Best Emptying Poems
The golden pot of gold
at the end of the rainbow
hands made the pot run dry
It is time to put a plug
in the money that flows
from pockets of people
take it away from eastern flow
because the westerners know
nothing good will come of it
the pot of gold empty now
colours of the rainbow faded
how will we ever refill the pot
not in my lifetime surely not.
Jails-asylums are bleeding out because of naivety.
Now the unhinged mad dogs are working out their kinks.
On the neckbones of society.
Nowhere is safe for your sons and daughters.
Not even pine needle trails, where they seek peace.
two legged copperheads behind trees and under every leaf.
You've passed them before-those wild-eyed things.
Firecracker souls looking for a syringe of gasoline...
They're ambush predators, wrapped in snakeskin.
Mace will do you no good.
No guns allowed in nature preserves.
Just off trail, a thousand shallow graves of the naive.
Emptying the Spam Folder
By Elton Camp
Whenever to check mail I go
There are few from folks I know
To keep my computer neat
The spam mail I then delete
At the titles I take a peek
Wrongly filed ones I seek
There’s one from dearest friend
Offering to share millions again
Then, all kinds of weight I lose
If their expensive plan I choose
A young woman wants me to see
Her erotic pictures supplied free
A fabulous prize I did win
Without putting my name in
All online I can get a college degree
Unaccredited, what good will it be?
My mortgage is late, they say
But I’ve had none many a day
A vacation I’ve been given free
Just go to their website and see
Your bank account is overdrawn
Your log-in details must be shown
We’ve frozen your PayPal account
Click here to increase your amount
The one that will never cease
Offers phallus size to increase
With a swift move of my hand
All such go to the garbage can
She has gleaned the bare root of her captive.
Soggy dressings fall away, dissolve on calloused feet.
No point in changing these regretful bindings now.
He tells her he understands, that he once loved her.
She is beneath his nails, in his mouth, between his teeth.
Rubber tubing snakes from his torso, head, and neck.
Pushing out the slow but steady drip of his pollution.
Seven enamel bowls are full of him and need emptying.
She wonders how this room looks to him.
Final?
Endless?
He asks to be turned, says his right side has gone numb.
She pushes a moist shoulder, and he flops squid-like onto his back.
Touching him brings sour acid bubbling into her throat.
These walls will see his last hour, his ultimate reflection.
It has been one month to the day since they first saw each other.
She will quietly count him down back to that night.
Back to his first steps towards her.
She will watch the slow stream of him until he gradually drains away.
Down to the dregs, down to residue, down to the beginning.
What I poured out to you
was me;all of me
that I had sight but I have chosen blindness
so that I'll be walked by you alone
i have left my past behind;
walk me to the future.
scatters the fragile cohesion, a spectre
looms on the wrinkled face of an old tree,
the bee-eaters have flown away ;
annual rings on wooden panels were defying the age
of smile on the mouth of bright doors
petitioning to the naked beams of body;
infusion of totality for antimutagens
of nude spiders weaving a lethal design:
the tender fall of deathless night on
forgetfull ; I am ready to reach the bottom
of fear, bring out the poison for celebration,
unveiling the apes of tomorrow on the
black prints of dragonflies stumbling out
from golden words
SATISH VERMA
perversity behind the orbs tilts,
scatters the fragile cohesion, a spectre
looms on the wrinkled face of an old tree,
the bee-eaters have flown away ;
annual rings on wooden panels were defying the age
of smile on the mouth of bright doors
petitioning to the naked beams of body;
infusion of totality for antimutagens
of nude spiders weaving a lethal design:
the tender fall of deathless night on
forgetfull ; I am ready to reach the bottom
of fear, bring out the poison for celebration,
unveiling the apes of tomorrow on the
black prints of dragonflies stumbling out
from golden words
SATISH VERMA
Growing older, one observes
That energy starts waning.
Though it’s not what one deserves,
There’s no use in complaining.
Aging throws us learning curves
To deal with verve that’s draining.
When nothing’s left in the reserves,
It’s time for some refraining.
There’s a voice inside that’s killing me,
slowly day by day
Each line I write, each word I speak
—is paid with time reclaimed
(Dreamsleep: October, 2019)
For some time, I've put his last day in the back of mind.
But one morning he put his ancient head in my palms...
for as long as I would have let him.
Though his eyes are still kitten star bright.
He silently told me his time with me is coming to an end.
Every now and again, I ration him a treat, just as I always have.
as if we were young and our days together were infinite.
How naive and ignorant I've been.
I mean, what am I waiting for, he'll be gone soon.
I'll be left with a half empty bag of memories and treats...
The time has come to empty the treat bag then grieve.