beak’s pecking away
chiselling wood from my side
hole reveals insides
is it work or play
pecker’s constant yammering
or to stir me up
plug up scab or slug
the critter who’s fleshing out
a home for squirrels
i’m feeling squirrely
running on a hamster wheel
pounding on the walls
Elmer Fudd my spouse
guns blazing looking for fight
wily rabbit laughs
morning to midnight
tiptoe open door slowly
feels swoosh of bb’s
No birds were hurt in the writing of this poem ;)
If only I could?
I already can;
Whatever’s wanted
I chase guns blazing;
Pop it. Set it off.
I’m determined
to be extreme
in every way;
Laser focused.
Leave my stain
on the page
for others
to find
and breathe
in.
desperados have the sheriff’s address
they are threatening the life of his family
he rides his mount nearly to death
ready to face the outlaws with guns blazing
a posse joins him, determined to be of help
hoping they will get there in time
wanting to save his wife and children
a posse on a mission
Facing life the best I can , standing tall
Got my back against the wall
But here I stand
Holding the dead man's hand
Dancing to the devils band
Six guns blazing
Bullets grazing
Maybe my last fight
And I'll probably die tonight
But untill then got you in my sight
Holding the dead man's hand
Dancing to the devils band
But I won't go down
May be my last trip to town
Riding the outlaw way
May end today
Boots on mind clear
Forgot what it is to Fear
Or hold someone dear
Lost to all I see
Dancing to the devils band
Saw I held the dead man's hand
As I lay dying
I thought I heard crying
Angels crying for those Holding the dead man's hand
Time stands still
My body pays the bill
Lost to tomorrow
Beyond the sorrow
Long as your Holding the dead man's hand
You'll be Dancing to the devils band
Snoopy was slamming through the skies
At top speed, stealthier than the other fliers
Flying ace of the year, he assured anyone who would listen
Tweety bird sat in the co-pilot seat, knowing he’d best be quiet
They looped and whorled and rat-a-tatted the enemy
Guns blazing, fierce and untouched.
Sixty-two bullet holes, and they were unscathed.
Snoopy stretched his hand out and knocked over his water bottle.
Bombs dropping
Wives shopping
Guns blazing
Frats hazing
Troops shooting
Crooks looting
Tanks rumbling
Drunks stumbling
Ships sinking
Flirts winking
More killing
Steaks grilling
Blood flowing
Moms sewing
Wounds gaping
Teens vaping
Men missing
Lips kissing
Hordes dying
Pols lying...
September 10, 2020
Threes, Please Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Beth Evans
Unscaved with Time
Never divine
Souls come and linger
In this theatrical pantomime
Temple of the slaves, rise from their Graves
Misfits and jesters alike, juggle souls with rotten spikes
Temple of the slaves, with guns blazing in the skies
A poetic endless war, with the dead at its core
Immortally bitten to mass submission
The spirit of time is ashamed
For thy art is not dead, it’s just in your head
Where imagination strives.
The brain does not lose, it’s potential to cruise
Inside the now decomposed tunnels of time
A show made to say, that we’re not just clay
Our essence still lingers to entertain and play
Temple of the slaves, rise from their Graves
Misfits and jesters alike, juggle souls with rotten spikes
Temple of the slaves, with guns blazing in the skies
A poetic endless war, with the dead at its core
Forsaken creations, will rock the foundations
This temple is on the rise
For the show must go on, so observe what’s been spawned
With no reason or a rhyme
A Malignant infection,
a pandemic show,
An afterlife achievement
Temple of the slaves
My hexagonal mind
tried to squeeze herself round
oozing into other worlds
forgetting she had her own
My personality died
in this land of crazy pretense
Through every fault of my own
I squelched, then killed her solid
Gave up poetry and art
Scoffed as my knowing heart screamed
Ignoring my uniqueness
Pushing into other’s truths
My indescribable brain
Saw that our heart was dying
Not crying, damn it. DYING.
Imagination arrived, guns blazing.
We wrote poetry all over walls.
And it felt great, for it was.
We live among our paintings now.
Revitalized and rejuvenated.
I will be coming with the guns, blazing like "blah!;blah!;blah!" Oh yes lam Black is that bad?
My skin tone perceived dirty ,are we not all Pink on the inside?
Answers please Mr Pride! Live a little, smell the roses beneath your shackles! Let go! Together we are Modern slaves.
Break the chains of sorrow!
The chains of temptation, sickening the aroma of a rotten pear. Don't despair you not incarcerated! You are free.
We are all free for love is capsz to all hearts....Hearts speak the truth , "Love yours' J.Cole once said cheers to Humanity , Love , Wisdom and the beautiful stew tantalizing your nostrils....Mmmmm...... Freedom tastes liberating.
Oh yes we are doomed , but the Time Machine says live , go for it , preach , teach reach the truth to the top!
Verse 1
Stranger rode into town,
A stern look on his face,
Gave thought to his grim task,
Sworn duty on his mind and dismounted.
Verse 2
Examined his two six guns,
Moseyed to hotel bench,
At noon stood and with care,
Tied holster to his thigh and reflected.
Verse 3
In saloon spoke a name,
Outlaw threw down his drink,
Knew why stranger was there,
Each drew down, guns blazing, unabated.
Verse 4
Fight was o’er in a blink,
Outlaw dead on the floor,
Stranger left the saloon,
Went over to his horse and remounted.
Verse 5
Rode from town at full trot,
Same way that he came in,
Town knew why he had come,
His tin badge told the truth, deputized.
Yes, my good friend, I am a pirate, a rogue, a lone wolf
Irritated, I howl, snarl, and I yell.
Fortunately very few know this about me
To you I am sincere, unassuming, and sweet
Oh, yes, a darling one
Until I feel duped, double-crossed, or hurt
That is when the real me comes out with guns blazing, blades swinging
Lasers shoot out of my eyes
I am in destroy mode.
My fangs and my claws work overtime
To slice you to ribbons.
If you are lucky, I might make you walk the plank instead.
Feeling a bit of tiny satisfaction
When I see the hungry crocodile floating past
Ha Ha
Howling in happiness when his jaws slam shut,
Taking you away forever
No, you do not want to cross me.
I am a scoundrel.
Mister President It's Rumored
By Franklin Price
3/8/2017
Mister President it's rumored
That you always say what's what
At times sounds like the words you speak
Are coming from your butt
You must be believable
With all the words we hear
Always speak them from the mouth
And never from the rear
We know you're not political
It's not why you're President
To make this country great again
Is the reason you were sent
If you sound ridiculous
When you tweet or when you speak
We will not be behind you
In anything you seek
The establishment, guns blazing,
Shoot down everything you say
Don't need more ammunition
From what you speak today
Stop, think, and be the President,
The one that you can be,
And we will get behind you
Think before you speak and see
Elude yourself because you know you can.
Allude to yourself your master plan.
Don't go guns blazing or you'll lose the day.
Better to find another way!
Remember once that you had respect.
Remember once that you could respect.
Remember that they take it all away.
Friends of one time will inevitably betray.
Selflessness has lost its way.
Selfishness is here to stay.
No one cares deep down no more.
Close their lives behind the happy door!
Survival asks questions of our souls
Turn your back when the heat scolds?
Where were you when I was down?
Where were you when I was lost?
Promised all, at any cost?
Delivered nothing, your promises lost?
Now alone, I'll find a way.
To rebuild my life a better way.
The Tree
The Bells
The Blazing Guns
Seemed like fate never saw kind, on that drifter called Stone.
Riding the dusty trail, over the Rockies, alone.
With winter behind him, on that warm, spring day.
He was planning for Calgary, by the mid-month of May.
Winter was hard for him, fending off the bitter cold.
Was many a nights, the devil had wanted his soul sold.
But despite those hard months, he had managed to stave.
Enough strength to keep both feet, out of his own, self-dug grave.
When the folk of the town had found their loot gone.
Was then when Stone just happened, to come rambling on.
The truth of the matter, was not plain to see.
Because when Stone rode to town, it was all contrary.
With the real culprit gone, so no one else to answer for thieving.
Left Stone all alone with nowhere to run leaving.
Stone heard the bells of the small town church sound.
With guns blazing, the town folk shot the thief they had done found.
And because they were all, as mad as can be.
They hung poor old Stone, from an old hanging tree.
SHM
they walked along
weathered, carrying their guns;
like the four horsemen…
down to the O.K.
guns blazing, bullets flying;
smoke clears, the strong stand…
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