Best Metallic Poems
*****To the naked EYE, this poem may seem like gibberish,
but I assure you it is loaded with 24 palindromes,
3 palindrome phrases, 1 hidden palindrome phrase,
and is chock full with enormous wordplay...
oh and one more palindrome in this description.
Can you find more? I challenge you word freaks!*****
____SATAN OSCILLATE MY METALLIC SONATAS____
Last night, around eleven or so, I decided to paint a pink castle.
To my dismay, on display, is what looks more like a pink *******.
Picasso would've been so proud!
Today, upon recording nothing short of a colossal debacle,
I've chosen to
utilize the eyes of a hostile apostle.
Tossing docile scribble, I'm scribing.
Describing life like a diatribe conniving REVIVER at a revival.
LIVE EVIL!
Palindrome EYE to the side of my tribe.
Get in line, standing at the hands of HANNA.
PULL UP.
RISE AND VOTE SIR!
EYE
LEVEL
to
NUN'S
BOOB.
WOW!
We OTTO-matically
POP a PEEP at NOON!
DAD got so damn mad he DID the DEED
and split three XANAX with his MADAM and MOM!
(ALA the ABBA GIG way back in them AHA kookie KOOK days)
So anyways...
Back to peek hassle!
Do ya' think he might like ta' take a stab at my STATS?
*****(this was fun as fun can be:
hope you have half as much fun with it as I did:)*****
~JSLambert
“Metallic skin"
I dont lotion anymore
Such acts would soften an amour now immune to abuse.
Its now 8'o clock and I can tell that mommy is already asleep.
I prepare a clean skin to be dumped in acts of unwanted desires.
A child's room to become the scene for subjected sin in sex!
My Innocents awaits to be taken once more, soon my Dora underwear will be torn off by a gentleman with the courtesy of secretly replacing them.
Swiper's car pulls up
A man of work, he stops not to say a thing, he pulls the door and creeps right in.
Right on schedule sir!
Yes sir!
Yes sir!
The soldiers on the television, I turned their voices up.
I sit in the corner, further away from him, I pressed my face into the arms of meeting walls, the spot where my tears kept me clean.
His five knives went jammed in my neck! I bit my lips causing my metallic skin to flick a tooth in the back of my head.
I swallowed it as my signature, approving this sentence.
Molten lava between my legs.
The friction scrapes me in and out!
Head held down, bowed to the name who sits on my family tree, I am green but he still picks me!
We are dogs, family on top of family, he did it horridly, a gentleman without hospitality.
He gave me something much bigger than me, pressure to the pipe,
it laid inside of me.
My reflection shows a prospective whore
Daddy what should I become a Lady of the night? For every night you open my little books to read me!
This red liquid drips me colourful, I paint a dead colouring book.
Daddy I am small but my tears are big, a million times I died in my own liquid.
I don't have a shadow anymore for I am not worthy to be seen.
My skin grows but I shrink, dreams died one stroke at a time. He smashed my metalic skin.
Now I am HIV “Aladeen" my curves curls up cursed touched by a related beast. I am done, I am drowned in my metalic skin.
©Copywrite
By: Ramone Young
Poetic System Kidz Entertainment.
I really truly don't know
why
some things under the
sun and sky
attract and catch my
fancy
Quite queerly they
happen to be
hot melting smelting
solids
that melt into exquisite
liquids.
Take for instance heated
liquid gold
molten glass or molten
brass
and to watch magma
'neath the earth's fold
Ooh I love just about any
melting mass.
With similar bizarre
ecstasy and fascination
do I always watch
onscreen molten lava
Gliding in serpentine
turns, oblivious of my
admiration
Ah, I just love all that
golden molten mass
Sometimes I even have
such an eccentric craving
to watch just any solid
beauty melting smelting
that I satisfy this craving
by simply imagining
the honey to be some
liquid fire gold
in a crystal clear jar and
liken it to
a metallic gold syrup in
the furnace burning
As if it were stagnant
mini-lava
right before me glowing!
As for other mesmeric
things
that I find real eye-
catching
are those which
everybody else finds
ravishing.
And they are in all shine
dazzling diamond dust
Magical celestial stardust
Glittery terrestrial gold
dust
in mankind's metallic
materialistic lust.!
But I, I am allergic to
dust!:) ;)
Sleepy auburn hills,
Wake to the warm touch of gold:
Under pewter skies.
The mobile mind of the indomitable mariner,
the resolute sailor floating on the waves of life,
rolling on the curled crests with splintered moon,
drawn into dark agony troughs of drowned stars,
spread to oblivion breaking on the shore of past.
The crushed sands carve seaward footprints,
designed by the crumbled contours of decay.
Time arrow points to terrain beyond the shore,
away from the abraded wilderness abandoned,
where the chasm consumes the collapsed hopes.
The weed-webbed wasteland defined deep within,
piles up the washed out wreckage of life unlived.
The withering garden garners metallic bleakness,
as the path paved outside the familiarity fence,
waits to be walked by the mesmerized wanderer
to the mesmeric meadow of tantalizing tomorrow.
The invented alchemy aptitude of mystic memory
makes glittering gold on the rusted crust of ruins.
Marigold blooms in the scrap heap of abiding hope
in the Midas touched junkyard of the metallic mind.
_________________
February 19, 2023
For Brian Strand's Your Choice Again Contest
METALLIC
Twisting rusting wire tightly wound round the base coiling its way from electrode to electrode dancing in blue electricity reflecting off the dull tarnished surface, metallic colours shine in the dimly lit light making pain burn through my body, torturing me with pleasure and pain in a collage of hell.
I’m a human mind hooked up for the electrical trip of a lifetime.
the soldier smiled at me
but his smiles were false
I knew by intuition
that the night would be uneasy
things would be bloody
with metallic beans worn
around waste and neck
some in pockets and arms
I was sure the beans were gifts
brought for each man’s heart
in village of hard truth
Listen to the air,
what cometh on the buffeting winds
of history
are angry birds of prey
With metallic wings that flap not,
they move with frightening speed
Raptor birds carrying atomic seeds in their beaks,
given to feed
the radiation baby chicks which will soon emerge
from the bowels of their womb,
Listen to the wind ... death is arriving soon
Metallic wings
that move with a deadly drone
When they drop their cobalt eggs,
the splattering sound of the scattering dust reveals
the new boundaries of the killing zone
Witness the bones stripped of all flesh ...
instantly gone
And the leveled cities of worms
sink underground permanently
Smell the stench of the wind which is blown
See the metal birds of prey
return to perch on their barren branches
With untiring wings spread,
they sit atop their fallow thrones
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
nature's winged gadget
cacophonic arguments
reconcile the day
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
August 16, 2021
Oil stained wings of satin sea,
Ebon quills on blue,
Ruffled whispers, jasmine
breeze,
Echoes of near silent who.
Dripping onyx, puddled, pooled,
Sheets of satin overhead,
Licorice melted, inky glow,
Shadows in spirit and bed.
Silver wisps, shimmer pale,
Hiding from the dawn,
Flames, charcoal sapphire,
Queens lonely pawn.
Interrupted, endless oblivion,
A tease, nothing more,
Luminescent twinkle of
innocence,
Muse of legend and lore.
Strewn and scattered,
imperfect rhyme,
Reason without shame,
Glitter sprinkled, heavy hand,
Never ending game.
Struggling for the top of bill,
Eager to compete,
Diamonds in the dusky rough,
Carbon parted by heat.
Drizzle, navy and tar reprise,
Metallic freckles of light,
Wishes, dreams and
introspect,
Twinkle on, star bright.
I taste the metal skyline.
I feel the wind breathe across my face
I fall
Honk, honk, honk
The car alarm screams at me from afar
Bleeding lights streak across my eyes
Hey what's the matter with you?
I am fine I think
Bedazzled by reflections in sheets of glass
Is that the sky?
I wonder bemused
I fly down and up simultaneously
Finally I've caught the wind
On steel wings I rise!
The cobalt mind of ancient mariner of the seven seas,
the surfing sailor tosses on the waves of youthful life,
rolls on the curled crests with the splintered moon,
drawn into dark agony troughs of the drowned stars,
spread pearls of joy on shore embroidering exuberance.
Crushed sands sculpt the trail of the seaward footprints,
designed by the crumbled contours of transient decay.
Time arrow points to the turquoise terrain ethereal,
away from the wistful wilderness abandoned,
where the chasm stratifies the collapsed hopes undying.
The weed-webbed wasteland defined deep within,
piles up the shipwrecked splinters of life unlived.
Withering garden garners tinny bleakness, yet shining,
as the path paved outside the obscure familiarity fence
waits to be walked by the mesmerized wanderer
to the marvelous meadow of tantalizing tomorrow.
The invented alchemic aptitude of the mystic memory
makes glittering gold on the rusted crust of the ruins.
Marigold blooms on scrap heap with steadfast sanguinity
in Midas touched shipwreck junkyard of the metallic mind.
Found the abandoned misused tomb
Metallic and ancient it slept
Airstream trailer, silver bullet
I wandered the forest and wept
Found a rusted knife in the ash
Metallic and ancient it slept
A kitchen tool, left in the rain
It was just begging to be kept
Found a can of neon spray paint
Metallic and ancient it slept
I helped my siblings paint our barn
And at time’s end, away we crept
... hard, soft, heart metal,
cloyingly sentimental,
temperamental...!
Black no moon night
Glowing green
No noise to be heard
Gliding overheard
Cowering away
Looking to hide
Blinding white light
Lying on a cold metallic table
Grey faces without features
Stretched out on dewy grass
Two hours missing
Rubbing a lump on my neck
Headaches and rashes
Humming in my ears
Flashes of metallic memories.
© Paul Warren Poetry