Once there was a colorful bird
A parrot repeating what’s heard
Really was all fun
Till it heard a gun
Mimicking sounds so disturbed
Though I may well have perturbed you
I hope I haven’t disturbed you
Trying out a new writing style tonight**
one where right is left and left is right
I learned it in a college seminar, truth be told
and just now recalled it, having grown old
_________________________________________________
**See the three other poems I posted tonight.
with dalmation dots
by poet and her ink pen
white snow is disturbed
Some people don’t know they smell
Inside my mind it makes me yell
Why on earth can’t they tell
It’s offensive the way they smell
Excuse me, I have a nose.
It has a complaint my whole body knows
The more they’re around it just grows and grows
I don’t even think they know
I just got the notion that it’s scary
Homeless or not, it’s not ordinary
Lack of water or change of clothes
Dirty underwear socks with holes
If people can smell you from six feet away
Know it or not you ruined a day
No matter the environment you just may
Be the cause of confusion and utter dismay
I’ve never met an animal that smelled that much
Only humans have that type of disgust
Sometimes athletes stink with must
But this something I smell
is worse than I can cuss
Eviction, conviction, you can run away from smoke
It may make me sick I just want to choke
If it weren’t so near me I wouldn’t write
But these words of mine is me in a fight
Love can change a persons day
A smile and hello have a certain sway
The smell of food can pave the way
But rotting corpses should stay away
I've got a heart that is racing
I've got bones that are aching
I've got a voice that is shaking.
If you dare to call me your friend
be prepared when you see my disturbances.
Can you explain to me
is it sad to go from disturbed to disturbing?.
I've got eyes that are seeing
I've got skin that is bleeding
I've got teeth that are decaying.
Hey don't feel bad
if you see me go mad.
Don't you dare call me a feen
just let me sit back
and I'll let you disturb me.
If you can't stand the way I am
well your not the only one my friend.
When you aid another and leave a migrant to die in the sea
Then you're no better than a killer, read on to learn why, you'll see
"I'm dying! Save me! Save me!"screams a young lad
You're desperate to help, but you're torn between good and bad
Another voice yells! "Please come help! My child is going to die!"
You know this is bad, your heart does not lie
A young kid covered in blood staggers and faints right in front of you
All the stories you heard, they were true
The child's face turns blue
You don't have time to think and your human instincts kick in
And you do what your heart tells you, rescue
Hours later you've saved all three
Anya, Lukas & baby Annie
They put their concerns on the
large container in the corner
it was enough for me to tease their imagations
of it's content.
It had a music notes on the side
and made mention of
awareness
it
one side sported a scence of
a red clayed area were
a road
a lnoly road went throuht it
it had a lid were
the handles were
a perfect circle shalaced
with a sign that warned against meddlers
it had a curse
that order the elements of earth
to aile
and cause the meddler great harm
the other side on the floor too
had a picturest scence
where
it smiled upon the ways of
people loving people.
when they opened the box
a deep sounding bassy
song began to play
and inside was
ah.........
tune in next week folk
for the conclusion of
What in The Damn Box!
The contents of the box were thought out before
the show end so they used the "Tune in angle'
to give the people time enough to find something
interesting enough
to be timley to the pictures and content.
They choose a Large shere, it turned people off.
One was heard saying" and when the hinges of the
lid squeaked and the
music began playing I knew this was a joke!"
There are times when I wonder what it would be like
If poetry sites were no longer, probably become unladylike
Use very foul words
I'd be very disturbed
Yelling a bunch of bad words that are far from polite
Spring
My nose never
Ever
Itches
Or aches
It just sits on my face
Smelling the freshly
grown flowers
But you
You made spring
come early
You made my nose twitch
You made my eyes swell
I tried to blame it on
Allergies
But your apologies
Got to me
Your eyes
Squint when you
Smile
Your beautiful serene
Eyes
You tell me that I’m
What you crave
A sweet cuddle
In sweats
I think I love you
My nose doesn’t just
Itch now
It scrunches up
A long with my amber eyes
I smile at the
Thought of you
d (d
r
ip
d
ro
p) is
t
urb
ed s
il
ence
History long ago
Mistaken unbroken
Disturbed unleashed
Black,white,echoes call
Slavery left long ago
But statues of evidence
Torn eradicated , beheaded
Failure to indulge, disperse
What of the Trojan Horse
Slaves to freedom,injustice,
Perilous journeys unpredictable
Democratic,Liberal
Republican all to blame
Inequality of injustice
Decadence of century old
Prejudice and racism
When will it end.
A disturbed spirit walks here,
not of the gentle slopes, but
of the rugged hills that know
no tranquil hours, only the lure
of suffering's curtain drawn on
all things tender, ecstasy of a
long-held neurosis crackling
harsh notes, of shadows dark
and grim, alien to earth's sustenance,
shaping to be the pattern of this world,
across wide lands where life and
misfortune follow the evil's trumpet
promising storm disenchantment deep,
rudely loitering.
My anguish is metal heavy and tense
Rusting my heart as I lead by mistake.
Somethings awry in the cogs of my mind
Spinning off-centre they've broke more than once,
My youth was auspicious with seldom regret
The future held prosper now bleeds in my shadow,
My thoughts are attrocious and black as the night
No feelings I fade in disgust of myself,
Assuage my own sickness I smoke on my own
Reflecting on things that assert my own nothingness,
The allure of the feeling too sink in its depths
And give in too darkness,
Begs me.
Absolve me of sin and free me of soul,
Again and again and again..
I want to spread the message of peace, true peace. But that which lies under my breast is easily covered with the hues of that which the sunken balls see;
I want to ride on the backs of unbroken horses without having to make any wishes, shoot arrows, and learn good swordsmanship. Have the clouds housing my thoughts nourished this body just in vain?
Do you not also wish to sing His praises and dwell on in His remembrance? But for the fickleness of the souls, forgetfulness lives in time;
When the heart takes to His remembrance, it becomes one in peace, fountains flow from the sockets, the body submits in humility to the reins of its grateful mind, and the soul gains strength from its faithful tongue. Thus, the true remedy for the disturbed;
Come let's spread peace, that our hearts may find even more.
Dead poets
haunt your dreams
and disturb the sleep.
You wake up,
startled
as in a battlefield
fighting
the airy nothing.
Last night,
you remember,
the mosquito fight
you could not win.
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