Best Kerosene Poems
The storm of the night was windy
Loud refrains of thunder with lightening
Willow shook with fright hair fell flimsy
Forsaken somehow by electrical power's might
So writing by faint oil lamp light
Thinking of the great who of yore
Read_wrote_under adversity
Strong people our ancestors who our genes bore
Touched in many ways by the storms presence
Oh! The coolness of the air's sweetness
Heavy overcast shading of sun's ray
Great start to delightful day
All plants refreshed ready
Their flowers a host to feed
Casting forth flower and pollen
For the bees, hummers to spread their seed
Winding road, set me free,
take me where I am supposed to be.
See that flame? It calls to me,
showing me, where I need to be.
That flame I know, is Kerosene,
just down the road within the trees.
See that flag? It's mocking me,
tonight that flag meets Kerosene.
So follow me to this place I know,
believe me, I was born ready to go.
I see you fall upon your knees,
pray to your god to hear your dreams,
what you've heard, ain't what it seems..
We will stick with sin, and Kerosene.
Rat snakes hate kerosene,
For crowns,ballots bitter medicine!
Today is one of the days I feel like smoke.
Choking myself.... bottling every feeling,
not allowing myself to breathe.
Covering everything with white ashes,
turning things monotonous...black and white.
I am not kerosene yet.
I am not kerosene yet...it never corrodes,
it forms impenetrable layers…
not allowing a chance for reversal.
Not letting down a breathe,
excluding from every other thing...
I am not kerosene. Yet.
I am not even wrapped in a warm blanket.
I am cold.
I'm cold.
Sitting in smoking temperatures, I am cold.
Frozen. Numb. Insensitive.
Not wrapped in a warm blanket, I sit cold.
Kerosene was a staple in my childhood on the farm.
We used it to start the fires in the stoves to keep us warm.
Kerosene lamps and lanterns were only lights we had.
We were warned not to drop them; if we did it could be bad.
Mom told us it was dangerous and results would be dire,
O’ Riley’s cow kicked the lantern, starting Chicago fire.
It had so many uses, I forget some of them now,
My daddy cleaned his tools with it and even shined the plow.
Our mama poured it on our heads if she suspected lice,
For sore throats, mixed it with sugar. That didn’t taste too nice.
Kerosene still has its uses in this the modern day,
As hi-octane engine fuel it gets big jets on their way.
Won no. 8 in K contest.
Where’s the paid watcher of my Jerry can
And who the hell just bounded it off,
My face now a hotter frying pan,
Never to learn how to absorb a bluff?
Lame excuses I don’t fail a wheel chair
And their givers try to not spare:
These days’ lies changed like robes
By lips doubly sure no listener probes...
Because kerosene is involved
And its worries not easily solved...
Tales in powder soaked to veil their rashes,
No recalls of Dust to Dust, Ashes to Ashes…
Should I forget haven woken up at 4:00 AM
For a heart gladdening position in a snaky queue
And the pains taken to phone a Clem
For my Jerrycan to be preceded by just a few
Stiff-necked, refusing a morning bath
After picking the consequences from Simple Math?
They woke up
worried
What the other thought
They kissed eachother clean
during the early morning hours
They looked at one another
and felt a pang through their bodies
their eyes were filled with blood
when they looked at one
another
They went back to bed
Entangled bodies
that love
Nobody
Crosscheck with An Honest Magazine
Price of liter of kerosene:
What it costs to upload ten poems,
I hate: Thief!” leading to requiems,
Poet to freely leave Cybercafé,
And at home drink Calming Nescafe…
So, I’ve started using firewood,
Where piles of Good Ones stand have I stood:
On this day the Twenty-First-August
No shame asking Ant to be My Guest…
But-Gosh!-Cruel Smoke for Unprepared Lungs
Please, pray, I don’t start speaking in tongues!
in a dirty clutter
day-old larvae wriggle
some in stark stench flutter
kerosene poured on them
sealing siphons of breath
lamp oil shuts their shutter
The real risk is fire.
Flames.
It’s not butterflies.
Or caught up in trance.
It’s about gesturing to an exit.
And quiet before the vapor.
The tv got ash all over it.
The real risk is fire when you live in a kerosene dream.
Flames.
Curtains.
Kerosene dreams.
Quit on me.
The real risk is fire.
They never told me not to use the elevator.
Maybe they did.
It didn’t turn me into a butterfly.
The firefighter told me while dusting off a bone.
The real risk is already over.
Coughing is leftover.
Phlegm turned to dust.
The fragrance of kerosene
in shadows of innuendo’s
alluring soliloquy
fragrance of kerosene
Reminding him of her hips
Hot liquid coming from within
An urge to go deep in there
And push until blank is felt.