame
And if things don’t bounce your way,
you just simply squawk and squeal
Little piggies tend to oink a lot,
when bacon is gonna be the next meal
Big Mac
Big Wheel
Big Boy
Marketers don’t do small,
Munchkins can’t sell tall
Little man are you listening ...
yeah, you with the big feet
Come get your feelings stepped on,
Mama Smurf is sitting in your seat
Hey, little man ...
when will you get your proper respect?
Butt of another joke again,
big laughs is ‘bout as large as you gon get