Best Misfired Poems
How curious, remote, the pain seemed now
As a fly on the ceiling, she looked down
Her body below in a hospital gown
Incessant beeps emitted by machines
With blips and waves on their monitor screens
She tried to cry out; muffled were her screams
No warmth penetrated surgeons’ white masks
“What are they doing?” she wanted to ask
“And how do I know they’re up to the task?”
The scene rolled past like a horror movie
Terror, she feared, would last eternally
But the action, the beeps, stopped suddenly
A creature of light appeared, took her hand
Something seemed familiar about this man
Had they met before in another land?
Through a stone tunnel he guided her now
Without taking steps, but floating somehow
Toward figures moving in a misty shroud
Some she recognized as they drew near
Family and friends whose love she held dear
Were welcoming her; she’d nothing to fear
Parents, an uncle, a cousin and niece
Beckoned her onward, her soul sensed release
In a radiant spectrum, stairway to peace
But as scenes from her life began to unwind
A Deity with a voice so sublime
Said, “I’m sorry, but it’s not yet your time.”
Pulled by a vacuum, withdrawn from the light
Through the tunnel again, though she tried to fight
From the ceiling she gazed, witnessed the sight
Electric currents jump-started her heart
Paddles brought back pain she’d known from the start
When later she woke, there was much to impart
But a skeptical doctor denied her claim
Her “journey” he dismissed as inane
Circuits, claimed he, had misfired in her brain
But she knew the truth, would not be deceived
Even when only her pastor believed
A glimpse of heaven she had received
* * Based on my own experience during surgery long ago.
The Darwin Awards are a posthumous honor, recognizing those who have improved the human gene pool by removing themselves from it by their own foolish actions.
In a robbery way out in Long Beach
Elliot's handgun misfired in the breech
Down the barrel he took
A quite scatterbrained look
Then made it more than a figure of speech
There was a foolish fellow named Gary
Who gulped gasoline over near Cary
The fuel made him gag
So he fired up a ***
And now smokes in the state mortuary
"Look, no helmet!" Phil proudly decried
In the headgear disobedience ride
He stood for his rights
Then put out his lights
When he flew off his Electra Glide
An impatient Korean got miffed
And was ramming the doors of the lift
Then went a bit daft
When he got the shaft
But his ride to the bottom was swift
References:
http://jdgroover.wordpress.com/2013/08/20/the-2013-darwin-awards-are-out/
http://www.darwinawards.com/darwin/darwin2012-03.html
http://www.darwinawards.com/darwin/darwin2011-03.html
http://www.darwinawards.com/darwin/darwin2010.html
Limerick crochetés: Once Fukushima Lady Uranium
Once Fukushima Lady Uranium
Madly in love with Hanford Plutonium
Sent him hot-kissed missile
Twice Hiroshima smile:
“R.S.V.P. Pluto to Uranus in mime!”
Missile misfired detoured Koreanium
O’er Kamchatka harassed by Putt-Inn-ium
Security Council
Issued stark Codicil
“Pacific love letters: ‘Putt-Inn-Bin, Hmh!’ “
Then lovesick Mamasan Uranium
Stole Crime-ian Green Card made in Elysium
KGB stamp fossil
Put Putt-Inn behind grill
So cut through Alaska helped by Pale-Inn-Yum!
At last Mamasan came close to Plutonium
At Hanford received no hugs in delirium
Sat by waste river spill
Her heart sank without thrill
Till Pluto-Uranus sang the Union Hymn!
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2015
I blink my eyes and then the world is gone.
Open once again to see some peons upon the lawn.
They came to hear the Lion yawn and swipe a wife by dawn.
That's why I keep my pride and believe,
to conceive that it's respite is my reprieve.
But you yuppies be just mere pawns in the grand scheme;
placed at rank 2 file C.
I treat myself to treats I don't need to ask the priest.
I fill a lady's niche when God's dead like Friedrich Nietzsche.
I'm an autonomous man, the world needs me.
Due to greedy deeds, I lost the lot of you to petty thievery.
Now standing orthogonal to the bishop you orthodox Cis.
Tearing holes in the fabric of time while mother nature sits and knits that.
Amidst a scrimmage over minish mishaps, fisticuffs and misfired mitts with whiplash.
Hexed by wind and turbulent syntax.
As activists vehemently flail at the fascist crux; only to be met by impasse.
Making my attempt to love exclusively an outward expression;
a barrage of affection bombarding the good intentions of a meta-man’s vision.
Otherwise known as fortified Freudian defense mechanisms.
To deal with ideals in an asymmetric system.
Oh but I pray praise that I am what I be.
Hallow thy be virile amongst a creed of faulty seeds.
Yet I’m an enantiomer, a Chiral Beast;
my courage can never be superimposed upon the fear of defeat.
Finally granted with the Coupe de Gras when disagreements meet.
As if graced by chance, I advance with the apex of a Sword’s vertice.
Striking clean from the left to then evade your deceit.
I take a seat while a woman cleans my wounds with peace.
Ahh but even in victory, the warrior’s woe must be debriefed.
I dream of snowflakes
they are each identical
my mind is frozen
Two-years-old and contorted, monstrously white-eyed, bloody-lipped and snorting,
gasping for air, as in drowning, but there is no welcome, wishing-well's water.
Do you seek the warm, languid liquid of your benign, pre-birthed beginnings from which
you were mistakenly and recklessly released?
What teeth-gnashing ghoul would bring such a pitiful, helpless, hapless, innocent
creature into a world of screeching suffering?
Autumn smiles in kaleidoscope colors, tossing rainbows
through the trees upon little gusts of laughing giggles.
Every shimmering, shaded hue has cart-wheeled to the peaceful riot.
My precious son communes with every chirp, cluck and click,
as rivers deftly dance to the bouncing beat of his steady footfalls.
He looks to the squinting sun and smiles, with a wink.
I look to the horizon with foul, hatred-filled breath
and curse the conniving clouds that await.
gran mal seizure seeds
horizontal trees are born
nature's brain misfired
.
Old old fireworks stored
Gave permission to use up...
Rocket misfired fire
Off With A Bang
When the chinese used fireworks for celebrations
They used a black powder called gunpowder, it has two
Practical uses for making harmess fireworks or creating
Explosions for rocket missiles during their wars, the same
Was also used for rifles and guns, they celebrated their
Chinese New Year with these exploading fireworks, but as
Time went on the gunpowder was used to make a huge
Explosion by a man called Guy Fawkes, he planned to blow
Up the British Houses of Parliament, his plan misfired and
He was caught along with his accomplices, and sent to jail.
England now celebrates this night as Guy Fawkes Night
It is on the 5th of November, and families get together
As they burn an effigy of Guy Fawkes on a bonfire.
They also have a large firework display during this event.
Yes gunpowder has many uses and it is used for good
Purposes as well as evil, it can be also used in Dynamite
An explosive which has been used in construction in
Various ways for good, or misused by theives to blow up
Bank vaults, but all these different variations of uses
The end result is that it nearly always goes off with a bang.
She wrote poems that would have made Bukowski blush.
I read one once, and twice over again, the fourth time I was in love
With her best-friend, for which it was about, well, more so her friend's ... cat.
She got mad in a way that would have made Shelley gush
Out tears and run, run, run to the monster we make out of love.
Misguided, misfired, she missed my face, more so - She also had a ... cat!
She declared in a way that would have made anyone want to …
Read her poetry.
Sometimes, when I step on holy land, my skin breathes flame.
The earth is a bouncing betty.
What sun am I, born of war, drowning in blood;
that pools like mercury?
Thunder bolts in the brain,
messages mistranslated.
We forget we're all heroes,
in the true kingdom.
There are times when the
Valkyr howl for nights on end.
A furious incantation.
Off road, no four wheel drive. There are too many
signs.
Electricity runs. It's water in our veins not blood.
So of course water can turn to blood.
Conjealed carbon integration of void
& soil.
What child am I? born of war,
Born of graves and tongue?
What projection of ghosts am I? traveling at light speed
Overlapping tranquility.
Forever misfired in to the heart?
OUr hearts can't take the shock of divinity that drips
on to these pages; my winged combat boots fuel the quest.
I am forever.
I am constantly being picked from teeth, scraped
from feet; drank from glasses.
A tree falls with an axe swing; a soul fling.
Seeing how far the soul can stretch before the blade hits.
Bone hollow.
Don't you feel me in every molecule of being?
We?
Who am I?
Mirror wounded and unhealable, no matter
what the Oracle says....
There is no one.
--------------
All I hear of Hilton Hotels is terrible,
making mistakes but taking the money,
slanderous to staff now that ain’t funny,
acting all proper job
when a proper nob,
discrimination I can prove
seeing certain staff removed,
we had no HR we could turn to
the manager had no concern for staff like you
setting me up to be disciplined and sacked
somewhat misfired though that plan, fact,
and when I was eventually fired
it was illegally done I’m no liar,
if Hilton Hotels challenge this poem as libel
then I will prove it’s not a lie I will,
they keep managers that manage like monsters
power mad heads become like satanic imposters,
this manager got sacked but still works for them
he's the manager of the York Hilton
they charge too much
care too little
so to Hilton Hotels here’s my middle!!!
All England, blinking nervously, is out!
A little mild spell, much to our surprise,
has brightened frowsy February skies.
We sniff the air with nostrils schooled in doubt.
Baffled by balm, the fruit trees have misfired.
Like foolish virgins, hurrying on their scarves,
They've pushed out blooms half-petaled and half-starved.
The coming frosts will slice them like cheese-wire.
And I have loved you far too eagerly.
My half-cocked hopes have withered on the bough.
I should have doled my sweets more meagerly -
then, had I granted space, and time, and light,
your hobbled feelings might have taken flight,
in any time or place ... but England. Now.
Father Time is to love
As a breeze is to fire
It enkindles the great
Extinguishes the small
Swirls ashes into smoke
Drifting up like prayers
From some abandoned souls
Wounded by an arrow
Misfired from Cupid's bow
Smoke stings everyone's eyes
And tears become rainbows
Doomed to fade out of sight
Until we understand
That when it comes to love
We all get blown away . . . .
Form:
A sword thrust,
parried before it’s
finale;
a pistol misfired
aimed at;
my immortal thoughts
held at bay
by the;
a wasted life
wondering,
please my love,
for me;
AIM STRAIGHT
Roman pro-life Pilate politicians
got their abortion trigger finger
on the gun
Sending public notice of more bullet crucifixions,
a Surgeon General quarantine warning:
Lead cancer epidemic is spreading,
pistol pestilence ...
gunsmoke you best deadly shun
Herodian arms whisperers advise,
to let the virulent violence run it’s course
That’s the American Legion way of the gun ...
Give and take is the bullet gladiator way of life,
written on the name of every Republic citizen
To give birth to the precious metal bastard babies,
you gonna have to
bury some of your flesh-and-blood legitimate ones
Hypocrite politicians say the news ain’t that bad:
Step outside and Lucifer relax ...
take a puff of the lead cancer stick —
but keep your gun cocked and ready to shoot,
locked and loaded bulls-eye barrel smoking mad
Don’t be scared by what you saw, or what you heard
You just can’t believe the graphic images and sounds ...
no, not one fake media misfired word
Take your chances, everybody don’t get lead cancer
Survive, and breathe the polluted gunsmoke air
You’re still alive —
just remember, the next bullet coming won’t care
B- Ballistics blast burst
O- Outbreak
O- Outbursts
M- Miss detonation Misfired
4/22/18
written words by James Edward Lee Sr.
Copyright © 2018