Best Wild Eyed Poems
Strangers are attacking me;
ruthless men seek my life—
men without regard for God. Selah
Psalm 54:3
GOD SEES THE COURAGEOUS AT WORK
Wild-eyed disregard for God —
The mocking tone, the spittoon.
The leering eyes —
they’re tiger’s eyes.
They plop near the weights —
the courageous snakes, and
throw balls of cannon smoke.
They hope that we will choke.
The courageous throw acid
in a virgin’s angelic face.
The courageous pounds their rusted
nails into fragile wrists and ankle saints —
these innocents whose haloed guardian’s
see the illuminated face of almighty God.
The courageous divide fetus parts,
roll them like dice, put them on display.
The courageous pillage, rape and sodomize
thinking if there’s a God, he will see it as sport.
They drink deeply the heart blood and soul
but none can escape the Ancient of Days.
Life is a pit, a mere hole for the courageous
to drown. They’ve looked for a fiery dragon
And he’s been found, awaiting the demise
of as many curs-ed petals he can find.
Selah…
if only for a moment the dead blinked,
the light of day might have saved their hide.
The brokenhearted will feast at the King’s table.
with no need to fear when evil is deceased.
9/24/2019
“Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance.” – Carl Sandburg.
Glowing like the roused firefly glows,
Stirring souls, poetry just knows,
Love, fire, boldest winds of desire,
Rains blessing, song without a choir.
Words pouring out soft, gentle prose,
Glowing like the roused firefly glows,
Glistening dreams, love to extremes,
Beckoning from silence that screams.
Dance of dances, fluid verses,
Poetry that grace coerces,
Glowing like the roused firefly glows,
Poems who don’t just tell but shows.
Rhymes and rhythms, tenderly abide,
Singing of light, sometimes wild-eyed,
Hearts might remain in the shadows,
Glowing like the roused firefly glows,
There’s a howling in the air tonight
A baying at the moon
For the hound is running free again
And his voice has joined the tune
Of a thousand other voices
That echo through the years
And a certain blue-tick calling
– She’s calling through my tears
They’re in the backwoods running now
Like in a younger age
Baying on the trail with joy
As they did just yesterday
With their feet, like wings, a'flying
As they gulp the happy air
Wild-eyed little maniacs
Without a worldly care!
Do you hear them now, my darling?
Do you see them in the fields
The sun upon their shadows, the wind
Blowing through their ears?
As you know you’ll always see them
And hear them from afar
Romping through the atmosphere
From star to shining star
Now they pause in listening silence
As if they seem to sense
The presence of our memories
In the near but distant past –
For their memories, as such they keep
Are as near as mine today
Which holds them still, while still I weep
For my hounds of yesterday –
It was her kitchen, her family, and my newly-married man, and I aimed to please her by properly being fed.
With a smile and a swish, “We have butterscotch pudding pie for dessert!” My brand spanking new mother-in-law said.
Her excitement had no knowledge of the instant memory of horribleness that leaped instantly to my own quickly confused head.
I tried to take an invisible pretend bite while the family all watched, eagerly waiting but my traitorous mouth played dead.
Tears filled my eyes, as I was unnaturally smothered with the sad, angry hurt of my long-ago favorite butterscotch pie.
The feelings came so damned fast, I could not stop them at all or even slow them down, and they surrounded me, and made me cry.
When I was eleven, my family of origin was in the kitchen, laughing, and playing, and goofing around.
When the phone rang, I was asked to get it, because it was wire-attached to the wall, and I was the closest to the retched sound.
I had never heard my mother wail or keen until that day, certainly never heard her yell, “DICK!” or fall without any game to play.
Our big Dad jumped up faster than we had ever seen, grabbed rag-doll Mom before she hit the kitchen counter in a not so great way.
We all turned pure white, which was odd because we were usually pink. Fascinated, yet, hungry, I took my first bite, and heard the words “Mom is dead, and Dad’s dead too.”
We kids started shaking, sad and scared. Grandma and Grandpa were our king and queen. When things calmed down in a second or two that damned butterscotch pie tasted like glue.
Everyone wailed wild-eyed, faces red. The cousins came, and we huddled together and cried and screamed how great it was sob, sob, that they both went to heaven.
Yes, I know that was many years ago but when my feelings took my body over loud and clear, they clamped my mouth tightly shut, because I was back to 11.
I took my sanity out for a walk today
And it seemed to slip my mind
We haven't been getting along as of late
And I hate it when it hides
If it were up to me
I'd keep it locked up all the time
With my sanity out running free
There's no telling the trouble that it'll find
This isn't the first time this has happened
Not the first time it's escaped
Followed by wild eyed giggling and non stop laughing
As it skipped along its merry way
So if you happened to see my sanity
Would you kindly send it home
Me and its next of kin "In"
Are starting to feel a little paranoid
No more new year resolutions,
no more lie on government restitution,
no republic can survive its dilution
no more pandemic blues,
no more wild-eyed cons[iracy cues
no more revenue that's due,
just a prayer for every ordinary me and you;
give me liberty, opinion and my own discretion
a say in the congressional gridlocked sessions
and give me my freedom of choice,
keep your Beemer, Lincoln, Lexus and Rolls Royce,
help me vote, let me speak my voice;
let me give my fair share
how much do you care
about health, hunger, poverty and medicare,
brother do you have a dime to spare,
is anyone with common sense there?
Where are the children too long missing
who's corporate behinds are you now kissing
what's with all the anger and the hissing,
end these shootings, hate fires the looting dissings
help the homeless and the poor, stop the dismissing
are your senate raging rants just visual political pissing?
Schumer, Pelosi, Manchin, McConnel and McCarthy
what is the point of your political party,
you play your little games of cat and mouse
while nothing is done in Senate or in House?
Get to work, do your jobs
stop the lobby dance and cut the hobnobs,
too long perhaps you hold power
all governments are now, equally soured
while the general population is deflowered.
A man pounding at my door,
stood there wild-eyed and flailing.
His voice though hoarse nearly roared
changed to whisper then wailing
As he had this bit to say:
The good men and the bad men,
they’re all dying just the same!
Those you don’t know, those you do know,
those who never had a name.
Does it wake you?
Does it shake you?
Does it take you
by surprise,
that the good men and the bad men
and the foolish and the wise,
are all dying?
Are you crying,
or trying to decide,
if the path that you have taken
has been narrow
or been wide?
The rich man,
the strong man,
the blind men,
and the lame,
the good men and the bad men,
they’re all dying just the same!
Those you don’t know,
those you do know,
those who never had a name,
those who know truth,
those who show you
all their petty little lies.
Does it scare you?
Oh beware, you
will soon meet your own demise.
Can you hear the black horse coming
with his pounding steady stride?
For he’s coming.
Oh, he’s coming!
Be ready for the ride!
Then he turned and walked away.
What he's seen I do not know,
likely madness taken flight.
I'll stand watch till morning's glow,
for I'll have no sleep tonight.
Jails are bleeding out because of politics and false empathy.
Asylums died because of Geraldo's passion and naivety.
Now crazies and mad dogs are working out their kinks.
Out on the streets and onto the neckbones of society.
Politicians acting surprised when the mayhem arises.
Even though it was caused by their failed P.C. policies.
While a bunch of fat cats are scratching each other's backs
Pointing claws and blaming while donning fancy-ass hats.
Shedding crocodile tears, but they care less than the predators.
Nowhere is it safe for your sons and daughters.
Not even pine needle trails, where they seek peace.
Two-legged copperheads lurk behind trees, under leaves.
You've passed them before-those wild-eyed half-beings.
Flint souls sniffing for a syringe brimming with gasoline...
Just off trail, a thousand shallow graves of the naive.
The Blackness
From the time of the beginning
A blackness there has been
And though he sits there grinning
He can’t be touched or seen
A taste he’ll place upon your tongue
Sweet words he’ll whisper in your ear
And even though you know it’s wrong
You’ll sink before his scent in fear
He’s everywhere and nowhere
His art is finely tuned
He’ll choose his prey with utmost care
And then the prey is doomed
In the shadows he’ll be waiting
Temptation in his hand
A picture he’ll be painting
In the minds of the damned
He’s practise in his winning ways
He binds you in his spell
And then the soul of he who plays
Is on the road to hell
His aim, an army is to gather
Of bandits, tykes and ghouls
Wild eyed and whetted lips a lather
To reign on witless fools
And a message he sends out
Upon the slightest breeze
To those so full of doubt
That light nor dark can’t please
To the hunted, he says hide
For the hunter he has freed
Feel the hunter at your side
To fulfil his darkest need
Bright yellow, green and blue
Are some colours to name a few.
And in their daub or scroll compete compare
To the carnival’s lively and zany air.
Powdered faces pale announce
A disregard (of) or speak to superficial self,
As buzzing rides revolve and reel,
While the spielers project and create (their feel)
To sweet smelling grass in the down-trodden field.
See the open mouthed and blank-eyes clowns,
With heads that left to right, will turn half round..
When pretty Katie passes by, (Vivacious child in navy dress,)
Honey skin and teeth chalk white, under coiffure'd tress.
Within her hand from Daddy's passed
A pink balloon all helium gassed'
while In the other hand is pressed
An icy pole half past its best.
A stray dog, with darting chocolate eyes
Espies the treat and makes a try,
Now poor Katie covers her face and cries,
As her air balloon makes its maiden ride
Over the hot dog stall it goes' as Katie screams on tippy toes
While Rover wolfs his stolen delight,
Oblivious to the toddler’s plight.
Up…up into the atmosphere; and then a sudden rush of air,
It to the big wheel sends, from there,
Where a wild-eyed lad with hair like straw
Fixes it fast; in a gangly paw,
But Daddy sees it all transpire, and scooping up Katie heads that way,
As Daddies will to save the day.
(ammended 19 04 2011) & removed 9 2nd 2018
© Joe Maverick 10-12-2010
Hop on the joy ride, where no gloom is found.
On poles - up and down - bright animals glide
And children are smiling round and around.
Hop on the joy ride!
Choose a good seat! We should sit side by side!
How about the zebra, next to the hound?
Or would you prefer that horse, so wild-eyed
It seems he’ll fly off the merry-go-round!
This gay carousel will also provide
A tune that recalls our youth's happiest sound.
Hop on the joy ride!
Written by Andrea Dietrich 7/12/13
for nette onclaude's Carousel in Roundel Poetry Contest
A game of musical chairs has just begun in earnest. A pot and kettle band arrives
through the dining rooms’ French doors following the Valentine Queen. A putrid pink
flamingo with a croquet ball stuck in its beak settles it’s derrière onto a fine caramel
leather seat. His humor is short lived. A snort echoes from each of the six bullhorns
forming his head. “Got him that time, you really did, Matilda!” laughed Lucky, the
horn-backed chair. A single, rose-pink, button pops off Matilda’s back and lands in
the hatless brigands’ teapot, just as he is placing a silver tea ball inside. “Ou a le
petite fille?” Matilda groans. Around the far end of the table chasing a set of
disembodied eyes with a cat tail, a girl child runs screeching. “She looks familiar,
don’t she?” Windy whistles beneath the lacy tablecloth, tickling Mattie’s fancy. “Her
name ain’t Louise,” as with a plop, a brigand crushes Laddie’s rushes. The windsor
replies. “Geeeeeeeeez Louise!” the ladder-back mutters, between its back straps. A
top hat flies through the air and landed on the top knob of the lanky ladder backed
chair. The child righted herself, wiping her nose on the errant apron string. She lisps
through the spider web pattern of her seat. “Awww now what a shame,” Mary
whispers to Tex. The loose tails of her apron caught beneath Mary’s rocker and the
child tumbled face forward into a full cup of Assam tea. A girl child resplendent in
golden locks and white pinafore tore into the room planting herself on the caned
ladies rocker Mary. “Mon Dieu” She moans. “Ya’ll see that nasty monster splatter
chocolate icing on my skirt?” A knob kneed, potbellied prig, holding a cupcake,
shoves his way onto Matilda, the little ladies slipper chair. Tex the horned back chair
at the tables girdle chortles. “Do you know who’s been invited to this soiree?” The
rabbit topples over backward, his watch bashing his delicate pink nose. Windy
sneezes.“Aahhh chhhooo!” Tufts of fanny fur tickled between his spokes.
“Good golly Miss Molly,” shrieks Windy the windsor chair at the far end of the table,
as a wild-eyed, white rabbit with a gold watch plunked into his well-worn seat.
*Refer to "The Chairs Have it"
This poem can be read from the backwards too ;)
crazy, wild-eyed face
screaming on my tv set
objective news men
Hank lounged on his porch watchin' the sun slowly sinkin' in the west.
He'd cowboyed for nigh on sixty years and figgered he'd done his best.
Hank and his faithful hoss Old Dan was now enjoyin' their leisure years,
And he had time to recall his ranchin' days while tossin' back some beers!
He was so bow-legged from ridin' saddle he looked like a pair of pliers!
His hands was stained and gnarled from roll-yer-owns and mendin' wires.
He'd hung up his spurs, chaps and well-worn saddle without regret,
But he wore his scruffy boots, leather vest, jeans and sombrero yet.
He shuddered recalling stormy nights that spooked the wild-eyed steers,
Causin' hell-raisin' stampedes that endangered him and his peers.
He remembered more peaceful times ridin' herd with cattle happily grazin',
And a time or two chasin' cussed' rustlers with his .44 guns a-blazin'!
He swore he'd never eat another bean, tater or bacon in his life,
Since that's all Cooky knowed how to fix, a subject of constant strife!
He recalled how he stammered when meetin' ladies in many a saloon,
Which left him pawin' the floor with his pointy boots, feelin' like a goon!
Hank remembered cattle drives and in Abilene drawin' his meager pay,
Spendin' it on rot-gut whiskey and schemin' wimmin, blowin' it all away.
Hank peered into the distance and gazed at a lone pine tree in the vale,
Thinkin', "I want to be planted there when I've reached the end of the trail!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
Splenderous scent, dazzling emerald eyes, smoke and flames, melting with desire.
Red lights flashing, I'm on fire, crashing through the mirror, Danger zone! I'm under
her spell, magical fingers touching me everywhere. Suciside curves, long red hair
wrapped around my body, reeling me in, soft angel skin, oh such a sin.
Leather and lace, satin and silk, can't catch my breath, don't have a clue where's up
or down. One thing for certain, I'm in melt down, all gages are red, looks like I'm in
over my head. Can't focus my eyes, heart is thumping like a giant jack hammer. Time
to pull the rip-cord, I'm bailing out, screaming I love you in an echoing shout.
Landed on the floor right next to my bed, sweat on my forehead, wild eyed looking
all around. Don't smell a thing, don't hear a sound. Was all this a dream? Can't
figure it out, do know this, it was eerily real. I cruised the Danger zone, oh man
what a thrill!