Best Hornets Nest Poems
"Home is Where the Heart Is"
Savages
behind closed doors
Civilised
but wild animals
sharpening claws
Humanity
tries to escape itself
can’t run away
from finding
"TRUE HOME"
behind closed doors
Now opening windows
fresh air
escaping shadows
Legs splayed and arms wide
breathe
"LIFE"
in for once,
we are empty vessels
noisy prisoners
in our own skin
Soul seeking Soul
peers through
the vitreous humour
99% water, salty
the Soul swims
through an ocean
towards the aqueous perimeter
facing the clear shallows
there the
"LIGHT"
penetrates the space
between the lens
like royal jelly
the Soul stands
it begins to sing
wobbling behind
the retinas reflecting
a Blue Sky
bit by WASP
kissed vehemently
in the heart
the stinging barb fixed,
Love, like a virus,
pumps the relevance
of existence
Crimson
through
Violet Blue Green rivers
Home is where the Heart Is
the hornets’ nest broken
rebirthed, awoken
wet wings spreading
unfurling in lock-down
velocity rattles
the Normals,
the civilised
wild animals
sharpening claws
a Soul
escapes the hive
dripping honey
like a Bee
pollinating white sheets
towards the Sun
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
“Home is Where the Heart Is” / The Chameleons
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kOl9lohiMP8
1. The 'Vitreous Humour'
2. WASP
"Home is Where the Heart Is" / The Chameleons, Lyrics
https://genius.com/The-chameleons-home-is-where-the-heart-is-lyrics
https://visioneyeinstitute.com.au/eyematters/the-vitreous-humour/
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/all_that_is_seen_and_unseen_1223436
And when will the tides turn against confident indifference?!
When will humanity cease
To throw cats against curiosity’s silver coated dagger
Another played out song
Another dramatic lyric
Shifting embellished overtones
With deteriorating tact
They spit posthumous awakenings
As divinity laced smiles, wither under a convoluted moon
Shedding retina waterfalls
Misunderstood
Pretentious anger becomes Aphrodite mediocrity
Wisdom, they never “put out”
Crippled tears
Become self-important struts within olive tinted reckonings
Lambasted butterflies
Stirring hornets’ nest
Uninvited
They dream for better days
While double-knotting gang colored bandanas
On eagle’s achromatic foreheads
Another Woody Woodpecker band-aid pulled from condescending hypocrisies
…
And when will the tides turn against pilot light’s mal-intent?
When will the flinty sheep
Stop wondering how these charring, orange fires began
Forgetting the 115 octane gasoline can
They hold quietly in their hands
©Drake J. Eszes
Classical infusion Beethoven’s “ode to joy”
Playing on blaring audiophile speakers annoy
Purposely looped to destroy vagrants with electronic music
Blends of subversive elements and anxious acoustic
Solution to loitering the bodega doo dropping
Spicy Shiitake broth smelling pissy store front,
Jaded daily stunt, at midnight wino corks popping
Abruptly segwaying into a film from one music scene to
a melting hallway, a lipstick alley with animate occupants
Disconnected unmoored, appearing eerie and dormant
Fluorescent lights unleashing a hum buzz in duress
Hissing sizzling hornets’ nest of unsettling unrest
Levels of unease, an iniquitous den
Such madcap absurdity is beyond my ken
Not a shack, mall, nor a Holiday Inn
A queasy Quasi-Moto mood which lies within
Backrooms filled in with discarded filets of fishy maceral
that have no place,
Frolicking pixella’s in a glossy abyss of liminal space
Plump puce brushed lips affixed
Swollen browns and purple mixed
Deep maroon and dusky rose, make-up art is what they pose
I wish I may I wish away what is unreal with blinky eyes
I pray not to awaken one more inky surreal surprise
Crescent shaped moon portions mounted in pseudo walls
Mounted upon the glare in unpleasing patterned halls
Side by side quagmired half discs dawning a contorted face
In a half dazed-half-moon crest loon’s invisible phase
Not unconscious but in some in-between state
Bored while in transition and abandoned as they await
Whimsical moldings who see me try NOT to take a peek
An exit to this madness is what I and they seek
Maybe re-evaluate my sleep number, for gravity defying rest
What insight imports this encounter and what test?
What it means for a doomed generation Xer or a baby boomer,
tacked in stucco, Silly Putty it seems, in a warped sense of humor
I wish I may I wish away what is unreal with blinky eyes
I pray not to awaken one more inky surreal surprise
Cheryl forgot to close the chest
When she disturbed a hornets’ nest
Remorse there is none
What’s Dunn is now done
Phantoms and ghouls she’ll put to rest.
Sonnet ‘O Sarcasm, Not
When too frequently posed the question of “you’re not mad at me are you?”
The quick, smart Aleck, retort of “dogs get mad, people get angry or even”, usually follows depending on what they did do.
The following discourse exacerbates whatever is a ’brew.
I say this sometimes anyway, it has become a habit; some do not have a clue!
Imagine that? Sarcasm comes off as nasty, who knew?
Many times, it is condescending, like boasting, who the hell are you?
Human beings are social animals alike our hornet friends
Each hornet communicating with his or her own secret language, no sarcasm necessary
When one stirs up a hornets’ nest, literally or metaphorically, neither species tend to break out into song as the ends
Spell it please? I- T. Huh? Will you say that again? That again!Sarcastic tones sound immensely arrogant and demeaning.
Laughter is absolutely non-essential to sarcasm, like when shortcomings are used to shame.
Do not be discouraged, even Plato has been to blame
Some think sarcasm funny, but it is the lowest form of wit,
And using it to bring others down makes me as mad as a hornet.
The unwritten lyrics swarm in my head like a hornets nest, the studio is silent. The microphone taunts me in it's little square box, but it waits for a time when we can talk in private.
I hear the instrumental get louder from the twist of a knob. The song wrote its self as my head starts to bob. I cram into the booth and close the door with confidence. That I will come out feeling new and get praised with compliments.
I get loud with excitement and shake hands with my buddies. Hope that I can continue this hobby, but we see no money.
I made music for years not thinking what my future entailed. All my friends will understand when its time to set sail.
We have low quality equipment and no food for our stomachs. We grow into men and instead of friends, we are now distant cousins.
THE MORNING WAS PLEASANT, THE WEATHER WAS FINE,
BREAKFAST OUT OF THE WAY, FISHING WAS ON MY MIND.
I’D WAITED ALL WEEK, BUT IT HAD FINALLY ARRIVED,
GOING FISHING AT LAST, THANK GOODNESS ALIVE.
WITH REEL IN MY HAND, TACKLE BY MY SIDE,
I HEADED ON OUT, NOT TOO LONG A RIDE.
TO THE LAKE I WAS GOING EARLY ON THIS MORN,
BEFORE DAYBREAK, AND BEFORE THE SUN WAS BORN.
WITH COOL DRINKS IN THE ICE CHEST, LISCENCE BY MY SIDE,
I’D BE OUT FISHING BEFORE A BABY BIRD CRIED.
GETTING TO THE LAKE, NO TROUBLE I HAD,
I LEARNED ALL THIS EARLY, STRAIGHT FROM MY DAD.
HE SAID, GO OUT EARLY, BRING THEM ON IN,
THAT’S WHEN YOU CATCH THEM, HE SAID WITH A GRIN.
I SURVEYED THE AREA, ALL GLOOM AND ASLEEP,
I’D CAST TOWARD THE MIDDLE, OUT WHERE IT WAS DEEP.
I PULL BACK MY ARM TO GET A GOOD SHOT,
BUT WHEN I WENT FORWARD’S THAT’S WHEN THINGS GOT HOT.
CAUGHT MY LINE ON A TREE BRANCH, LIKE TO BROKE MY ARM,
THOUGHT I HEARD SOME ONE SAY, NO FOUL NO HARM
WELL THAT MADE ME MAD, THAT’S WHEN THE TROUBLE BEGAN,
I YANKED AND I YANKED AND YANKED ONCE AGAIN.
NO MATTER HOW HARD I TRIED TO GET THE LINE FREE,
THAT DAD BOB BRANCH WOULDN’T GIVE IT BACK TO ME.
WELL, I THREW DOWN MY REEL, AND CLIMBED UP THAT TREE,
I COULD SEE IT WAS GOING TO BE TROUBLE TWEEN THAT BRANCH AND ME.
WELL I FINALLY CRAWLED OUT ON THAT BIG BRANCH.
FIXING TO GET MY WRAPPED UP LINE UNHOOKED, FAT CHANCE.
CAUSE ALL OF A SUDDEN AND MUCH TO MY SUPPRISE,
I WAS ON A HORNETS NEST, RIGHT THERE BEFORE MY EYES.
YOU TALK ABOUT PANIC, I THINK IT WAS TOO LATE,
CAUSE WHEN THEY STARTED UP, SEEMS THEY OPENED THE GATE.
LORD! I HOLLOWED OUT AS MY FEET HIT THE GROUND,
GET ME OUTTA THIS MESS AND MY LIFE I’LL KEEP SOUND.
THEM SUCKERS WAS POPPING ME, POPPING LIKE HECK,
I JUMPED IN THE LAKE, WAY OVER MY NECK.
SEEMED LIKE HOURS, BEFORE I HAD THE NERVE TO COME UP.
LUCKILY THEY WERE GONE, ME I WAS SOAKED LIKE A PUP.
I EASED TO MY TRUCK, GOT IN AND STARTED OUT FAST,
THEY CAN HAVE MY FISHING GEAR AND THEY CAN KISS MY FOOT.
Sorta reminded me of Salem Witch Trials I've read about in the past
Similarly, in this case people could point and say: "They are in love" and they would
most certainly be given a hornets blast. Oh they would not cut off the lovers heads
as t'was in days of yore. Then they just pointed at you and said: "She's a witch"
and then cut off their heads to keep from being a bore. Most popular was to burn them
tied to a stake so they could hear the loud fires roar. And was by far the most likely
way to do it, untill their came a day when the people saw right through it.
But then little is known about this I want to tell you to hold on to your seats. Here
is one of the worlds most cruel and remarkable feats.
40 Hornets was all it took from their most powerful venom to work
They would just net them over the heads and let them do the 40 jerk
That method did not get put down as part of mans cruel punishment as of yet
But I don't think it's on the books or against the law to hire 40 Hornets I would bet
But love conquers all it hs long ago been decided
Though love can be a Hornets nest if love is not abided
By the way, this is not a true story. So hope you don't feel the sting of it too badly
It is just a wonder that it did not happen as some other things have all so sadly
Love to all
They did it they really did it,
Can you believe it, can it be true;
My folks are angry, their passions lit
One voice united, this act the glue.
Little they know the hornets’ nest
They've now unleashed upon themselves,
They may well smirk at their cute start,
But I'm the ogre, they the elves.
To raid my home, a line now crossed
They truly think I'll cower in fear,
My cannons out, all fairness tossed,
I'll strike and torch all they hold dear.
Biden's a joke, a simple stooge,
A patsy by any other name,
This thing they did, I'll make it huge,
The best of gifts to fuel my fame.
A few more years to wait and scheme
To win it all and wipe their smirk,
Then watch the wokes just wail and scream,
As they observe our handy work.
Revenge is great, it drives my life
Cross me and watch for what comes next,
I can be sweet, just ask my wife
As to my foes such pain they won’t expect.
Shyloch, Shyloch Ye of crippled writers block Howl !
Hipster!
Survivor of sanatoriums drug riddled needled dreams and cancer lobotomy fantasies!
Drowned out by the apathy of X-Factor modernity!
Shyloch whose machinery sprite faster through chemical brewing!
And welfare states following entitlement scripts that harm!
Shyloch whose crucifix and domed book wielding army!
Storm the gates of purgatory and blood banks filled with candy bats and posh race day hats!
Shyloch whose windows fell the courtyard sanctuary of apposing towers!
With flight bound death bellowing fumes airplane fusion bomb blinded tasting castor oil!
Oh, Shyloch of the taught band of algorithmic army fibers of lanyards forward recoil!
Which bend both time and continuum lines into matrix riddled computer chips!
That manifest themselves in pie and pillow smoke horror convex leprechaun glasses!
The shards of which Shyloloch stills, not Shyloch lenses, chart express Shyloch determination!
Shyloch. Shyloch in four dimensions cursed in parallel universes battles!
Sent forth into the hornets nest of hell's bells and brothers under fire of tyranny shot at!
Where mothers servitude pierces a twig grenade destined for destruction!
Where radio scowls of panic manic contact, I reality check my pulse bleeding Shyloch!
Bellow of Shyloch in taxis destined for parachutes fashioned out of mantle piece clock memories!
Counting down the seconds of kicking calamity's arsenal of empire and envy!
Propped up by the students of anarchy blooded as puppets in vegetarian camouflage!
Shyloch of peanut butter and jello meal times washed down with rat burgers!
Shyloch, Shyloch who posts cards inscribed with death marches chuckle!
Encased in sphinx library tombs resurrecting gold edifices suburbia Atlantis!
Oh Shyloch 2012 A.G, Molock of worldly news wares and carnival fares!
Tribute to A.Ginsberg Howl
X Factor Disaster.
She certainly has the X factor
Beauty chic and flair
And if I had one wish
I’d be her teddy bear
Eyes of fire
A wasp waist
And a big fat bum
With a tattoo of my face
Legs like a giraffe
Melons of a chest
Her hair is green and purple
With a mochiecan crest
She speaks with a southern drawl
And boy
Can she brawl
Like a bear in a hornets nest
She can drink any man under the table
She’s always willing
And able
she has a slight nervous twitch
We have been seeing each other
For a bit
She has ten fingers
And twelve toes
And a great big wart
On the end of her Roman nose
She sings like
Louie Armstrong
And has Budgie lips
As strong as a bull
With an iron grip
loves watching soaps
All day
Puts our relationship on the ropes
Agile as a monkey
With the brain of a brick
I don’t know what it was
But somehow we clicked
Yes we married young
As her Father stood behind us
With his gun
We have our ups and downs
I once said something
When she was watching a soap
And now she pushes me in a wheelchair
Through town
I love her with most of my heart
And in her own way
I think she loves me
But not when there’s soaps on TV!!!!.
‘’Influenced by an ex girlfriend
Who was so obsessed with watching soaps.
I had to book an appointment
To see her for two minutes in the advert breaks
While she put the kettle on.
I had to buy a TV times magazine to keep up
To date for a two minute date
I hate soaps.’’
Peter Dome©2019.
windy in kansas
hornets nest under my foot
precarious prey
I could write about things meaningless,
Sometimes,I assume that might be the best.
For to challenge the pot, as I so often do,
Gives quick, easy birth, to a hornest’s nest.
3/4/2023
The Giant's
Of the wonder class
With outstretched looking ears
And pierced whistleblowers lips
Never had a mother
To sew their name into
Their favorite clothes
Or a home with a wardrobe to hang them in
They were instead chosen to become
The dead poet's and tortured artist's
We recite today
By speaker's corner
At wakes and funerals
On cold and grey rainy days
Outside derelict building's
Who's roofs were lost to german bombs
We as children dared each other not to go into
For fear of stirring up a hornets nest
Of represed abandonment feelings
Lest best we be remembered forgotten
Society is wrong
college is too long
a subtle bubble that wraps and cuddles
like snookies thong, its junk
thinkin youre grown up
and matured in 4 years
under pressure of peers
that cant release till 2 beers
Youve smeared your smirk
your boys seared and jerked to be frank ya furt
it stanks that the mirror doesnt flirt
so is that why,
you try treat me second rate
then kaput and dog what i say
cause youre insecure and afraid
and its got to gnaw at the base
im the salt to your taste
I hope all of these words
are a saw to your face
ive stirred the hornets nest
hoppin the fence with each rhyme
like i was just south of the most southwest lines
its time to diss this order, screw the court of florida
this border torture is a scorcher
but we can afford ta pay for ya house, a spouse, hospital bills,
more of whatever you feel and all of your mental disorders
its hilarious, my diss burns like asparagus
when you piss out your arogance in the middle of the toilet
Its so hott I could drop a egg in it and hard boil it
you've baked your plans o imma have to spoil it
you could saran-wrap your grams and still foil it
Just cover your manhood when the recoil hits