Best Octane Poems

Hungered fuel I'm in trust
When sensed thralls me
It's, it's driven urge to I
Rocket fuelling me

It's high or low approach
Exciting this in me
I'm in catapult to...

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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...

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Spring takes me for a warm walk in the park,
with emerald trees
swaying in the breeze.
And I hear the chirps of a meadowlark
sung to captivate
and attract...

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Sugar drops and colored gumballs,
An open skyline, an open convertible, and a white ragtop!
Black Perrelis, red caps, and spoked mag-frames,
Pacific Coast Highway, and her stairway...

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Paddy

His name is Padraig Torrin McWheaten of County Cork, esq. – Paddy for short!  He is Celtic mischief with deep brown eyes the color...

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Electrical power 
surges
through my body,
sending high voltage waves
to my brain,
shocking me
to my core.
The beats 
are pulse pounding.
Raw energy 
flows 
through
my veins.
Flashes of rhythm
like a neon...

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Homemade dungeons spirit up through governmental finance. An alone home to the flight risk, trial sick, authoritative kind. So much time now spent hitting the...

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we cannot pinpoint the day nor time when God created all that we see
but we know when fire was introduced as a part of mankind's...

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I dream into my Ta(0)ist
not-Universal Yang equals
not-Unitarian Yin
Sanctuary,
expecting to be greeted
by visions
of familiar spiritual apartheid.

But I am not.
Instead,
communion in this Sanctuary
looks and resounds,
feels and resonates
with...

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spin the lamp all the way down,
 lay low the polio eradic skyline.

 down to where beds exit through
 lime hollow eyelids.

 saint isotope on...

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Black shrouds blue
a dingy hue
This greedy minscus constricts us

~~~Mother Earth's shameful eyepatch~~

A gull's squak gurgled crude
chirping 89 octane birdsongs
forever grounded by fossil fuel fettered feathers
sharp...

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It felt so good, like we were movie stars 
You were with me, my friends, in my suped-up car

Through the village street at such high-octane...

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There was a diva from Vancouver

Her car was a Octane blue Lancer

Modelling was her passion

Day came, to show fashion

She lay in bed due to a...

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When they draped the flag on your coffin mate 
I was dumb, dead with it-
they ought to at least give you one last chance 
to...

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We claim to love
but foolish pride swallows apologies
wrecks reconciliation and forgoes forgiveness
rendering sweetness bitter
it is an emotional hoarder
an insatiable sin
incessantly collecting resentment
commoditizing the priceless
bankrupting unity...

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