Heard the news all about strait of Hormuz
Israel derail flail impale Septic tanks muse
Evisceration of entire nation excuse do use
The emancipation of a pariah state the ruse
Eschews queues of pundit crews from pews
Abuse truths confuse proof of sleuths views
Clues bright clear hues who did light the fuse
Whichever side you choose everyone will lose
Fossil fuel rule the soaring price of a barrel
Notoriety of warring society as things unravel
Deploring apparel Dickensian dystopia carol
Impropriety imploring piety noone can travel
Trump myopia even after alarm of Vietnam
Cruise missiles trials denials all about harm
Disarm nuclear piles more lies from the farm
Can’t becalm not napalm just arm AI wiles
No qualm war once more hush defile isles
Crush the rush of plush paedophiles files
blackness
impacts our days
as dirt beating caskets,
when the thorns of silence
would impale hearts
with fear.
If you hang out fresh meat
the wolves will come
Once they have eaten
the faster they run
Blood from their fangs
remarking the trail
Where vermin can hide
— to attack and impale
(Dreamsleep: November, 2025)
Apprehension a nasty culprit
Putters outside my window, that mud pit
Pulls, tugs, draws inward
Rushing towards scarred vineyard
Emotions fresh, newly healed over
Hoping to not once again spillover
Every time my being is hit
Nudged to stir emotions by some half-wit
Somehow, they stick in the knife and turn
Impale the tender taciturn
Opening the door to boiling emotions
Notions leave, fill me with Holy Spirit's devotions
The barriers to my affection
Are iron gates
With spikes that impale anyone
Who dares to perch too long
If you thrust a dagger into my heart
Lay me on a bed of thorns
Give me a chalice of hemlock
Thrash me with a flail
Haul me over the smoldering coals
Hang me over a precipice by
the skin of my teeth,
Shackle me, impale me, crucify me…
But I will only smile,
Why?
Because I am in Love!
It was so written on the
sheaves of the stars
on the wings of the wind
on the waves of the seas
on the cool mist of the dawn
on every breath and every smile
on flowers, leaves and grains of sand,
like etched into the stone…
I Love You.
I tried to skin her, but no dice
Tried again, no luck twice
Cut her with a knife, an utter failure
So, I stood her up, tried to impale her
When that didn’t work, I felt like a jerk
Time for some hands-on handiwork
I shook her and squeezed her, out came her juice
All squishy and gushy, her moorings came loose
Honest to goodness, she smelled sweet from all angles ~
Mangoes taste best slightly chilled if serving them mangled
Marvelous to see
a condor soar
unlike the ghoul
when landed and picking --
master of thermals!
dark lord of demise --
which makes me more
profoundly consider
his tearing beak, and
vacant, soulless eyes
imagining now, a higher
purpose, loftier reason
for his seeming casual
glides -- dripping red, making
bleeding sunsets~ exposing
man's many elevated truths
(righteousness we use to
impale one another)
as splatters of bloody lies --
There comes a time
When good men must impale
Themselves on enemy swords
And supportive women
Must lay down their banners
To pick up darning needles
...sewing the past with new beginnings
Over and under, over and under
Never forgetting the rhythm, innate
Movement continues, onward and through
Til we shall meet the Pearly gates
This time, maybe this time
Men will cease to seek Father's name
And women, mother's power
Children will gather round
LOVE's lap of gold
Running around continual showers
...of abundant reign
Written by Trudy Schrader on 12-15-2024
This is the tale of young Polkahontus.
She lives in the forest; her aim is to taunt us.
The squeezebox is ancient; it’s lacquered and red;
she communes with the spirits and plays for the dead.
She gives the accordion a little squeeze;
the raspy sound out of it’s more like a wheeze.
She dances and prances and plays in the wood;
I’d drop a tree on her if I only could.
At dusk she gets started down there in the vale;
I’ve fingered my crossbow with thoughts to impale.
In the rain, in the snow, even bitter and cold,
she’s playing that polka; Good Lord, it gets old.
I’m at my wit’s end, so I get down the rifle
with murderous thoughts of a squeezebox to stifle.
I aim through my scope with the polka red dot,
but I won’t pull the trigger, ‘cuz that polka girl’s hot!
Anger towards people, a tempestuous art,
Echoes through the soul, tearing every part.
A shout to pierce the walls of an alienated heart,
Yet louder we become, seeking a distant counterpart.
Rage fans the flames, tearing the poor heart,
Fury ignited, tearing emotions apart.
Yet in the inferno, a chance to restart,
To communicate with care, mend and chart.
When anger boils, and things go astray,
Pause the storm, let patience hold sway.
Cool the flare, in the calm of the bay,
Answers shaped gently, in a serene display.
When accused and anger starts to sway,
Reflect on actions, don't let it decay.
Compromise and mend, find a better way,
Let kindness prevail, and resentment allay.
Let not resentment bind, nor hatred impale,
But channel the anger, let wisdom prevail.
Towards resolutions, a positive trail,
Guided by wisdom, the ship will sail.
Sustained in dulcet fugue
blue waters
converge inside
moments of mountains
imbued with silent springs
Pouring illusive champagne dreams
rainbow arches
that impale the softness
it sings bubbling pale perfect
birdsweet nectars
Daylight confronts
entering the city
rhythms of NOW
running to the urgency
emergency
lights flash into night
beats of congruous conflict
Away
NOW stay
vending peace inside
moments of mountains
where blue waters
I disappear
In honeyed silence
July 16, 2023
I’m plagued with muted memories
that at their leisure will just wail;
It could be the song on the breeze,
I’m plagued with muted memories;
Meals disrupted by fallacies;
My peace they decide to impale;
I’m plagued with muted memories,
that at their leisure will just wail.
After all, life is but a twisted tale,
Of trying blue; to weigh us, if model.
To find happy rest in all we travail...
Winnings, everyone continually tail,
Unleash cheats and deceits of sh*ts coddle...
After all, life is but a twisted tale!
Satisfaction has stolen away scale,
That manoeuvres peace at achievement's jail,
To find happy rest in all we travail.
Then the world becomes completely new ale,
That subjects sloshed sanity to waddle...
After all, life is but a twisted tale!
Time moves fast unlike dream's series avail,
Its fulfilling bail to rescue Abel.
After all, life is but a twisted tale!
How dire Cain reckons not blood, but impale
His brother; blackmail his death, wroth unveil.
After all, life is but a twisted tale,
To find happy rest in all we travail.
Less than the truth
By definition is
A lie
Thought out
Or not
Accidental or intent
The result is
the same
It still leaves a dent
Our words
And our actions
Can soothe or impale
Fostering trust
Or erode
It as well
Cut to the
heart is
No superficial wound
It could prove
To be mortal
We may understand soon
Are we ever
Prepared
For the total
Of our sum
Our body of
Works
The things that
We've done
Sub Categories
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