So, stranded on Framingham Turnpike,
I walked from the corpse of my Vette
(Unsure just what gasoline burns like),
as far as my high heels could get.
The tow trucker guy got my blood up,
his big chest all covered in hair.
He wordlessly lifted the hood up,
and studied the engine with care.
I’d let the poor pistons get wet, or
my battery somehow went flat?
He said, “Crap in the damn carburetor.”
“How often, dude, must I do that?”
Shot broke
She's gone
Now I see
Can't keep
In head
Now dead
In jail
No bail
Oh dang!
Will hang
Then go
Below
To hell
Cartel
Jail break
Gang make
Ride horse
With force
Fell off
Self scoff
Snake bit
Swift hit
Now lie
And die
Can't change
Gang bang
To late
Sealed fate
Now at
Hells gate.
Can't wait
Time waste
Capture pain
Life drained
Keeper of the guard
elite renaissance he partakes
he understands that in his way
~
Channeling shards
Broken braincells
And around my body onto the ground
~
Spiritual binds on fruitful lies
The bodies demise
Brain dead
The body dies
Has the spirit rise
9/5/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2021
There was a place that is no longer
It was somewhere between Spain and Tonga
People there only lived to dance
Until they all fell into a trance
Because they had forgotten how to conga
Gave lots of grog
to his dog. Now
he’ll blog on it!
Nov. 29, 2020
for the Than-Bauk Me Poetry Contest of charles messina
Brain's gone dead, what's happened to me
Could always rhyme even climbing in a tree
Age is a factor
Brain's been fractured
Can't even rhyme with poop or pee
Brain's gone dead, what's happened to me
Could always rhyme even climbing in a tree
Age is a factor
Brain's been fractured
Can't even rhyme with poop or pee
reading more between the words, my fractured
dream, identified by its teeth, begins to bite
in pursuit of an unknown fear, the river
becoming red, a paranoid delirium
sets out a scream under the praised
beheading of a jolted lover in the name
of a betrayal, a son goes to court arrest
for mother, in earth hour of unseen grief,
voiceless, vendetta between the pacemakers
of sick hearts, the horrible incest, nicked
and kept in a glass jar to be witnessed by
waxed faces of dying men rinsing the
heart with blood of fallen heroes; the honeymoon
of unborn centuries waiting in vain
SATISH VERMA
He had earned a black belt in tae kwon do
Breaking slabs of concrete with his big toe
And butting planks with his head
Had left him nearly brain dead
Glazed eyes resulted from many a blow
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 7 in Linda-Marie's "Let's Limerick" Contest - October 2010
reading more between the words, my fractured
dream, identified by its teeth, begins to bite
in pursuit of an unknown fear, the river
becoming red, a paranoid delirium
sets out a scream under the praised
beheading of a jolted lover in the name
of a betrayal, a son goes to court arrest
for mother, in earth hour of unseen grief,
voiceless, vendetta between the pacemakers
of sick hearts, the horrible incest, nicked
and kept in a glass jar to be witnessed by
waxed faces of dying men rinsing the
heart with blood of fallen heroes; the honeymoon
of unborn centuries waiting in vain
SATISH VERMA
Numb to surroundings.
Paralyzing twilight,
dreadful nights;
Dreamless…
Thoughts in my head,
colliding endlessly;
rampant thoughts.
Wanting soundness and
a chance to dream.
Brain-dead I wander
aimless and forlorn.
Trying to recover
before daylight;
Dreamless…
Lying between sleep
and awareness.
Forgetting the time
as it slips through cracks
of gray matter.
Drenched with deliberations
of dreams passed.
Brain-dead and blind
to a night of visions;
possible fantasies
awaiting somewhere
in the cryptic night.
Nevertheless;
Dreamless…
Copyright © 2007 By Caryl S. Muzzey
Rudolph, the Brain Dead Raindeer'
Had a very shiny ****,
Red from profuse bleeding hemorrhoids,
Santa figured he'd better put him last,
All of the other raindeers,
Used to laugh about his red tush,
Near Santa's North Pole workshop,
Could be found many a reddish bush,
So on this first Christmas eve,
With Rudolph at the rear,
Santa took off to the sky,
Red droplets flying backwards fast,
Often clogged poor Santa's eye,
Before he got to his first house,
His white suit had turned quite red,
Something told him it was more appropriate,
Went better with his sled,
From that point on, Santa's suit was red,
And remains so to today.....But now I've told
This secret old, and dearly did I pay,
Cause Santa does not stop at my roof,
Or bring us gifts of joy,
Cause I've got a BIG MOUTH!
And Santa I did annoy!
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