Best Pickaxe Poems

MOUNTAIN

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Though dormant, your strengths are still present...
within the silky staircase of God woven DNA.
Just peel away layers of perceived weakness
climb through the fiery muck and mire...
through acidic jive-devil clawed lies.
Climb with a pickaxe of love and faith.
Shed decades of doubters and layers of deceivers.
Buoy the...

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When dulled down shock painfully became
a pickaxe ache behind shimmering eyes,
the bludgeoning screen hammered memory cells
repeatedly, over and over.
Tears exploded, soft rain dampened flame,
the grumbling dust cloud debris disguised
broken hearts bursting in agonised swells
searching for life confirmation.

Crashed vultures, evil in senseless flight,
beating humanity for hours...

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We should teach the chimpanzees to read
the names of certain things. Objects like tools 
for instance
then label the tools: hammer, saw, axe,
screwdriver etcetera, then screws and nails.

Teach them just enough words to know
a pickaxe from a pencil…just a few practical words
for practical applications, not too...

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I seek not a robe of glittering pearls and rubies shinning bright
Give me a modest dress only not shorter than my height

A handcuff, a collar or may be, a shackle heavy and tough
The adornment for me should compliment the stature of my love

My foe wishes...

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The Burial, Translation of Paul Verlaine’s sonnet : L’Enterrement

I know nothing as gay as a burial !
The grave-digger who sings with his pickaxe in bright thrill
The church bells from afar reverberating with their svelte trille
The priest in a white surplice whose joyous prayers hardly in...

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Miss Andry, you are truly a mystery. 
You have Revealed yourself as Artemis and Lady of Ephesus to Many. 
Miss Andry, you're mother nature that Roars like a lion and your voice thunders time after time. 
Miss Andry, you're the root of most religions and...

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In all honesty
I believe Love is actually blind
That she lost her road
And headed straight 
Into the mess, she lays in today
I hope we all find her, bathe her and clothe her
Cos she's really a mess right now...

Love used to be the gatekeeper
Between the legs of...

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Marcus Mosiah Garvey arose from a little town, yes my lord
A Leo lifting Harlem, kingdom bound, yes my lord
Resuscitated religion around the black man’s looks, yes my lord
Cuddling pickaxe, hoe, and cradling books, yes my lord
Umpire of Freedom from home to foreign land, yes my...

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12/26/21


Time I make a splash
Got to fulfill important tasks
Can't rely on hiding behind masks
It won't always be what you asked

Staying intact or full of bug splats
Broken and cracked windshield glass

The wings of bats
Continuing to flap
Before returning to the cave for a nap

Out to get snacks
Packs...

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Top of the world, Ma —
See those little fingers down there?
Those tiny rivers runnin’ thru the valley —
You fall, you won’t be repaired 

Gimme pickaxe, gimme rope-ladder
Gimme both McKinley and Everest 
I think best at highest altitudes
I’m hottest at my grooviest 

Sheer fall —
You’re goin...

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What love embodies is set in stone
Only a pickaxe can break
What's truthfully there, damage prone
What the heart wants is stuck with a stake
Maybe I’m the pickaxe who destroys all love
But I will never be so sure
Because the pickaxe can be anything, a gentle dove
I don’t...

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i represent an
invisible wall to
you
everytime you walk
by
i wish i was a
magician only for
you
everytime you walk
by
i would create the
most amazing art for
you
everytime you walk
by
i would totally
erase the maze of
confusion for you 
everytime you walk
by

the bridge of
rejection sends my
inner fear into
ascension
i want to fall off
intentionally when i
imagine...

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As if by other ears,
you hear the trees cracking,
a black ice splitting the sky,
a pickaxe laying bare
night’s white bones.

Sleepers arise
still dreaming of such things.

A cave, and inside
that carved-out ear
the dreams of others’
troubling you
into a kind of love.

And was it you walking
angrily away
driven wild and shouting,
with...

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The Grind

In Gielinor's realm, where legends reside,
A hero emerges, with nowhere to hide.
From Lumbridge to Kharazi, a journey untold,
With pickaxe and sword, a story unfolds.

The grind is relentless, the hours they blur,
Woodcutting, mining, a monotonous stir.
But whispers arise, of glory and fame,
To slay the great...

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