Among us
The dance of death never stops
A plane crossing the Atlantic loses heights
the chief pilot flirts with a woman
when called to the cockpit
Too late, a gigantic wave hits the tail
Goodbye Paris.
The heart of tired sparrows stops
it falls from the sky
hits the front window of a car
distracted, the driver hits another car
In the melee, no one sees the sparrow.
A tourist going for a walk in jolly Naples
is hit by a pig kept on the balcony
No more sightseeing.
You’re not safe in bed, a nightmare
falling out of bed, hitting a nightstand
Dream over.
Life and death in an embrace, yet
we live as life dances alone
O’ no, the Washington swamp media rails
and the hypocrites are all telling tall tales.
A war plan group chat
on an unsecured app
but how soon they forget Hillary’s emails!
Fly boys were good to go in their cockpit
and the Houthi strike targets were all hit.
A successful mission plan
unlike Joe’s Afghanistan
so those filled with outrage are full of sh-it!
Written: March 2025
Note: unlike Afghanistan this mission was
a well planned and executed attack
on Houthi rebels in Yemen with no
US servicemen killed or injured yay!
Only bad guys died on this op.
So congratulations to all involved.
At a young age, they start to rape.
It is a disaster in the Cape.
At 15 he starts to rape.
There is no way to escape.
At 15 he rapes the kids in the home.
They are close like bees in a honeycomb.
The grandparents in the house
living like blind mice.
The parents are all drug addicts,
living off others like ticks.
Their kids are thrown away,
their lives have gone astray.
Their kids have been vandalised,
they have been bastardised
by a 15-year-old boy.
He is not a stable boy.
Grandpa and Grandma turned a blind eye.
How could they turn a blind eye?
For three years they ignored it,
even though they were in the cockpit.
The grandparents turned a blind eye.
What standard did they apply?
Their kids are drug addicts,
living off others like ticks.
It sits out in your driveway
a glittering metallic sculpture.
It costs more than your house,
you love it more than your spouse.
You can hardly drive it, it’s too high,
you can barely park it, it’s so wide.
Like an exotic compulsion, you need it,
though you can barely afford to feed it.
There’s a cockpit with winking tech,
offering a printer, wi-fi and refrigeration.
It can pull a house off its foundation.
Is there a tendentious ecological statement,
in this prestigious resource you need for work
is the fact that it’s tax deductible just a perk?
With this polished and pampered machine,
you get the rewards of effective parenting,
as it literally reflects the care that it’s given.
It’s a spaceship ready for expedition,
what else in creation is as elysian,
as your gigantic pickup truck.
.
.
songs for this:
Dreamin’ by G. Love and Special Sauce
Driving by Everything but the Girl
Little Deuce Coupe by Andrew Gold
Twas the night before Christmas, socks were hanging in every house
Some were old, some were new, and unwashed there were few
Animals were happy too, even the cats played with the mice
Even the stars were dancing, the night was filled with every hue
Then somewhere in gate of heaven, Saint Peter was so eager
In his heart, he was so hopeful that Santa Claus would give him rooster
For Saint Peter was planning to build his farm and his cockpit
Saint Peter was so hopeful that his cockpit would be a hit
Then somewhere along the way, Santa Claus was travelling
With Rudolph and his other reindeers, across the sky, he was flying
He was so eager so give Saint Peter his favorite rooster
So he hurried his reindeers in the bid to be faster
It was a minute past twelve, Saint Peter was dozing
In his doze, he didn't notice that a dead man's soul was approaching
Saint Peter didn't know if he'd be sad or be happy
For in his mind, he was wondering why Santa Claus gave him a monkey
November 26, 2022
The Night Before 3 Poetry Contest (3rd place)
Sponsored by: Joseph May
Among us
The dance of death never stops
A plane crossing the Atlantic losses heights
the chief pilot flirts with a woman
when he is called to the cockpit
Too late, a gigantic wave hits the tail
Goodbye Paris.
The heart of tired sparrows stops
it falls from the sky
hits the front window of a car
distracted, the driver hits another car
In the melee, no one sees the sparrow.
A tourist, going for a walk, in jolly Naples
is hit by a pig kept on the balcony
No more sightseeing.
You’re not safe in bed, a nightmare
falling out of bed, hitting a nightstand
Dream over.
Life and death in an embrace, yet
we live as life dances alone
Dear Todd,
Thank you for saving so many lives in
Washington , DC.
A true American, you!
It’s heroes exactly like you.
Who make me so proud of this land,
As I stand under the red, white and blue!
“Let’s Roll,” you told your team!
As your stormed the cockpit, full of our
enemies, a nightmare, not a dream.
The terrorists had to fight your scheme.
Those devils crashed it into Shanksville.
And thus, saved DC, it stands there still!
We do not understand your strength.
We fear being patriotic at any length.
We are not thankful for your deed.
The country forgot freedom is but a seed.
I pray this country is once again, whole.
Where we, like you, do the right thing,
And with your braveness and courage, say..
“ Let’s Roll!”
With thanks, from my red,white and blue heart!
Panagiota Romios,family and friends
9/11/2022
Do you ever look into the field of azure
to a plane just a dot in the sky
and imagine yourself in the cockpit
As it freely ambles by
Looking down on this patchwork of earth below
Unfettered as free as a bird
having escaped the bird catchers net
by gravity no longer deterred
Slowly ploughing celestial heights
Scattering seeds of hope
When in the trenches look heavenwards
A visible reminder to cope
Rise above it brethren
Reach out touch the face of God
Draw closer to him he'll draw closer to you
This promise thankfully applaud
Neck pulsating, close shave shines over whiskers
Stiff collar pressure, raced anticipation simmers
Key twist intrigue spurs engine's orange rage
Needle throws redline on wide torque gauge
Jaw rigid, fingers grip cockpit lethal leather wheel
G-force grabs chest, insolent beast thrusts surreal
Monster inflamed incredulously adheres to tar
Salivating lion's ravenous rumble has zero par
Ripping up bitumen, sardonic responsive tyres rivet
Road shred's exhausted under rocket fume exhibit
Airtight capsule, caramel cow hide hugs tamer
Eardrums hum, a hundred mile Hyundai shamer
Brawny tawny gold, hot bonnet chrome flashdance
Purrs her melting eclair aerodynamic performance
Pride's pilot elevated by moorish horizon hunts
Hungry headlights still prey with stealthy stunts
30th July 2022
Written for Contest: Joy
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh
To the depths, dive into my dark sea;
Careful to leave a trail or you'll get lost;
I can see, don't try and rape me;
Clarity while you lay back sauced,
a fumbling fool you can't explain it;
Forge? You'll wind up double-crossed;
Flying to watch if you can swim I admit,
you'll drown waiting to be streamlined;
I'm the captain controlling this cockpit;
Transmission clarification declined;
Give up trying to hack into my mind.
Heal Me
The spiritual workshop will heal me
The gal has the curves
In all the right places
Make me feel better baby
Does your husband approve
Of you seeing me being with you
You say he wouldn't then would
Which is it baby yes or no
He wants you to elstine me
Or not take me out on a date
Just you or the three of us
Spice life up a bit here we go
We only live once and hey
I like the sound of you
Like the look of you
Like the feel of you
I like so let's rock n roll
All the things about you
Including your husband
He can suck my cockpit
Then watch as I screw driver you
We make our own party
As we go along
See you soon baby
Let's get spiritual
Dawn Demure
Dawn December day.
Machine peacefully sleeps.
Slumber banished.
RAF pilot.
Spitfire!
Kept warm, mission time, Norway bound.
Snow, fjords, mountains.
Cockpit, aboard, checks,
rise, feathery clouds.
Recon.
Fine machine, woman.
Precision engine.
Exquisite cameras, spy on Nazi’s Christmas.
Thousand mile trip, freedom.
Gentle hearts, honest loving men.
Tirpitz photos, Whitehall desks.
Experts, delicately place,
five ton Tallboy bombs.
Lancaster love.
The car was painted mat black
With red rimmed wheels
The windows were tinted
There were no plates
It looked menacing
Even if it was driven
By a girl...
...Who flew the plane
An F-35 Aggressor version
It was like her car
Mat black all over
With red wheel rims
A tinted cockpit
And no markings...
in my cockpit
holding the
stick i got
her off the
ground in
to a blue
sky i
got in
position
coordinating
my coordinates
not too much of
any kama
sutra stuff a
missionary on
a mission
of love and
giving but
about a
minute in
i got swall
owed
into her
Bermuda
triangle
In tribute to Lt. Col. John W. Bell,
B24 pilot during WWII.
He was an ace in his flying machine,
Could spiral downward at full speed,
Then pull out and level off just in time,
To touch down safely on the landing field.
Well taught and ready for hostile combat,
Sent off to fight, our freedom to defend,
Was not there to socialize or chat,
But to drop bombs upon the tyrant’s den.
Flying with skill of a bat in the night,
He hit the targets time and time again,
Each sortie could have been his last flight,
Into the cold heart of the tyrant’s den.
He sat bravely in the pilot’s hot seat,
Shrapnel went through the wing and cockpit pane,
But he flew committed to defeat,
The wicked intents of the tyrant’s den.
And when the final victory was won,
He came back home, a new life to begin,
In a nation singing freedom’s song,
Having put an end to the tyrant’s den.
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