Hydraulic Poems | Examples

Underground Fun Fun

gossip in the velvet declares my surrender 
to strip club excess, where fantasies unfold 
a g-string serenata that stains the linger 
a slow-mo ride through motels of the bold

the DJ's drumbeat dares me to surrender 
to tangled trysts and transactions unclear 
a haze of haze, a burden to calamity 
the echoes of excess, lingering near

i lose myself in slots of satin thigh 
where flickering lights ignite an inner fire 
a champagne toast to incense my disease 
a random selection to drive me to the mire
 
inflatable unicorns and hydraulic rifts 
dances of desire, offering cuts to strife 
backroom tales and fresh neglect of reason 
adult playground bunny, passions steal the scene

triptych

Hydraulic system, heart made of pistons
Every co-ordinated mechanical manoeuvre
My heart served to you on a platter, your hors d'oeuvre
I look into your eyes, a deplorable disguise
Retinas of glass, I see right through your lies

Figments of my imagination
Don't come and cause me more vexation
Circling my mind
Tormenting, suffering, sempiternal gyration
My nerve endings started with you
Now unaware to whom
Now that you're gone
I can finally take off this costume

Now isn't the time for salvation
I re-evaluate our amalgamation
Not even an antisocial personality disorder
Could sum up a source of order
Wander your favourite forest
Walk past me and get hit with my poignant odour
Uncover my carcass, I don't need a hearse
Just dump me in the Oder

Dismember me piece by piece
Put me back together however you'd like
The puzzle wont be beautiful
Something incomparable to Vandyke

Get Up Under Her

Written By:  D. Collins 12/6/23


Get up under your woman like she's under attack.
Get under her breasts like a hydraulic jack.
Raise them up to the highest peak they've ever seen.
Then, enjoy her expression as she suddenly creams.


Allow her to catch her breath, then do it again.
After that, slightly, slowly kind of stick it in.
It's like making Gumbo very hot when served.
Yet, filled with a perfect blend of spice and herbs.


Then, get real Creole and start making it burn.
Put cayenne in it to make it throb and yearn.
Inflame that woman and bring her to her hottest.
Get up under her as subjects do for a Goddess.

Snake River Hydraulic

Returning
as a man
woken from the sleep
of lost memory

Daydreaming now
the only option
eyes wide open
images flash

Moments before
become moments after
painting all reference
in shades of gray

Starting the ending
to seal its inception
each step taken
—forward and back

(The New Room: March, 2023)

Everywhere Comes Back To Me

My travelling shoes
got up early,
they had hydraulic jump-starts.

Countries spun my head around
while I discovered lands
only Albatross dream of
in a limitless sky.

Across many countries
I loop-di-looped,
crop-seeding my
ever seeking mind.

The trips and treks
trudged to a stop
in the late middle ages
of my historically mobile plod.

Now the world comes to me,
to reveal all I missed.
The nooks and crannies
of distant plateaus and valleys,
stones left un-turned,
faces posted from places
once so sea-sealed
or landlocked,
only the address-less
could find them now.

Everywhere comes to my door
entering announced
by wind-blown Tibetan cloud horns.

I open a carriage window
in a train of thoughts
and let that 3-D atlas
of all that was overlooked
chug on by,
watching from my roost
and long anticipated
nest of rest.

Somewhere Else

Somewhere Else

       there
       in the midtone gray near distance
       I am
       eyes open and closed
       howling outside and in
       standing or floating
       at once
       the cool hydraulic swirl within me
       chases the horizon out and out

       in a cloud of tiny metal balls
       I'm turning over and over
       the machine pulse is smooth and heavy
       I drop
       and bounce along a glass floor
       rolling perfect sphere
       the locus of points
       equidistant from birth and death

       once there was no time
       or all time when you look
       but now it's as if
       I'm called again
       to spend today
       and buy tomorrow
       to slow the crushing dawn of night
       to kiss the twilight lips of heaven

Almost Sad In Geneva

Lake Léman must float
the weight of the city –
Its grey stolid affluence
needs hydraulic help.
Our paddle steamer chuffs
beyond the tall fountain.
For a while, grand houses
bob beside us.
In Geneva the poor must fit between
the opulence.
Up ahead, Mont Blanc,
and other Wagnerian massifs,
begin to shrink us into fisheyes.
Then sunlight spills its sky
into the deep waters.
Suddenly we are afloat on mountaintops!
I could be almost happy here
if we were not just renting this moment.
When we return to the city
the sky will be gray once more,
the poor will still be poor.
Outside the stylish patisseries,
sparrows will still fight for crumbs.

A Scraping of Shovels-

A SCRAPING OF SHOVELS--

A duel of occupations;
Farming or construction;
2 metal clad tools of uncovering';
Clang N clang, touch rub N bang;
Scape-scape,  dig-dig on dirt, sand, gravel and rocks;
A scraping of shovels;

Excavation in construction;
Mechanization via steam shovels;
And later hydraulic equipment;
Hand shoveling dirt onto metal covers;
A scraping of shovels;
 
Connection tween shoulder blades and digging blades;
That the words also means spatula and spade;
Touch me, touch me metal or bones rocks and gravel;
Rubbing together like a scraping of shovels;

Spades lack triangular points;
But are fairly narrow rub and touch;
Dirt and metal, sand rock and gravel;
"spade" and "scoop” a doop dig a hole;
Coal shovel scooping a scraping of shovels
A snow shovel shoveling snow, a scraping of shovels;

A wide aluminum blade that is attachment;
With a short hardwood handle with "D" top;
A shovel called a barn or grain shovel;
Used for grain" spade" and "scoop” grab and hold;
Rubbing together like a scraping of shovels;

3/3/19
A SCRAPING OF SHOVELS Poetry Contest
Sponsored by:John lawless

The Countryside

Roar goes the monstrous winds of the west 
Whooshing against the coast 
The Blustery waves battling against the sails and boats 
 
Surfers loving the gigantic waves 
Hydraulic action, 
Attrition and Deposition 
You name it 
Gives us a wonderful coast 
Beautiful and peaceful 
 
The lovely breeze, 
Green hills, 
And the attractive landscape 
Make us fall in love with the countryside.

I Bought An I-Bot

I Bought an i-Bot


My mechanical mistress came in today
Within a bicornuous box a robotic risqué

She wore a blue dress a delicious display
We danced in the moonlight a starlit sway

She kept me warm through the naked night
After disingenuous dreams, I find her upright

‘Would you like breakfast in bed noble knight?’
Yes, my lubricated lady, I’ll have eggs in white

I brought her downtown to the city’s fun fair
We got double takes as people began to stare

I noticed the wind did not lift her hydraulic hair
Maybe I had made a metal mistake buyer beware

Looking at her eyes I asked her if she had a soul
‘No silly... I’m a Celluloid X-1 Bot in cruise control’

My thoughts soon dropped through the manhole
I then decided to park my Bot at the fair and stroll.





April.13.2018
Bring to life 
Sponsored by: Shadow Hamilton

If I Were An Elephant

If I were an elephant I’d shave off my trunk.
Shave off my trunk!  Who woulda thunk?
Cause a really long nose
reaching down to my toes
is an ostentatious piece of junk.

But wait, how the heck would I shower?
I’d need a huge hunk of hydraulic power.
to rinse the plaque
off my big back
and time-wise, it’d consume half an hour!

So I guess my trunk I’d keep.
So I could shower on the cheap
and pick up the soap
or salute the Pope
if he paraded by in his Jeep


*no contest

Wrecking Our Planet

Bleach - disinfectant
fly and hairsprays
polish - air fresheners
used everyday

In our homes
without a thought
whilst the planet around us
becomes out of control

Smog from rush-hour traffic
on the urban scene
irritates the chest
but then leave what you don't see

Chlorine in the
swimming baths
our work's not done
better change them to ultra violet

Oil prices gone up
while our fossils have gone down
yet fumes burn off in furnaces
straight into the clouds

We're digging out gemstones
creating deeper mines
We've dug for years for coal
and now hydraulic fracturing - we're fracking

What of the gases
that protect our Earth
The holes just getting bigger
yet we're not being heard

We are opening Earth's crusts
increasing vehicles on our roads
using all our silver - using all our gold
whilst the Earth dies screaming

And meanwhile whilst we live
in our ignorance
Generations that follow
will have health suffer in horrendous penitence

How To Make Your Own Chocolate

All chocolate comes from the cacao trees
They grow best in tropical vicinities.
The tree first grew in Central America
although most of them now grow in Africa.
A portion of them also comes from Asia.
Equatorial climate proves most ideal,
so the tree has plenty of pods to reveal.
The pods on the trees contain many small beans.
These beans have to dry by the usual means.
They have to spend many hours in the sun
before any further processing is done.
Once dry, they are processed with fermentation.
They get chocolate liquor through extraction.

The beans have to be shipped to facilities
where they are scoured for all impurities.
The brown dried beans are then roasted for some time;
long enough to bring out flavor that’s sublime.
Further along in this commonplace process,
butter is extracted by hydraulic press.
They add alkali and emulsifier,
along with sugar and vanilla flavor,
to a thick consistency that would favor
pressing into molds that are briskly shaken.
Air bubbles escape; solid bars are taken
to another room for wrapping and packing.
Finished products are ready for marketing.

Death's Dark Valley

Encroaching night's slumber christened by shadowy blight
An endless fringe of melancholy shutters availing light
A cloudy fondue spills over the eery slight
A cold, transient wind doth the conscious plateau spite
Sliding from the precipice of awareness on ethereal kite
Descending into a listless valley; a barren, lonely respite
Slipping, the cranial cavity shakes with trembling fright
Each, guttural rivulet damming; the hydraulic ducts close tight
A silent echo doth a dolesome requiem incite
Anon, a rumbling tremor doth the last sound waves ignite
Then into the foggy abyss, truant soul takes flight
Leaving stilled-life form with no keen insight
Left rotting on the doting canvas floor waiting for nature to requite

Spitting Cobra Attacks

hooded cape hovers 
dark shadows send thermal beams
hydraulic jets fire

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