alien armpits
dripping shimmering sweat orbs
on the crop circle
Farmers reaping from their fields
five bees blossom dance...
hovercraft buzz bush roses -
stolen honey dew
~~~~~~~~~
(combing the crop)
“Let the rain kiss you. Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops. Let the rain sing you a lullaby.”
—Langston Hughes
Cream of Crop Showers
The world seems smaller, inside within quarters, no sun.
But the yellow wonder is like lightning outside, not done.
Inside there is the brightness of the youngest grand.
Consuming all the rays of sunshine, each grain of sand.
The community park would burn within minutes our skin,
so the schoolager finds friends, swings his arms to win.
The VR helps a bit on closeted days that aren’t cooled by rain.
Those greedy clouds won’t spill their shimmering champagne.
With “cream of crop” showers, I imagine us stomping, making pies
with mud, running through the streets, splashing, loving the rise.
Dare the lightning to strike, we’d grab our swords and fight.
We’d reduce its commotion locomotion to a wee little light.
All wet, with flip flops flying like frisbees into puddles deep.
We’d be like fish, who don’t care if they’re slippery, and leap.
The skies today hold promise, covering over the brightness.
Will the heavens lie to us today or do they hold forthrightness.
It’s not okay a heavy make-up
Ahead of a medical check-up
And - please believe me-it’s a up:
If doctor is handsome “a set up!”
It’s a patient’s right: a good make-up
Before a booked medical check-up
But some medic for sweet face “Thumbs up!”
While Mascara could a check-up screw up…
At last, somebody shall be tensed up
The medical check-up time used up!”
We should image what next might crop up:
Perhaps, one’s husband with gun “Hands up!”
Boyfriend “Smart Baby this game is up…”
Smart baby like a bridge to blow up!
.
A
Re
Turn.
Drop
Reward
Trophies
Accolade
Affirmation
Expectation
All applause
Re
Run
Train
To live
To give
In
To
The
Seed
Return
Reward
Accolade
Applause
A dissolve
Stay there
Stray not
return to
Home
drop
In
to
The
Source
The store
Repository
It contains
The seeds
Seasons
and the
Crop.
Please, fancy not stone field:
It assures none crop yield.
From death won't one shield,
When guns one's killers wield...
Only a big name yield:
"A Landlord" owners wield
And causeless questions field
From the press that lands shield!
Then, choose between crop yield
And mere names that lands wield:
From those of a stone field
I shan't fail to self shield
They said we would be rid of our chains
But, they've only grown tighter
They said that welts would heal and fade
But, all I feel is the tenderness of new wounds
We’re always looking up at the stars
Cause our feet never seem to touch the ground
We HANG above the rest!
But not in a way you would expect?
So, this is the sharing of the crop?
They issued us free, right?
But I don’t feel it
That emancipation proclamation of devastation
Of disappointment
The ink is distorted by the tears of decomposed slaves
Waiting to be seen and heard
They laugh at our pain
What pleasure is there to be gained??
You call yourself “sharing?”
Only taking away more from us
Say that we just have "a little more" debt to work off
As the hours turn to days
Days turn to weeks
Weeks turn to years
At the command of God
They lock us behind bars
Whip us with our sins and hatred
Discipline us with our disobedience
The captivity of our sins is too much to bare
I want to die!
I can no longer handle being alive
The muscle falls from the bones
As I become apart of the Earth
Along with the sins of my ancestors
Now he’s going for a treatment
That might swallow much liniment
And lick up copious supplement ;
About this, no long argument …
Watching was I Sir Cecil hop,
Not once, not twice, in real pain stop,
His discharging sweat sadly mop
And his injured feet sometimes drop;
All these in the next street flop,
A watcher to pity The Fop
And arrange A Medic on Top…
And there was to be one stop
To curiously look at some crop
Before in the rain a dared bop,
As though briefly rung Jackson’s Pop…
Cecil to Patients The Cynic
I saw just head for a clinic.
Hey fruity cutie,
I been wondering
Just what’cha gonna do
With your peachy booty.
Mind if I lend a hand,
‘Cause I know what’s pick of the crop,
So come on strawberry blondie,
Just take off your top.
What a bunch of sweet people on poetry group
The cream of the crop and that's no poop
A great place to reside
You'll be bursting with pride
And that long face of yours will no longer droop
Crop Rows as The Way Things Ought to Grow
David J Walker
Your rain falls uniformly in a
Row on gardens that grow in a
Straight-line while
Mine is subject to the
Wind and sun and falls in
Layers of composted Ataxia
Keeping in mind
The perception of the aesthetics
of perfection that is packaged
in the planning of crop rows
as the way things ought to grow
She planted at night in the rain
While stealthily plotting her gain
It grew like a "melon"
She bragged like a felon,
"My hubby soon gets his first brain!"
Just a sample for my "Mystery Seeds" contest.
Fern octopus
Swimming in the ocean seas
Sturgeon nectar
Seaweed flower hot pink
Cream of the crop
Prada manufactured alligator purse
1/22/20
James Edward Lee Sr 2020
I never knew this is what it was called until it
Happened to me
In public.
At first it was traumatic
As it came out bellowing like a banshee
And the aromatic bouquet wasn't flowering it
Was a catastrophe.
Rotten egg smell is atomic!
I never knew this is what it was called until it
Happened to me
In public
There was every one staring at me as if I had
Committed murder in the first degree
Over something that is erratic
And the body does automatic
I sat down on the closet bench I laughed
Until the tears rolled down my face as I was
Catching my breath my grandson wondered
If I was alright. I said I don't think my heart has
Felt this free. It is time to finish my shopping
Before they decide to charge me with dispersing
Atomic energy.
I never knew this is what it was called until it
Happened to me
In public.
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