Long Abduction Poems
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We were taking our nightly walk in suburbia.
Every evening after dark, the same routine-
Well, that night we were in for a surprise
Every light in the neighborhood went out!
Right then, I slipped off of the sidewalk.
Excruciating pain radiated from my ankle.
Even though I could see nothing, I reached.
Never had I felt so helpless, in my life.
Just when I was about to lose my balance again, I felt his hand.
Obviously, he saw that I needed help, I, screaming loudly.
Yet, again he calmed me, pulled me close, and held me.
I knew we had to look at my leg.
Not that it was broken, but probably sprained.
Getting home seemed like it would be impossible, ominous.
Almost apocalyptic!
Strongly, he shouted, “Come on, we’ll make it if I have to drag you.”
To my surprise, I felt his big hairy hands grab me.
Right as I was about to sink to the ground again,
Over his shoulders I was tossed!
Like a sack of potatoes, I hung there…not walking.
Laughing inside because I knew I was safe with him,
I clung on for dear life!
Not knowing what was next, and scared.
Ominous thoughts began to flood my imagination.
U. F. O. s appeared in my mind’s eye…abduction!
Reality turned fuzzy.
Nuclear invasions by aliens seemed factual.
Explosions boomed all around.
I Screamed, not with pain, but with terror.
Gasping, I cried, “Get me out of here! “
“Hurry, please!”
Blackness everywhere and he looked at me weird.
Oh, how I wished for a flicker of light.
Raw fear was overpowering reason.
He, on the other hand, seemed to brave it well.
Often, in the past, he had shown courage, too.
Oblivious to the real world, I pounded his back.
Delighted to be safe, although half upside down!
Just then, he started hysterical laughing.
Usually, he was calm in every situation.
So, I wondered what was going on.
Terrible thoughts intruded; even shadows frightened me.
Practically frozen with fear, I could hardly breathe.
Afraid my heartbeat would be heard.
Sane, but wondering if I were crazy.
Trying to talk, but my voice kept cracking.
“Desperately,” I shouted, “Look up in the sky!
Aliens are coming to get us. We are going to die!
Reassuring me, he said, "You are going to be all right.
Keeping hope, he took me down the dark streets to the hospital!
©February 18, 2011
Dane Smith-Johnsen
I had been placed in chains
Where the cripples shed their canes
And the blind regained the art of seeing.
It was a robbers’ den
And as all God fearing men,
I had assets needed freeing.
Sometimes the poet’s muse
Is a bride who will refuse
All his conjugal solicitations.
He must lure to bed
Any tramp that turns his head
With unchaste alliterations:
And so it goes...
He’d lived his life alone
In a hermitage of stone
Where he rang those bells for all occasions;
Like the feasts of saints,
For the widows’ sad complaints,
And for joyous celebrations.
It's said confusion rules
At the Festival of Fools
And the scene below just seemed to prove it.
So he clambered down
And was regent of the crown
Till Claude Frollo’s hand removed it.
He smelled her perfumed hair
From across Cathedral Square
And the fragrance soothed his loss of hearing;
For her silent dance
Cast a soul ensnaring trance
Both enticing and endearing.
She was a barefoot girl
With her gypsy skirt a swirl
As the minstrels played a tarantella;
Graceful as fabric spun
From a gently setting sun,
And he pined for Esméralda.
But when the maid fell hard
For the Captain of the Guard
As a villain plotted her seduction,
His trust was put to test
On a futile, wicked quest
In abetting her abduction.
And so he bore the blame
When the warden called his name
As they bared his back to take a whipping.
He felt each lash stroke bleed,
The injustice of the deed
Set those righteous scales to tipping.
While the Archdeacon's kin,
Who was guilty of the sin,
Stalked the halls as Satan’s emissary,
A young girl’s tortured plea
Brought his fool to guarantee
Esméralda's sanctuary.
In a defiant act
When the rebel mob attacked,
He strained his crooked back to save the maiden;
And called the angels home
With the tolling of Guillaume,
Like hard currency to trade in.
He ran from wall to wall,
Hurling curses at them all,
Raining molten lead down on the rabble,
From the gargoyles’ throats
To the beggars’ ragged coats
In a symphony of babble.
But it was all in vain;
He could laugh himself insane,
Still those oaken doors were being battered,
And the dénouement
Left his ashes in the straw,
Proving love was all that mattered.
My lateness once more has caused me immediate damnation,
and my unstable state, a product of my lost attention.
Overcoming the limitation by doing three person's work at once
resulted to a failed manipulation
of compressing minutes' activities into seconds
just to beat time and achieve punctuality.
Reaching for the door with already aggravated emotions.
In self caution, I knew something was still missing
then I realized it's a stuff I cannot go without.
Oh My God! This means, beginning all over again.
A complication I most feared in a situation like this.
My dwelling place now seem a mansion
as even my bedroom has undergone exaggeration
which at this moment isn't as accommodating
as the habitation I once knew.
Starring at the plain surface of the mirror Table gave no answers
and already praying for the fruitful termination of this trying time,
as I searched among the cosmetic items it harbours.
My next location is obviously the wardrobe
and even with the intense frustration
I was still calm enough to suppress the friction with myself
as I searched each and every pocket of my clothing
which are all hanging in straight vertical position.
And yet, my state gradually reaching exacerbation,
cos' there is no answer.
In milliseconds, my Pillows are in two corners of the room
I prayed for any sort of temptation but not this
as the bed calmly accepts my aggressive search
of my item which suffers an ungodly abduction.
The Investigation continues with a quick scan through my shoes,
and finally leaving the room with no appreciation
which now looks like a ghetto market of a third world country,
a demotion I usually never allow, not until now.
The larger sitting room just increased my retardation
having hope of finding my "Precious" would be mere hallucination
so therefore, I barely did much other than a mere Inspection.
Yet, cannot find its location,
which simply increased the heap of burning coal on my head.
Already tired of exclaiming several holy Indignation
careful flash back and calculations of my previous movements
yielded no results.
"check the Double Seater" was my last thought.
And as I acted in submission to that command,
the invaluable material surprisingly fell off my shirt
My Car Keys!
Inside The Mysterious Enigmatic Fragmentary...
Mortal Mind Of Matthew Scott Harris
ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK!
Seedy gobbledygook ergot
visibly argot bubbled, burbled, bustled...forth
yea...give garbled, jangled, warbled shoutout
if ye doth render
mug gadabout totally confounding,
this unfettered voluminous confection
ruff lee in toto as sample
doggone freelance gargon
sublime red rover - misaligned with
twenty first century time
emerging, fishtailing, kvetching,
slithering, whipsawing
during springtime
thaw - oozing out primordial slime,
schlepping aboard bissel mishuga train
while kibitizing with longfellow
ghost hosts Bartleby,
thee Herman Hermits,
and Stray Cats caterwauling
scrivener circumlocution showtime
evidences troubadour prima facie
tremendous struggle rustling rational rapport,
ruminating, citing his dismal schooltime
track record muddled, and hence
questing to cobble a rhyme
distilling, harvesting, and
leaching (out pulpy, knotty,
Max Headroom Ancien regime
filmy... gray matter) in realtime,
while strains of Ragtime echo
from late nineteenth century
tin pan alley, nsync, linkedin
cubist, dadaist, existentialist...
mine poetic melange jerry rigs
flashes random discordant phrases
kickstarting hotmail...faintly
analogous to processing quicklime
mucking with abstract alphabetic
mire ranks as playtime
forging whimsical tactical trippy thoughts,
nursing eternal idealistic Earthly peacetime,
worrying away looming mortality,
noshing post death as pastime,
welcomes input and alien abduction – ME,
mine "FAKE" existence, sans charade,
facade, masquerade onetime pantomime,
no second act allowed, nor
revising questionable tour de force
I claim NO pièce de résistance, nor overtime,
asper waning game
of thrown away Life
approaches nighttime haven
soon...forever rest in peace
surrendering requisite burnt offerings,
sans (cremated ashes) - meantime
fete grateful dead
scythe lent hoodlums on warpath
to incite bedlam
postprandial mealtime prayer final -
deathly hallowed gleeful grimace
witnessing successful electroshock therapy
of yours truly emotionally frozen
decades long comatose state
thankfully oblivious, when impending
curtain call signals finis!
Envisions of a new world order
Have infected
My ideologies
Concerning political parties.
Apathetic to the suicide bomber
Clutching his holy scripture
As Jesus is turned
Into an aborted fetus.
Starving for liberation,
Feed us.
The refugee diet
Is to die for, try it.
Stomachs bellow
As anxious toes embrace dirt,
The ravenous pride of the nation
Echoes anticipation.
A scrambled breakfast
Governed by corruption
Served with a life time
Supply of fervent AIDS
Lunch smothered in rape
With a free side of abduction
For the main course:
Genocide platter
Mass produced for thousands
Guaranteed to be
The last meal you'll need.
Original recipe
Provided by Chef Hitler
Improved by Africans.
Honor roll,
Honorable
But when you're in the projects
Good grades
Don't stop strays
Or minimum wage
This is a power point;
Bullet points puncture.
Marauder role models
Personal drive
Is micro soft
Where are their goals?
Error: Can Not Find File
Link to ambition missing
No need to excel
Brain is a blank desktop
That's screen saver
Screams for a savior
Poverty striken hompage
Frozen
Black plague virus
No chance at
Socio-economic advance
Now tomorrow you face book
Crash.
A diploma and welfare check,
Makeshift teflon vest,
At best
Yet,
A mic or a round ball
Provides the best bet.
At ease soldier,
No questions vet.
We don't ask
You don't tell.
Afterall,
We don't even know
What your really fighting for
Or whether you aim to please
Or shoot to kill.
America was stolen from natives,
Built by immigrants.
Dear foreigners,
Thank you for making our bed,
Now sleep outside
Where the homeless won't
But beware of dehydration
Land mines
Barbed wires
And snipers.
P.S. Happy Thanksgiving.
Sincerely,
Your friends in America
I see society with my eyes closed
And wade for the truth.
Diving into the obscure
Pits of morality
Searching blindly
For enlightenment,
Butterfly stroke.
Inhaling the souls of slaves
Exhaling the souls of colonists
Civil rights submerged
Drowning at the border
Gasping for freedom.
This oppression is toxic.
Ammonia aroma
Intellectual paralysis
Socially concious coma.
Divided we've stood
United we'll fall.
-Stephen Kofi Opare Obeng
This poem is inspired by true events ... of
this fallen angel ... For she is the true
definition of "Fallen and Evil!" And I
personally had the honor of meeting
her ... up close and personal ...
and so have many of you!
So, here's to you ...
THE MANY LIES OF
"BROCELIANDE"
(PRONOUNCED AS
ROCELIN )
Written By: Tiffany Saxon
Misery, deceit, misplaced hate
which has lasted through the
hands of time within our
history.
For she is the queen bee of ...
manipulation,
hiding behind closed doors,
sinking her teeth into the prey
of many generations ...
yet,
There is no record of her
destruction ...
Only her venom that breeds
within our minds, veins and
closed eyes of the past, present
and future candidates of
corruption.
All stolen without knowledge ...
Good turned into evil ... Her
Signature of what is known as
the Spiritual abduction.
For
She Led many astray with evil
intent.
So,
Who is she?
The woman who whispers
sweet nothings in his or her
ear ...
While draining one's trust, love,
and energy ...
Sucking all common sense out
of one's soul ...
While posing as the
enemy.
But don't get it twisted ...
Because there are two forces of
evil ...
(Broceliande and Satan)/
( Female and male )
Now ...
That this is out in the open ...
Just know
That everyone has been taught
and enlisted.
Thus,
I come to you to warn you, that
she is the many faces of wars,
Arguments, incarcerations, loss
of life and more ... All mixed and
Calculated in the
Whirlwind of rotating doors.
So,
Open your eyes and see the
signs in others you may know.
Do you see any similarities in
your friends, families, and or
Foe?
Because if you do ... just
remember that
some are lost souls that have
accepted the thirst of evil and
have fallen in
to the approval of "THE MANY
LIES OF "BROCELIANDE"
(PRONOUNCED AS ROCELIN)
THE END!
As if a child should understand an adult’s muddle,
putrid oil slick puddle,
the dreadful pain we foist on wide-eyed offspring.
Robotic elders crush with rigid slabs of Portland censure whatever spark remains in those tiny rosebud cheeks before their prime.
Those innocents should never have to wrap their nascent minds around the wanton desecration of intertidal lakeland wetness gradients,
the callous douse of velvet purple algerita berries,
blighted by the stark timbre cloud forms
that recklessly pour bile on every genus.
The rug rats at our feet may never know the joys of sap-addicted sugar gliding nocturnal possums, whose acrobatic tree to tree mirror ball exploits mock Isaac Newton,
or the kinkajou of tail grip fame who flaunt their tan glow wooly fur coat in broad daylight,
or the dawn to dusk fennec fox, that doughty eagle owl and jackal dodger whose kissing cousin dens pockmark terracotta forests. But not alone in wider worlds are children being deprived.
A heartless milieu also asks our clutch and clan to dwell in
alloy girder mousetraps, those pale decor rat infested tumble downs gouged out by scrimp and scrape rust bucket caterpillars.
Beyond belief we tolerate the nick and hoist elevator,
that pressure cooker transit flight abduction of the harried wage slave parent,
those cotton garment dress code senseless
dragonfly stand-ins that hover in mid air.
There’s every chance we’ll leave our nursling’s ire to future bands of mutant stem cell rockers who are duty bound to sculpture rimshots meshed in suckling chimes,
when validating rawhide rattle chainsaw fret board anthems
at crowd mosher mud fests,
where rivers of apocalyptic visions burst the bank.
If only grown ups listened to that inner vocal quiver that we
may not yet have cast into plastic resin folly for the generations weaned in toxic smoke rooms,
we’d pollinate a luscious fairground acorn dotted garden with childhood zest its one and only buzzword.
A sweet treat gift with natural flavour pending,
eternal life for baby planet daisy chains of tender petal linkage,
who‘d finally experience pure clutter free environments,
an eco world that values new born thirst for natural realms
What takes you so long to solve the crime when you have all the evidence that you can find, what take you so long to solve the crime when you saw the man rang the doorbell and sprayed bullets inside the house.
You heard screaming and shouting and saw everyone running about; you saw the young man jumped through the window and broke his nose when he fell on the garden floor. The other one escaped the shot but broke his legs when he fell on his back.
What takes you so long to solve the crime when you have the entire alibi that you can find. What take you so long to solve the crime when his motive is consistent with his action, the distance from where the gun was fired and the dimension from which the gun was held is far more revealing than the man that pulled the trigger.
Go back to the scene of the crime and take samples of the scalp from the tree and listen to the forensic scientist analysis and you can tell what was going on in the shooter's head before he shot the people dead.
What takes you so long to solve the crime when you know that the bison abducted the deer. There was no baby rabbit at the sreet corner, it was just a bison lurking around the back seat dressed up like a scavenger in frock waiting for the right time to mutilate its first-time customer.
Abduction or consent the bison and the deer almost ended up in hell , the wheels and turns, the twist and blows split its legs apart and plunge in its head into the dark. It gored the deer quite deep causing it to sprang to its feet and when the quota was met the bison ran away and the deer escaped.
What takes you so long to solve the crime when the evidence is wrapped in the woman sleeve? As if you didn’t know that the bison was part of the show.
When you are going on dare hunt, don’t drive alone, just take a public transportation into the town.
If your motives are right, you will get a message from the sky, which says do or die; you must take a ride at midnight to meet the saturated cloud before the next full moon, fasten your seat belt, I will be seeing you soon, what takes you so long to solve the crime.
His German relations would turn in their graves
This great gnome abduction is causing shock waves,
It reads like the spy who came in from the cold
They've held him to ransom and broken the mould.
The world's now his oyster from Heathrow he flew
To sample the good life and drink in the view,
While stood in the gutter he eyes up the stars
Then drowns in the cocktails and drinks in the bars
Seville brings a bullfight his seat is secured
He's visiting places no gnome could afford,
A short trip to France on this whistle stop tour
The thing that a hostage is forced to endure.
The Can-Can performance he couldn't believe
An Eiffel of Paris is what he perceived,
A fast train to Berlin his ancestral home
The Frankfurter sausage and birthplace of gnomes.
Old relatives waved from the Brandenburg gate
The beer was delicious the weather was great,
A long haul to Moscow he slept in a sack
His beard was quite grimy the varnish was cracked.
He paused by the Kremlin with shots to send home
But suddenly felt that he wasn't alone,
Both he and his escorts were marched to the plane
And warned that they'd better not come back again.
In China large warriors stood by his side
Hand built in a kiln and then buried alive,
He's third one across and two rows from the back
With the rod and the boots and the beard and the hat.
His essence they caught like a star on the screen
As he stood on the wall in his tunic of green,
He travelled for what seemed a year and a day
To land in the lovely old U, S, of A.
Arriving in Vegas he shone on the strip
With a gaggle of girls and a mountain of chips,
Was tied up by Teller, Penn looked so amused
They made him an offer he couldn't refuse.
With a glint in his eye and to Tellers delight
Penn whispered a word and he varnished from sight,
To arrive with a flash by his old garden gate
Near his house that he left on his council estate.
On the fridge fading pictures still clearly recall
Adventures that may not have happened at all,
I'd wager a bet that he'd still love to explore
That gnome in the tunic asleep by the door.
#COVERS BLOWN, INTENT KNOWN, ACTIONS SHOWN! THE LACK OF, IMPACT OF..."SEWN!" IRON-CLAD, NOT JUST A PHAZE OR FAD, MICRO-KNOTTED, MASTERFULLY PLOTTED, WON'T BE FORGOTTEN-
"THAT" TO BE EXACT...IS INFINITELY ROTTEN!
LIAR-LIAR, PANTS ON FIRE, WHAT YOU GOT AWAY WITH, AFFECTS TODAY (NO MYTH) COMPLETE FACTS!
YOUR TONGUE IS COAL BLACK...IT ILLUMINATES FROM BEHIND THE MICO CRACKS, SO MUCH FROM THAT...
AND YOUR WORDS ARE N O T PREFERRED,
AS OCCURRED, ALL TRUTH IS BLURRED...ALL SMOKE!
NOW THAT WEAPON OF DESTRUCTION HAS LEFT A
P E R M A N E N T OBSTRUCTION AND THAT BOULDER WILL NEVER LIFT, AS FOR THE RECIPIENT, TOO LATE.
IT WILL NEVER S H I F T!
PRETENDERS, NUMB BENDERS, IT'S HARD KEEPING UP APPEARANCES, DEEP ROOTED INTERFERENCES...
VERY CHALLENGING TO SHAKE THOSE EXPERIENCES; HAVING TO DEAL WITH FAR LESS, CONFESSED, REAL LOVE DELIVERANCES! THEREFORE, AT CORE, SOMETHING GETS BLANKETED...
THE WORLD WILL SEE AN ANTITHESIS PARTICIPATED, CLOSELY WATCHED AND RATED OR PERHAPS THEREFORE... OBLIVIOUSLY IGNORED, PAIN AND HAPPINESS REFRAIN, A BLACK HOLE...IN OTHER WORDS, (WHERE'S THE WHOLE)...
INEVITABLE REGRETTABLES, STORED.
WELL HONED MASQUERADERS, ULTIMATE TRUTH BETRAYERS, NOT ALWAYS SO EASY TO TELL, PRAYTELL....DEPENDS ON MOOD, DISPLAYERS, LIFE PARTICIPANT PLAYERS OF NEED/GREED AND SELFISH REAPING SEEDS, THROUGH DIRTY DEEDS AND CALCULATED IMPEDE. "WHAT A BREED!"
THEY WILL SCHEME TO REDEEM AT ALL COST;
IT DOESN'T MATTER OF WHAT OR WHOM GETS LOST...
IT BECOMES A PARADE OF DESTRUCTION, IF ALLOWED, A SOUL SUCTION...WITH NO REPAIR TO THAT SITE'S CONSTRUCTION. "THANK THE UNIVERSE FOR A *HEART AND MIND* {ALIGNED} {ASSIGNED} ABDUCTION!"
STORIES...DERIVED, DESCRIBED FROM THESE CATEGORIES. INSTANCES AND STANCES FROM THOSE LEADS TOOK CHANCES...
ON A LOVED ONE, A BELOVED ONE...
A ONE OF A KIND ONE! A.K.A. "RARE ONE".
NOW IT'S DONE. CAN'T BE UNDONE.
THE RACE AND PACE: WHERE'S THE PRIZE...?
SURPRISE! ! !
YOU LOSE FACE (GRACE) EVERYTHING...
NO WIN! THE END.
Renee D. Gross {GHPPR} July 9th, 2023#