Best Jackhammers Poems

Mount Rushmore; Carved in Stone

From deep within the earth’s crust,
An orogeny pushes
The batholith upwards
To become ‘The Shrine of Democracy,’
Of weathered presidential faces
Chiseled in rock in South Dakota;
Representing 150 years of history
(From birth of a nation
To entry into the 20th. century)
In carved images:
Of Washington, Jefferson, Roosevelt,...

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Fast, dusty cigarettes calmly drive a big, small guy.
The worker stops like an old sidewalk.
All skyscrapers hustle noisy, dead cars.
Lord, work!
O, death!
Dark, noisy doors roughly fight a old, big car.
Why does the truck shop?
All flowers grab noisy, small cars.
The job shops like a dead cigarette.
Damn,...

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the night arrives silent as a shadow 
holding many mysteries in his clawed hands
his eyes watch our every move
every song 
every dance 

every word that we utter 
he hears what we say
hears what we desire and does nothing to comply 
our hearts beat in our...

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I look around me and all I see are colors
 but wonder if they matter at all
for I see the color of all of these wonders
but still cant afford to call

so I have to ask has color mattered
since the day I was born
or is the...

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Sun's rays glint through the glistening pines
Residual moisture imbibes the fawning heat
A cloak of needles hovers over the clandestine copse
Fertile fortress clothes the stunted flora
A whispering breeze bristles through the jaded cones
Resinous scent blankets the blanched meadow
Fondling fungus shrouds the damp floor
Glittering flora splices the...

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I grew up as a child
near a freeway construction zone
Took many an afternoon naps
lullabied by the sound of machinery drone
And to this very day
when I hear the sounds of construction going on,
my eyes get heavy
and my ears take flight into the childhood zone
It’s the peaceful...

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Walking down the street
Hearing all the beats
Going all around
Construction sites
Alarm systems going off
Honking horns
Mothers yelling at there kids
Drivers screaming at other drivers
Jackhammers pounding the ground
Water fountains pouring down water
Coins falling out of hands
People talking on cell phones
Guitars from street performers
Getting caught up into the sound
Just...

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I lay there immersed in the cosset wrap
skin smoothed into endless
the liquid thoughts on languish endless
a stretch of bone in muscle seeking comfort
finding peace for a moment
peace from the ceaseless jackhammers
leave me be
alone in the warmth of darkness

There is no plague of light
a floating “...

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Rainbow Surplus suppressing it’s limelight on the wonders of thy guillotine. Eat a planet with betadine. Horoscopes orders. The empire shines bright on double d’s. Who’s to say Peter hasn’t squandered his own stability? It’s a mystery. Lasers are on top of mount Olympus. To...

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Pickled percolating bile
Prances up my prickled throat
Whiskey guides my exile
While arrogance digs a moat
Brain reeking like a dog pile
Mighty flush to spin that float

Jackhammers ravage my brain
As my eyes toil to flutter
Elements of vast disdain
Yelp out within this clutter
Bacchus yanks me on his chain
While I...

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Machete pecks
cycle through a staccato lied.
The music is Jurassic,
a tune rattled in the throat
of a feathered lizard –
the genetic code
of jackhammers.
Apart from the tock-tock
of beak on wood,
their calls are insane.
One could be a jack-ass braying,
one a monkey’s angry chatter.
In some we can hear a pterodactyl
calling...

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New York City is like a cobblestone symphony,
where jackhammers and footsteps form the rhythmic timpani,
sirens and honking taxis, are the cymbals, that provide sudden bursts of energy,
traffic’s hum could be the violins and pigeon squawk a chorus of industry.
The sounds of life never seem to...

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Dry, grimy skyscrapers calmly grab a dead, dusty truck.
All rains hustle dead, dead jackhammers.
The job talks like a faceless worker.
Trucks walk like faceless trucks.
Action is a rainy cigarette.

Faceless, dusty cigarettes roughly hustle a small, big girl.
Why does the street walk?
Doors stop like cold jobs.
Jobs shop...

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Machete jabs
cycle through a staccato lied.
 
The music is Jurassic,
a tune rattled in the throat
of a feathered lizard.
 
It pecks out the genetic code
of jackhammers.
Stabs eardrums deep,
a primal stirring
of blood and sap.
 
The forest echoes
as time hammers on....

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The city above us reaches higher and higher
tipped at the top in all its glory with
iconic, prickly, spires,
as long as air rights permit it.
Build, tear down, rebuild, as the wheels below spin round
in sync with the people who dream,
and the unbridled greed.
Sidewalks, though, remain the...

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