Long Airhead Poems
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he friend me on fb
i have no idea how my ex found me
like a sniffing dog he did
can you imagine that
king of the blood hounds
on my trail
and on my nerves now
after all the pain he put me through
he wants to friend me on his face book page
what am i suppose to do
what would you do
for a long while, i looked at the request
noting the time and date
hoping not, praying not
like the words can come to life and bite me
like a snake
i was scared
i'm not going to lie
i been snake bitten with him before
many, many times
countless times crying myself to sleep
so what's a girl suppose to do
one thing i know
trust me on this
he's not the olive branch type of guy
he doesn't go out on a limb
he's in it for himself
so i couldn't understand the fb request
but you know me
one of many blond airheads of his
and i bet he has many, many
i went to his site anyway
why
i don't know
but they should now cut my fingers off for penance
anyway, anywho, anyfool
i came so close to pressing the accept button
and sending him a message
can you believe that
me airhead trying to reconcile
no he needs to do better than that
yo mama
mama you up in the heavens
listening with big ears of yours
listening to all this
ready to gossip
i know you
i know you
mama get back on your seat
whats a girl suppose to do
funny bunny got bit by a snake
and funny bunny still likes him
men, men, men
they get in your hair
mess it all up
and women miss that
just telling the truth
but don't tell him that
please
mama you having fun up there
please put that voodoo doll away
for now
and please sing to me
in my time of need
connie pachecho
1/12/17
Our land of stars and stripes, now glows,
with screens that flicker in hallowed halls.
Entranced humans shuffle, with eyes fixed below,
on small gadgets that have us enthralled.
Should the Statue of Liberty, our symbolic girl,
be holding a smartphone up to the world?
While tweets fly like eagles and hashtags swirl,
foreign disinformation trends as fast as it’s purled.
In lunch halls, real conversations take rest,
as influence is sought—in hoity-toity, binary quest.
Friends are backdrops—originality in short supply
as likes and shares make our dopamine fly.
America’s zombies, though *********** drained,
shuffle endlessly on, with Wi-Fi stimulated brains.
Once the land of the free, we’re now the land of tech
with minds wrecked by truths unchecked.
As we rock and sway—the new robot way—
will our old, analog-republic simply fade away?
.
.
Songs for this:
Airhead by Thomas Dolby
.
Oh, and a Christmas playlist because—it’s December:
daweb.us/xmas/Christmas_01.mp3
I am a nerd/geek through and through,
my past time is seeing how something
works.
What really gets me going is numbers
and equations.
My nick name was little Einstein, I really
loved science.
I was the loner and math tutor after school.
Tutoring gave me the chance to socialize
and come out of my shell.
I enjoyed it until I had to tutor the captain
of our football team.
He was arrogant and he had the brains
of a kid in kindergarten.
And I was head over heels infatuated with
him.
Once we got over our stereotypes of each
other, we became fast friends.
He was actually smart and played the role
of an airhead.
When our walls came crashing down it was
a mutual attraction and respect.
I’m still pinching myself, who would have
thought the nerd and the captain(football)
would be together.
Yours truly,
Mrs Nerd
Alexis Y.
03-6-2020
1 ALCOHOL AND POETRY
When I join these two elements together I inebriate
further easily ...
2 AIRHEAD
airhead is a difficult person to deal with, especially
because usually he doesn't realize what he wants
of life...
3 PROFIT DISTURBANCE
Too much lucidity, makes you suffer, makes you cry ... lucidity in this crazy life
in which we live, the illusion is finer ...
4 COMPLIANT
Everything has a limit, occasionally just losing even the
stirrups for order in the mess ...
5 YOU ARE MUSIC ...
Your tone is too loud and your music I can't
sing...
Written: September 29, 2025, for contest sponsored by Tom Wood
***********
I) Sojourn of the Alabaster Mind
I careen through a world of chatoyant light,
Each step is a mirror of halcyon lore.
The pavonine sky and a chimera flight,
Projects sage shadows on an Elysian shore.
A clamor of atlas, a ductile tickle
Elixir of wonder, still need to fickle—
To pursue the penumbra, to not be blind,
And a sojourn for the alabaster mind.
II) The Necrotic Hour
I maunder across the clangor of despair,
A stertorous breath in the stygian gloom.
No nepenthe soothes within egregious snare,
Each cough is a pyrrhic echo in my room.
The airhead mocks my once-mellifluous breath
My Oculus dims in sudden fever death.
No eloquence lives in this loathsome abyss—
My nemesis: the sickness can't be sheer bliss.
WHEN A MAN LOVES A WOMAN
Jim’s fallen head over heels for a girl,
He’s forgotten his mates; they’re in limbo
One whiff of her scent, his head’s in a whirl
But why did he choose Sue THAT blonde bimbo?
Like a shadow they are never apart
Stuck together tightly with superglue
This bleached blonde airhead has stolen his heart
Jim bade all his old friends a fond adieu
Every single day they are together
Still they only have eyes for each other
Arms wrapped around her, true love forever
Jim wears jumpers knitted by his lover!
On bended knee Jim gives Sue a huge ring
He splashed all his cash to buy her some bling
WHEN A WOMAN LOVES A MAN
Sue won’t hear a bad word about her Jim,
with rose coloured glasses, Sue is blinkered
He lets out huge farts, but Sue will just grin
She just giggles and calls him a stinkard!
Jim snores like a steam train, he never halts
Sue turns over and pulls up the covers
She totally ignores all of Jim’s faults
They’re besotted since they became lovers
Jim’s mates pity him; he’s under the thumb
With a ring on her finger Sue’s smiling
They are contented and Jim’s never glum
Sue adores him; she thinks he’s beguiling
Forever in love through good times and bad
Sue chose Jim because he looks like her dad!
Two English Sonnets Contest
Sponsored by Mark Massey
Two Sonnets written with my sincere apologies to the Bard!
Checked with how many syllables 10 per line
12~14~16
My Most Embarrassing Moment?
Twice I’ve entered freeways
On the ramps meant just for exits.
Lordy! How embarrassing is that?
Except nobody knew me
And with little difficulty
I remedied those situations fast!
Twice or thrice I walked into
Restrooms meant for men.
But no one saw me, or, once again,
Nobody knew me.
I got off lucky.
But there was one time
I did it at a pool.
Without my contacts in,
I might as well have just been blind.
I think the guy I walked in on was naked then.
But he did not know me (Saved again!)
Another time, at age fourteen,
I hopped around the yard, a silly teen
Sitting on a big fat ball -
Called Hippity Hop. I took a fall
In front of my new boyfriend.
I split my pants; he didn’t even tell me,
But once I learned what I had done,
That ended our romance!
I ‘m sure I pulled more stunts than that
Through all my years of school.
But being such an airhead
I simply have to say,
My most embarrassing moment -
Whatever it may be -
I don’t recall it anyway!
In the avalanche, I lost track of my guiding light.
I fled my fireside. I had to evacuate my homestead.
Driven far astray by frenetic frozen fright,
I was just a cowardly racing rescuing airhead.
The wounded wooden face of my brother
lugged away by paramedics in a wheelchair.
My tomb of sleep was my 3 am druthers.
But I called 911, puzzling at my sibling’s stare.
Living and dying from underworld to mountaintop,
the EMTs raised him off the floor like a bag of potatoes.
Everything was breathing pollen and allergen nonstop.
All my raw instincts lacked right or wrong thought flows.
It’s true; I lost poetry. I abandoned my paintings, my pottery,
as though the subverting season of AI sophistry reigned supreme,
as though all creativity was randomized in a human lottery,
as though all consciousness is reduced to a particle beam.
Vacant, these weary eyes roll up in my head.
Vacant, how much long-term despondency to endure?
My brother lives and dies each day in his bed,
defenseless, like a never healing wound with no cure.
My days are distractions, a mad confusing deflection.
I vacated my poetic home, my fireside muse.
I raft the unfamiliar caregiver currents without reflection.
I can’t live forever homeless, maintaining the caregiver ruse.
Sleep now, my brother, knowing life offers you another aim.
Tap resilience from your broken body. This will clear your mind.
My pallet for tending, nourishing, and wiping deserves no acclaim.
Nobody asks for these duties. No one can ever put them behind.