Recalling that day,
That she made me stay,
To hear her devastating staccato,
Sounding like the buzz of a mosquito.
I had to board the bus late,
That totally changed my fate.
I had gone home placated,
Just like someone forced to vacate.
As the bus moved down the street,
I continually felt a hit,
Telling me to alight,
Though in a life-threatening fright.
Ignoring the storm,
I continued my journey home.
Suddenly, the bus stopped to pick up a man—
OMG! It was that strange man.
A man who had been pronounced dead,
After being killed by the robot he made.
Screams rose from every direction,
Like a movie filled with action.
The man walked slowly toward me,
Holding a knife, pressured to be like a key—
Threatening to kill
Anyone who would not assure his will.
Fate was pronouncing me dead,
Each heartbeat skipping its thread.
For I was the only one
Who had never won
Any battle besides being born.
There once was a man in an elevator
Riding his elephant named Ella Vader
She felt she had to sneeze
Her man she tried to please
So, she sprayed peanuts on the curator
I know the wrong syllable count on 1, 2, and 5
Thank god for the first responders for saving my life desperately panting painful chest pains my children surrounded my bed my praying hard to believe Ciro was there Cheering my death in order to allow his Jamaican identity fraud to perpetuate fraud upon me on my death bed reaching for my hospital bracelets fall risk fainting afib irregular heart beats truly sad the both of them taking hospital labels from dying patients to continue the ongoing data breaches at HCA hospital Systems Jamaican identity fraud Ciros criminal group my prayers are with my killers sorry JHORE you will never ever be me you may wear my bathing suits for Ciro to dream of me but you will always be his JHORE hiding in the dogs bed itching and scratching
It’s deathly cold.
The walls are blank
The air is so thick that you could take a
blade to it as you would a cake and serve it
to people at a birthday.
But of course, I have no birthday.
I don’t know how I was born,
or where I was born.
The prophecy told my family that I would arrive.
It told them I would raise chaos and destruction on them.
Of course no one believed it until..well..
“The incident”
After that they forced me to be isolated from the world.
I retreat back everyday into attic I once called my mind.
This isolation..
It’s solemn.
I fell weak, I cannot stand.
I’m pale.
They tell me I am sick.
I am not sick.
I am cold.
she stood there in a daze
by strangers surrounded
they had given her the folded flag
as the last post sounded
keepsake of a warrior
it had graced his casket top
she held it scarce knowing
as the bugle notes stopped
in reality she stood alone
for now every tear cried
for the moment in a daze
ashen faced and dry eyed
the ceremony over
they moved out of her life
they had given precious time
to a bereaved and grieving wife
with the ceremony played out
she was really due no more
so they left her there in silence
to carry on the planning of their war
Lun varya menu lun varya
Faar dita tun bunda aryaa..
The swish of some passing cars unnerving me still
With the rapid clack of my windshield wipers,
When, suddenly, I felt a most unwanted chill
Like the rapid hiss of a hundred captured vipers.
And I knew, at the worst time possible, my tire
Right front, passenger side, was now a crumble,
Just when my AAA card was about to expire,
So, I steered it to the berm feeling the flat rumble.
I sat sullen, waiting for the downpour to retire,
While several vehicles zip by me at ridiculous speeds
None of them, I understood, stopping to inquire
Why I was pulled over to the side … or my needs.
When the rain finally abated, and I shuffled outside
Four creaking vehicles stopped, offering me a ride!
written October 17, 2021
especially for "Onamatopoeia" Poetry Contest
sponsored by Emile Pinet
[Rhymes checked with rhymezone.com]
Untold Incident
I arose only because
the sunlight and dew
worked against me,
chilly and unaware
of my being before and now.
my thoughts were so vague,
I sat up wondering, looking,
remembering the incident
clearly, as though it
was happening now.
school was out, I slowly
walked to the bus stop watching
each car pass, each face
going by, never realizing
danger stalked the night.
it was as though the
bushes came alive, grabbing
my throat, pulling me,
smothering, bonded by
his weight.
my eyes saw only darkness,
my body uselessly fought each
move, his hands caressing
roughly, rhythmically
with his threats.
it was no use struggling,
my garments clinging,
torn, stained, and wet
with his gift, left for
the pleasure he stole.
I saw no one leave,
heard no sounds, but
my whimpering and
moaning, and I like
many washed away the
gift. the memory would
last forever.
Before it is posted on Facebook and everyone knows
I peed in an Iowa cornfield at the beginning of some rows.
It was an absolute necessity under direst of circumstance
My brother took the picture showing my unique little dance.
And, no, I don’t make a habit of that sort of unseemly activity
But when “you gotta go, you gotta go,” a traveling man’s proclivity.
So, when you see my backside with front facing those rows of corn
Be very thankful I was clothed, not posed like the day I was born!
And since the photograph does not show my face full frontal
I can always deny the whole incident with a thorough disgruntle.
written August 23, 2021
The Oldham bloke passed me as I walked down the road
Passing me on the footpath
He was small with a slight limp
Wearing blue jeans and a black jacket
He uttered a comment:
You are a bastard
I replied: What did you call me?
He said: I wasn't talking to you, you idiot!
I added: Be careful
That's 2 insults from him
Being rude to me without knowing me
A fine example of a local male
Who I immortalised in this poem and tell you
Keep your eyes open for him
Be ready for his words
Young Justin Trudeau who was just a kid,
Pranked Canada's secret service and hid,
Had told him not to be here,
Warned by his father Pierre,
Called, "Young prince is on the asteroid vid."
Date: 08/28/2019
Young Bill and Sue rode the Demon from hell
Lots of screaming with laughter and a yell
An upside down turn
Made Bills stomach churn
The ride ended and Sue screamed what's that smell ?
Avoid these rides if you have a weak heart
A sombre warning and that's just the start
And wear nothing white
Or clothing that's bright
Your emissions may be more than a fart.
Written 12 August 2019.
For a limerick old or new poetry contest.
Sponsored by Andrea Dietrich.
She
Kissed my
Lips to see
My reaction
I told her that my money will not come
long after a full moon
had thrown its arms around the sky
I stood with Al Stone
ignoring the futility in our lives
adolescence gave way to manhood
or so we like to believe
our ideology stifled
from a serious lack of dreams
with the care of a midwife
removing a child from the womb
a marijuana cigarette was born
then quickly consumed
our reality now disfigured
discolored and frayed
the sound of a revolver pop-pop-pop
felt like a siren calling our names
along the asphalt we strode
where graffiti had not taken over
the corner of lesson and life
pondering the tips of our noses
underneath that streetlight
the story we all must tell
misplaced direction
led to a portal of hell
our lack of caution
our upbringing tossed aside
opened the door for the siren
that revolver in our eyes
angels decided to sing
that melody an alarming sound
wheels of society turned and screeched
leaving tire tracks on the ground
the order was given to freeze
alternatives held tight in their hands
one placed directly at my temple
a transition from boy to man
She came in the bedroom, the puppy sat there,
on the floor there was only one sock,
she scoured the room for the match of the pair
and then stared at the doggy in shock.
The vet soon confirmed there was something inside
and it was what the fuss was about,
So poor doggy went home, now with nothing to hide
and then waited for it to come out.
The next morning, there lay, in a heap on the floor
the one sock, but the dog wasn't slapped,
since unlike when outdoors, this dog's doings, indoors
had come out as a parcel, gift wrapped.
(Ockbrook is a village on the outskirts of Derby, where puppy 'Roman' lives)
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